//------------------------------// // Lest we Forget // Story: A Seed in the Big Easy // by The Blue EM2 //------------------------------// “Targets sighted!” Tender Taps shouted down from the periscope to the Captain. “Roger that!” Babs replied. “RADAR, you got anythin’?” “Copy, we have three targets up ahead!” Raindrops replied. “Locking targets now!” She rotated some dials and pressed down on a large red button. The indicator light on her panel switched from red to green. “SONAR confirms targets locked!” Featherweight called. “Excellent!” Babs replied. “Gunner, you ready?” “Aye Captain!” Silverstream replied. “On your word.” The hostile transport came into view, slowly, surely. Then the opportunity came. “FIRE!” Silverstream pulled back on the trigger, and a torpedo shot out of the tube. A few tense moments passed as the submarine ran underwater for a few minutes. Then a jet of water lit up the sky, followed by a fireball of red and orange as the transport was torn apart in a fiery explosion. “YES!” Tender called. “Confirmed kill on enemy tanker.” Babs took out her radio. “Command, we have confirmed a kill on enemy tanker. Repeat, we just bagged our 15th kill.” “Good job, sink as many as you can.” “Captain!” Raindrops called. “We have a confirmed track on the second tanker. It’s circling right over us!” “Shit, dive!” There was a lurching sensation and groaning noise as the sub began to dive deeper, swinging around as it did so. Silverstream waited for the order. “Lock targets behind us!” “Roger!” Once again, Raindrops’ display switched from red to green. “Target locked!” “FIRE!” Silverstream depressed the trigger, and heard the thump as the torpedo was launched from the rear of the submarine. It smashed into the target and destroyed it utterly. “Our 16th kill!” Babs added down the radio. “How many torpedoes do we have left?” “Just the one,” Silverstream replied. Babs nodded. “We’ll make it count. Every ship we sink is one fewer that makes it to Peleliu.” Raindrops called over. “Final target has been locked Captain.” Featherweight looked over. The tension in his face was palpable. “Godspeed,” was all he said. “Fire.” There was a deafening silence as the final torpedo left the tube. Then sirens began blaring as Tender called down again. “Torpedo is a maverick! Torpedo is a maverick!” Babs frantically turned the wheel to try and get the submarine clear of the rogue torpedo. But it wasn’t enough. There was a massive explosion from the port side, and the submarine began to flood. “To the escape hatches!” Babs called. The 5 friends ran for their lives as the USS Tang was torn apart from the inside and out. Several hours earlier... Babs woke up the next morning to be presented with another NOLA sunrise. After getting dressed and heading downstairs for breakfast, she munched her way through some cereal, when an idea struck her. Over in the lobby was a piano, which anyone could play. A smile grew across her face as she had an idea. Finishing the last of her cardboardios, she got up out of her seat and walked over to the piano, adjusting the footrest as she did so and checking she could reach the pedals. (until 0:53) And off she went, into a rendition of Maple Leaf Rag that made everyone stop and listen as she flew through the chords with little difficulty. “She’s good!” said one of the porters. Her friends came out the elevator to hear her playing, wonderful joyous ragtime, and stood around the keyboard to listen to the wondrous sound. But she wasn’t done there. One the repeat, she suddenly switched tunes! (0:29 to end) “Whoever would have known the Thomas and Friends theme and Maple Lead Rag went so well together?” Raindrops asked, as they walked from the streetcar stop. “Perfectly,” Babs replied. “Same key, same tempo-I honestly wonder if O’Donnell and Campbell borrowed something from Joplin!” “It seems likely,” admitted Tender Taps. “Ragtime is one of the most influential genres of all time.” “Before there was Rap,” Silverstream began. “There was Ragtime,” Featherweight finished. “Before Michael Jackson,” continued Raindrops. “There was Scott Joplin!” they chorused. But now was the time for silence. As they had arrived at the National WWII Museum. This large, imposing building stood on Magazine Street, and was actually 5 buildings. It had started life as the D-Day Museum, and had gradually grown to encompass the entirety of the American experience in WWII. Inside the main lobby of the Louisiana Pavilion, a multitude of items were on display, including a field hospital wagon, an original Flak 88, a Spitfire suspended from the roof, and a Higgins Boat. Which, as they knew well by now, had been invented in the city and had carried many soldiers to many a beach across the world. After being let through the ticket line, they boarded the recreation passenger car and scanned their dog tags in order to begin their WW2 story. After a long trip, they arrived on the other side and headed up the stairs. “Where first?” asked Raindrops. “I’d suggest going to the Pacific first,” Silverstream suggested. “My grandfather was an Admiral in the US Navy, and that’s where he served.” Tender looked at her. “What was his name?” “Seaspray.” Babs’ jaw dropped. “You’re descended from Admiral Seaspray?” Silverstream nodded. “And my dad served in the 1980s on the USS Missouri!” “Well,” Featherweight noted, “you learn something new every day.” The experience was intensely moving, to say the least. The mixture of interior layout, artefacts and interpretive signs really helped to bring the Pacific to life. And unlike so many museums in New York, the touchscreens actually worked! But then came their time slot for Final Mission, a recreation of the last mission of the USS Tang. They had just exited from it, and looked around the Armour hall, which had a Sherman and several Jeeps on display, as well as several aircraft suspended from the ceiling, visible only via accessing an extremely slow lift. At the end of the day, they had their showing of Beyond all Boundaries, which worked well for them, although they heard some British visitors grumbling. “The war wasn’t just fought by the Americans you know!” one of them said. Silverstream recognised the voice. It was the woman whom she’d seen in the NOLA Collection. “But we did do much of the heavy lifting in the Pacific,” Raindrops said to her. “Remind me, what happened to your battleships?” “The Japanese sank Force Z pretty easily.” Silverstream crossed her arms. “So, Britain kinda owes us a thank you.” The woman was left speechless, and simply walked away. “Yanks,” she grumbled. As Babs settled down for bed that night, ready to return tomorrow, she had no idea that the next day would propel her into the history books.