Maiden of the USS Indianapolis

Part nine

July 30th.
Early morning, just after midnight.
We had been traveling for a couple days, zigzagging during the day and going straight st night.
The crew was bored, although they found ways to pass the time. I resumed some of my earlier pranking, although I always made sure to not overstep my bounds.
Captain McVay was sitting in his emergency quarters on the bridge. Mumbling under his breath, McVay discussed with himself the particulars about this trip. He was worried about being late to Guam.
I was too, although I couldn't talk about with anyone other than myself.
Then, an explosion rocked the bow of the Indianapolis. I reeled backwards, my head splitting from the inside with pain so bad I could barely see.
Captain McVay was rocketed off his bunk and onto the floor. He righted himself and then ran over to the PA system. Punching the "talk" button, Captain McVay adressed the bridge. "What happened?" The reply came back like lightning. "We've been hit!  One off the bow and another amidships. We're taking on water fast, sir." McVay fired back: "shut the hatches."
The reply was scary. "We have sir. But the water is coming too fast." McVay looked pained, his face twisted in agony. "Abandon ship. Give the order to abandon ship." I staggered upright, still clutching my head.  Captain McVay rushes around his quarters.
I gasped, stumbling around and trying to right myself. My head felt like it was split open. I patted the back of my head, feeling for blood before I remembered that Maidens can't bleed.
McVay grabbed his log book and then ran out of his quarters, shouting orders at the men.
The crew was running around frantically, scrambling and rushing across the decks. They were yelling and screaming, jumping over the side of the ship.
I tried to walk outside but the ship lurched up and I fell onto my back. I shrieked. There was another explosion, water shooting upwards and crashing into the deck. Books fell off the Captain's shelves and slid across the floor towards me. I rolled over onto my stomach and began crawling to the door.
The Indianapolis continued to slid down into the water, the side of the ship rising up out of the water. I was hyper aware of every single thing happening on my ship all at once.
There were men running and scrambling up the stairs, yelling at each other to "Get out! Get out now!"
Personal items were rolling across floors, hitting the men in the legs and causing some to stumble.
Water gurgled into the holes that the torpedoes has punched into the side of my ship.
The watertight hatches has been closed, but I could tell that some men had been trapped under them. A couple of seconds ago they were pounding on the hatches, but now they were silent.
I crawled some more, now out of the door and onto the deck.
Captain McVay was helping men overboard, making sure that their life jackets were strapped on. He made sure that every man he saw had a life jacket on.
Someone had lost their boot and it flew across the deck as the ship rolled and increased in angle, the boot thumping on a railing beside a crew member. His eyes widened in shock.
Men were flailing about in the water, bobbing up and down in the turbulent water.
The side of my ship rose up next to them.
I cried, big hot tears, for my ship. The Indianapolis was sinking, and there was nothing I could do. I laid on the wooden planking of the deck, soaking the teak wood.
When Captain McVay has helped everyone else over the side the railing, he too jumped overboard.
I remained on the USS Indianapolis, unwilling to leave my ship, the ship I was tasked to protect.
The ship I had failed to save.
                     *            *            *            *
Radio stations in the area.
The lights flickered reassuringly, casting green, yellow, and red glows on the wall.
Three different stations were being manned faithfully throughout the night.
Three different commanders oversaw the proceedings in the stations.
One commander was drunk.
The call came in, making some lights flicker as the radio sucked more power from the room to recieve the call.
"SOS SOS! The USS Indianapolis is sinking! I repeat, we're sinking and our coordinants are —— * W, ——* E, ——* S, ——* N." The leutinant scrambled to his feet, hastily jotting down the message. He ran out to his commander's office, barely knocking on the door before entering.
"Sir, we just received a distress call from a ship due north of us. Should we sen....." he trailed off, realizing that the commander was slumped over the table, giggling to himself. "A shopwrek? How dee-light-ful..!" His thick southern drawl was further slurred by the alcohol. The man sat up, spittle flying from his mouth as he laughed coarsly. "Find me on a eyepatch an' call me o pie-rat!"
