Novels by John J.

Gobbell
A Call to Colors

(Todd Ingram series)

Edge of Valor
The Neptune Strategy
When Duty Whispers Low
A Code for Tomorrow
The Last Lieutenant

The Brutus Lie

John J.Gobbell

naval institute press

annapolis, maryland

Gobbell FM Final Proof.indd 3

5/20/14 11:08 AM

This book has been brought to publication with the generous assistance of
Marguerite and Gerry Lenfest.
Naval Institute Press
291 Wood Road
Annapolis, MD 21402

2014 by John J. Gobbell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gobbell, John J.
Edge of valor : a Todd Ingram novel / John J. Gobbell.
pages cm
Summary: Edge of Valor is the fifth thriller by John J. Gobbell featuring the World War II exploits of Cdr.
Todd Ingram. As commanding officer of the destroyer USS Maxwell, Ingram must save his ship when it is
hit by a kamikaze on the last day of the war. After the wars end, Brig. Gen. Otis Dewitt, an Army buddy
from Corregidor and now an intelligence aide on MacArthurs staff, takes Ingram to Manila on the same
aircraft as sixteen Japanese diplomats. MacArthurs staff and the Japanese envoys negotiate the terms for
Japans surrender. DeWitt and the State Department then send Ingram to Sakhalin Island to defuse a
Soviet attack on Hokkaido, where Ingrams old adversary, Edward Dezhnev, is the commander laying siege
to a Japanese command in Toro. Also on Toro is Walter Boring, a Red Cross representative with two crates
of overwhelming photographic evidence of Japans experiments on humans in China. Ingram must return
with those crates, but Boring is guarded by the Japanese garrison in Toro and is under attack by Dezhnev.
Three weeks earlier Ingram had been fighting the Japanese, and the Russians were supposedly his friends.
Now, he doesnt know who to trust Provided by publisher.
ISBN 978-1-61251-519-9 (hardback) ISBN 978-1-61251-520-5 (ebook) 1. Ingram, Todd (Fictitious
character)Fiction. 2. World War, 19391945Naval operations, AmericanFiction. 3. United States.
NavyOfficersFiction. I. Title.
PS3557.O16E46 2014
813.54dc23
2014008793
Print editions meet the requirements of ANSI/NISO z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper). Printed in
the United States of America.
22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14
First printing

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Book design: David Alcorn, Alcorn Publication Design

Maps created by Philip Schwartzberg, Meridian Mapping, Minneapolis.

Dedicated to the men and women who served in the American and
Allied forces during the long, and sometimes bloody, Cold War.
Your contribution may have not been immediately apparent, but you did
indeed prevail. Because of you, the world is a much better place.
Well done.

Theres no doubt that people are the essence of it all: our friends, our relatives,
our spouses and children, our bosses, teachers, coworkers, healthcare providers,
casual acquaintances, even those we dont count among our friends. They drive the
engine that allows us to exercise our talents and, eventually, accomplish a goal or
twomaybe even more if the good Lord is with us. I am no exception. I constantly
turn to these people whether or not Im in trouble. Their comfort and talents sustain me. Over the years they have contributed to my works in more ways than they
will ever know. Among them, in no significant order are the following.
The flying scenes were greatly enhanced by Capt. Daniel Truax, USN (Ret.),
and my old friend and corsair jockey Dick Bertea, formerly a pilot for the U.S.
Marine Corps. Commentary about U.S. Navy organization, tactics, and equipment came from tin can sailor Rear Adm. David Ramsey, USN (Ret.). Another
old friend, submariner, and fellow author, Cdr. George A. Wallace, USN (Ret.),
provided kind advice as well. Yet another friend and contributor is fellow tin can
sailor Terry Miller, executive director and editor of the National Association of
Destroyer Veterans. A wonderful friend, yachtsman, naval aviator, and patriot,
Capt. Randall J. Lynch, commanding officer of the NROTC unit at Embry Riddle
Aeronautical University, helped with naval customs and usage.
When medical problems were involved, I once more turned to Dr. Russell
Striff and Fred Meister, PhD. Elsewhere I received fine counsel from Bob Bailey,
Robert G. Mahan, and Beverly Hills Police Chief David L. Snowden. My hat is
off once again to Susan Kechekian of USCs Department of Slavic Studies for her
invaluable help with Russian translations not only here but also in the second
novel of the Todd Ingram series, A Code for Tomorrow.
Most of all, thanks to Rick Russell, director of the Naval Institute Press,
whose kind commentary, suggestions, and editing provided the true engine for
this work.
As always, my wife, Janine, is not only a great editor (something I relearn
every time I go through this) but also a marvelous and loving partner. None of
thisand all of the wonderful events in my lifewould have occurred without her.
vii

