The Fighting Sailor

by Eagle

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Human
Length: 3045

Admiral William F. "Bull" Halsey and the U.S. Thrid Fleet must help fight a new war.

Typhoon Cobra, better known as Halsey's Typhoon for the tenacious Admiral of the fleet that encountered it. This category four typhoon struck the U.S. Third Fleet in December of 1944. Despite badly damaging some ships and sinking three destroyers, it had no real effect on the outcome of WW2. However, as Halsey and his ships emerge from the storm, they discover that they're in a different sea all together.

Notes:
Rated T for language and some slight gore.
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic created by Lauren Faust and owned by Hasbro.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-30 00:29:50 UTC

The Bull Vs. The Cobra

There are no great men, just great challenges which ordinary men, out of necessity, are forced by circumstances to meet.

William F. Halsey

December 17th, 1944

There are few natural occurrences that can match the destructive power of a hurricane. Winds increase to breakneck speeds, throwing anything into the air that isn’t tied down or too heavy. These create monstrous waves that thrash about in the ocean. The torrential downpour of rain is the least of one’s worries.

The situation only gets worse if one encounters it on the open seas.   Riding one out on land may not be fun, but at least you have something solid under your feet. On a boat of any size, the storm is exponentially worse. The boat turns and tips from one side to the other, as the rough wind and water try to overpower it. At any moment it can go down, and you could be thrown into that churning sea.

This storm was a rather burly one; a type four out of five. Though it wasn’t technically a hurricane, being different in name only; this side of the world called them ‘Typhoons’. There were plenty of names for this weather; Hurricane, Cyclone, Typhoon. All meant this kind of gale, translating into things like ‘wind’ and ‘wave’ or ‘destructive’ and ‘monstrous’.  To actually go towards these beasts requires tremendous courage, or stubbornness; either of which could, with a little skill and luck, carry one through.

That was what an entire fleet of ships were doing on this day. A massive, powerful force collided with another massive, powerful force. The fleet struggled through the waters, trying to survive and make it out of the storm safely.

The fleet of warships was diverse; with different classes varying in size, armament, and duty. The smaller destroyers, which made up a biggest number of warships, were in dire peril; rolling one way, then the other, rising up almost out of the water on riding the waves and having their decks flooded when they came down. The men on them were right to be afraid, as the rolls would get as bad as 55 degrees and going into the troughs could easily swallow the vessel.

The aircraft carriers, the backbone of the fleet’s fighting power and its greatest pride, also had a difficult time; the light carriers being at more danger. Their rolling in the seas presented an equally shocking sight. Everything they carried was hanging on for dear life; the precious planes being strapped onto the deck as tight as possible.

Even the flagship of the fleet was having trouble. The massive, daunting battleship U.S.S. New Jersey, one of the most powerful battleships in the world, lead her fellow vessels through the storm. Being much larger, she didn’t have quite a fright as the poor destroyers.

On her bridge, one man stood out clearly. He sat there, watching other ships in the distance attempt to make their way through and keep up. He was an old man, his hair greying clearly, wearing a determined, if simple, look on his face that told a million tales on its own. He had certainly come a long way from New Jersey.

“You alright, Admiral Halsey?” the ship’s captain, Carl F. Holden, asked.

“Fine, just watching the weather,” Halsey replied in a deep, growly voice. “Hurting us more than the damned Japs.”

Admiral William F. ‘Bull’ Halsey had more experience than almost any other commander in the Pacific. Already commanding a carrier by December 7th, he was fortunate enough to barely miss the attack on Pearl Harbor. Infuriated by the scene at the port, he immediately ordered his ships to go after the Japanese strike force; with six carriers to one, it was more fortunate that he failed to catch them.

