Michael J. Lydakis takes readers back in time to the first nuclear test on the coral reef known as Bikini Atoll in July of 1946 in his debut historical fiction novel Bikini (July 4, 2024).
This unexpected love story follows an unlikely couple that have unknowingly been involved in military operations surrounding the testing on “the bomb”. Even though the war is over, there is still danger afloat and this couple must navigate the impending challenges together. Will their newfound love have the strength to survive or will the danger overcome them?
Bikini is a fast-paced and breezy read that is full of
adventure, mystery, love, and danger set on an island found
beneath a mushroom cloud. It is perfect to take along on a weekend beach trip where readers can immerse themselves in a journey that will leave them hooked throughout.
Michael J. Lydakis takes readers back in time to the first nuclear test on the coral reef known as Bikini Atoll in July of 1946 in his debut historical fiction novel Bikini (July 4, 2024).
This unexpected love story follows an unlikely couple that have unknowingly been involved in military operations surrounding the testing on “the bomb”. Even though the war is over, there is still danger afloat and this couple must navigate the impending challenges together. Will their newfound love have the strength to survive or will the danger overcome them?
Bikini is a fast-paced and breezy read that is full of
adventure, mystery, love, and danger set on an island found
beneath a mushroom cloud. It is perfect to take along on a weekend beach trip where readers can immerse themselves in a journey that will leave them hooked throughout.
Chapter I The Divine Wind—Part I
The man looked out into the deep and vast ocean. From his point of view, he looked out into the infinite body of wa- ter with a majestic horizon bountiful with cloud formations and a warm summer breeze warming his face from the gentle wind that blew across the sailboat in Long Island Sound. He was just a boy then back in 1915 when his father taught him how to sail and bestowed upon his son vast knowledge of the sea. His father told him about king Neptune and Poseidon and the laws of the oceans.
But that was then, and this is now, and the viewpoint has changed as he gazes off the bow of the naval destroyer in the mid- dle of Operation Iceberg off the shores of the main Japanese is- land of Okinawa. The water was deep this time. The water was filled with thousands of naval ships, and after four years of fight- ing he knew it was almost over.
His empathetic intuition alerted his subconscious, and he looked up into the sun. His pupils expanded as his super vision revealed twenty Japanese Kamikaze fighters bearing down on the fleet.
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He calmly grabbed the radio and relayed this message to the bridge of the destroyer.
“Kamikaze, kamikaze. Call general alarm battle stations.”
The clear skies lit up like the Fourth of July, and the antiair- craft fire blanketed the sky. I saw a flock of seagulls get mowed down and fall into the sea. Water became bloodred as a sinking transport ship on fire passed by as we were at full flank speed.
The column of smoke kept getting taller as we watched. Looked like it’d blot out the sun.
One of the boys handed me a pair of M13 binoculars, and I took my third look at the sinking ship over the past twenty min- utes. Well, I say sinking—it wasn’t sinking yet. Just burning.
I peered through the salt-encrusted lens for the third time in the past five minutes as another Japanese plane that had never hit the carrier went up in smoke and fire. There was movement, and I squinted; some of their crew were jumping into the sea, desperate to avoid the flames. Felt the hair rise on my neck as one of them, little more than a kid, looked almost right at me, his dingy overalls smoking, his sunken face slick with sweat. Then something—probably another plane—exploded on the ship, and the smoke swept him up.
We were too far to hear much, though. Mostly, all I could hear was the raucous singing of the fellas; they were still celebrating.
The USS Massachusetts had almost been kamikazed; not too far from our current position. Then the smoldering wrecks of two Japanese planes—or, as we called them, Zeros—bobbed in the waves. The only reason we were still alive was because air support had finally come through. If it had been a little later . . . well, who knows? There could’ve been more of us below deck with our guts in our hands. Or the whole ship could’ve been up in flames, just
The Divine Wind—Part I 3
like the Japanese carrier our air support had strafed and bombed to oblivion. A chill ran down my spine.
One of the more excitable lads yanked the binoculars from me, screwing them against his baby-blue eyes to stare at the sinking ship. He whistled as another explosion went off.
God, I needed a drink of rum about now.
Leaning back, I looked around. I was surrounded by soot-caked, happy faces bawling and singing in relief—they looked like kids who’d won the lottery. Well, I reckon that was accurate in a way. Half of them didn’t even have beards till last month, and now they’d just barely survived getting torched alive by the burning metal of an exploding kamikaze. They’d won the lottery, alright.
