Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II B by James Young (story reading txt) 📕

Jacob was surprised to find that he was not angry at O'Malley's near insubordination.

Sometimes a person can get lost in their dejection. Strange how chaplains always seem to know how to bring a person out of it.

"I think Senator Lindbergh would be quite surprised to find out you consider him uncivilized," Jacob replied drily.

"Senator Lindbergh is making me sympathetic towards the man who kidnapped his baby," O'Malley said, then covered his mouth. "Sorry sir."

"I don't think I'm the superior you need to apologize to for that one," Jacob said, slightly aghast. "But I'll chalk that up to the stress of today."

Before O'Malley could reply, there was a very loud round of thunder from the approaching storm.

That line is probably closer than I thought. Maybe thinking it's not going to be a gale was too optimistic.

Looking at the surrounding swells that were also starting to increase, Jacob pursed his lips.

"Well, I guess we had better hurry chaplain," Jacob said.

There were roughly twenty or so sailors milling about the canvas shrouds. Some were leaning down to say final goodbyes, tears running down their cheeks as they kneeled down next to what used to be their friends. Jacob watched as O'Malley gently, but firmly, got the gathered group together with a couple of chief petty officers' help.

"Friends, we are gathered here to say goodbye to our comrades and fellow sailors," O'Malley began. "Let us pray…"

As O'Malley recited the Lord's Prayer, Jacob considered the man’s earlier words.

He is right. We are truly the side fighting against an evil ideology. Doesn't mean we're ideal.

Jacob considered the dead steward’s canvas shroud as a corpsman finished sealing it.

Hell, that young man he just brought out here would have to get up and move to a different car if he was catching a train from Portsmouth to Charleston. But at least we wouldn't shoot him out of hand like the Germans would.

"Sir, would you like to say any words?" O'Malley asked. An almost immediate peal of thunder and freshening wind caused a few nervous titters among the group.

"I don't know whether to take that as a sign of endorsement or warning, chaplain," Jacob said. "But a few short words, yes."

As the gathered enlisted men looked at him, Jacob keenly felt the weight his position.

A prudent captain speaks seldom and chooses his words carefully, Jacob recalled a mentor advising him at the War College. Like flooding, unwise speech will pass through a vessel with great speed and threaten her stability worse than any tempest.

"Gentlemen, we say goodbye to our friends and comrades today secure in the knowledge that they have passed in achieving a great victory against the forces of tyranny," Jacob began, briefly glancing at O'Malley. "It is not my place to speak to you of our foes' depravity, for it is well documented. Nor will I attempt to assuage your grief, for that can only be done with the passing of time."

Jacob paused to meet every man's gaze.

"What I can tell you is that as long as I am privileged to be the captain of this fine vessel, I will do my utmost to make sure we employ her in defending liberty, righteousness, and all that is right with mankind against those who would drag us into barbarity," he finished. "Due to circumstances, we must commit our comrades to the depths this afternoon. May our actions always rise to the standards set by their sacrifice. Chaplain."

Looking at the gathered throng, Jacob was unsure if he'd reached the men. However, the increasing wind and first drops of rain told him that he certainly wouldn't be finding out that afternoon.

"May our comrades find repose with the sea in which they gave their lives so that others might live in freedom," O'Malley said solemnly. "Into thy hands, oh Lord, we commend the soul of thy servants departed, now called unto eternal rest, and we commit their bodies to the deep."

At the chaplain's gesture, a chief petty officer began to play taps from beside Houston's aft turret. As they did so, the funeral detail set about their grim task. Jacob noted with satisfaction the efficiency with which each litter team solemnly placed a corpse on the litters, then under American flags, secured the ensigns, then waited for the signal from the senior chief in charge of the ceremonies. Behind him, the Houston's Marines fired three volleys, each timed with the deposit of bodies into the vessel's wake, then stood at attention as the final series of burials took place.

It's a small thing, but I'm glad someone properly weighted the bodies.

As a young ensign, he'd been part of a burial at sea where the canvas wrapped corpse had bopped for what seemed forever before finally sinking into the Atlantic. Although Jacob had not seen it, one of his fellow officers had sworn they'd sighted a dorsal fin during the proceedings the body had taken so long to sink.

It's not like the bastards will feel it, but I'd rather not get sharks used to the taste of human. Not even Japanese.

I.J.N.S. Akagi

1715 Local (0905 Eastern)

The door to Vice Admiral Yamaguchi’s day cabin opened.

I am sure that what I am about to hear is no good news. Then again, if it's word of an attack perhaps I may still perish in battle.

"Sir, the Agano reports that the Soryu has been scuttled," Rear Admiral Kaku said solemnly.

Yamaguchi continued to stare at the map in front of him, nodding once because he did not trust his voice.

My first flagship. Is this how it feels to hear that your childhood home has burned to the ground?

"Captain Takashige is among the dead," Kaku continued. "The fires trapped many of the command team on the Soryu's island, and he elected to remain with the Emperor's portrait."

Yamaguchi took a deep breath, biting back the angry words that nearly spilled out. The pen in his hand began to bend ominously, and he set the writing implement down.

"How