Date: Sat, 3 Jan 2009 01:28:03 -0800 (PST)
From: James Jones <jacanakid21@yahoo.com>
Subject: Atlantic Express, Chapter 63

This tale contains descriptions of sexual acts between males; if this is
not to your taste or you are under age or it is against the law where you
live to read such matter please leave now.Your comments & ideas are welcome
at justjames17@gmail.com all emails answered except flames which are
extinguished on receipt.

The story is copyrighted and cannot be reproduced or posted on any group or
site without first obtaining permission of the author.

Please help keep Nifty viable into the future by donating a few dollars to
their coffers.

____________________________________________________________________________


    Atlantic Express, Chapter 63, Kokoda Pt 5, by justjames17.


The small convoy cleaved its way across the blue sea Fox Hound in the
lead & Stuart trailing behind the small cargo ships, their straining
overworked engines puffing clouds of black smoke from their tall
funnels. Charles raised his eyes to the heavens as he saw the long dark
stain trailing out behind the convoy, it signaled their presence for
miles to any enemy eyes. He didn't realise the enemy already was
crouched ahead waiting for them the Foxhound in the cross hairs just
waiting for the range to close. The enemy captain was planning on
sinking the escorts then he would surface and shell the two cargo ships
with his deck gun, saving his torpedoes.

The convoy steamed on while the destroyers' asdics pinged searching the
depths, the sub was outside the range of these electronic pulses as he
watched the ships through his periscope. The skipper's black eyes
glistened with the light transmitted through the lenses as he watched
hungrily the lead destroyer nearing the firing zone. He barked orders to
the crew and the men eagerly obeyed opening the tubes in readiness to
fire, he barked, "Fire one." Then a pause before he ordered the second
torpedo launched.

He watched the tracks speed away as the first officer counted down the
time, the submarine was up sun from the convoy and the glare on the
water hid the two white tracks racing towards Fox Hound. It was too late
when the lookout spotted the two wakes racing at the destroyer, he
called to Charles who ordered the wheel hard over and full speed ahead
as Fox Hounds siren whooped and wailed out a warning. The first torpedo
hit the forward section under A gun, the ship lifted from the water as
the column of spray rose high, she settled back in time to take the
second blow in her midships opening the engine room to the sea.

The ship slowed quickly and began to settle bows down as the steam
roared from the funnels, the engineers venting the boilers I case of
explosion as the cooler sea water reached them, the few who survived the
initial explosion were battered of their feet by the surging water.
Their bodies tossed like tooth pics as the ship settled deeper, on the
bridge the men scrambled to their feet as Charles cap lost and head
streaming blood bellowed for the boats to be lowered. Astern of the
convoy HMAS Stuart increased speed and began hunting the marauder, her
sharp bow knifing through the calm sea tossing high bow waves as she
sped along. The submarine realised he'd missed the annihilation of the
escorts skulked away sinking into the deep darkness, running fast away
from the firing point.

The Fox Hound's fore deck now awash to B gun her stern rose from the sea
her rudder and propellers exposed as she wallowed like a drunken sow.
Her boats were launched with great difficulty due to her angle; carley
floats cast adrift and her crew leaping into the sea as the sound of
heavy equipment crashed about below deck filled their ears. The
freighters steamed past on both sides fleeing for the horizon, leaving
Fox Hound to her fate and Stuart hunting the submarine. The last the
transport ship, Taroona passed Fox hound then turned back and steamed
alongside, her captain calling through the loud hailer, "Captain get
your men into the boats we will pick you all up but please hurry."

Charles bellowed, "Abandon ship lads, smack it about and get into the
boats and on the rafts so you can be rescued."

He hurried into the chart room and grabbed the code books and vital
paperwork stuffing it all into the weighted bag then fastened the flap
and hurried to the bridge wing heaving the bag overboard and watched it
splash down in the oil coated water and sink from view. The swimmers
scrambled aboard the bobbing carley floats and were hauled over the
gunnel's of the ship's boats, Charles ensured no living crew were still
on the deck before he dived over the side swimming through the filthy
muck pouring from the ship's destroyed fuel tanks. The stinging oil
permeated in his mouth, nose and eyes even though he tried to keep his
face above the water as he swam towards the nearest boat; the steamer
was stopped nearby picking up those that had reached her tall sides they
clung to and climbed up the cargo nets hung over the side.

