Brad and Harry had not mentioned that Maj. Nguyen Thanh Dao had downed Bull and Russ. They also had not reported that the North Vietnamese ace would never shoot down another airplane.
Harry had been extremely nervous during the debriefing, deferring to Brad to supply the pertinent information about the engagements. Both men had answered every question truthfully. No one had asked if they had penetrated protected airspace and blasted an ace out of the air over Phuc Yen.
Brad picked up his pen and began to write.
Dear Cordelia, I trust that you have been notified that Lincoln has become a prisoner of war. I was flying as his wingman at the time of the incident, and I can confirm that my RIO and I saw two parachutes. The search-and-rescue personnel have confirmed that Lincoln talked to them after he and his RIO were on the ground.
Even though I realize that words of comfort cannot dispel your grief, we have to be thankful that Lincoln landed alive. As you well know, your husband is a strong, courageous man of tremendous determination. I have every confidence that Lincoln will return to you.
If there is anything I can do — anything — please let me know. Please allow me to be responsible to you and your child until you and Lincoln are reunited.
With respect and warm regards, Brad
Addressing the envelope, Brad also included his parents' address and phone number. He added a postscript to the letter, explaining that his mother would always have his current address.
He placed his pen on the desk and proceeded to his next task. What should he say to the parents of Russ Lunsford? They knew that their son had been Brad Austin's radar-intercept officer. How could he explain why Russ was incarcerated by the North Vietnamese while Brad was safely on board the carrier?
Brad was sealing the envelope to Cordelia Durham when Harry entered their stateroom and sat down. He looked somber and tired, with bags under his eyes.
Placing the letter down, Brad turned to his roommate. "Talk to me, Harry. Get it off your chest."
Hutton stared at the deck before facing Brad. "I've got a bad feeling about this deal."
"How so?" Brad asked, noting his friend's nervousness. He was concerned that everyone had noticed Harry's strange behavior.
Harry looked up. "We shouldn't have lied to them."
"Let me set the record straight," Brad said, leaning forward. "We did not lie to anyone. There is a distinct difference between a lie — an untrue remark made deliberately — and an omission."
Harry paused a moment, examining the sensitive issue. "Omission? How about just saying that we neglected to tell the whole story?"
"That would be good," Brad replied testily, thinking about Bull and Russ. "Oh, by the way, we overlooked a couple of minor points."
Hutton exhaled sharply. "It was wrong, and you know it was, for Christ's sake."
Absently squeezing his knees, Brad met Harry's eyes. "You're absolutely right, Harry. I admit both mistakes — violating the rules of engagement and not saying anything about what I did at Phuc Yen. It's a very humbling experience, and I'm damn sure not proud of what I did.
"However, I want to discuss your word — neglect. Neglect is when people in the White House allow our enemies to have protected airspace, and American pilots are free game anywhere, at any time."
Harry managed a slight smile. "I know what you're saying, and I agree with your frustration — all our frustrations — but I feel uncomfortable."
Brad looked at the pouting Playmate of the Month, then glanced at the calendar mounted on the bulkhead. "I'll bet Bull and Russ are a lot more uncomfortable than you are tonight."
A reddish tinge turned Hutton's face dark. "I didn't mean that we —
"Harry, do whatever your conscience tells you to do, okay? According to the rules of engagement, which place us in great jeopardy, I was wrong." The two men remained quiet a moment, fully realizing the possible consequences of Brad's actions.
"If you want me to march in with you an 'fess up," Brad continued calmly, "I'll do it."
Harry shook his head. "No, I don't want to do that. It would destroy your career, and probably mine."
Brad inhaled deeply, then let his breath out slowly. "Harry, that is the least of my concerns. Think about Rocky, Ed, Nick, Bull, and Russ — all the people busting their asses in this obvious no-win boondoggle. Think about this goddamn travesty, and my career doesn't warrant consideration."
Hutton lowered his head and closed his eyes, then opened them and raised his head. "Jesus Christ, what a crock of shit… this whole goddamn mess."
"Harry, it's your choice. I'm the one who points the flying machine, so you didn't have much choice."
Jaw set, Brad faced his friend. "Well, you do have a choice now, and don't make your decision based on loyalty to me or my career aspirations."
Hutton's shoulders slumped. "Do we have any more booze around here?"
"Yes," Brad answered, glancing at the safe. "But I don't think it's a good idea to have liquor on our breath if we're going to see the skipper."
Harry sat up in his chair. "No. We'd only be digging our own graves. Let's forget about it, and think about the day after tomorrow." The carrier was scheduled to dock in Yokosuka in thirty-seven hours.
Brad stared blankly at the deck. "We avenged Bull and Russ, and Major Dao won't be adding any more stars to his airplane.
If that's wrong, I was wrong."
Standing on the signal bridge, Brad watched the shoreline pass as the carrier steamed through the wide entrance to Tokyo Bay. The gray overcast, blended with the dark, leaden sea, made the morning seem like late afternoon.
Unable to sleep soundly, Brad had showered and shaved at 4 A. M., finished the difficult letter to Russ Lunsford's parents, then had a light breakfast in the main wardroom.
Propping one foot on the lower brace, Brad leaned on the upper railing and gazed at the various ships maneuvering in the bay. He had been preoccupied with the fate of Bull and Russ. Were they being humiliated and tortured? Were they being subjected to brutal interrogations? His guilt was oppressive, hanging like a weight around his neck.
His emotions ran the gamut from deep depression over the well-being of Bull and Russ, to jubilation about his impending vacation with Leigh Ann. Forcing himself to erase the horrors of war from his mind, Brad concentrated on remembering every detail about her.
Harry had decided to remain on board the carrier. He, along with the majority of the squadron flight-crew members, were low in spirits. The deaths of Frank Rockwood and Ed Zapata, followed by the loss of Nick Palmer, and the capture of another crew, had demoralized the pilots and RIOs.
Brad remained on the signal bridge while the mammoth ship was edged next to the pier. After the carrier had been gently docked, Brad went below to his stateroom to get his luggage, which he had packed the previous evening. Entering the cramped stateroom, Brad was surprised to see Harry sitting morosely at the desk.
"Hey, shipmate," Brad said cheerfully, "how about lunch and a beer at the club before I head for Tokyo?"
Harry turned without replying. Brad had never seen him so glum.
"Come on," Brad cajoled, tapping his friend on the shoulder. "I'm buying."
Harry displayed the hint of a smile. "Okay. I could use a beer."
He stretched his arms back, yawning. "You still want me to go to Tokyo with you?"
Brad glanced at the packed overnight bag at the foot of Harry's locker. "Hell, yes. Who else is going to take care of me, and attract all the women for us?"
"Right," Harry replied, grinning his mischievous grin. "You need a keeper."