viii | John J. Gobbell

Also, to you, my readers thank you, and thank you, and thank you for your
support, encouragement, critique, and e-mails over the years. Truly, it is you
who keep me going. Please visit my website, www.JohnJGobbell.com, for commentary on my novels including photos of the actual people, places, and military
equipment portrayed herein. Many of the characters in this novel appear in the
previous four Todd Ingram novels. As always, mistakes herein are mine alone,
many times called to my attention by your kind e-mails. Please keep it up.
JJG
February 2014
Newport Beach, California

Note: Karafuto Island and Toro Airfield became Sakhalin Oblast and Shakhtyorsk
Airfield, respectively, after the Soviets captured them in AugustSeptember 1945.
U.S. Navy
USS Maxwell (DD 525) (Crackerjack), attached to DESRON 77
Cdr. Alton C. (Todd) Ingram, commanding officer
Lt. Cdr. Eldon P. (Tubby) White, executive officer
Lt. Thomas F. (Woody) Woodruff, operations officer
Lt. Julian Falco, gunnery officer, main battery director
DESRON 77
Maxwell (flag); DesDiv 77.1, Maxwell (flag), Shaler, Bertea, and Geiler; DesDiv
77.2, Wallace (flag), Cheffer, Beaulieu, and Truax
Capt. Jeremiah T. (Boom Boom) Landa, commodore, Destroyer Squadron
77
Eleventh Naval District, Long Beach, California
Cdr. Oliver P. (Ollie) Toliver III, case officer, Office of Naval Intelligence
(ONI)
Cdr. Walter (Walt) Hodges, supply officer, Long Beach Naval Station
Other U.S. Navy Personnel
Adm. William F. Halsey Jr., commander, Third Fleet
Vice Adm. John S. McCain Sr., commander, Task Force 38 under Admiral
Halsey
Lt. Larry M. OToole, attached as Japanese-language interpreter to Manila
peace talks and first Karafuto expedition
U.S. Army
SCAP Staff, Manila and Tokyo
Gen. Douglas A. MacArthur, supreme commander of the Allied Powers
(SCAP)
ix

x | John J. Gobbell
Gen. Richard K. Sutherland, General MacArthurs chief of staff
Brig. Gen. Otis (n) DeWitt, aide to General Sutherland
Col. Sydney Mashbir, Japanese-language expert and chief negotiator,
Manila
Maj. Clive W. Neidemeier, State Department liaison, Ie Shima Air Base/
Atsugi Air Base
Karafuto (Sakhalin) Expeditions
First expedition: USAAF C-54, tail number 626384 (Hot Rod 384)
Second expedition: USAAF C-54 744326 (Apprentice 26)
Maj. Marvin F. (Bucky) Radcliff, pilot and aircraft commander, first
expedition
1st Lt. Leroy Telford K. Peoples, copilot, first expedition; pilot and aircraft
commander, second expedition
Capt. Jonathan L. (Jon) Berne , navigator, first and second expeditions
2nd Lt. Richard W. Lassiter, copilot, second expedition
Sgt. Leonard (n) Hammer, flight sergeant, engineer, first and second
expeditions
GySgt. Ulysses Gaylord (Ugly) Harper, USMC, squad leader of thirteen
Marines, first expedition
GySgt. Horace T. Boland, USMC, squad leader of thirteen Marines, second
expedition
Colin Blinde, agent, Office of Strategic Services (OSS)
San Pedro, California
Maj. Helen Durand Ingram, U.S. Army, Todd Ingrams wife; floor nurse,
Ward 6, Fort MacArthur Infirmary
Emma Peabody, Todd and Helen Ingrams next-door neighbor on South
Alma Street
Maj. Julian T. Raduga, MD, U.S. Army, psychiatrist, Fort MacArthur
Infirmary
Cpl. Eddie Bergen, patient, Ward 6, Fort MacArthur Infirmary; previously
U.S. Army M-4 tanker on Okinawa
Hollywood, California
Laura West, pianist, NBC Symphony Orchestra, West Coast Division
Maestro Arturo Toscanini, conductor, NBC Symphony Orchestra, West
Coast Division

