Turning, he strode from the room, heels clicking on the hardwood deck.
"You dodged the bullet," Halstead said when he saw Morton emerge from the room. "Son of a bitch, you dodged it!"
"I guess they were full up on lambs this week." He rubbed his stomach. "I don't know about you, friend, but I need a drink!"
"I'm there!" Halstead blew a kiss to the receptionist. "Catch ya later, blue eyes!"
Together, they marched down the passageway and out into the bright California sunshine.
Morton found himself trembling as hard as he'd been trembling with cold and exhaustion in the North Pacific. He'd survived.
Damn, it was good to be alive….
5
Commander Tom Garrett, like many naval officers, was a student of history, especially naval history. He was thinking now about a certain old naval tradition— one involving a court-martialed officer's sword.
"Commander Garrett? They're ready for you now, sir."
"Thank you." Rising, his hat with its scrambled-eggs-laden bill in hand, Garrett smoothed the creases from his dress whites as best he could and followed the Marine back to the high, double wooden doors leading to the hearing chamber. Inside, the chair he'd sat in for the past few days had been taken away. He came to attention in front of the long, broad desk. The five senior officers who'd made up the Board of Inquiry — four captains and a rear admiral — sat behind the table, watching him impassively.
Is the sword hilt toward me, he wondered, or the point? He couldn't tell from the carefully shuttered expressions… but the shuttering itself gave him an ominous premonition. And they'd taken so long — over three hours — to reach a decision…
"Commander Thomas Frederick Garrett," the man at the center of the panel said, glancing down at a sheaf of papers in his hands. He was Rear Admiral Kenneth Bainbridge, commanding officer of Submarine Squadron 11, and Garrett's ultimate boss in the chain of command in San Diego. He wore the golden dolphins of a submarine officer, as did all of the men at the table.
Whatever they'd decided, it would be as fair as possible, as fair, at least, as the current political situation could manage. While they wouldn't play favorites here, at least he knew that all five of these officers had been there at one time or another, commanding a hundred or so men within the claustrophobic confines of a steel coffin deep beneath the ocean's surface.
Bainbridge hesitated a moment, then went on without further preamble. "Regarding the events of the early morning hours of September twenty-third, 1999, during Operation Buster, this Board of Inquiry does not find sufficient evidence concerning your part in that incident to warrant convening a court-martial.
"However, we do find you negligent in your official duties as commanding officer of the nuclear attack submarine Pittsburgh.
"First. Upon detecting the presence of a potentially hostile foreign-national submarine within your area of operations, you did fail to notify both the requisite higher command authority and the SEAL element then embarked aboard the operation objective, the PRC merchant vessel Kuei Mei. Such a warning would have enabled the SEAL element to disengage from the mission, possibly without engaging in the subsequent firefight. By submerging below periscope depth, as you did, you prevented the SEAL element from contacting higher authority for clarification of their operational orders, thereby endangering the mission.
"Second. Your decision to follow the submarine contact at close range resulted in the grazing collision of the USS Pittsburgh with said foreign-national submarine, resulting in minor damage to the vessel under your command. This board acknowledges that the collision was instigated by the foreign submarine's sudden and unexpected maneuver to starboard but notes that you should have been more cognizant of the possibility of collision should the target vessel change course or speed.
"Third. Your decision to surface was in direct violation of your operational orders, which required you to remain unseen for the duration of a covert mission, operating under conditions of high security. This board acknowledges that by so surfacing, you probably saved the lives of at least some of the SEALs then embarked on the operation, one of whom was injured and unable to use closed-circuit scuba gear to reach the submarine escape trunk at depth. However, you could not have been aware of the injury before surfacing, and your decision to surface potentially jeopardized both the mission and your command.
"Fourth. By surfacing and revealing your vessel's presence to foreign national forces present, said forces then operating under emergency conditions, you did fail to render aid to those foreign forces — specifically to the Chinese merchant vessel Kuei Mei, which was at the time heavily damaged and sinking. As a result, our government has received an official protest from the government of the People's Republic of China decrying our nation's, I quote, piratical activities, unquote, and condemning our failure to render timely aid to a vessel in distress in international waters. This has resulted in considerable embarrassment to this nation, to the current administration, and to the naval service."
Garrett was having trouble believing he was hearing what he was hearing. My God, they're out to scuttle me!
"It is the recommendation of this board," Admiral Bainbridge continued, "that a formal letter of reprimand be issued by the convening authority for inclusion in your personnel records in lieu of further disciplinary action. Commander Garrett, you may, of course, appeal this decision by requesting a formal court-martial. You are strongly advised, however, that such an appeal will only serve to further jeopardize your career in the naval service…."
There was more to the litany, but Garrett scarcely heard the words. They were out to scuttle him…to sink his career, at least. Technically, and in a rather backhanded way, they'd been lenient, letting him off with a slap on the wrist rather than condemning him to the more formal — and serious — arena of a general court-martial. But by letting stand charges that he'd mishandled his command and his part of Operation Buster — worse, by including those charges in a letter of reprimand that would follow him throughout the rest of his naval career — they were guaranteeing that he would never hold a command again… indeed, that the promotion boards would pass him by and he would never make captain.
He would never be allowed to command a submarine again, and that simple fact twisted in his gut like a knife.
Bainbridge had stopped talking, and the five men were watching him with something like academic interest. He was expected to say something.
"I understand, sir."
"Do you feel at this time that you will want to appeal this decision, Commander?" Captain Frank Gordon asked.
"I… " He stopped. Did he? At the moment, it felt as though he were supporting some titanic weight on his shoulders and could hardly stand. Could he fight the decision?
Could he win?
A court-martial was the only way for him to clear his name now, and he would have to win if he didn't want to see his career slamming into a brick-walled dead end. The "convening authority" — and that meant Bainbridge and SUBRON 11—would fight with every trick at its command. Hell, he might find himself fighting this thing all the way up to the Pentagon, and that wouldn't do his career any good either. The Navy Department would not want to see this affair dragged out into the light of publicity and the evening news.