After missing them, Halsey’s aggressive, offensive spirit became known. Sailing dangerously close to enemy waters, his multiple raids on enemy strongholds provided the Japanese with their first thorn in the side. His strategy could be summed up in a simple slogan he created: ‘hit hard, hit fast, hit often.’ It became a well-known motto, as well as a bit of a moral boost for the shattered USN. Just as the Army had their famed General Patton and the Third Army in Europe, the Navy had their Admiral Halsey and his Third Fleet in the Pacific.

Despite becoming an Admiral, he actually never led his fleet in a major action against the Imperial Japanese Navy until recently. During the decisive Battle of Midway, he came down with an unfortunate skin disease, handing command over to Admiral Raymond Spruance. During the Battle of Leyte Gulf, he finally saw his chance and seized it, near-annihilating Japan’s Northern Force fleet. However, it had been a diversion, and it allowed another Japanese force to slip past him. He’d been the target of criticism ever since.

“Storm’s pretty bad, but I’ve been through worse,” he commented. “The Japs couldn’t kill me and I’ll be damned if I let Mother Nature drown me because it’s her time of the month.”

Halsey’s personality was quite colorful. He kept the old navy tradition of swearing like a sailor close to heart. He was also known to easily connect with his common sailors, interacting with them like anyone else. Still, his natural aggressiveness earned him the nickname ‘Bull’.

And he hated it; the nickname wasn’t his choice. During the early days of the war, the navy needed someone to stick in the propaganda posters and show as a hero, and Halsey was the perfect candidate. He didn’t entirely mind if it didn’t interfere with his work, but the nickname of ‘Bull’ had been given to him by the media. He somewhat liked the other nicknames, like ‘Sea Cobra’, but few people dared to call him ‘Bull’ to his face. Only General MacArthur was seen to do so and get away with it, and Halsey didn’t really mind that time. He’d gained some form of respect for the General; an Army commander with a sound understanding of Navy tactics and problems was hard to come by.

“How’s New Jersey handling?”

“I think we’ll make it sir, but I can’t say the same for the others,” Captain Holden said. “The fleet’s going to be scattered by this, and we’ve lost complete contact with some.”

Halsey sighed; it had been his idea completely to keep sailing through this mess.

“God help us through this,” Halsey said as another wave hit the ship’s bow. “God help me when we get out of this.”

It was just as dangerous to fly in a hurricane as it was to sail through one. To do so would be an act of insanity or desperation. For Rainbow’s case, it was the latter.

She wasn’t trying to be a hero, but it was the only real escape; the other option being fly through a mass of enemies. Now she was beginning to question her decision. The storm seemed like the best chance at survival, but now it was a no-win scenario.

Despite her best flying, it didn’t feel like she was going anywhere; maybe even backwards a bit. It wouldn’t be long before she tiered out completely and fell to the water below; she didn’t envy swimming in that, she was a flyer anyways. With time running out, she quickly began to lose hope, and become even more desperate.

Wings aching and eyes beginning to close from the exhaustion and ferocity of the storm, she looked for any sign of relief. But in every direction, there was nothing but wind, rain, and waves. With each passing moment, her fate seemed to inch ever closer.

Looking down to her demise, she spotted something in the waves; it was a ship! The solid object was rolling and churning slowly through the water. It wasn’t like anything she’d seen before; its entire top seemed to be flat for some reason. All the same, she was thankful. It was the only possible rescue in sight, and she was more than happy to fall onto that instead of the ocean.

Angling herself downward, she flew towards it with everything she had left. It was a tedious task, but the vessel began to inch ever closer. With weariness beginning to overtake her, she gained her strength for a last burst towards what looked like the bridge. Flapping her wings furiously, she spurred towards it and closed the range. Already passing out, the last thing she felt was a strong gust of wind slamming her against the metal door of the vessel.

His ship wasn’t supposed to be here at all; but, of course, Halsey insisted his best fighting vessel tag along for the sickening roller coaster ride that was Typhoon Cobra. They were already supposed to have left for Pearl Harbor for replenishment, but had to make an emergency turn around for the brawl at Leyte Gulf. She was even chosen to receive a special, experimental contingent of night squadrons, new weapons, and a new commanding officer; and even then, Halsey told him he couldn’t go back.