Edge of Valor | xi
Roberta Thatcher, business manager, NBC Symphony Orchestra
Anoushka Dezhnev, Russian film star; mother of Eduard Dezhnev
Soviets
USSR Navy
Captain Third Rank Eduard Ianovich Dezhnev, garrison commander, 21st
Naval Regiment, Shakhtyorsk Airfield, Sakhalin Island
Captain First Rank Gennady Kulibin, Dezhnevs immediate superior at
Shakhtyorsk Airfield, Sakhalin; later, commanding officer of the cruiser
Admiral Volshkov
NKVD (Narodnyi Kommissariat Vnutrennikh del), Soviet Secret Service,
predecessor of the MGB and KGB
Karol Dudek, Polish assassin
Oleg Lepechn, agent, Shakhtyorsk Airfield, Sakhalin
Matvie Borzakov, agent, Shakhtyorsk Airfield, Sakhalin
Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN)
Captain Shiroku Fujimoto, commander minefields of Tokyo Bay and
environs
Major Kotoku Fujimoto, commander Toro Airfield, Karafuto (Sakhalin),
Imperial Japanese Marines
International Red Cross
Walter Frederick Boring, Geneva, Switzerland; representative assigned to
the northeast Asia sector

Greater East Asia - 1945

90

100

110

120

130

140

150

S O V I E T
U N I O N

TANNU
TUVA

Sea of
Okhotsk

Karafutu
(Sakhalin)

Khabarovsk

MONGOLIA

Mukden

i
Shangha

St
r.
osa

Fo
rm

Canton

Mandalay

BURMA

Hon
g Kon

Ha Noi

y
yuk

FRENCH
CHINA

China

Andaman

South

Bangkok

Se
a

BRITISH
MALAYA

Singapaore

a
a
tr
Batavia

Bonin
Volcano Islands
Islands Iwo Jima

s
u I Okinawa

Formosa

Sea

Borneo

Tinian Saipan
Guam

Sea

PHILIPPINES

10

Yap
Palau Islands

Caroline
ahera
Halm

DUTCH EAST

J a v a

Ambon

New
Guinea
INDIES

Port
Moresby
Darwin

O C E A N

Islands

N.W.
New
NEW GUINEA
Britain
PAPUA

E. TIMOR

I N D I A N

Truk

Admiralty
Islands

Biak
Celebes

20

Mariana
Islands

Luzon
Manila

Layte
Sulu
Mindanao
NORTH Sea
BORNEO
Celebes
Sea
SARAWAK

Saigon

30

Philippine

THAILAND INDO-

40

China
Sea nds
la

Hainan
Rangoon

Hokkaido

Seoul
Honshu
Yellow KOREA
Tokyo
Sea
PAC I F I C
Osaka
Kure
Shikoku
Kyushu
East
OCEAN

