Come and Get Your Love

Arvin Wurlie watches the man brooding at the end of the bar down another double scotch.

Arvin knows he’s a fellow warrior because Grumman’s Tavern only attracts servicemen. Picking up his beer, the sixty-six-year-old navy veteran decides he has to know what destroyed the man.

“You’re accomplished at being a sponge, friend. Don’t you ever ease up?”

The thirtyish, dark-haired, unshaven man looks up.

“I’ll sober up when I get another command.”

“It’s likely to be the long side of never if they see you like this,” Arvin says.

“Until then, cheers,” the man replies. Downing his drink, he signals for another.

“What happened to you?”

“I’m Cole Custer, the former Captain of the battleship Valiant.”

Arvin nods. “The sole survivor.”

“I let the gravity of the moment overwhelm me. I came home. Fifteen hundred sailors under my command didn’t.”

The bartender places another drink in front of Cole. He looks up at the photo hanging above the bar, taken two weeks before the loss of the Valiant. It captures the jubilant crew sitting on the ship’s forward guns and standing on the bridge.

“You need to forgive yourself,” Arvin says.

“A captain is supposed to go down with his ship.”

“I was on two battleships during the war, the Orion, and the Neptune. The Orion hit a mine. If I’d been below deck in my bunk I would have died. The Neptune collided with a minesweeper in the fog. We cut that little boat in half. We lost the two men. Thirty-six of the seventy men on board that minesweeper lost their lives. The sea is a cruel mistress. It humbles everyone.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t let myself be intimidated by Heinrich Hartmann.”

“The Saxon Admiral?”

“The bully I could never face,” Cole replies. “We were classmates at the Naval Academy. I was just a farm boy. I was happy to have made it through training, and hoped to get assigned a desk job. Hartmann was descended from old Saxon money. He was blonde, fit, and wore the uniform like he was getting ready to have his portrait painted for a naval museum. He couldn’t wait to command.”

“His ego and talents were poorly kept secrets,” Arvin says. “He wanted to liberate Saxony from our empire.”

“Hartmann always wanted whatever I had and took immense pleasure in making me miserable. Probably because of my great-uncle. He was always joking about what George Custer’s last words were…”

“What were they?”

“Uh-oh.”

Arvin rolls his eyes, groaning.

“Hartmann used his charm and family standing to steal Elena, Admiral Drucker’s daughter, away from me because he saw their marriage as an opportunity to advance his career.”

“Drucker commanded the Northern Fleet,” Arvin says.

“Yes. Hartmann’s taking Elena away from me changed my life. We were dancing at a club, and the D.J. was playing, ‘Come and Get Your Love.’ Hartmann cut in and I was cut out. My heart breaks every time I hear that song.”

Arvin starts to hum the tune. “…Sorry, it’s catchy…”

“He married Elena and was promoted to Commodore practically overnight. It wasn’t long after that his mistress called Elena and told her she was pregnant. A second woman demanded money to keep her pregnancy quiet. Elena was devastated. But I still loved her…”

Hartmann arrives at the Admiralty’s staff meeting holding his war games trophy.

“Three years in a row,” he boasts. “At this rate, I’m going to have to get a bigger trophy case. Maybe I’ll put this one on the bridge of my new command. How does it feel to be a bridesmaid again?”

The corners of Cole’s mouth twitch.

“Yes, I know my brilliance leaves you speechless, Custer. I can’t believe you keep falling for the same tricks.”

“I heard you divorced Elena,” Cole says, changing the subject.

Hartmann’s perfect smile matches the gleam of the medals on his uniform. “Yes. When I think about it, you two were perfect for one another. You’re both wishy-washy. I’m marrying Lady Greta Strasburg in two weeks. She’s the sister of King Kaiser II of Saxony, which puts me in line for the throne. I’d invite you, but it’s for blue bloods only.”

Hartmann gives Cole a smug smile. Cole silently wishes he dared to slap it off his face.

“When I marry Lady Greta, the Kaiser will make me Admiral of the Saxony fleet.”

“You’ll still be answerable to the Empire.”

“We’ll see.”

“And what about Elena?” Cole asks.

“You haven’t heard? She killed herself.”

“Elena, the loss of the Valiant. That’s a lot to live with,” Arvin says.

“Hartmann was promoted to Admiral for the Saxon fleet. There was talk about Saxony seceding from the Empire, and he was behind most of it,” Cole said. “Our navies continued to hold war games together, which was a mistake because it gave Hartmann a chance to perfect a strategy against us. His favorite maneuver during the war games was to get our ships to chase after his squadron, have his ships raise a smoke screen, then turn and fight. He would turn his ships broadside so they could fire all their guns at us while we could only fire our forward batteries at him. When Saxony war was declared, Hartmann knew how to defeat us. Hoping that knowledge worked both ways, the Admiralty sent me out to sink Hartmann’s flagship. But I already knew what the outcome would be...”

