200 men in the ship—and yet only one.
One man to decide what, when, how, where ... prevented by the very nature of his complete authority from asking or accepting advice.
"Did Commander Peter Bently ever fell this frightening responsibility?" wondered Randall, as the enemy loomed closer.
With the commander out of action, it was left to Randall to fill his role. And now Randall had the enemy in his glasses, a large formation, twin-engined torpedo bombers. The Fleet’s course was south, the beaches on the starb’d hand. Being in the left-hand leg of the screening V, Wind Rode was on the side furthest from the bombers. They came on, low and fast, their targets the battleships. He gave the order and the bells clanged. All hell was about to be be released ...