Changsha

BHUTAN

Japan

Chungking

Sea of

Dalian

Nanjing

INDIA

Vladivostok

Peking

Harbin

MANCHUKUO

50

Toro
s
(Shakhtyorsk) n d
sla
I
ril
Ku

A U S T R A L I A

10

Coral
Sea

Greater East Asia, 1945

90

100

110

120

130

140

150

New
Ireland

Okinawa Prefecture, Ryuku Islands, Japan - 1945

12730

128

Izhey-Shima

Yoron-Shima

27

Izena-Shima

East China
Sea

Hedo Point

Kunigami

Ie-Shima
Nakijin

Sesoko-Shima

Aguni-Shima

Nago

Nago
Bay

2630

Hagushi
Bay

Kin
Bay
Heanna
Ginowan

Naha

Kerama Islands

2630

Okinawa

Kin

Cape Zanpa

Tokashiki-Shima

27

Oroku
Peninsula

Nakagusuku
Bay

Miyagi-Jima

Tsugen-Shima

PACIFIC
OCEAN

Kutaka-Shima

26

26

0
127 30

128

Okinawa Prefecture, Ryukyu Islands, Japan, 1945

10

15 miles

Tokyo and Environs - 1945

140

To
ne

36

o
Ed

o
Ar

Edogawa

Tokyo

Katsu
ra
ga w

Chiba

To k y o
Bay

Kawasaki

Atsugi
Air Base

36

ga
wa

Edo

Yokohama

Sagami
Bay

Futtsu
Yokosuka

Kamakura

Kisarazu Air Base

35

35

Tateyama

Oshima Island

I
C
A
Nii Shima
Kozu Shima

P
140

Tokyo and Environs, 1945

10

15

20

25 miles

At the height of a kamikaze raid off Okinawa in April 1945, Rear Adm.
Arleigh Burke of the U.S. Fifth Fleet heard a voice transmission from an
unidentified destroyer that had just been hit, killing all of her senior officers:
I am an ensign, the voice said. I have been on this ship for a little while.
I have been in the Navy for only a little while. I will fight this ship to the
best of my ability and forgive me for the mistakes I am about to make.
E. B. Potter, Admiral Arleigh Burke
We do not intend that the Japanese shall be enslaved as a race or destroyed
as a nation; the Japanese Government shall remove all obstacles to the
revival and strengthening of democratic tendencies among the Japanese
people. But stern justice shall be meted out to all war criminals. . . .
Freedom of speech, of religion, and of thought, as well as respect for the
fundamental human rights, shall be established.
Potsdam Declaration, Article 5, Conference of the Allied Powers,
Potsdam, Germany, July 26, 1945

9 August 1945
USS Maxwell (DD 525), Task Force 38, North Pacific Ocean,
twenty-three miles east of Hitachi, Japan

lonely sun hung above the Japanese coastline as if governed by its own
whimit alone would decide when to set, and to hell with nautical predictions fabricated by mere mortals. The orange-red ball cast a miasma
of reds and pinks around a circular formation retiring to the east, the days
deadly task now done. The group consisted of four cruisers and eight destroyers
protecting the battleship Iowa in the center. Four F6F Hellcats, their combat air
patrol, buzzed lazily overhead, watching, waiting.
The setting sun made everybody nervous. Bad things happened at sunset and sunrise. The desperate Japanese were hurling kamikazes after the Third
Fleet. The damage had been great; ship after ship had been taken off the line for
repairs; many had been sunk. Destroyers and carriers had borne the brunt. In
many cases the destroyers, the little boys, had been crumpled into junk as if
smashed by a giant fist.
The Maxwell was again at general quarters after a long days work. The crew
had stood at their battle stations during sunrise. Then, during the day, Task Force
38 had moved close to the Japanese mainland and the Iowa had hurled her 16-inch,
2,000-pound projectiles eight miles inland. Her target: the industrial section of
Ibaraki Prefecture, where Hitachi Industries electronics works were concentrated.
The Maxwell and the rest of the task force had been close enough to pump
out a few rounds as well. But as they retired for the evening the destroyers readied their 5-inch guns for the kamikazes deadly retribution. Gun crews struck the
common ammunition with base-detonating fuses below into the magazines
and pulled up antiaircraft projectiles with proximity fuses, stocking them in the
3

