10:35 am
My vision faded back slowly, my ears screamed in pain and my head throbbed in agony. I found myself laying on the cold steel floor of the bridge. Through the fog and double vision I looked around the bridge. The sailors were scattered about, some were nursing wounds that had been inflicted upon themselves that leaked thick streams of blood that stained there work uniforms. Unfortunately, others were laying on the ground, just like me. Hopefully, knocked out and not dead.

I pull myself off the ground, turned around and slumped down onto the control panel. I feel a arm come under my shoulder and pick up my chest as I cry out in a new found pain that I hadn’t felt before. The pain in my chest burned like raging fire and stung like a thousand hornets had used my chest as target practice. It drained the blood from my face, turning me pale and sent violent flashes of shock to the far regions of my body.

I get turned around as the arm prods and grips the wound causing my sight to flicker and my hearing to fade in and out. My vision was blurry, but I could still make out the outline of a sailor with bandages in his right arm. I feel a cool gust of wind pass over open skin. I look down to see an enormous gash in my chest, my suit was torn from one side to the other and it was soaked in blood, it trailed down the rest of the black coat.

We toss about for a few seconds as he takes off my captain's uniform and undershirt to get a better view at the wound.

The sailor yells something, but I can't understand him and begins wrapping me in the bandages that he had in his arm. My blood beats into my eyes everytime he wraps around me, the unrelenting pain burns uncontrollably, it almost makes me want to throw him off and beat him senseless.

But I can feel it, my own blood dripping away from my being. My life slowly flowing away down my shirt and onto the the floor. I move my hands to put pressure on the wound to help stop the blood flow out of fear that, if I die, I won't be able command or see what happens to my crew, and that is unacceptable.

After multiple passes with the bandages, the blood stops and I regain my sight, but the pain only subsides a little. For right now, I was happy, the wound has stopped killing me, and has given me control over my body to command once again. The sailor soon begins work on my forehead taking out another clump off bandages.

I look around the bridge, Not much had changed structurally, besides a blood smear here and there. The alert bulbs near the ship line phone were flashing, communications, engine room, mess hall, hospital, living quarters, everyone and their mother was trying to get through, to I don't blame them, I would be scared shitless if the whole ship just started shaking uncontrollably and white flash of light consumed them.

I needed to get to the phone and know what's going on, so that I could help as many sailors as possible. Lives are at stake.

After the bandages around my head were tied up tight I move up and hold myself by pushing on the controls. But as I do the pain comes back like knives and daggers are digging into my muscles, lungs, and bones. It shoots up and down my body nearly sending me to the ground again. I had never been this fucked in my life, until now.

"Sir, please, relax. We can't have you injuring yourself anymore, you're already fubar as it is. The wounds are still in critical condition, the chest wound is a centimeter deep, and you may or may not have a concussion. The more you move, the worse it’s going to get.” Said the sailor who helped me.

He was from the hospital down within the ship. His shirt was light blue that was cut off at the waist by a black belt with a golden buckle. He wore grey pants and a pair of brown shoes. On his head was a helmet with a white circle and a red cross that was strapped up tight around his jaw. The pocket on his shirt had his name stitched on. “Seaman Apprentice Doyle”

With my disgustingly weak voice, I spoke out to him.

“Doyle, I understand the condition of my wound, but I need to command my ship,” I say to the Corpsman as I lean up. But, the sailor pulls up a stool, and puts me in it. I wanted to object, but my body felt to weak to stop him.

“Captain, no need, we’ve sent for Vice Captain Richardson, he’ll be here in a minute.” I nod once. and dismiss him with my hand brushing him off towards the others who needed him more.

10:37am

After a little while of anxious waiting, Vice Captain Donald Richardson came up from behind me and gave a whole hearted salute. His uniform was like mine in every way, from the golden ribbons, the black cloth, besides his rank difference.

“ Vice Captain Richardson, reporting for immediate duty, Captain.” I saluted back as best I could and pointed over towards the still blinking phone.

“Richardson, man that phone, I want you to tell me what each department wants, understand?” He turns around takes a quick glance at the phone, looks back to me and nods.