Cole paces on the bridge of the battleship Valiant, nearly walking into Lieutenant Wilson Quay, his second in command. At twenty-six, with a boyish glint in his blue eyes, Wilson knows defeating the Empire’s most dangerous enemy could boost his career.

“Smoke screen ahead, Captain,” the navigator says. “We’ve picked up the Markgraf on radar.”

“Is the Markgraf alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“At least that’s in our favor.”

“We can defeat Hartmann, Captain,” Wilson says. “And when we do, the rebels will surrender.”

“The Markgraf is four months old. Our ship is twenty years old. The Markgraf is more maneuverable, better protected, and has modern weapons,” Cole says.

“I understand your concern, sir. But we have something the Markgraf doesn’t.”

“What’s that Lieutenant?”

“You.”

“Target sighted!” a lookout shouts. “She’s turned broadside on us, Captain!”

“Commence firing,” Cole says.

The forward batteries of the Valiant belch out black smoke as they send a salvo hurtling toward the Markgraf.

The shells splash around the Markgraf.

The radioman pipes up. “Captain, I’m getting a message from the Markgraf. It’s Admiral Henrich Hartmann.”

“Admiral Hartmann… I presume you’re calling to surrender. The sixth fleet is only a short distance away. We have you surrounded.”

Hartmann’s menacing tone makes Cole shiver. “You don’t have your great uncle’s ability to bluff. I know your fleet is hundreds of miles away and you’re alone. It’s a shame your brave men will die while under the command of a wishy-washy rube…”

“He’s not wishy-washy!” Wilson shouts.

“No? He’s as careless as his great-uncle. Ask him what George Custer’s last words were…”

Wilson looks over at Cole.

“Uh-oh.” Cole’s voice cracks in response. “We’re coming for you, Hartmann.”

Hartmann laughs. “I’m quivering Custer… Come and get your love.”

“We should turn the ship, Captain,” Wilson says. “We need to be able to bring all our guns to bear on the Markgraf.”

“We have to close the range between us,” Cole replies.

Wilson raises his binoculars in time to see the Markgraf fire a broadside at them.

The whistling sound of the heavy incoming shells freezes everyone on the bridge.

The ship shudders and the men are knocked off their feet.

“They hit the conning tower, Captain,” Wilson reports.

“Casualties?”

“I think I saw Lieutenant Sawyer go by. The man was wearing his uniform, but he didn’t have a head.”

Cole moves to the captain’s platform as the Markgraf unleashes another salvo.

Cole watches a shell fly overhead. The shell hits aft where the ammunition for the smaller guns is stored.

The ammunition explodes, crackling like firecrackers. Shrapnel cuts dozens of dazed crewmen in half, turning the deck into a slaughterhouse.

Wilson rushes to Cole’s side as the ship recoils from another explosion.

“The Markgraf is tearing us apart, Captain. We need to turn the ship to port!”

Smoke belches from the Markgraf’s guns.

A shell whistles past, striking one of the aft turrets. It explodes, and shards of metal cleave through the fire crews trying to fight the raging flames.

The Valiant lists to starboard. A shell hits near the base of the bridge, wiping out the men manning one of the ship’s secondary guns. Cole looks down at the dismembered sailors, no longer able to recognize them as men.

He turns to Wilson, his voice a dry croak. “Turn. Turn the ship now, Lieutenant.”

As Wilson runs inside, shouting the order, a shell rakes the bridge, killing him and everyone inside.

Another massive explosion shrouds the ship in smoke. Making a loud creaking sound, the Valiant splits in half. The ship’s stern curls toward Cole as the forward part of the ship begins to capsize, dumping him into the sea.

The massive wake of the sinking battleship nearly pulls him under, but Cole pops to the surface, gasping for air.

He watches the stern of the Valiant sink. Looking around, he realizes he’s alone.

Cole wakes up. Wondering how he made it home he stumbles to the sink, gagging.

Stepping out of the bathroom, finds himself on the bridge of the Valiant.

Hartmann’s voice shouts, “COME AND GET YOUR LOVE!” over the radio.

“Awaiting your orders, Captain,” Wilson barks.

A shell whistles past overhead. It lands amidships, sending a ball of flame a hundred feet in the air.

Wilson rushes to his side. “Should we initiate evasive action, Captain?”

“…He wins again… He always wins.”

“What?”

“Stay here, Lieutenant.”

“Why, sir?”

Wilson takes a step forward. A shell hits the bridge, killing everyone inside.

Wilson stares at Cole. “How did you know?”

“Because I relive this every day.”

