Admiral Cameron and Captain Bowen stopped near the surface plotting table as the applause died and the sailors returned their attention to their consoles.
“We’ll be able to hear them through this speaker, Admiral.”
“If I want to talk to them, can I do that from here?”
Clive brought up a high-back stool and pushed it up behind the admiral, who nodded and sat down.
The door to Combat opened and Clive saw the fleet surgeon enter and move quietly, out of the way, to a nearby bulkhead. He nodded and hoped Dr. Jacobs wouldn’t be needed, but the admiral had scared him a little when he swayed as they entered. The man had only been out of surgery a couple of days and here he was thrust into a wartime situation. If he passed out, Clive had no idea how it would affect the exuberance they’d seen when they first entered. Sailors, at heart, were a superstitious lot.
“Yes, sir, you can talk to them, or anyone else you want to, Admiral, right from here. This microphone has been connected to the secure voice circuit. CTF Sixty-seven released the EP-3E to our control a few minutes ago.”
The admiral nodded.
From the speaker crackled the voice of the EP-3E pilot.
“Sixth Fleet, this is Ranger Two Niner, there is a column of dark smoke rising on the horizon. Am altering course to one six zero and descending to fifty feet.”
“Roger, Ranger Two Niner. Report when you are five miles from scene,” the voice of the ATE crackled from the speaker.
“Roger, Sixth Fleet; I am approximately fifteen miles out now.”
A chief petty officer walked up to the staff duty officer, waited a few seconds, and when an opportunity presented itself passed a note.
The SDO looked at it and turned to the admiral.
“Admiral, General Jacques Leblanc’s office is on the phone and asking to speak with you.”
Admiral Cameron looked at his watch.
“It’s going on nine in the morning. Who is he?”
“He was Admiral Phrang’s deputy. Admiral — the new French general who arrived two months ago. You haven’t met him yet. We had you on his calendar for next week, but his plans conflicted so we were rescheduling for later in the month. When that car bomb killed Admiral Phrang two days ago. General Leblanc assumed command of Allied Forces Southern Command. He is now in charge of all NATO forces in the Mediterranean.”
“What does he want?” the admiral asked the staff duty officer. Commander Bailey looked at the note, then at the chief, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. Admiral Cameron looked at the chief.
“He doesn’t say. Admiral. Just that it is important that he talks to you,” the chief answered.
“Tell him that I can’t come to the phone at this moment, Chief. Don’t tell him why. Take a number and tell him I’ll return his call as soon as I can.” The admiral looked at the chart and then, thinking of something else, said to the departing chief, “Give him my regrets, Chief, and tell him that it is impossible for me to talk at this moment. He should understand, considering everything.” Cameron reached in his back pocket and pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. God, don’t let me pass out.
The staff intelligence officer walked up beside the admiral.
“Morning, Kurt. How you doing?”
“Very good. Admiral. The important question is how are you? You look like shit.”
“It hasn’t been a good week, Kurt.”
The staff duty officer nodded at the chief, who hurried away to pass the message to General Leblanc’s office.
“Sixth Fleet, Ranger Two Niner; I am five miles and approaching the area. I count eight life rafts. We are taking count of souls on board the rafts. There are people in the water. I am approaching …” The voice stopped for several seconds.
“Sixth Fleet, Ranger Two Niner; I am overflying the stern of a sinking ship. The stern is approximately forty feet above the water. Two propellers exposed. Ship is Navy gray. There are letters on the stern …” Commander Stillwell, the EP-3E pilot, paused. “Sixth Fleet,” then his voice rose in pitch, “Gearing. I say again, the words read Gearing. Do you copy? The motherf-The sinking ship is the United States destroyer USS Gearing.” The Sixth Fleet staff heard the tremor in the voice of the unseen pilot.
“Ranger Two Niner, request you verify. Can you see any other part of the ship other than the stern?”
“Look, asshole. I’ve got American sailors in the water and an American warship down by the bow! I count two goddamn holes in her starboard aft side. I see one that would have been below the waterline, probable torpedo hit.
Another hole is at the waterline that could have been either a torpedo or a missile. If I got any closer I’d be inside it. I don’t like telling it any more than you enjoy hearing it, but we have American sailors, in dungarees and khakis, in the water and in life rafts. We’ve got a major problem here!”
No one spoke in Combat. Everyone looked at the admiral.
He picked up the microphone.
“Ranger Two Niner, this is Admiral Cameron. What are your intentions?”
“What the hell … Sorry, Admiral, standing by for further instructions.”
“You are the on-scene commander. Ranger Two Niner.
You tell us what your assessment is, your recommendations, and then we’ll decide.” He paused and before the EP-3E could respond. Admiral Cameron added, “We’ll take care of the assholes who did this. I know how you feel, but right now we need accurate information to save those sailors. Okay?”
“Aye, aye, sir.” An audible sigh came over the speaker before Stillwell continued.
“My intentions are to circle over this group as long as possible. There are still sailors treading water. Those in the life rafts are pulling them in. No waves or wind at sea level, making the rescue by those in the rafts fairly easy. I have my aft door opened and my intentions, Admiral, are to drop the number three life raft, along with provisions, PRC radios, and bottled water on my next pass. My recommendation is to do something ASAP to rescue our shipmates and then I recommend bombing Libya back into the Ice Age!”
“Roger,” Admiral Cameron acknowledged. He turned to his intelligence officer.
“Kurt, what is the situation in Algeria?”
“Sir, we need to keep the Nassau headed toward Algiers.
As of yesterday, one American was dead and they had an incident near our embassy, resulting in a small firefight between our Marines and the rebels. The ambassador said the Algerians are laying siege to the embassy.”
“Clive, what do we have available to pick up the Gearing survivors?”
“Sir, there is the USS Miami, SSN-755, in company with the Nassau.”
“Too bad we don’t have our Sigonella squadron,” Captain Kurt Lederman added.
“If Dod hadn’t overridden our recommendation and relocated HC-4 back to the States we’d have long-range helicopters to—”
“Clive, how about the Air Force?” Admiral Cameron interrupted.
This was not the time to be bashing an administration, even one out of power.
“If they do have any, they’d be in Germany somewhere.
We’ll call and start them on their way.”
The admiral nodded.
“Do it.” Meanwhile, detach USS Miami from Nassau battle group and tell her to make best speed toward Gearing datum. If nothing else, it puts her and her Tomahawks within striking range.