Fic: Sparkling Stars IX: Who Saves The Marines? (1/1)
Title: Sparkling Stars IX: Who Saves The Marines? (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Quinton McHale, Lester Gruber, Christy/Virgil, Willy Moss, Harrison 'Tinker' Bell, Joseph 'Happy' Haines, Chuck Parker, John F. Kennedy, Andrew Martin
Fandom: McHale's Navy
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Historical, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: The crew of the PT-73 are sent on a rescue mission.
Date Of Completion: September 21, 2022
Date Of Posting: October 7, 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 3025
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author's Notes: The real-life incident recounted here was changed somewhat by me, but the essentials were the same. It happened to JFK during World War II and was depicted in the movie, PT-109 (1963), even though it actually happened when Kennedy commanded the PT-59, his boat after the 109 was sunk. Hollywood being Hollywood, and since it was the 109 in the movie's title...
The 109 (59) was the rescuer of the Marines (PT-73 herein), and ran out of gas instead of engine trouble. The 109 had been sent out before getting a chance to refuel. Guess I've gone Hollywood! ☺️
Did you know that JFK has been the only President awarded the Purple Heart?
The entire series can be found here.
"When you're the ones saving the Marines, you're all in deep trouble."
Captain Harold Blakely
United States Marine Corps
September 27, 1942
"Okay, you schlockmeisters, time to earn your pay!"
Lieutenant Commander Quinton McHale barged into his crew's quarters, every man immediately on alert.
"What's up, Skip?" asked Happy.
"A bunch of Marines were part of a diversionary force against the Japs on Marauna. Things got fouled up and they need protection as their transports are on the way."
"LSTs?" Gruber's asked as he secured his gunbelt.
"Yeah, so we'll provide the firepower." McHale gestured for the men to hurry. "Virg, Hap, you be up front with the .50-calibers." He beckoned Virgil to him and unlocked his slave jewelry, putting the collar and bracelets in a satinwood box that he placed on a table. Virgil quickly gathered up his gear and followed his crewmates out
The crew dashed to the boat, clambering aboard while Willy cast off and jumped onto the boat. Christy got them on their way at the helm.
Virgil stowed away his rifle and tapped his helmet for luck. He made sure his machine gun was fully loaded and knew he had just oiled it this morning. Happy was doing the same check of his gun.
"C'mon, Tink, give me all ya got!" McHale shouted.
"Right, Skip!"
The PT-73's engines thrummed as the boat skipped over the water. Urgency skittered around the boat as the crew knew that speed was of the essence. The Marines were counting on them.
Virgil kept an eye open for enemy ships as the PT-73 headed for Marauna. There was an excitement in the air as well as tighty-controlled fear. Combat wasn't just a possibility; it was a certainty. Their guys needed them, a big responsibility for their little PT boat and crew
Virgil kept taking deep breaths, trying to quell his nervousness. , Adrenaline was surging in his body and he looked over at the bridge. Christy was still at the wheel while the Skipper was using his binoculars to scan the horizon.
Virgil was wearing his Navy blue jacket as he polished his machine gun, trying to keep his hands busy. The quarter moon made sightings difficult.
At least the sea isn't choppy. Even seasoned sailors can get queasy.
He said a quick prayer heavenward for a successful mission and no losses. Did God listen to the prayers of slaves? He wasn't sure. He had prayed for deliverance so many times, especially in the early days of his slavery, but he was still collared and manacled.
I'm just hoping He listens this time.
Virgil's stomach was filled with butterflies. He flexed his shaking fingers, needing to have steady hands for his machine gun.
I'd rather use my fingers on Christy.
Virgil smiled to himself. Making love appealed to him more than war.
Get your head back in the game, buddy boy, before it gets blown off
The crew existed in a limbo of anticipation, preparing themselves for combat.
A half hour later McHale sang out, "Marauna up ahead."
The quarter moon gave off enough light to illuminate a small island several yards ahead. Flashes of light blossomed like fireflies in the darkness.
Would look pretty if you didn't know it was enemy fire.
Virgil was ready to start firing when the Skipper gave the word. The LSTs were approaching and waited for the PT-73 to pull up abreast. The commander of the nearest LST saluted and shouted, "The Marines are on the edge of the beach. The Japs have them pinned down!"
"Right! Virg, Happy, start laying down fire!" McHale ordered.