4 | John J. Gobbell
upper handling rooms for immediate use. Now they were once again at general
quarters to defend against the raid that was certain to come.
Cdr. Todd Ingram paced his bridge, tugging at the straps on his life vest. The
Maxwell had made it through so far. Whether by luck or Divine intervention
or skillful fighting and maneuvering, Ingram couldnt say. After the protracted
Okinawa campaign coupled with Admiral Halseys triumphant bombardment of
the coast of Japan, he was too tired to think about it. For the past four months
hed averaged five hours of sleep a day. Along with the rest of the crew hed lived
from meal to meal and watch to watch, becoming a near automaton.
But over the past three days a different feeling had crept over Ingramand,
perhaps by osmosis, over the crew as well. Something awesome and horrific
had happened at Hiroshima. Rumors flew around the fleet. The war could be
over. Expectations of surrender grew into dreamsa good nights sleep, a weeks
worth of good nights sleep; a thick, juicy steak; plenty of beer; and course zeronine-zero: home. But the good news didnt come; the pressure was still on. No
sleep, no beer, no steak, no homeward trek; just more kamikazes and the incessant cracking of guns and the smell of cordite and the odor of death.
Lt. Cdr. Tubby White, the Maxwells executive officer, clomped onto the bridge
wearing khaki shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals. White had played guard at USC, but
his well-muscled torso had grown to generous proportions since then; thus his
nickname. Whites inverted belly button poked through his sweaty T-shirt. As
exec, Whites general quarters station was two decks below in the combat information center (CIC), a dark, cramped space full of heat-generating electronic
equipment such as radar repeaters. There was no air conditioning.
Ingram and White had known one another since the Solomon Islands campaign of 194243 when they had served in the destroyer Howell. The Howell
was sunk, and White went on to successfully command a PT boat in the
Upper Solomons campaign and then a squadron of PT boats during General
MacArthurs return to the Philippines. The Philippines campaign was just about
done. PT boats were no longer needed, and Lt. Cdr. Eldon P. White was on the
market, so to speak. Ingram scooped him up in an instant.
White walked up, waving a flimsy.
What is it? snapped Ingram.
White tucked the message behind his back. Touchy, touchy.
Damn it, Tubby, I dont have time for
Capt. Jerry Landa walked up and snatched the flimsy from behind Whites
back. Insubordination, Mr. White.
White drew up to a semblance of attention. Sorry, Commodore.
Ingram turned aside, trying not to laugh. These two had been at it for years.
But they were so similar. Although Tubby White was heavier than Landa, their
configurations were the same: portly. But Landa, with dark wavy hair, was far
more handsome and sold himself to others with a winning smile, the main

Edge of Valor | 5
feature being upper and lower rows of gleaming white teeth. A pencil-thin mustache on top was designed to draw in the ladies and more than adequately did its
job. The son of a Brooklyn stevedore, Landa went to sea at fifteen and worked his
way up, obtaining his masters license at the age of thirty. At the wars outbreak,
he immediately transferred to the U.S. Navy and a life on destroyers. He soon
found himself in command, and it suited him well. A fearless and solid leader
at sea, the unmarried Landa was flamboyant when ashore, doing more than his
share of drinking. Often, junior officers were tasked with carrying their commanding officer back to the ship, where they pitched him into his bunk to sleep it
off. Over the years Landa had acquired the nickname Boom Boom, presumably
because when the party had shifted to third gear, he would stand on a chair
or whatever was convenientand tell barroom jokes mimicking the sounds of
human flatus. Oddly, Landa didnt like to be called Boom Boom, although he
enjoyed calling others by nicknames.
Ingram, on the other hand, came from Echo, a small railroad and farming
community in southeastern Oregon. Not muscle bound, Ingram still had an
athletes frame and weighed an efficient 187 pounds. He had sandy hair, and his
deep-set eyes were gray with a touch of crows feet in the corners, the result of
lonely hot summer days in the endless wheat fields of eastern Oregon. A broad,
disarming grin delivered from time to time was characterized by a chipped
lower tooth, the result of a fall off a combine as an eleven-year-old. A graduate
of the U.S. Naval Academy in 1937, he escaped the Battleship Club syndrome
and went to small ships, initially minesweepers, where he rose to be the young
skipper of the minesweeper USS Pelican (AM 49) by wars outbreak in 1941.
While others at home were still trying to overcome the shock of the Pearl
Harbor attack and the devastating Japanese conquests in the Far East, Ingram
was seeing the horrors up close. One of the worst was when the Pelican was
bombed out from under him in Manila Bay in April 1942.
As different as they were, Ingram, Landa, and White had at least one thing
in common: utter exhaustion. They were dead tired. None had slept more than
three or four hours at a time over the past three months. There were dark
pouches under their eyes, especially Landas, and the skin on their faces had a
grayish pallor and sagged. The corners of their mouths turned down and their
eyes were more often than not bloodshot.
But for now, Ingram forgot their predicament as White and Landa glared
at one another for a moment, reliving a heated argument that began in the days
on the Howell when Landa had been the skipper and Tubby White a lieutenant
(jg). Ingram was sure both had forgotten what started the argument and now
merely relished mutual efforts to antagonize each other. The rancor grew worse
when Tubby White openly referred to CIC as the Chaos Information Center,
a joke that Landa would have gladly told himself had it not come from White.

