Weapons of choice

"That's right. Fifty million people are going to die in this war. They couldn't care less about a little village full of peasants with alphabet soup for names. Too bad, it's war, get over it."

Rachel turned back to the board.

"Tomorrow the Pacific Fleet gets reinforced by the carrier USS Wasp and some cruisers and destroyers. It would have made up for some of the losses they suffered to the Japs at Midway. Now it'll make up for their losses to us instead. Also, tomorrow, Field Marshal Rommel of the Afrika Korps is going to break out of the Cauldron in the Battle of Gazala, destroying three hundred and twenty British tanks in a two-day battle. You won't be surprised to know the locals were very keen to get as much detail about that as they could. The Brits have a bunch of guys stationed here for liaison. They've been hammering us for days about it. That's where the others have gone"-she indicated the empty chairs-"they're briefing the Brits about where and when to hit Rommel. Maybe they'll take the advice. Maybe Rommel will just kick their butts anyway. We'll see.

"At some point, our presence here is going start fundamentally changing the course of events, and this type of research will become moot."

"That's happened already," said Natoli.

"Around these parts, for sure. But the ripples haven't spread very far yet. The Japs are probably still trying to figure out what the hell's going on. Unlike Nimitz and Spruance, they don't have us to walk them through it."

"And I guess they don't have ships like these to make them believe," Duffy ventured.

"Let's hope not," said Nguyen. "Now, back to the board. On June eleventh, the Germans are going to start mining the eastern seaboard of the U.S. — "

"Is anybody else having a Twilight Zone moment?" asked Natoli.

"Every minute of the day." Rachel sighed. "Again, the locals want to know as much as possible about that. They'd like to be able to pinpoint the German subs, but we can only give them general indications right now. The archives aren't a crystal ball."

"How about we try to help out with that?" suggested Natoli.

"Admiral King would be your new best friend if you could deliver," said Rachel.

"Who's that?"

"The current U.S. Navy boss, and apparently a very, very unpleasant man to deal with. I'd love to be in the room when he and Kolhammer finally meet up. Apparently Nimitz was on the line to him for three hours after we arrived, mostly getting his arse kicked black and blue."

"How do you think he'd take to advice from a couple of civilian girlies in Prada skirts and high heels."

"I think we owe it to history to find out," Nguyen said, smiling at last. "Why don't you crack open those boxes of books? Somewhere near the bottom of that big sucker there's a whole stack of memoirs and biographies. You find some guys did time in the coast guard or the destroyers, you might just get lucky."

The two reporters fell to the task for the next couple of hours, skimming through dozens of old volumes, mostly without luck. At lunchtime the three of them shared a couple of sandwiches in the Clinton's main mess. It seated nearly one thousand personnel and most of the places were taken. Rachel and the reporters squeezed in next to a couple of sailors who were minding half a dozen visitors from the Enterprise. The contemporary personnel-or " 'temps," as they'd been christened-looked like kids on their first day in school, lost and scared and trying not to show it; except for one, an Italian kid, who was forking down a mammoth serving of sand crab lasagne like it might be his last meal.

"You got any plans, for when you get some leave?" asked Natoli as she sprinkled fresh Parmesan cheese over a dish of spinach-and-ricotta ravioli. The Parmesan was only Grana, not Reggiano. But it was a well-cooked dish. "I am so going to find my great-auntie Tula and tell her not to marry Great-Uncle Al," she added.

"But what about your cousins? They wouldn't be born then," said Rachel, as she wrestled with a giant hamburger.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. Damn."

"I wouldn't know where to find my family at this point," Rachel said. "They'd be in some paddy field near the delta. But that's Japanese territory now, anyway."

"Well, I'm going to write something like Sexual Politics or maybe The Female Eunuch," Julia declared. "I don't suppose anybody will be interested during the war, but just imagine if we could save all of those women from being chained to the kitchen all through the fifties."

"Maybe they wanted to be chained there," said Rosanna.

"I'm sure they did," said Julia. "For about two minutes."

"That sounds like a version of Marxist false consciousness," said Rachel, before adding with grin, "I always knew the Times was full of superannuated Commies."

"I'm serious," said Duffy. "Right now, we're all together. We make our own rules, or we live by the ones we already have, I suppose. But what do you think will happen when I arrive at the Times and ask for my desk back? They're gonna take one look at my tits-"