Читать книгу The Crusaders of the Saltire - William Speir - Страница 10

May 16, 0800

Guided Missile Destroyer USS Bulkeley (DDG 84)

Off the Coast of Navassa Island in the Caribbean

Commander Alex Kinkaid, executive officer of the USS Bulkeley, had the deck watch on another muggy morning in the southern Caribbean Sea. For several weeks, the Bulkeley and several other cruisers, destroyers, and cargo ships, had been on patrol or anchored next to this strange piece of rock that was 160 kilometers south of the U.S. Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. He didn’t know why the ship was there, but the Captain had received orders to make sure that no one came near the island for any reason. Several fishing boats from Haiti had been turned back, but apart from that, their patrols were very routine.

Navassa Island, also known as the “Galapagos of the Caribbean,” is a five square kilometer teardrop-shaped island in the Caribbean Sea, about one-fourth of the way from Haiti to Jamaica. The island is ringed by steep white cliffs and is made of mostly limestone and coral, with minimal vegetation.

Guano phosphate was an organic fertilizer important to American agriculture in the 1800s. After the U.S. War Between the States, the Navassa Phosphate Company of Baltimore expanded its mining facilities on Navassa. The tropical heat and abusive overseers eventually caused a rebellion on the island in 1889. The mines were closed and the island abandoned shortly after that. Navassa had been uninhabited since that time.

The sound of rotor blades overhead made Kinkaid look up in time to see another cargo helicopter heading toward the island. Dozens of helicopters landed every day, delivering their secret cargos before taking off again.

When the Bulkeley had first arrived at the island, there was nothing there but the ruins of the old lighthouse and the settlement used for the guano miners. However, in the last few months, dozens of long, prefabricated metal huts had been erected in neat rows in the center of the island. Kinkaid saw their roofs gleaming in the morning sunlight. Near Lulu Bay, docks, helipads, and other structures had been erected so that small vessels could unload their cargos closer to land.

Asking questions about what was happening on the island was officially discouraged. Kinkaid had heard of similar projects happening on other islands under United States control – along both the east and the west coasts. There were even rumors of similar building projects in the Aleutian Islands off the coast of Alaska. With each patrol as uneventful as the previous, it was hard not to spend a great deal of time watching the activity on the island.

Over the past several days, Kinkaid had noticed a number of towers being built at evenly-spaced intervals all around the island. They appeared to be guard towers. Fence posts had also been sunk into the ground, and chain-link fencing and razor wire were being unrolled and attached to the posts. The island was beginning to look like the modern version of a World War II prisoner of war camp. As he watched the rows of fencing go up, Kinkaid couldn’t help but wonder if the fencing was to keep people in or keep people out. Whatever the case, it was going to be difficult for anyone to cross that fence line, especially with the naval patrols ringing the island day and night.

As Kinkaid continued looking at the activity on the island, he heard someone clear his throat behind him. He turned and saw Seaman Jackson snap to attention and salute. Kinkaid returned the salute quickly. “Good morning, Sir,” Jackson said, lowering his hand. “The Captain would like to see you.”

“Thank you, Jackson. Is the Captain on the bridge?”

“No sir. She’s in the ward room.”

“Very well.”

Kinkaid took one more look at the island before going to find the Captain.

Captain Jean Parsons was an excellent Navy officer. The crew’s efficiency ratings were always high ever since she had taken command almost two years earlier. She took the time to know every member of her crew, but she was a no-nonsense commanding officer. Morale on board was strong, but everyone knew that they had a job to do and they did it professionally at all times. Kinkaid had little doubt that she’d be promoted to Admiral within a few years.

As Kinkaid entered the ward room, Parsons was sitting at the far table having her morning coffee with two other officers. Kinkaid came to attention and waited for the Captain to acknowledge him.

“Good morning XO,” Parsons said when she saw Kinkaid. “Close the hatch and join us.”

Kinkaid closed the hatch behind him and sat down across from the Captain.

Parsons started thumbing through a stack of papers in front of her until she found the one she wanted. “I’ve received orders that I need to share with each of you. It explains a little of what we’re doing here and what’s going to be happening going forward. You may have noticed that they’re building several cyclone fences around the island. My orders now confirm that they’re building an internment facility on the island.”

“Internment facility, Captain?” one of the other officers asked.

“Yes, internment facility – similar to the camps they built to house Japanese Americans after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. There will be a permanent contingent of guards and other personnel, such as doctors, cooks, maintenance workers, electricians to service the generators, dock workers, etc. There will also be a permanent Navy presence consisting of several patrol ships and two cruiser- or destroyer-class vessels. These vessels will rotate periodically, but essentially it’s a long-term duty station.”

“How long will we be here, Captain?” Kinkaid asked.

“Two more months, and then we’re home for two weeks before redeploying either back here or to one of the other internment facilities being built off the east coast.”

“Who will be occupying the internment facility on the island?”

“That,” the Captain said as she rose to pour herself another cup of coffee, “is unclear at this moment. My orders state that we’re to patrol the waters off the coast of the island and prevent anyone from landing or leaving who isn’t authorized to do so. We’ve also been ordered – specifically ordered – to shoot anyone attempting an unauthorized landing on the island or escape from the island. Under no circumstances is anyone to know that the facility exists or what goes on up there. I’ve been told that the first ‘residents’ of the facility will be arriving next week once the fences are completed and the guard towers equipped. I’m informed that all residents of the facility will have transponders attached to their ankles. We’re getting new equipment that will make it possible to track these transponders anywhere outside the fence line.”

“Can’t the residents just take the transponders off?” the other officer asked.

“No, they’re programmed to emit an immediate alert if they’re disconnected or damaged. They have biometric sensors that will be keyed to the specific individual.”

The four officers sat in silence for a while before Kinkaid asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Captain, what’s going on?”

“I wish I knew, XO. All I can gather is that the Administration is expecting a large increase in people needing to be detained far away, but for what reason and for how long, I really don’t know.”

The four officers sat in silence, drinking their coffee and thinking about the implications of the information that had just been shared.