"Captain Austin, I understand. I really do. Your friends in the squadron, along with the rest of the air-wing troops, feel the same way. There is a general feeling spreading throughout the ship that morale is going to nosedive if you two are court-martialed."
Brad and Harry understood that Keuseman was attempting to comfort them. "Admiral," Brad said in a slow, deliberate manner, "I appreciate that, but we have to maintain discipline. If you like, I will speak to them, and explain that I was wrong and I'll take the consequences."
Keuseman smiled for the first time. "That won't be necessary. I'm going to speak to the aircrews this afternoon. When we are notified of the next step in this investigation, you'll be immediately informed. For the time being, I will remind you that this meeting has been off the record. You are to remain in your stateroom, and don't converse with anyone."
"Yes, sir," they responded, relieved to know that the admiral understood their feelings.
Keuseman stood, prompting Austin and Hutton to rise to attention. The admiral opened the door. "I'm proud of both of you. No matter what happens, I want to personally thank you for bagging Major Dao."
Chapter 36
Leigh Ann walked through the trees in the common area behind her parents' home. She could hear the muted sounds of the golfers on the fairway adjacent to the common. A refreshing fall breeze stirred the trees, prompting her to look up at the tops of the swaying branches. A small bird was busy hopping about.
She continued a short distance, then stopped, sure of her decision. Leigh Ann had searched her soul during the long and painful flight home. She knew that Brad was right. It was time for her to take command of her life, and stop trying to fulfill her father's every desire. It was time to grow up, and become an independent woman.
She would confront her father about Brad, and explain that he was a decent, straightforward man who was following his conscience. Leigh Ann was going to explain that she loved Brad, and that he was in trouble and needed her support.
Leigh Ann had been surprised that Brad had not called. She fervently prayed that he had not decided to go his own way, and forget her. After a difficult self-analyzation, Leigh Ann had realized that she had been somewhat of a spoiled brat. She longed for an opportunity to tell Brad that she had changed. But most important, she wanted to tell him that she loved him, and backed him, no matter what. She wished that he would call, because she wanted to tell him how she felt in her own words.
What could she do to help him? Leigh Ann considered every possibility. Who had enough power and influence to help Brad out of his predicament? After considerable thought, she concluded that she did not know anyone powerful enough to help the man she loved.
Growing more despondent, Leigh Ann suddenly had an idea. Her father was a close friend of a well-known and highly respected senator. Yes, of course, the chairman of the Armed Services Committee certainly had the necessary influence to help Brad. Besides, Senator Kerwin owed her father a debt of gratitude. Doctor Ladasau had saved the life of the senator's daughter after she had been in a terrible automobile accident.
Buoyed by the possibility of helping Brad, Leigh Ann hurried toward home. Halfway there, she slowed and thought about what Brad would say if she could discuss the matter with him.
She stopped, instinctively knowing what he would say. Brad was not the kind of man to accept favors, or have someone use influence to help him. Brad Austin would prefer to face whatever adversity was dealt to him.
In spite of what she knew would be Brad's objections, she felt an overpowering need to help him. He had not called her, and probably no longer believed in her love for him. Leigh Ann's plan of action was clear.
Harry weighed his options, then moved his plastic chess piece across the soiled board. "Checkmate."
Brad smiled and slid a quarter to his friend. "I guess my mind isn't on the game."
"That makes two of us."
Three days had passed without any information about the upcoming hearing. After talking with the task-force commander, their spirits had initially been raised. Now, waiting to find out their fate, Brad and Harry were growing more restless by the hour.
Harry rose and paced the cramped cabin like a caged animal. The strain and tension contorted his face. "Goddamnit, I'm going crazy in here. Can't anyone make a decision?"
"Calm yourself, Harry. You're getting upset."
"You're damn right I'm upset," he snapped. "Keeping us confined in a shoe-box room with no windows is chicken shit."
"What do you suggest," Brad asked, trying to cheer his RIO, "a jailbreak?"
"Why don't you kiss my ass?"
Brad frowned. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry for getting you into this. I apologize. That's all I can do."
Harry sat down and sighed. "I'm sorry. Shit, you're my best friend," he managed a chuckle, "even if you are a dumb-ass pilot."
A knock interrupted Brad's reply. He got up and opened the door, then laughed. Harry turned to see Jon O'Meara and Mario Russo standing in the passageway. Jon silently handed Brad a bottle of scotch, while Mario held up a hastily prepared sign that read, "We know you can't talk to us. Cheers. The squadron is behind you guys!"
"Thanks," Brad said, shaking their hands.
Harry leaped up and hugged O'Meara while he shook hands with Russo. "You saved us!" He had a grin plastered across his face. "We owe you a big one."
Brad looked up and down the narrow passageway. "Have you heard any word?"
"Not a thing," O'Meara answered. "Just rumors. If we hear anything, we'll call and let the phone ring once, then call back in forty-five seconds."
"Thanks a million," Brad replied warmly. "We're going absolutely nuts in here."
"No shit," Harry said sarcastically. "You guys have time for a toddy?" He was craving companionship.
"Better not," O'Meara responded, observing the corridor. "If the skipper found out, he'd have us in hack, too."
"Tell everyone," Brad said, handing the bottle to Harry, "that we appreciate their support."
"Will do," Mario smiled. "Hang in there." O'Meara and Russo hurried down the passageway and disappeared around a corner.
Shutting the door, Brad walked to the lavatory and reached for two glasses while Harry opened the scotch. "That," Brad said, steadying his glass while Harry poured, "was damn good of them." They both had a sip before adding water.
"Brad, before we get totally screwed up, what do you think they'll do with us when the ship sails?" The carrier was scheduled to depart for Yankee Station in three days.
"I don't know. If nothing has been resolved, they could confine us to quarters here at Yokosuka, or send us to Pearl Harbor." He took a drink. "Who knows?"
Harry shook his head. "Amazing."
"What?"
"We blasted off this goddamned boat, got the shit shot out of us, downed a MiG flown by a leading ace, dodged the missiles and antiaircraft fire, landed on a pitching deck, and then got thrown in the slammer."
Brad started to speak, but Harry held up his hand. "Wait, that's not the best part."
Laughing out loud for the first time in days, Brad sat down on the lower bunk. The tension that had gripped both of them was suddenly shattered by the mental picture of their ludicrous situation.
"The best part is the fact that if we get out of this bucket of shit we're in," Harry paused to take a drink, "we get to take off and get the shit scared out of us again."
"I know," Brad replied, laughing uproariously. "It seems unfair for us to have all the fun." They looked at each other, then burst out laughing again.