Read Iron Gray Sea: Destroyermen for Free Online Page B

were in, from what I hear,” Spanky practically snarled. “Goddamn Japs!”
    “Maybe so,” Matt agreed.
    “What about the others?” Sandra asked.
    “Some are nuts,” Matt said simply. “No wonder. Others are physical wrecks.” He shrugged. “Some say their war’s over, and I can’t say I blame them.” His jaw worked. “Much as we may need their expertise, we all have to do our best to make sure nobody blames them if they choose to sit this one out. Those guys fought like hell, and now we know they were ordered to surrender. After that . . . My God, the Japs treated ’em more like you’d expect the Grik would have than . . . people ever would.” He glanced at Sandra, then stared back at his cup.
    “What will they do?” Sandra asked softly.
    “With all the war industry in Baalkpan, Maa-ni-la, and, well, just about everywhere, I bet they can write their own ticket. There’s no shortage of work. Even if they can’t fight anymore, they can still help. Hey, let’s skip it for now. . . . But don’t forget it!” Matt looked back at Chack. “That leaves the others who do want to join us. Somebody, one of them, probably, talked High Chief Saan-Kakja into forming some kind of Brit-style commando outfit.” He arched his brows bemusedly. “Maybe they can use some more of Chinakru’s lizards for advisors or an opposition force to train against. Anyway, there’s that. Ultimately, you’ll take those forces and a new Manila regiment and go to Baalkpan, where you’ll incorporate a regiment of ’Cat Marines your sister Risa is raising into a division.” Matt paused. “You’ll command.”
    Chack blinked and bowed. “Thank you, Cap-i-taan Reddy.”
    “Who’s going straight to Baalkpan, sir?” Lieutenant Irvin Laumer asked politely but intently. He had a very personal reason to be curious. Like most submariners, Laumer wasn’t tall or physically remarkable in any way, but Matt had learned he had an extra helping of guts. He’d successfully led the effort to salvage his old submarine, S-19, off a Talaud Island beach—a beach that no longer existed, since the whole island had blown itself apart in a volcanic fit reminiscent of Krakatoa on the “old earth.” More recently, he’d been acting exec of Maaka-Kakja , a prestigious post, but one he’d relinquished so he could go back to his old sub. He seemed to feel, despite all he’d accomplished, that he still had something to prove, and he could only really do that with S-19.
    Matt reflected that Laumer’s fixation on the old boat could be good . . . or bad . . . and he had no idea which it would ultimately be. He’d been advised that S-19 could never be a submarine again. Most wanted to just scrap her—but that wasn’t right either. Not only would Laumer and all the men and ’Cats who’d worked so hard to save her be crushed, but the boat did float and had two running (or repairable) diesels and a four-inch-fifty gun. Matt decided to give the determined submariner his head and ordered Laumer to rebuild S-19 into . . . something else. Even if nobody really knew what that would be yet, Laumer didn’t care. Whatever S-19 was fated to become, she would still be his.
    “You are,” Matt answered, “along with Lawrence, and”—he arched an eyebrow at Silva’s looming form, expecting one of the man’s . . . imaginative arguments—“Chief Silva.” To Matt’s surprise, Dennis Silva didn’t do anything other than arch his own eyebrows and form that disconcerting, gap-toothed grin of his. “You’ll resume command of S-19,” he continued to Laumer, “and figure out what to do with her. You may consider that a reward for your efforts, if you like, but I think it’s going to be a bigger chore than you imagine. My only advice is not to get any fixed ideas before you start. Talk to your people who stayed aboard; get with Bernie Sandison, Perry Brister, anybody who might have a notion. Draw pictures. Whatever you do with her