I had no clue how everyone else in the fleet was doing. That said, I knew that somewhere out there, Captain Fitzsimmons of the USS San Diego was probably frowning his way through the entire bat- tle, provided the stubborn bastard hadn’t swum out to sea to deal with the enemy himself. Everyone knew how stubborn he was, and I knew the man enough to know that it wasn’t an understatement.
A few other folks I knew were scattered through this godfor- saken mess, hopefully all still above the water. I looked around and saw dots of fire and smoke scattered across the horizon. The sky had turned gold—or at least a dull, sickly yellow. This wasn’t fighting weather, no sir—this was “stay inside and smoke” weather. Preferably with a bottle of something strong. Good, like twenty-five-year-old dark Royal Navy rum.
“Happy Easter,” came a voice. “And cheer up, you misera- ble bastard.”
Not the language you’d expect from a chaplain. He was a thin, angular man with eyes too big for his head and a tongue too quick for his profession.
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“I am cheering up,” I replied drily. “Look how happy I am.”
“Downright exuberant, Downey,” the chaplain said with the barest trace of sarcasm. “But you do have a reason to be.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“Well, you’ve got a promotion due,” said the chaplain with a thin smile. “Captain Winslow knows more, but from what I gather, the San Diego needs a commander. You’ve been nominated.”
I stood there, dumbstruck. At this moment, punching him didn’t seem completely off the table. Not him, but the news was the issue. It was a shocking promotion.
“Well,” I finally managed to say. “Why do they need me on the San Diego anyways? I thought Fitzsimmons was a one-man ad- ministration unit. She’s his ship.”
“He’s out cold, from what I gather—whether he’s sick or in- jured, who knows. But he’s out of action. On the other hand, the San Diego is most likely going to be seeing plenty of ac- tion today.”
True enough. I couldn’t imagine anyone involved in this mess would get through it unscathed. We’d been out on the fringes of the push so far, dealing with the final Japanese defensive attacks on the United States Seventh Fleet. But judging from the fire, flak, and smoke on the horizon, what we’d had so far might just have been the easy part. We might just have had it easy so far. Somewhere in that mess, I knew our boys and the Brits were en- during the assault of the Japs, who were descending on us with all the wrath of a cornered wolf.
“Any idea where we’re headed?” I asked the chaplain, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms on the railing.
“To regroup with the admiral, I believe,” the chaplain said be- fore following my gaze into the horizon. “Back at the Bunker Hill.”
Bikini by Michael Lydakis is the adventure book you need for your next vacation.
The story begins in 1945 off the coast of Okinawa when Julian Downey is escorted
from the USS English to the USS Bunker Hill by a Navy chaplain, promoted to
captain, and assigned command of the USS San Diego. Suddenly, enemy planes are
spotted and start a battle in which the Bunker Hill is hit by kamikaze fighters and
the chaplain is killed. Next, we find Downey stationed in Pearl Harbor a year later,
after the war. Everyone is relaxed and enjoying the beaches of Hawaii during
peacetime but, in this freedom, Downey struggles to figure out what to do with
himself. He then receives new orders and embarks on a journey to the South Pacific
that will test his resolve, make him question both his past and his future, and
possibly lead him to love.
As a historical novel, Bikini does a great job of bringing the past to life. The
characters we meet feel like real people, and their reactions to the situations
they’re in are relatable and engaging. Downey struggles with PTSD, living through
flashbacks and drinking his way out of panic attacks. Bud Hopkins is a cheeky sailor
who, in his own way, looks after Downey and becomes a friend, but who also suffers
with the aftereffects of battle. Captain Fitzsimmons is stubborn but caring, and he
becomes Downey's mentor, so to speak. The romance in this story is compelling,
but leaves the reader wanting more: Lana is the picture of 1940s glamor, but she
flits in and out of the story and we don't truly get to know her. Lydakis’ writing style
is conversational and, along with just the right amount of tension, makes for an
engaging read. The novel examines coping mechanisms for dealing with the
carnage and brutality of war as Downey, Fitzsimmons, and Hopkins
deal with depression and alcohol, anxiety, and repressed emotion. Their
experiences of the rashness, bad decision-making, and fatalistic thinking are
poignant and moving. This novel could have benefitted from a round or two of
copyedits, but is still very readable and enjoyable.
If you like historical novels, adventure stories, wonderful characters, and a bit of
romance, this is a book for you. Bikini is the perfect read for the beach, to take on
the plane, or even to bring along just in case.