"Good day to you, too," Hutton replied sarcastically, walking unsteadily to the messy writing table. He poured a liberal amount of scotch into a glass and drank two deep swallows. He cringed and sucked in a breath of air.
Brad spied a trash can full of beer bottles and take-out food containers. "Harry, what are you doing?"
"I'm celebrating my good fortune," he slurred before smothering a belch. "One goddamn flight with you and I'm headed for a court-martial, with my career flushed down the shitter."
Placing his baggage on the rumpled bed, Brad studied his friend's face. "We don't have time for games, Harry. Put the drink down, and get dressed."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Hutton responded, clumsily sitting down in the chair by the table. "Let me tell you something."
The silence was a palpable presence in the small room. "Go on. I'm waiting."
Harry placed his glass on the table. "Mario came by a few minutes ago to inform me that CAG and the admiral have returned from Hawaii. Everyone but us has been questioned by CAG and the admiral."
Brad's strained patience was wearing thin. "And?"
"Mario said that he and Jon claimed that they didn't know anything about an incident at Phuc Yen. He said our names were not mentioned, and that he and Jon kept their mouths shut. However, from what they have gleaned, Bailey has narrowed it down to us."
Brad sagged and sat down on the bed.
"I have to go back to the boat in a few hours," Harry continued, feeling suddenly nauseated, "and there's a standing order for me on the forward bow."
"Harry," Brad said with alarm, "you better go to the head."
Hutton pushed himself up and started for the bathroom. "I'm supposed to report… directly to the skipper," he managed before dropping to his knees in front of the toilet bowl.
After a long shower, Harry had dressed and taken three aspirins. With Brad's assistance, he had walked two miles in the fresh air before returning to the dingy hotel and checking out. They had taken a taxicab to the carrier pier an hour before Harry was due to report. They walked up the gangplank and requested permission to board the ship.
"Permission granted," the junior officer replied, adding, "Mister Hutton is to report immediately to his commanding officer."
"I'll do that," Harry responded, turning to enter the hangar bay. He noticed that the officer of the deck had picked up a phone receiver. He was certain that his arrival was being announced to Dan Bailey.
Brad and Harry went to their stateroom and changed into fresh uniforms. They were about to leave their cabin when the telephone rang. Harry answered the phone.
"Goddamnit, Hutton," Dan Bailey snarled, "when I say immediately, I mean it. And bring Austin with you." The duty officer had informed Bailey that Captain Austin had arrived with Lieutenant (jg) Hutton.
"Yessir, I'm-" Harry stopped, hearing the line go dead. "That was the skipper," he said quietly, "and he is pissed off to the max. He knows that you're on board."
"Let's go," Brad responded, centering his gleaming belt buckle. "Try to be calm, and let me do the talking."
"Yeah, you're a helluva sea lawyer."
Dan Bailey leaned back in his chair and read the hastily drafted message. He changed two sentences and propped a foot on the open lower drawer of his desk. He could not complete the secret message to CINCPAC until he had talked to Austin and Hutton.
The admiral had sent word, prior to departing Pearl Harbor, that he wanted every crew member who had participated in the air strike in question to be standing by on his arrival.
After interrogating the aircrews and listening to the tapes of the aircraft radio conversations, the admiral and the air-group commander had been convinced that Brad Austin was the only person who might have flown over Phuc Yen. Seven minutes of radio silence from Joker 205 had made them suspicious.
That information, combined with the fact that no other aircrew had seen Brad's Phantom during that period of time, had convinced CAG that Austin had indeed shot down Major Dao over Phuc Yen. The possibility of an unauthorized attack on the taxiing MiG worried them most.
From the time that Hutton had radioed the north search-andrescue coordinator, to the point when the RIO had again called the SAR station, was an unknown void.
Bailey glanced at the message. I'll soon have the answer, he thought, hearing steps outside his stateroom. "Enter," he barked when Brad rapped on the door.
Followed by Harry, Brad entered to find the CO smoking a cigar and tapping his fingers on the desk. Bailey's face reflected open hostility. Brad closed the door and stood at attention beside Hutton.
"How many MiGs have you shot down, Captain Austin?"
"Two, Commander," he replied without hesitation, eyes fixed on the bulkhead over Bailey's desk, "plus one on the ground at Phuc Yen."
"So, the truth is known."
"Yes, sir." Brad could hear Harry breathing quickly.
"Look at this," Bailey ordered, thrusting the incriminating photograph into Austin's hands. "Do you recognize your signature?" the CO asked, referring to the name of the carrier on the side of the Phantom.
"I've seen it, sir." Brad handed the picture back without looking at it.
"Goddamnit," Bailey bellowed, "if you had reported what you had done in the debrief and after-action report, we might have had a fighting chance to salvage this screwup. But now, Captain Austin, we are all in deep shit."
Brad swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the bulkhead. The silence hung in the air.
Dan Bailey savagely stubbed out his cigar. "Do either of you know who is on the way to visit our ship?"
"No, sir," Brad replied, clearing his throat.
Bailey scratched his head. "A senior captain from CINCPAC's staff, and a representative from the State Department."
Harry darted a glance at their skipper. Bailey's face was crimson.
"I am most likely," Bailey said more calmly, "going to be relieved as commanding officer of this squadron. But, the two of you are headed for a court-martial. That has already been discussed with the admiral."
"Commander," Brad said without moving his eyes from the bulkhead. "I am the one who is responsible for deviating from the rules. Harry tried to talk me out of going to Phuc Yen. He is not at fault, sir."
"Deviated?" Bailey responded, his voice rising again. "You broke the trust of the United States Navy, the marines, and our commander in chief." Bailey was exasperated. "We may have civilian leaders, including the president of the United States, who may not see the war our way, but you took an oath to obey them, and follow the orders of the officers appointed over you.
"Commander," Brad began as evenly as possible, "I will take whatever punishment I have coming, but Harry is not at fault. He did everything in his power to make me turn back."
Bailey sighed and slowly shook his head. "It's out of my hands at this point. Both of your fates will probably be decided at a court-martial. First, there will be a formal hearing, when they decide on a location. We can't go back and fix everything at this point.
"This whole thing," Bailey continued, looking tired, "has become a global embarrassment. The formal protest and letter of condemnation including the goddamned photograph — have been flashed around the world. Our government is officially denying the allegations, but when you two confess, which you are going to do, there will be egg on a lot of faces."
Bailey paused a moment, trying to quell his growing frustration. "Jesus Christ, Austin, what was going through your mind, if anything?"
For the first time, Brad shot a look at the CO. "Sir, Major Dao shot down Commander Durham and Russ. I was determined to blow that sonuvabitch off the face of the — "