The men aboard the boat dragged Charles coughing and retching into the
boat and those manning the oars gave way pulling hard towards the
waiting transport ship. They hauled alongside lifting the oars out of
the way as the boat bumped and ground along the steel hull, men grabbed
onto the oily net and held the boat in position. The sodden oil coated
men climbed laboriously up the heavy netting, to fall over the railing
onto the teak deck of the ship, Charles scrambled up the net and stayed
on his feet as he slipped over the rail and stood there in his socks,
his shoes cast off before he dived into the sea. The dull booms of depth
charges resonated through the water as Stuart tried to destroy the
submarine in the distance, the other fleeing ships were small specks on
the horizon as the steamer's engines began to turn over again and she
slowly gathered way turning back on course for Port Moresby.

As she steamed away from the stricken destroyer her crew watched as Fox
Hound stood vertically, her hull trembled and she slid almost
soundlessly under the surface leaving the surface boiling as air escaped
her plummeting hull. The surface a kaleidoscope of viscous colours as
her lifeblood of oil spread out over the calm sea dotted with flotsam
and rubbish. Charles was asked to join the captain on the bridge, which
he did, his white uniform a sad and sorry mess, filthy with oil.

The captain of the S.S. Taroona, a gruff old sea dog named Perkins
puffed on a smelly old briar pipe greeted Charles with an outstretched
calloused hand and shook the Englishman's hand, "Damn bad luck captain
losing your ship like that, you hadn't a hope in hell of avoiding those
tin fish."

Charles thanked the grizzled old man profusely for standing by and
risking his ship and crew to save his men and saw the pain and
understanding in the old man's eyes, Charles knew that the captain's
words were genuine and the captain gruffly indicated that Charles should
sit on his bridge chair as he puffed out clouds of foul smoke trying to
hide his emotions. Charles sank onto the chair his bleeding head
thumping with pain that began blurring his vision, the captain bellowed
down a voice pipe for someone named Matthews.

The sound of feet pounding up the steel bridge ladder caused Charles to
look across, as a red haired pug ugly face appeared followed by a slim
body, the new arrival stepped onto the duckboards and advanced towards
where Charles sat carrying a small Gladstone bag with a red cross on it.
Captain Perkins grunted, "Check out the captain lad, how are his crew
any serious injuries amongst them?"

Matthews shook his head and replied, "Nothing too bad sir the worst
thing is the fuel oil they have imbibed while swimming it is nasty stuff
but there are a few non serious burns and a broken leg otherwise they
are ok considering. Now captain let me check out your scalp wound."

The young man gently cleaned the blood and oil soaked hair about the
large gash then shaved the hair around the wound before painting it with
iodine, Charles was shaking from shock and Matthews asked for a blanket
to be brought onto the bridge for him. As he worked on Charles the sound
of a plane was heard and all eyes turned skywards looking for it, was it
the enemy or was it friendly? The droning hum grew louder and soon a
lookout directed their attention off to the port side that the aircraft
was approaching from, through binoculars they made out the unusual shape
of a Catalina flying boat. The PBY was on patrol searching for
submarines and as it passed overhead it waggled its wings and circled
the steamer before continuing on its patrol.

Matthews was worried about Charles condition as he stitched the long
gash, Charles gritting his teeth as the needle pierced his scalp and the
sutures were pulled tight, it took 20 stitches to close the wound and he
again dabbed the wound with iodine solution. Matthews checked Charles
eyes for pupil enlargement but found them even but he was worried about
a fracture and concussion. He told the captain he should get the patient
below and into a bunk for the rest of the voyage. Two crew members were
called to the bridge to help get Charles below, they soon had him tucked
up in a bunk where he fell into a deep sleep.