A massive explosion knocks them off their feet. The Valiant groans, splitting in half. Cole and Wilson are tossed into the water.

Cole fights his way to the surface in time to see the ship’s stern plunge into the sea.

Looking around, Cole spots Wilson floating nearby. Assuming he’s unconscious, Cole wraps his arms around Wilson’s torso, pulling him up.

The lower half of Wilson’s body floats away.

Sitting on a park bench, alternating between consciousness and passing out, Cole drifts off, the bottle of scotch he’s held so dearly slipping from his grasp.

Cole comes around when he hears someone calling his name.

“You look like crap,” Wilson says.

“Well, you look pretty good for a dead man. Why are you disturbing my sleep?”

“Let’s just say the crew got together and decided it’s time for you to end your pity party. How do you expect me to get promoted if you keep letting Hartman get the better of you?”

Cole is back on the Valiant, standing on the captain’s platform. He looks over at Wilson.

“Should I give the order for evasive action, Captain?”

Cole rushes inside. “Abandon ship!”

Astonished, the bridge crew hold their positions.

“Are you sure, Captain?” the navigator asks.

“ABANDON SHIP!”

The men quickly file through the doorway.

A shell strikes the conning tower. Body parts bounce past the bridge crew as they run down the stairs to the life rafts.

The ship shudders as Cole exits the bridge. Looking toward the Valiant’s stern, Cole sees the ship break in two.

Cole is tossed in the water. Rising to the surface, he sees the bridge crew floating nearby.

He watches helplessly as the stern of the ship crashes down on them.

Cole wakes up on the bench.

“That didn’t go very well,” Wilson says.

“How do you know what happened?”

“The dead know everything.”

“What I should do?”

“Instead fight to lose, fight to win.”

Cole is back on the bridge of the Valiant staring at the Markgraf through his binoculars.

“Fire at her bridge and radar,” he commands.

“Yes, sir. It’s a long shot from here, but we may get lucky,” Wilson replies.

“I don’t believe in luck anymore. Commence firing!”

The two officers watch as the shells splash around the Markgraf. A second salvo hits the forward mast and conning tower, destroying the ship’s radar.

“Are the lifeboats ready, Lieutenant?” Cole asks.

“Yes, sir. But I don’t understand your plan.”

“Set the boats on fire and launch them. Make sure Hartmann can see them burning. Then blow a thick smokescreen and turn twenty miles northeast. When we’re parallel to the Markgraf’s position, turn to port.”

Hartmann looks through his binoculars, laughing when he sees clouds of thick smoke on the horizon.

Hartmann turns to Dolf Danner, his second in command. “They’re dead in the water. There’s so much smoke I can’t even see his ship. He’s done for.”

He speaks on the radio, gloating.

“Nice shooting, Custer. You may have knocked out our radar, but I beat you even when I’m blind. I can see your ship is burning. Once again, your dreams of defeating me have gone up in smoke.”

The Valiant moves parallel to the Markgraf.

“Put this in your trophy case,” Cole says. “COME AND GET YOUR LOVE!”

The Valiant’s four main batteries fire, raking the Markgraf. One of the Markgraf’s after turrets explodes, spinning off the deck like a misguided frisbee. Hit amidships, a sizzling fire spreads across the Markgraf’s deck.

“UH-OH!” Cole shouts into the ship-to-ship microphone.

Another salvo from the Valiant’s guns wreck the Markgraf’s forward turrets, which are still pointed in the wrong direction. One of the Markgraf’s secondary guns spins into action, firing at the Valiant’s bridge before it’s destroyed.

“We’ve been tricked Admiral,” Danner says as thick plumes of smoke engulf the Markgraf’s bridge. “The Valiant’s not behind us, she’s alongside us!”

“I can see that for myself, Danner. Turn the guns and return fire!”

“We can’t. Our main batteries are destroyed. Most of our secondary guns are also out of action.”

“Well then, throw something at them!”

Danner glances at the glass case holding the war games trophy.

The Markgraf groans, heeling to starboard, knocking the men off their feet. The glass case breaks. The trophy hits the deck, shattering into pieces.

Hartmann defiantly regains his feet.

“Should we surrender, Admiral?” Danner asks.

“To that rube? Never!”

Hartmann raises his binoculars. The Valiant fires another salvo, the shells hurtling toward the Markgraf’s bridge.

Entering Grumman’s Bar, Wilson sits down next to Arvin, looking up at the picture of Captain Cole Custer.

“I served with him,” he says proudly.

“Well, here’s to the man who defeated Admiral Hartmann at the Battle of Custer’s Revenge and ended the war with Saxony,” Arvin says, raising his glass.

“He used some of Hartmann’s tricks to defeat him,” Wilson says. “We only lost one man that day…Captain Cole.”