“The war’s nearly done, we just have to keep moving and punching; you’ll get the necessary supplies, just hang on. You wouldn’t want to miss the Invasion of Japan, would you? She’s been there for every other clash,” he said.

Ridiculous pep talk; his ship could at least get to Ulithi and back in no time. Maybe Halsey legitimately thought the war was ending that soon. He either overestimated his own skill or underestimated the Japanese will, either of which was viable.

“Admiral Halsey sir, we really have to-”

“Don’t worry, Cato; I’ll get you whatever you need,” Halsey assured him. “Nimitz already agreed to let you tag along till the end of the year, so just hang on.”

Sunk by a typhoon; go through the whole war to get washed away by the sea. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d brought this boat through Leyte, and she’d already been through much more under other officers. He wasn’t going to be remembered as the Captain that let the navy’s best ship go under.

U.S.S. Enterprise; no other ship had gone through as much as her during the war. No other ship could claim to have made such an influence on it, either. One of the few remaining pre-war carriers, and the last of the famed Yorktown-class that had bore the brunt of the early fighting, she had been there for almost every major action. From the early parts of the war in assisting in raids such as Doolittle’s, to the most recent battle at Leyte, the aircraft carrier had lead a tough, if charmed, life.

Her nicknames reflected this, the most common being ‘Big E’. ‘Lucky E’ had been added on as she had yet to receive damage up until the Solomon Islands, where she was finally hurt, badly. Still, she came back defiantly, with the new nicknames of ‘Grey Ghost’ and ‘Galloping Ghost’; the number of times the IJN had claimed to have sunk the famous carrier was becoming humorous.

The ‘Lucky E’ would need all the luck she could get now. In the chaos of the storm, she had been separated from the rest of the fleet. Alone and in great danger, the ship fought for her life as she rolled and bounced in the rough water.

“Report, how’s the damage?” Captain Cato asked.

“Nothing life-threatening yet, sir,” one of the men reported. “No flooding, and the engines and batteries seem fine; I just don’t know how long that will last.”

“Everything’s tied down, right? You got the planes and everything else loose secured?”

“As much as we can, sir; but it might not be enough.”

“So, I guess all we can do is wait and pray we get out of this storm quick.”

Cato sighed and sat in his chair, running his hand through his hair.

“Waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting,” he complained. “Damn, I hate waiting.”

“I don’t know about you, sir, but I’d much rather be stuck in here than come under attack by one of those suicide planes,” the helmsmen commented.

“Hell, at least combat made the time fly faster,” Cato responded, keeping his attention focused on the floor. “Here we’re just going up and down, left and right, with a good chance to slip under every time; it’s redundant. You compare that-”

There was a loud metallic clang from outside the bridge’s sealed door; though it was barely audible due to the storm.

“The hell was that?” Cato sighed, not really looking up from his spot.

“Maybe something got loose and hit the side.”

“George, go and make sure it’s not something important.”

“Aye Captain,” one of the men replied.

The sailor opened the door, and was immediately blasted by the wind and rain. Shaking his head and re-focusing his vision, his eyes widened as he noticed what was on the floor. He had to poke it a couple of times to make sure it was real and he was not hallucinating.

“Well, what was it?”

“Uh, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…know what this is?”

Cato looked up with an annoyed look on his face, which was replaced by surprise. George was holding what looked like an animal of some kind, a very colorful animal; it looked somewhat akin to a miniature horse, though it was obviously no horse. It also seemed to be unconscious, with the sailor holding it in his hands like a child.

“No I’ve…never seen anything like that before.”

“What do you suppose it is?”

“A horse maybe?”

“No, it’s more than that,” George observed. “It’s got wings on the side.”

