The Final Voyage

Chapter 3: The Storm

Chapter 3: The Storm, September 1st of 1945

The shore of Japan could be seen in the distance, as Mykell searched the coastline for ships. The Missouri was just returning from bombardment of a nearby city. Mykell’s destination was only a few miles from his ships current place of rest. 

As Mykell stood staring out into the view infront of him, he took a deep breath, savoring the smell of the water, the sound of the waves. He listened to the sound of his crew, as they prepared for their final objective.

Mykell checked his watch. He was early by an hour. He walked towards his office. He sat down in his chair, looking down on a bag. Before he had left, he requested an entire stock of Vodka, the good stuff. Enough for his whole crew. Of course, these were not full sized bottles. He needed his crew at their best after all. But it was enough. He declared they would all drink it in case none of them came back. None of the crew knew. And this was his bottle, still cold from refrigeration. He dared not open the bag just yet.

Instead, he opened the desk drawer, to find a photo of his wife. She was in a blue dress, although the photo had no color. The photo was taken shortly before Operation Barbarossa, and before she enlisted into the military. She was almost 30 then. The only reason she was put into the Soviet Air Force was due to pressure from Mykell. Their children were taken in by relatives in the North-Eastern part of Russia, safe from both Germany and Japan.

He quickly put the photo back, before he began to tear up. He grabbed a cloth, and wiped the emerging tears away. He checked his watch. It was almost time. He got up, and walked to the door, looking one last time at his office. He walked out, shutting the door behind him.

When he arrived in the bridge, he found all his officers talking among themselves excitedly. No one noticed him come in. Normally, he expected the utmost attention. He made an exception. He walked towards the front of the room. He waited, then loudly cleared his throat. The room was enveloped in silence.

“Today, is the day,” he said, looking at every single face, “The day we deal the final blow. The day we take on the Japanese Empire. No, the day we crush the Japanese Empire,”

He paused. Some nodded. The room remained silent.

He began again, louder, “The day we make the ultimate sacrifice. The day we make our families, our sons... daughters... sisters... brothers... wives... husbands... fathers... mothers, our loved ones proud. The day we make the Soviet people proud,” He got louder, almost yelling, “The day we make the world proud! The day we make the motherland proud!”

At once, the entire room erupted into a unified war cry. With Mykell silent, all of his crew chanted “Ura!” for several moments. Mykell nodded, and dismissed everyone to their normal stations. There was no strategy, or tactics, or anything else to be discussed. Everyone knew their objective, and how to do it.

A crew member barged in, “Admiral, we have sight on several fighters and dive-bombers making their way towards us”

Mykell looked around, “All crew to battlestations, man the AA guns. Do not let those bombers touch this ship!”

He watch as orders were issued and the crew scrambled. He looked onto the deck, where his sailors ran about. He soon heard the sound of the ship's anti-aircraft guns.

“Increase speed! Evasive maneuvers!” He yelled. He felt the ship speed up. He needed to shake these aircraft off of his ship.

He ran out onto the catwalk overlooking the deck. He scanned the deck, where sailors were shouting, running. He looked up to see a Japanese Zero fly over the bridge, as it's engine and fuel burned, leaving a dark trail of smoke in it's path.

Another Zero approached, strafing the entire deck with cannon fire. Several of his sailors fell, blood staining their uniforms. He watched in shock, as some of them got back up, and continued their duties. He knew from then on, he would not let the motherland down. After the Zero attack, he ordered to go full speed towards the shipyard. A storm brewed several miles away. Mykell did not care. He was not afraid.