“Knowing them, sir, they might all do it. You are contemplating very dangerous ground. But right now I have no reason to believe Linus is in any danger. Take a worst-case situation…let’s say he made some kind of mistake, maybe compounding another. That’s not life-threatening. Maybe a reprimand or a letter of censure. Maybe nothing. Just a warning. It’s part and parcel of command in the U.S. Navy.”
“Arnold, I do not want my son to be reprimanded publicly. Do you understand me?”
“Yessir”
“Can you and I save him from that? With the combined powers of persuasion that we have?”
“Nossir. The Navy will not tolerate interference in a case as serious as this. Long after you’re gone, they’ll still have to answer to Congress.”
“Then we’ll just have to see about that. Thank you, NSA. That’s all.”
The Board of Inquiry was charged with investigating “the circumstances surrounding the accident to USS Seawolf some time before 0600 (local) on Wednesday, July 5, 2006, in the South China Sea.” It was convened in the main conference room under the Chairmanship of Admiral Archie Cameron, Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Fleet.
A tall, graying man of 55, Admiral Cameron was a former Fifth Fleet Commander. In the 1990s he had served for several years as commanding officer of the state-of-the-art guided missile cruiser USS Ticonderoga, and was regarded as a potential CNO when Joe Mulligan retired.
Seated to his right was the Commander of the Seventh Fleet, Vice Admiral Albie Peterson. To his left sat Rear Admiral Freddie Curran, Commander Submarine Force Pacific Fleet (COMSUBPAC). Flown in from New London was the newly promoted Trident commander, Captain Mike Krause. The final member of the five-man board was Captain Henry Bonilla, commanding officer of Seawolf’s Sister ship, USS Jimmy Carter.
At the end of the long mahogany table sat Lt. Commander Edward Kirk, the Pentagon’s attorney, whose task it was to restrict the inquiry to those matters relevant to the effective seizure of the American submarine by the Chinese. Not, understandably, the aftermath. Everyone was given to understand that when Lieutenant Commander Kirk spoke on a point of order, his words were to be heeded at all times. Those orders came from Admiral Mulligan in person.
And the CNO had serious reasons for ensuring that the inquiry did not somehow get out of hand. For the month previous to the opening session, he and Admiral Morgan had endured bruising hours with the President’s personal advisers, all of whom were attempting to arrange the fairest possible treatment for Lt. Commander Linus Clarke.
The CNO had argued for a week that the preliminary reports were private to the United States Navy, and that no one beyond CINCPAC should have access to their contents, certainly not the parent of one of the significant officers. Certainly not the father of the man who might very well have had the conn of the submarine on that fateful morning.
But the President’s men had come out fighting, arguing that as Commander-in-Chief of the United States Armed Forces he had the right to see any documents he so wished. For five days the rights and wrongs of the Presidential position had been debated, and finally it was agreed that the deadlock should go to immediate arbitration, and the decision of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Tim Scannell, would be final.
General Scannell took only a half hour to rule against the President, on the grounds that it would compromise him unforgivably throughout the investigation. It would be, he said, “just plain wrong for the President to be seen trying to gain any advantage whatsoever for Lieutenant Commander Clarke. Certainly he cannot be seen attempting to obtain a preview of the case, and then acting on it, against the interests of other serving officers.”
Nonetheless, the President had secured one advantage for his son, a most unusual advantage in a U.S. Navy Board of Inquiry. He had gained permission for Linus to have one of the best lawyers in the country sitting with him throughout the entire evidence. The attorney was the urbane and learned Philip Myerscough, who was not permitted to make any statement whatsoever, but was permitted to question witnesses. Admiral Mulligan made it clear that he would not tolerate any civilian cross-examining witnesses, as they might in a regular court of law. However, Mr. Myerscough would be allowed to “probe and clarify” certain points of evidence. But he would answer at all times to Admiral Cameron and, if necessary, to Lieutenant Commander Kirk.
Judd Crocker’s father, the 66-year-old Admiral Nathaniel Crocker, himself a former destroyer commander, had flown to the West Coast to meet with his son and visit his daughter-in-law. And for the past few weeks he had taken a keen academic interest in the forthcoming case. The moment it was agreed that Lieutenant Commander Clarke would be permitted an attorney in his corner, he insisted that Seawolf’s CO should also have one.
He appointed an old friend with whom he had attended the Naval Academy in Annapolis back in 1960—Art Mangone, who had lasted only six years in dark blue before leaving to take a belated law degree at UCLA. Art liked the law better than he liked submarines, and had been practicing in La Jolla, the coastal suburb of San Diego, since 1976. The investigation of USS Seawolf would grant him a chance to combine knowledge acquired in both his careers.
“The only thing I know about Mangone as a lawyer is that he plays golf to a five handicap,” said the admiral. “But I trust him, he’s a gentleman, and he’s free.”
“Spoken like a true Boston Yankee,” observed Judd.
And now the scene was set. Captain Crocker and his attorney, plus Lieutenant Commander Clarke and his, would sit in the courtroom throughout all of the evidence.
And now Admiral Cameron called the Board of Inquiry to order, read out the formalities, and requested the first witness to enter the room and swear to tell the truth.
The routine examination of each witness would be undertaken by the vastly experienced ex-Polaris commander Rear Admiral Curran. At the conclusion of his questioning, other members of the board would ask their questions and then the two attorneys would be permitted to elaborate on certain points should Admiral Cameron deem it relevant.
After the regular establishment of identity and career, Lt. Andrew Warren, Seawolf’s Officer of the Deck, turned to face Admiral Curran directly.
“Lieutenant Warren,” he said. “Will you tell us where you were between the hours of oh-four hundred and oh-eight hundred on the morning of July fifth this year?”
“Yessir. I was on duty in the submarine Seawolf in the South China Sea. I served as Officer of the Deck.”
“And did your duties take you to various different stations in the submarine?”
“Yessir.”
“And did you spend some time in the control room?”
“Yessir.”
“And were you able to see who had the conn at all times?”
“Yessir. Whenever I was in there.”
“And would you mind telling the board who did have the conn during your watch?”
“Yessir. For a short while, maybe a half hour when I first came on duty, Captain Crocker had the ship. Then he went to his bunk, and Lieutenant Commander Clarke took over. I was in the conn at the watch change.”
“And how would you describe the period of time while Commander Clarke had the ship?”
“Fine, at first, just like always. But then something terrible happened.”
“Would you describe that?”
“Yessir. At around oh-five-thirty, our sonar picked up a Chinese destroyer coming toward us at flank speed.”