The luetinant backed out of the room. It was not the first time his commander had been drunk during his shift, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He ran his fingers through his curly hair, trudging back to the radio room. The ship that sent the distress call, depending on how far away it actually was, had probably already sunk. As a luetinant, he had no control over any of the resources available at the station.
But there were two other stations within radio distance of the ship if the transmitted coordinants were correct.
As the man sat back down at the radio and replaced his headphones, he sighed and hoped one of those stations would be able to help the poor souls of the ship.
One commander didn't want to be disturbed.
"Lieutenant, I'm retiring to my office. I do not want to be disturbed, understood? Not for anything."
The lieutinant saluted, even as the commander swung around and closed the door behind him. Lights blinked, gears whirred, metal creaked in a serene concert playing just for the lieutenant as he settled in for the long night ahead. He hated being placed on the late night shift. Midnight was when he liked to be in bed, or even finishing a letter to his girl back in Montana.
A bleep from the radio indicating an incoming transmission stirred the lieutenant from his day-dreaming. He popped on his headphones, his pencil scratching away at the paper to record the SOS call. He put his pencil down and stared at the message. The commander didn't want to be disturbed, and he was a wrathful man if his orders were not obeyed to the letter.
The lieutenant chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating what he should do. Leaning back in his chair, he thought about the positioning of the coordinants that he had just revived in the distress call. There were two other station that should have also received the call, surely one of those could send men to help.
Placing the paper on a shelf out of sight, the lieutenant yawned and decided to just report it in the morning.
One commander thought it was a trick.
When the radio whirred to life, it startled the skinny lieutenant from Minnesota who was on duty that night. He wrote down the message with tired, shaky finger and ran to the commander's door. The bamboo door echoed a hollow rasp as the lieutenant knocked for entry. A friendly "Enter!" granted the lieutinant permission to come into the room. "Sir we just received an urgent distress call from one of our ships that is sinking just west of our position. What should I do?" The lieutenant's voice shook as he reported what he had just heard. Never in his wildest dreams would he have ever thought that he would be a witness to a ship sinking. The commander frowned, his brown eyes suddenly somber. Stretching out his callused hand, the commander requested the message. The lieutinant gave it up, still marveling over how he was going to get to witness a piece of history, right here, in the flesh. A real battleship, sinking? Right in their area? This would make headlines back home for sure. The lieutenant could see it now- "SMALL TOWN LIEUTENANT FIRST TO HEAR DISTRESS CALL-SAVES HUNDREDS." A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of his parents reading the paper and the pride that would be on their faces when they saw his name on the front page. Maybe even a picture, so that Bettsy would recognize him as the boy who sat behind her every day of their senior year; the boy who she had rejected as her date to the spring dance.
"Disregard all messages coming from this location."
The commander's words sliced through the lieutinant's dreams like a hot butter knife. Stammering, he replied, "yes, yes sir."
The commander threw the paper back at his subordinate. "It's a Jap trick to lure us out onto the water. When we're out there, without any weapons and in just a boat to pick up any 'survivors', they'll swoop in and BAM." He slammed his fist down on the table. The lieutinant jumped, almost dropping the paper. "Those yellow dogs will be all over us, killing our fellows. I will not fall for this trick. NOT EVER, YOU HEAR ME? I WILL NEVER FALL FOR YOUR TRICKS YOU YELLOW-FACED CURRS." The Commander was standing now, hurling red-faced insults at his small window cut into the side of the wall looking out at the beach. He continued to rant and rave about not falling for any tricks as the lieutenant fled the office and scurried back to the radio room. He slapped the disappointing paper report on the work bench and slumped into the chair, gulping in some shaky breaths.
There goes his shot at being in history, he thought glumly.