“Aye aye Captain.” Quickly turning around again, he rushes to the phone and picks it up while pushing the Communications button.

“This is the bridge, Vice Captain Richardson speaking, covering for the Captain, listening…” He said as my eyes wandered around to the other sailors. I watched them bustle about bumping into each other trying to reorganize everything. I taught them well.

“Captain, communications says they’ve lost all links with the task force and any command centers land side, all systems are showing green and no problems have been detected. They’re requesting orders.” He said placing his hand on the phones mouthpiece. So, we’re truly alone now. This isn’t going to end well. Quickly I spit out my orders.

“Tell them to keep trying to make contact, try every frequency they can use, and run every diagnostic they have.” With an aye aye, he relayed the info, and went on to the next one, engine room.

“Captain, engine room says that all equipment is working correctly, requesting orders.”

“Tell them to move ahead, at 25 miles per hour and keep her steady, we’ll head north.” Nodded he relayed the info and went on.

10:50am

After checking in on every department, I came to the conclusion, that me and everyone else aboard this ship, is practically, fucked. Though weapon management and the hospital had little bad things to say, the navigation team, really screwed me over. We have no idea where we are, all land masses that are supposed to be within eyesight right now, are not, plus the water color of the ocean we are in, is slightly lighter than normal. Putting us in unknown water. I had relieved Richardson of his duties for my stamina returned to me and I could take over. The ship now rests at a comforting 25 miles per hour, and we’re heading north, like I had requested.

After talking on the phone I logged onto the PA system an ordered general quarters.

I asked all available hands to head to the armory and suit up with life vests and helmets and for them to equip M1 Garand rifles and a spare clip. Right now sailors are posted outside the bridge, two on each side. I hated having to do this to them.

They’re tired, they don’t want to fight anymore, they often roam on this ship, with their heads hung low, and tears in their eyes. Each day the morale of the ship just continues to drop. Every day were out to sea, the longer this war will drag on. They pray for this war to be over, they yearn to go home and see the smiling faces of their families. They’ve lost combat buddies, friends, even brothers, and yet, they look to me for hope. They look for the words that will save them all. The words that’ll set them free from this watery hell. “The war's over!.”

But the only thing I can do, is look into their sorrowed faces, and shake my head. I let them down, and let myself down. That’s why I try every day and every night to keep the USS Boston at 100%. We arrive at the battle ground ready to fight, we kick ass, we pull out and head to the next, rinse and repeat. It’s the quickest way to win this war, and to be quite honest, we continue to lose men no matter how we fight.

Day after day the body count continues to rise from the damn Japanese zeros that swarm our ships, and chop us down like grass. I look over my men as they scramble to arms each day, they scream and holler at the enemy planes as they gun them down.

They scream out of pure hatred towards the enemy, cursing with heartache and rage. I often see them shaking with grief after they leave the guns, tears streaming down their cheeks. Cause through the screaming, and the bullets flying, and the shells hitting the deck, they still hear the cries of their buddies dieing, I hear them dieing. The screams stain my soul, leaving an imprint of agony deep into me. Everytime I close my eyes I see the faces of those who are no longer with us.

Each time, I think it’s my fault…

“Captian! The spotters got something!” Through the intense silence of the waves comes a voice. I whip my head around to the voice. It was one of the sailors on the right side of the bridge. I sprint over to him as he moves out of the way. I pull up to the railing and look out over the ocean. A hand points to a small golden object in the distance.

“Here sir,” The sailor says giving me a pair of binoculars. I yank them up to eye level and adjust to the perfect quality. What I see really gives me a run for my money. A golden chariot, being pulled by two alabaster horses with wings, dawning golden battle armor. They carry a large white horse with a horn and wings with a multi colored mane that waves in the wind behind her. About four miles out.

“Captian! Requesting orders!” I hear from behind me. I look out from the binoculars to the bridge, where an officer has his hand on the phone.

I didn’t know what to do...

Author's Notes:

This chapter has been re written, so don't be surprised if it doesn't match up with the next chapter