6 | John J. Gobbell
White transferred off the Howell, but Ingram stayed on board as executive
officer. Hed more or less followed in Landas footstepstheir personalities completely opposite, their thinking and actions beautifully synchronized. Now Landa
was a full captain and commodore of Destroyer Squadron 77 (DESRON77) with
tactical and administrative control of the eight destroyers now arranged around
the modern fast battleship Iowa. It was Landa who had put the Maxwell in station seven, the position nearest the Japanese mainland.
At length, Landa dropped his eyes and read the message. Holy smokes. This
has to be it.
It what? asked Ingram.
The corners of Landas mouth curled up. He looked at White, You got this
from radio central?
Yes, sir. Mr. Ross thought it was important enough for me to see it. He
brought it down.
And you read it? asked Landa.
Of course, . . . Commodore.
Landas face glowed; his eyes glistened as if he were getting ready to tell one
of his famous farting jokes. But he remained silent.
Ingram spread his hands. Enough. Come on, Jerry!
Landa handed over the message.
Ill be a monkeys uncle! He whipped off his helmet and waved it in the air.
Cant be long now. With the Rooskies on our side, how can we lose? An hour
ago, a fleet broadcast had announced that the Soviet Union, a supposed neutral
to the Japanese, had instead declared war on them and had begun pouring thousands of troops across the Mongolian border.
Landa snorted.
Tubby White was more vocal. Sheyaaaat.
Ingram continued, All in the spirit of comradely cooperation, Im sure.
After all, those fine Soviets have been defending our cause for years.
They stared at him.
Ingram grinned and clapped his hands. Speaking of the spirit of comradely
cooperation, how bout it, Commodore? Would you like to tell the crew?
Landa unleashed his signature white-toothed smile and shook his head.
Theyre your guys.
Ingram nodded. This was the skippers job. Cant argue with that. He stepped
inside the pilothouse and stood beside the 1MCthe ships public address systemmounted on the rear bulkhead. The eight sailors and two officers in the
pilothouse had their ears cocked in his direction. At a glance Ingram could tell
the word had already leaked up from radio central via the sound-powered phone
connected to Radford, the lee helmsman, on the engine room annunciator. They
already knew what the message said.
No matter. Ingram nodded to Birmingham, the short, stout, heavily tattooed
second-class boatswains mate of the watch. Okay, Birmingham, he said. All

Edge of Valor | 7
hands from the captain. Use that. He pointed to the silver boatswains pipe dangling on Birminghams chest.
Aye, aye, Captain. Standing on tiptoes, Birmingham pulled down the
microphone. Then he flipped all the compartment levers and energized
the 1MC. Taking a deep breath, he blew on his pipe. Birminghams pipe echoed
clearly and mournfully throughout the ship, giving one the feeling he had stepped
back two hundred years in time. Still on tiptoes Birmingham barked, Now hear
this. Now hear this. Stand by for the captain.
Ingram stepped to the mike. Good evening. I have in hand a fleet broadcast
signed by Admiral Nimitz. A second atomic bomb was dropped today on the
Japanese mainland. This one on Nagasaki in southern Kyushu.
There was a massive intake of breath in the pilothouse. All eyes were fixed
on Ingram as he continued, While it says nothing about an end to hostilities, it
does caution us to maintain the utmost vigilance while negotiations are under
way. The war is not over by any stretch of the imagination. And I cant emphasize enough that we must remain vigilant. On the other hand, and I may be stepping out on a limb, I do like the use of the word negotiations. Thats all I can
say about this, so draw your own conclusions. He checked the plan of the day
posted nearby. Okay, absent any visitors between now and sunset, the movie
tonight is Guest in the House starring Ralph Bellamy and Anne Baxter. Showtime
is twenty-thirty on the mess decks. That is all. He flipped off the levers and
walked out to the open bridge.
As he stepped through the pilothouse door, he heard Birmingham mutter in
his fog-cutter voice, I dont get it. What the hells an atomic bomb?
Landa and Tubby White were still on the port bridge wing pretending to snarl
at each other. Landa said, Short, to the point, but not exactly Knute Rockne.
Well, you cant expect
Bridge, aye. Anderson, Ingrams talker, wearing sound-powered headphones, raised his head and said, Combat has six bogies, inbound, bearing twoeight-six true. Range twenty-five miles.
The dreaded words mesmerized the three officers for a moment.
Ingram and Landa locked eyes, the question unspoken. How did they get in
that close?
Must be hugging the deck, muttered White. See you fellas. He dashed
through the pilothouse door toward the ladder leading down to CIC.
Must be, said Ingram. They looked up to see the Hellcats swooping low,
headed west, their engines snarling.
I was so looking forward to a quiet evening with Ralph Bellamy, sighed
Landa, moving away. As was their custom during action, Landa took a position
on the starboard bridge wing with his status boards and talkers to issue instructions to his destroyers. From the Maxwells station in the number seven position
he could see all of his little boys and send messages by flag hoist, signal light,
or TBSvoice radio.