The two men opened fire as the LSTs moved in. The Marines laid down their own covering fire with bazookas as the first wave of men ran for the landing craft. Enemy bullets raked the water and cut down a few unfortunates who fell into the surf. A check of the bodies showed there was no living Marine to drag along.
The first LST was fully loaded with Marines and began pulling away. The second craft was half full, and the third inched closer. The covering fire from the 73 was keeping the Japanese at bay...for now.
Virgil and Happy kept firing, their guns chattering like a busybody letting loose with gossip over the backyard fence. The Japanese were growing bolder, coming to the edge of the jungle with the bazookas and machine guns.
"Direct hit on the LST!" Gruber yelled as the third craft exploded. The men already aboard were killed, and those who had been running toward it started splashing toward the 73. The second LST pulled up its landing ramp and moved away from the island.
"Get the nets over the side!" McHale ordered, and Gruber broke out the rope nets and pushed them over the side. "Chuck, go help him."
"Right, Skip."
Chuck joined Gruber and the first Marines began climbing up the nets. One man was hit and fell into the water. Several Marines scooped him up and helped him up the swaying net.
"Hurry it up! Get those men aboard!" yelled McHale.
Gruber and Chuck pulled the Marines up over the side, dumping them onto the boat. They struggled to their feet and helped Chuck and Gruber bring their fellow Marines on board.
"Get the wounded below!" McHale ordered.
Virgil and Happy were feeding fresh ammunition into their guns as the Japanese kept up a hail of relentless fire. Christy took a quick look behind him, relieved that Virgil was all right. Virgil sent him a quick smile.
His heart was racing but his hands were steady. He laid down a fusillade of fire along the beach to drive the Japanese back into the jungle. A bullet whooshed past his ear.
The Japanese blasted withering fire and Virgil heard a scream behind him, followed by Gruber's agonized, "Tinker!" His stomach twisted.
No, please, not Tinker!
Bullets could penetrate the thin bulkheads of a PT boat. Had one found Tinker in the engine room?
He increased fire and the Marines kept coming. Their desperation was catching. Virgil would have loved to hightail it out of here, and on the double.
The rope nets swayed as the Marines surged up the side. The 73 rocked as the men piled onto the boat. Virgil hoped that the 73's engine could handle this crowd.
"Speed it up!" McHale shouted.
Bullets pinged off the metal of the boat, uncomfortably close. Virgil's heart hammered as he saw Christy duck as he absorbed the close call.
Dear God, please don't take Christy. If you have to take anyone, take me.
He made a sweep of the beach with his gunfire, hoping that with this final fusillade they could get everyone aboard and shove off.
The final man scrambled aboard and McHale gave the order to take off. The PT-73 shuddered and started the turn back to the base. The boat shivered and sputtered, finally grinding to a halt.
"Tinker, what's goin' on?" McHale yelled.
"A slug got our fuel line. I'm workin' on it!"
Tinker must be all right, Virgil thought in relief.
"Hurry up!" McHale muttered to Christy, " The tide's coming in." He yelled down to Willy to radio for help.
Christy nodded and glanced at Virgil, and gave him a quick smile. Virgil and Happy hastily reloaded their weapons. The Marines behind them were checking their rifles and were quiet, a sign of their tension. The sound of the lapping tide was loud in the silence.
The 73 was drifting back toward the beach. The Japanese were reloading their weapons and started firing with renewed vigor.
Virgil and Happy started firing again, the Marines joining in. Happy ducked as a slew of bullets nearly got him. Virgil aimed for the enemy machine gun threatening his fellow Gunner's Mate.
We're still in trouble. We're drifting too close.
The occupants of the PT-73 kept up their fire, knowing they we're drifting toward disaster. Curses mixed with prayers as the tide pushed the overloaded boat closer and closer...
The blessedly welcome sound of a PT boat's engines carried over the water. "It's the 109!" Gruber said. A collective cheer went up as the PT-109 came up off the starboard side.
"Heard you guys needed a tow!" said Jack Kennedy, skipper of the 109.
"We sure do, Jack! We're in a little bit of a pickle right now," said McHale.
"Send over the tow rope," Jack said to his crew, and Gruber secured the line. The PT-109's engines revved up and began towing the 73.
They were soon out of range of the enemy's firepower on Marauna. Virgil and Happy were finally able to stand down.