The Taroona steamed on at her top speed of 18knots as HMAS Stuart raced
alongside her aldis lamp flickering while the signalman on the Taroona's
bridge jotted down the message. Captain Spurgeon was asking if Charles
was among those rescued, he was relieved to hear he was aboard and in
reasonable condition but asleep. The convoy arrived in Port Moresby and
the survivors were offloaded, the wounded including Charles sent to the
base hospital before the unloading commenced, the supplies were soon
swinging ashore as the cranes worked flat out, trucks raced back and
forth carting the supplies to camouflaged storage areas. Unloading was
done rapidly as they never knew when the enemy air force would pay them
a visit.

The ships were unloaded by the next morning and Taroona set sail on her
own as she was considered fast enough to evade submarines, as she
steamed out of the harbour she ran aground on the coral reef at the
entrance grinding heavily and becoming stuck on the reef. The harbour
personnel saw her position and several ships including Stuart went to
her aid attempting to tow her off into deep water but her hull remained
stuck fast. She was a sitting duck if the enemy attacked and at 4000
tons she was a valuable prize for them.

Three days she lay there and during that period several airborne attacks
were carried out on the 7-mile aerodrome outside Port Moresby, for some
unknown reason the bombers didn't carry out an attack on her. On the
fourth day with three naval ships and a high tide she scraped and ground
off the reef and undamaged due to her flat bottom was free to continue
her voyage back to Australia.

Meanwhile in the base hospital Charles was in bed, head swathed in
bandages with a roaring headache when Peter appeared in the ward his
dressing gown fluttering behind him and slippers slapping on the
polished floor as he hurried to see Charles. He reached the bed and
grabbed Charles in a bear hug, Charles groaned as his headache made his
head feel as if it was exploding, Peter realised the problem and gently
laid Charles back on the crisp white pillow as he begged his lover's
forgiveness.

Charles smiled wanly at the handsome young commando, his eyes dark
circled and showing his pain over the loss of his ship and so many of
her crew. Peter held his hand in both his and told Charles he loved him
and was glad he had survived the sinking, he went on to say he would be
soon sent back up the track to help drive the enemy out of the Owen
Stanleys and back towards the swamps of Buna. As he talked the air raid
sirens began to wail their dirge of warning, the hospital staff hurried
about shifting those who could be moved out of their beds and into wheel
chairs to rush them to safety in the air raid shelters. Peter grabbed
Charles chair and hurried off towards the doors out into the grounds and
across the lawns to the sand bagged concrete shelter set deep in the
ground. They moved down the sloping entrance and around the right angle
corner into the shelter proper where they joined the other patients and
some of the staff, the rest attending to those unable to be shifted due
to their injuries.

Charles head was driving him mad as the movement caused the pain to
increase to a throbbing crescendo in his injured skull, bright lights
flashed behind his closed eyelids as he gritted his teeth in pain. The
throbbing of aircraft engines drummed in his head as the bombers flew
overhead, soon the shrill whistle of bombs shattered the sky as they
screamed earthwards from the bellies of the bombers heading for the
airfield. The crumping concussions shook the earth even where they sat
in the shelter and dust filled the air causing them to cough and sneeze,
this nearly caused Charles to black out from pain.

The planes flew on the engine sounds fading away in the distance as the
few fighter planes that had been hidden from view in sandbagged niches
under camouflage netting roared aloft to chase after the enemy. The all
clear wailed and those sheltering once again came out into the open,
Peter gently wheeled Charles slowly along trying not to jar him as the
wheelchair rolled across the uneven lawn area. He was soon lying
comfortable in the bed with Peter seated next to the bed, they talk
quietly as the second patient had been returned to the room after having
tests done elsewhere in the hospital.

As they talk footsteps approach and lieutenant Douglas, the gunner,
accompanied by Bryce appear through the door, Peter grins at the two men
and greets them saying he's glad to see that they survived the sinking.
The two visitors borrow chairs from the other patient's area and join
Peter with Charles, they tell Charles who has survived the sinking and
their current state of health conditions. Their news makes Charles feel
a little better as they chat and after some time the two sailors made
their farewells and left the ward. Peter was soon chased out by a nurse
so Charles could rest for a while, he reluctantly left Charles and
walked out to sit on the screened veranda where he lit up a cigarette
puffing on it slowly while thinking about his lover Charles.


			     To be continued.