8 | John J. Gobbell
On the port bridge wing, Ingram took up a position between Anderson
and Lt. Tom Waterman, his GQ officer of the deck. Athletic and dark-haired,
Waterman was balding at the age of twenty-three. The hair loss made him look
twice his age but seemed to garner respect from the men who worked for him.
There! said Waterman, pointing aft.
Ingram raised his binoculars and spotted planes popping out of the mist
at about 15,000 yards, flying low, no more than 50 feet off the deck. Close, he
muttered. Even so, he saw a Hellcat roar in aft of one. Almost immediately the
Japanese plane burst into flames and hit the ocean with a splash. He squinted and
tightened his focus. Zeros.
All the men topside, from the bridge crew to the 40- and 20-mm gun crews,
strained to see the incoming enemy.
Ingram called, Batteries released. Heads up, everybody; here we go again.
To Waterman: Tom, tell main control to cut in superheat to all boilers and stand
by for maneuvering bells.
Yes, sir. Waterman ducked inside the pilothouse and gave the order.
Ingram heard the faint buzz of the oncoming Zeros engines. They were
flying impossibly low. Even so, the Hellcats ranged among them, their engines
strong, authoritative. Machine guns rattled and another Zero hit the ocean with
a loud explosion, its 500-pound bomb bursting on impact. The plume hadnt yet
dissipated when Ingram yelled up to Falco, his gunnery officer in the main battery director. Julian, shake a leg, damn it.
Falcos head popped out of the director; sweat rolled down his acne-scarred
face. On target and tracking. You ready, Skipper?
Wait one. To Anderson, Does plot have a solution?
Anderson keyed his sound-powered phone, asked the question, and nodded. Yes, sir, plot reports solution.
Range now was about eight thousand yards. A flash of light was followed by
a large column of water, and another Zero disappeared.
Ingram yelled, Falco, mounts 4 and 5 commence fire. We have to unmask
batteries. Ingram waited a moment as the after two 5-inch mounts belched out
a round apiece. He called to Landa through the pilothouse hatches. Jerry, how
about a turn nine?
Negative. Landa, a radiophone jammed to his ear, waved Ingram off with
a thumbs-down. He yelled something, but a second salvo obliterated his words.
What? Ingram shouted back.
Landa yelled, Formation speed, twenty-eight knots. Stand by, execute. He
hunched over the radio telephone handset to relay the same command to the
other destroyers.
Ingram grabbed Watermans arm. Tom, make turns for twenty-eight knots
and stand by for radical maneuvering.