McHale said, "Check out our passengers, boys. I'm going below to check on the wounded." He and Chuck went below.
Virgil, Happy and Gruber circulated amongst the Marines while Christy remained on the bridge, keeping watch.
"Do you guys need a refill on your canteens?" Virgil asked. "We picked up a few jugs awhile ago and stowed them aboard."
A big sergeant with dark red hair said, "Sure, we could use some."
"Anybody hurt enough to come below?"
"Nah, if someone collapses, we'll let ya know."
Virgil smiled slightly and said, "I'll be right back "
He scrambled below decks. It was quiet except for murmuring in the crew quarters. The Marine medic was busy with the wounded, aided by the Skipper and Mr. Parker. An occasional clang from the engine room indicated that Tinker was hard at work on the engines. The tow was great but bound to put a strain on the 109's engines. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air.
He quickly went to the galley and grabbed the jugs of water, slipping back up on deck. He went around and filled canteens, asking if any first aid was needed.
A Marine who looked too young to shave said, "I could use a bandage." He held up a bloody hand.
Virgil handed the jugs off and hurried to get the first aid kit he carried in his gun turret. He returned with it and used water from his own canteen to clean the deep gash. He wound a clean bandage around the injury and secured it
There was pain clouding the young Marine's eyes and Virgil hoped he had lessened it a little with this medical treatment.
"Thanks, buddy."
"You're welcome." Virgil handed an aspirin from the kit to the kid. "Here, wash this down with water from my canteen."
The kid swallowed the aspirin and water. "Thanks. I'm Rory."
"I'm Virgil."
He helped another Marine, who was staring at his wrist as his jacket sleeve rode up. Fortunately, he wasn't wearing his slave bracelet.
Rory pushed a strand of sandy hair back. His hair was short but not Marine-short. Virgil liked it. Crew cuts were okay, but what if Christy favored a crew cut? All those beautiful curls would be lost!
The 73's engines rumbled to life. "Yay, Tinker!" said Gruber with a fist pump.
"Hey, Mr. Kennedy, we're good again!" Christy called over to the PT-109.
"Okay, Christy!" Jack gave a thumbs-up as Gruber untied the tow rope and tossed it to the other boat.
After making the rounds, Virgil returned to his gun turret.
Up on the bridge, Christy turned the boat around. The PT-109 kept pace with the 73 as they headed back to Taratupa.
Christy looked back over his shoulder. Virgil was still wearing his combat helmet and looked heart-breakingly beautiful.
He looks like an angel.
When Virgil was in angelic mode, all was right with the world.
Christy turned back around and concentrated on steering. He listened to the conversation going on behind him. The Marines were unwinding from battle while still worrying about their wounded comrades.
"Shouldn't you go find out what's goin' on, Sarge?"
"The Lieutenant's with 'em. He'll let us know if he needs us, Flaherty."
Flaherty sounded unconvinced. "Okay, Sarge."
Another voice said, " That was hairy." He sounded very young.
"You got that right, Jonesy. Still no Tarawa, though."
"Yeah, but this was up close and personal."
"All these crappy islands aren't worth squat," complained a new voice.
Flaherty snorted. "Whatsamatter, Garrity? Ya tired of hittin' the beach?"
"Yeah, it's gettin' old."
"Can't say as I blame you," said Sarge.
"On a beautiful night, we gotta be fightin' on some stinkin' island."
"Keep it cool, kid."
"Huh." Garrity was quiet for a few minutes, then he said, "I wonder which of 'em it is."
"Huh?" asked Flaherty.
"Which one is the slave?"
"What do you mean?"
"Which one of the crew is the slut?"
"Who knows? Who cares?"
"I do, and so should you. You could catch something."
Flaherty laughed. "What would we catch? FH is not catching, you know."
"Are you kiddin'? You can catch stuff you haven't even dreamed of yet from those delicate little 'handmaidens'."
"Stow it, Garrity," said Sarge.
Christy's temper was rising. He turned around, ready to tell off Garrity, when his gaze fell on Virgil. His lover quickly shook his head
Christy clamped his mouth shut. If Virgil would rather let the comments pass, he would agree with him. Why stir up trouble? No one would know he was the slave with his slave collar and bracelets locked away back on McHale's Island.
