To Wake the Giant by Jeff Shaara

Author:Jeff Shaara [Shaara, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2020-05-19T00:00:00+00:00

USS ARIZONA, AT SEA—WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1941

Thoughts of Bremerton were set aside for now, the Arizona engaging yet again in sea drills. They moved in convoy as usual, with several smaller ships maneuvering around and behind the Arizona and her frequent partners in these drills, the battleships Nevada and Oklahoma.

Biggs had reported to duty for the late shift, found Dr. Condon there with two of the pharmacist’s mates. Condon sat in his office, a book in hand, the other two playing cards. Biggs did his usual job: ran a mop around the edges of sick bay, then through the center of the spaces, the decks beneath his feet brought to a wet shine.

He completed the job quickly, stowed the mop, checked the wetness of the deck, found it already drying. Vaughan came through the hatchway now, wiping his face.

“Man, I never saw rain like this, not out here. The guys on deck have it pretty miserable.”

Condon put the book down. “That means we’ll have a flock of guys coming in here thinking they’re dying of the flu. Mr. Block, Mr. Corey, when you finish your game, put together a tray of various cold medications, the usual drug store stuff. That should solve any of those problems. How bad is the rain, Mr. Vaughan?”

“Coming down in sheets, sir. Worse is the fog, though. That’s something new for me. Got to be the darkest night I ever saw. Glad somebody smarter than me is steering this ship.”

Biggs said, “What are we doing? I don’t hear any firing. Last time it was all the antiaircraft guns.”

“No, not now. We’re doing ninety-degree turns, other maneuvers. Twisty turning stuff. Don’t ask me why.”

The alarm bell erupted in the passageway. Condon shouted, “Collision alarm. Hang on to something.”

The ship lurched hard, no time to react, the men tumbling, rolling across the deck to the port side of sick bay, the deck sloping that way, then rolling back to starboard. Biggs held tightly to the legs of a surgical table, his heart racing, questions roaring through his mind. Around him, the others fought to stand, questions from all of them, a chorus of loud voices out in the passageway, curses and more questions. He rolled over to one side, looked through the table legs. He saw Vaughan sitting on the floor, holding his arm.

“What the hell’s going on? Jesus, my shoulder.”

Condon braced himself against the table above Biggs, said, “Just sit there. Not sure what happened, but we’ll probably have casualties. It felt like we ran aground, but we’re in the middle of no place, and it’s gotta be two miles deep. If it was a mine or a torpedo, we’d probably smell it. Or maybe not. Mr. Biggs, you all right?”

Biggs pulled himself to his feet. The deck was sloping to port, but the rolling had stopped. “Yes, sir. I’m okay. What do you want me to do, sir?”

“Go up on deck. If you can, find out what the hell happened. If they need stretchers, get back here quickly.

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