Edge of Valor | 9
Twenty-eight knots, radical maneuvering; aye, Skipper. Waterman shouted
the order through the pilothouse porthole, Radcliff spun up his enunciators, and
the Maxwell fairly leapt out of her fifteen-knot wake.
The Zeros stood out clearly now. Three of them: one banking left, one banking right, and one boring straight in. Right for the Maxwell. Ingram felt as if
cement had hardened in his stomach. They were targeting him, all three of them.
An image of Helen flashed through his mind. Her large, brown eyes and glistening raven-black hair. Her olive skin. And then another image: Helen holding
their baby, Jerry; the kid was smiling. And then she was smiling.
Suddenly, the Zero directly aft pulled up and then dove into the water in
a fiery red ball of flame. A Hellcat flew through the pyre and then swooped to
chase the Zero on the right.
Two to go: one on either side. The Maxwells guns were blazing, port and
starboard, as the Zeros heaved out about three thousand yards and then turned
and headed directly toward her. Ingram had a sinking feeling. Weve been through
so much. So many others have suffered. Maybe its our turn. Oh, God, keep us safe.
The Zero to starboard exploded about a thousand yards away, nearly vaporized. Pieces no larger than a tire or a wing flap twirled though the air.
One to go. Ingram turned to look at the one to port. It wasnt there. What
the hell?
Sheyaaaat! A lookout pointed up. The Zero had pulled nearly straight
up to about a thousand feet. Now it was heading down at a steep angle for the
Maxwell, its engine screaming.
Turn into it. Ingram shouted, This is the captain. I have the conn. Left standard rudder. Make turns for thirty-five knots.
The helmsman spun his wheel; a flurry of replies answered Ingrams orders;
and the Zero plunged down. No more than five hundred feet now.
Mount 53 belched out a 54-pound projectile. Milliseconds later, its proximity fuse triggered the round. The shell blew up in front of the Zero, tearing
off its right wing. Men topside cheered as the Mitsubishi A6M, minus its right
wing, twirled into a flat spin, trailing oily red flames and smoke as it descended
a bizarre path.
Suddenly Ingram realized the Zero, its engine at an insane pitch, was still
going to hit the Maxwell. He clenched his fists. No, please.
The others topside saw it too. Men in the after torpedo mount and the midships 40- and 20-mm gun mounts ran for their lives as the plane caromed down.
With a screech of tearing metal the Zeros left wing sliced through the number two stack. The rest of the plane splattered onto the starboard side of the main
deck and spilled into the ocean leaving a hissing mist of dark smoke. Miraculously,
its bomb had not gone off. The severed upper section of the number two stack
stood in place for a moment, as if undecided what to do. Then, groaning and

10 | John J. Gobbell
tearing, it tumbled over to starboard onto the main deck, exposing economizers
that gushed shrieking steam from the lower section. The top half of the number
two stack tumbled into the Pacific, following its foe to the bottom.
Ingram slowly exhaled. He yelled at the lee helmsman to be heard over the
din, Radford, tell main control to secure economizers for number three and
four boilers.
Breathe. Looking aft, Ingram checked the sky. The Zeros were gone. The
steam stopped spouting. He called, Mr. Waterman. Take the conn to resume
formation course and speed. To his talker he said, Okay, Anderson, Damage
Control Central, report damage.
Landa walked through the pilothouse. Thought that little bastard had our
number.
Ill say. Ingrams right hand was shaking and he felt like vomiting. Quickly,
he stuffed the hand in his pocket.
The motion was not lost on Landa. He knew the signs. Theyd been through
it so many times. And they knew each other too well to say anything. Maybe later
Landa would give Ingram some heat about this. Except . . . last June off Okinawa,
Landa had peed his pants as a kamikaze dove on them, missing by only a hundred yards. He had dashed into Ingrams sea cabin to change. Later he claimed it
had been spilled coffee. Maybe it really had been. Everybody reacted differently.
But in the end, they were just ordinary men.
Bridge, aye. Anderson turned to Ingram. Main control reports economizers secured on boilers three and four. They have twenty-seven knots available for
steaming. No damage except number two stack.
Ingram and Landa walked to the starboard side. Already the repair party
was out on the main deck clearing wreckage. Any casualties? asked Ingram.
Anderson listened for a moment, smirked, and then said, Yes, sir, there are.
Well, what? demanded Ingram.
Mr. White in CIC, said Anderson.
Mr. White? CIC? What the hell? demanded Ingram and Landa in unison.
Anderson stood at near attention and said, Mr. White reports thirteen guys
scared shitless.