“What? You means it’s a…a…what do they call those Greek things?”

“Pegasus, sir?” one of the men answered.

“Yea, that; but, it’s supposed to be a myth.”

“This one looks real, sir,” George said. “See?”

“I can see fine from here, George; keep that thing back!”

“Sir, it’s unconscious; it can’t do anything right now.”

“It can wake up at any moment!” Cato argued. “Wait, is that thing even alive?”

“I-uh…I think it is, sir.”

“You think? Is it breathing or not!?” the Captain demanded, getting up out of his seat.

“Yes-sir, it is; I’m just not familiar with the anatomy of something like this,” George defended himself. “Are you alright, sir?”

“No I’m not alright!” Cato yelled. “My ship is on the verge of sinking in the middle of the Pacific, alone and with all hands going with her, and out of nowhere a mythological creature crashes into her; so, please forgive me if I’m a little edgy!”

The bridge went dead quiet for a minute. Cato took a deep breath and relaxed as the ship continued rocking in the water. He sat back down and stared out of the windows at the water, trying to think of what to do next.

“I’m sorry, sir…it’s just-”

“No, I’m sorry, George,” Cato interrupted him. “I should’ve controlled myself. I’ve just got a lot of stuff happening at once, y’know? It’s not meant to be personal, if you took it that way.”

“No sir, I didn’t; and we’re here to help however we can.”

“Thank you,” Cato responded honestly.

“So, what now?”

“Well, first thing’s first,” Cato said, getting back up, “we need to get Enterprise out of this storm or we won’t find out where that creature came from to begin with. We’ll radio the fleet and rendezvous with them once we’re out, and then find out what to do.”

“Aye sir, sounds like a plan; what do you want to do with the horse…myth-creature…thing?”

“Let’s keep it on the bridge for now; I want to be here when it wakes up.”

“What if it’s injured?”

“Good point, George; send Doctor Robin up here at once, leave the alien thing here.”

“Aye sir.”

George moved to set the creature down, but to his surprise, he was stopped by the captain, who took it himself. Sitting back down in his chair as George left to fetch the doctor, he did a quick check himself and everything seemed fine. He also noticed it looked rather cute; girly, but cute all the same, and found himself holding it close to his chest like a kitten found on the street.

“Just where did you come from, little fellow?” he asked the sleeping Pegasus.

Thinking it through, it still didn’t make sense to him, which he expected. He doubted it was a trick by the Japanese; he also didn’t think it was some sort of secret American weapon. It didn’t really seem to affect anything; not now, anyways. He hoped it stayed that way.

“Captain Cato?”

“Doctor Robin, good to see you; tell me, what do you know about Greek Mythology?”

The Doctor deadpanned.

“Don’t tell me the George’s idiotic prank is true!”

“True as can be, Doc,” Cato said, motioning to the animal in his lap. “You got any idea what to do with this?”

“Uh, no sir,” he said, looking at it and poking it a bit. “Like you said, they’re just myths.”

“Not anymore, apparently.”

“God…ok, let’s see.”

He carefully picked up the alien animal and laid it on a nearby table for maps, which was the only flat surface that could hold it. He moved each of the limbs carefully, paying particular attention to the wings. After a few minutes, he handed it back to the captain.

“Well, I’m not vet, but it seems to be fine; heart is there, no broken bones I know of, no bleeding. Only problem here is a big bump on its head,” Robin reported. “Wing structure seems similar to a bird’s, doesn’t seem to have any claws or fangs; in fact, many of its facial features are remarkably similar to a humans. Now what that means, I can’t tell you right now.”

“Thank you again, Robin; I know this isn’t exactly what you’re used to working with.”

“I do what I can, sir,” he replied with a grin, and left the bridge.

“Alright, you look relatively harmless,” the captain said, taking his seat again. “Let’s see if you stay that way.”

He directed his attention up again as another monster wave crashed over the bow.

“This is getting insane.”