He turned back to the wheel. There was always someone to rain on your parade, he thought.
"But, Sarge, aren't you curious?" asked Garrity.
"Listen, like Flaherty says, who cares? All I know is he's part of the crew who saved our bacon. That's good enough for now."
Go, Sarge! thought Christy.
"But aren't you creeped out by what those slaves do in the sack?"
"Ha, listen to Me. Slave-Hater. You'll be the first one in line when we get our new slave next month," teased Flaherty.
"Yuck, is the Marine Corps crazy? We should be one branch of the service left uncontaminated."
"Huh, shows what you know. There were slaves attached to combat units on Guadalcanal."
"They were just experimental."
"And they did great."
Christy could practically hear Garrity roll his eyes.
"You guys are brainwashed. Do you really want to share quarters with whores? Sure, fuck 'em, but eating and working with them? Double yuck!"
Christy had another urge to throttle Garrity, but respected Virgil's wishes. The kid had just been in combat, too. Still, slave-haters gave Christy a bellyache.
The trip back was filled with chatter and worry about the wounded. Both PT boats were going at full throttle because of the injured men.
Gruber was going around with snappy patter as he tried to entertain the Marines, who were struggling with the aftermath of combat.
Good ol' Grube, thought Christy
They finally reached Taratupa and the boats docked with medical personnel already waiting on the dock. Orderlies brought stretchers down below on the 73 and emerged with their patients, making the quick trek to the busy hospital. The Marines silently disembarked from the 73.
Jack Kennedy jumped off the PT-109 and met McHale on the dock next to the 73. "Bad?"
McHale sighed. "Very " He looked tired.
Jack folded his arms. "If we weren't already out on patrol, we never would have made it in time."
"Yeah, I know." McHale pushed his cap back. "It's a miracle my crew made it unscathed."
Tinker popped up from the engine room. The crew cheered.
"A man for all seasons," said Gruber happily.
"Yep, that's me, Johnny-on-the-spot." Tinker lifted a hand soaked in blood. "And ready to pass out." He turned and his right side matched his hand
"Tinker!" Gruber rushed to grab his friend before he collapsed to the deck. Happy helped keep him upright, but Tinker had passed out.
"Hospital!" McHale barked.
Gruber carried Tinker while the crew escorted him with his precious burden.
& & & & & &
The exhausted crew of the PT-73 spent the rest of the night sprawled in the hospital waiting room. When Dr. Martin came out after surgery he said, "Tinker's going to be fine. No problem getting the bullet out."
"Thank God," Gruber said. "Can I see him, Doc?"
"You can in a little while. Tinker's still out from the anesthesia."
"How are the Marines we brought in, Doc?" asked McHale.
"Touch-and-go with one, but the other two will be all right."
"Good. It was pretty hairy out there "
"Well, you guys got 'em out safely. After Gruber sees Tinker, I suggest you guys grab some sack time."
"Will do, Doc."
Dr. Martin left and Happy asked, "How did Tink get shot down in the engine room?"
"You know how thin our bulkheads are. A stray bullet must've penetrated one." McHale rubbed his face, suddenly exhausted.
"Listen, you guys head back to the Island. Leave me the gig to get back after I see Tinker."
"Sounds good, Gruber," said McHale.
Christy roused Virgil, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He smiled as he helped a groggy Virgil out of the hospital, assuring that Tinker was going to be fine. William needed to be shaken awake, too, and Happy put an arm around the young radioman.
McHale shook his head. "We're dead on our feet.."
"Better than being dead," Christy said
"Right," McHale agreed
The crew of the PT-73 staggered out of the hospital and trudged down to the docks. The 109 was refueling. Jack jumped down off the boat and said, "You guys going to refuel?" He yawned. "We'll be done in about ten minutes."
"Thanks, Jack, but we'll head for home and refuel in the morning. I don't think we could keep our eyes open long enough to wash the windshield or check the oil."
Jack grinned. "Tinker must be okay."
"He is. So are two out of three of the Marines who were hurt."
"The third?"
"Touch-and-go," said McHale.
Jack swept his shoe across the planks of the dock. "Must be tough for his commander." He crossed his arms. "I can't imagine losing a man."
McHale rubbed his eyes. "Neither can I."
Jack patted his shoulder. "Go take care of your men "
The PT-73 sailed away, carrying a crew of very tired men.
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