Jake finished dressing in silence and sat in one of the molded plastic chairs. “That won’t hack it,” he said at last. “I have to fly at night and I’m going to continue to do so. This cruise will be over in four months and I can turn in my flight suit then. But until we get back to the States, I have to fly at night to do this job.”
“They could send another officer out here to replace you.”
“They could. But even if they do, he won’t be here for a while, and I’m the man with the responsibility.”
Hartman toyed with his pen. “Are you ordering me not to make a grounding recommendation?”
“No. I’m telling you I am going to keep flying at night and I don’t give a damn what you do.”
“You can’t fly if I recommend you be grounded,” Hartman said aggressively. “I know where I stand.”
“You know all about sore throats and clap and which pills are which. But you don’t know a goddamn thing about the navy. How long have you been in? Three years?”
“Three and a half. But that’s beside the point.”
“No. That is the point. I was flying navy airplanes and scaring myself silly coming aboard while you were still in junior high school. I’ve been riding these birdfarms for twenty years. I know what naval leadership is and I know my own capabilities. The navy picked me for this job because I know how to do it. And I intend to do this job the best way I know how until I’m relieved by another qualified officer.”
“I’m going to send a message to BUMED.”
“Before you do, I want you to talk to the admiral. You give him your opinion. I. work for him.”
“And you’re going to keep flying?”
“Unless Parker says not to, that’s precisely what I will do. You whip up some of those vitamin pills. Order the glasses and call me when they come in.”
Toad Tarkington was standing by the wardroom door when Jake approached carrying a helmet bag. Toad stepped through the door and announced, “Attention on deck.” The men were still rising when Jake went by Toad and said loudly, “As you were.” He still couldn’t get used to officers snapping to attention when he entered a room.
By the time he reached the portable podium placed on a table at one end of the room, most of the men were back in their chairs. Jake waited until everyone was settled before he spoke. It had been over three hours since he had a cigarette. He noticed that there were ashtrays on the tables and several people were stubbing butts out.
“Good evening.” He looked at the eight squadron skippers sitting in the front row. “Have we got about everyone?”
“Except for the guys flying, sir.”
“Fine.” Jake took an envelope from his hip pocket on which he had made some notes. He looked at the sea of faces looking at him. Most of the faces were young, in their twenties. Just looking at them made him feel over the hill.
“How many of you guys are on your first cruise?” Almost a third of the men raised their hands. “Well, this is my ninth one, and I have never before been at sea for three months straight. We didn’t stay out like this during that little fracas in Vietnam. Ain’t peace wonderful?”
Titters.
“I’m not here tonight to give you any little patriotic pep talk. The politicians that drop in do it a whole lot better than I could.”
More chuckles. The ship had recently been visited by several congressmen and a senator, and those worthies had insisted on addressing the sailors from their home states. As they told it, the sailors were the equals of Washington’s troops at Valley Forge.
“A couple of guys died last night. We don’t know why they died, and we may never know. But they are indeed dead, and dead forever. No one shot them out of the sky. The hazards inherent in naval aviation killed them.
“Now that doesn’t mean that we are not going to try to find out why they died, or that we are not going to do everything humanly possible to prevent further accidents. We are going to do both. I had a discussion with the squadron skippers this morning, and they tell me they are going to conduct safety reviews in every squadron.” Jake had ordered them to do so. “We’re going to ensure these planes are being properly maintained and you guys who fly them haven’t forgotten how.
“But what I can’t do is give you and your sailors some time off. We’re going to have to keep our noses to the grindstone. We’ve got to keep the planes up, to guard this task group.”
A hand shot up several rows back. Jake pointed and a lieutenant he didn’t recognize stood up. “Sir, we wouldn’t have to keep flying around the clock if we pulled off a couple hundred miles and gave ourselves some sea room. Then we could go to an alert status. Sitting here thirty miles off the coast just cuts our reaction time to incoming threats.”
“We may be thirty miles off the coast right now,” Jake replied, “but just before dusk we were seven miles offshore so everyone in Lebanon could get a good look. Every wacko in Lebanon knows we’re here. The orders to steam seven miles off the coast came from the National Security Council.”
The lieutenant sat down and spoke from his chair. “We’ll just get those fanatics stirred up.”
“Maybe. What’s your name?”
“Lieutenant Hartnett, sir. I just think that if we had more sea room, we would have a little more reaction time if and when Ahmad the Awful cranks up his Cessna or speedboat and comes roaring out to sink us.”
“Do you think we can handle a threat like that?” Jake asked with a grin.
“We’ll send him to that big oasis in the sky, sir.”
“I’ll sleep better knowing that.”
Laughter swept the room. Jake grinned confidently, though he was well aware of the real problems involved in defending the task group. The admiral, his staff officers, and Jake had spent many hours discussing alternative courses of action in the event of a terrorist threat from Lebanon. It wasn’t a laughing matter. The rules of engagement under which the American ships operated severely limited the options available. This was the main reason Admiral Parker was rarely more than twenty feet from Flag Ops.
“Seriously, we are here to make our presence felt. That’s why we parade around right off the coast. Doing damn fool things because politicians tell you to goes with the uniform. And every man in this room is a volunteer. But I don’t want anyone killing himself or his crewman because he kept flying past the limit of his own capabilities.” He unzipped the helmet bag and took out a helmet. He held it out by the chin strap, so it hung upside down.
“I’m going to hang this thing in my office. Anyone who thinks that he has had all of this bullshit he can stand can throw his wings in it. Put a piece of tape around your wings with your name on it so I’ll know who to talk to.” All eyes were on the helmet. “Flying the schedule we do demands the best you can give it. I hate to see guys turn in their wings, but I like it even less when people kill themselves. Each and every one of you knows what your personal limit is. I am relying on you to call it quits before you go beyond that limit.”
He picked up the helmet bag, tucked the helmet under his arm and headed for the door.
“Attention on deck,” Toad roared.
Everyone in the room snapped to attention while Jake walked out.
Up in the air wing office Jake handed the helmet to Yeoman First Class Farnsworth. “Get a coathanger,” he said, “and hang this thing from the ceiling right here by the door. I want anyone who opens this door to see this helmet.”
“Why?” asked Farnsworth, slightly baffled.
“It’s for wings,” Jake said and tossed the helmet bag on a table. “Go get a coathanger and do it now. Someone may want to use it sooner rather than later.”