Stroh had made the arrangements for Air Force transport, and the rest of the platoon lifted off a day after Fernandez. Al Adams was well on his way to healing. DeWitt was still using a pair of crutches, and would go into Balboa as well when the platoon checked into Coronado.
Joe Douglas made the trip in handcuffs and leg irons, and was isolated in the farthest back seat of the big transport.
News of the charges against Douglas preceded the SEALs into their base, and Master Chief Gordon MacKenzie stood with folded amis as the platoon jumped down from the six-by that had transported them and their gear from North Island Naval Air Station.
The master chief came to attention in front of Murdock and saluted. Murdock returned the salute.
"It see ms we have a bit of a problem, Commander, with one of your boys. The old man is furious. Evidently it got out of hand. We'll deal with it." The master chief frowned and looked away.
"One more thing. Commander Masciarelli said he wants to see you the second you hit base. We better humor him on this one."
"We? You coming?"
"Not a chance. I only have twelve more years to retirement. Why would I want to commit suicide?"
Murdock gave his gear to Jaybird and headed for the Old Man's lair. He never liked meeting with Commander Masciarelli. The man was a political animal — sure, a SEAL once, but he was a fucking hell of a long way from there now. Murdock marched his way past the buildings to the headquarters of Team Seven and went in. He was gritty from the long flight, grimy, and probably smelled. Good.
A bright young second-class female with a flat chest grinned at Murdock.
"Boss wants to see you right away." She led him to a door ten paces away and knocked, then pushed it open. She wasn't about to go inside. Murdock went in, put his floppy hat under his arm, and stepped up to the desk with its totally bare and polished top. He snapped to attention. "Sir, Lieutenant Commander Murdock reporting."
Commander Dean Masciarelli put down a report he had been reading and glared at Murdock.
"You intend to go through with these charges against Douglas?"
"Absolutely, sir. It's a definite case of disobeying an order while under fire that resulted in the critical wounding of another SEAL. It's a plain dereliction of duty."
"You're a lawyer now, Murdock?"
"No, sir."
"Good, my advice is to stop the charges now, ship Douglas out to Adak, and forget the whole mess." "Sir, in my opinion that action would not be in the best interest of the SEALs, nor of the U.S. Navy."
Masciarelli groaned. "Murdock, when are you going to stop fighting the program and learn how to work with the Navy?"
"Sir, I never really…" He stopped.
The commander looked up. "Almost blurted it out, didn't you, Murdock. You have no real desire to go up the promotion ladder. You don't want those admiral's stripes on your sleeve. We've been over this before. I hear you turned down an offer to work with the CNO."
"Not my kind of job, sir."
"Yeah, you're probably right there. This Douglas matter. You know I'll be on the hearing board, and if it gets a go, probably also on the court."
"Yes, sir."
"You have no objections?"
"Not a one, sir."
"Good. One other matter. I've let you slide along without a proper platoon organization for too long. I hear you're promoting one man to lead petty officer. I'll approve. I want you to pick out a senior chief petty officer to help you run the platoon. You have the pick of any man in SEAL Team Seven."
"Sir, that will take some time."
"You'll have lots of time before the court-martial. Get a man in there and integrated into your team. No telling when another call will come from the CIA. You know I still despise this arrangement. No chain of command. No Navy control. I hate it." The commander of SEAL Team Seven looked out his window for a moment, then back at Murdock.
"Soon you'll need to have a chief petty officer to fill out your roster. You've got room now. Think on it. Now, I'd bet you're looking forward to a shower. You sure as hell need one. You're dismissed, sailor."
Murdock came to attention, did a smart about-face, and marched out of the room.
Things moved quickly after that. The next day the official papers were filed with the signatures of Jaybird, Murdock, and Commander Masciarelli. The hearing on Douglas was set for a week later. Murdock and Jaybird spent two days at the Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego, talking with Fernandez and with Ed DeWitt. DeWitt was scheduled to come out of the hospital in three more days.
They dug out every case of conflict between the two SEALs, and after a lot of persuading, Fernandez told Murdock what had started it all at that beach picnic nearly a year ago.
"You remember it, Commander. A beach party with lots of barbecue and good food and plenty of beer. The volley ball was coed and my wife, Maria, was there playing. Douglas was on our team, and he got rude and kept touching her. making whispered remarks. "I told him to lay off, to keep away from her. He wouldn't. I pulled him out of the game and told him to stop.
"He called Maria a greaser, a puta, a rotten wetback who should have stayed in Mexico. That's when I hit him. The other guys pulled us apart before any real damage was done. Jaybird made us shake hands, but that didn't change a thing. He's been badmouthing me ever since."
Murdock smiled. "Okay, Fernandez, now we've got something. This is enough to get a conviction." He watched Fernandez. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? If you really object, we can withdraw the charges, I'll transfer Douglas out of the SEALs, and we'll never see him again."
Fernandez stared at the ceiling. Then he shifted in the bed. He had just found out today that he would be in the hospital for another two months, but should be patched up well enough to return to duty as a SEAL.
"Yes, let's continue the process. I owe it to Maria. If he gets away with it with me, he'll just terrorize somebody else who isn't a white man."
The day before the hearing, Murdock took a phone call from Douglas's hometown. Murdock had called the local sheriff just to check on Douglas's background, and the answer was surprising.
"Commander, how the hell did Joe Douglas ever get in the Navy? He served a year and a day in county jail for battery, and then had two more arrests for beating up Jews and homosexuals. He got a great lawyer and beat both charges of assault. Damn, I didn't know that the Navy let in felons,"
Murdock told him it didn't, if the Navy knew about the convictions. Douglas had covered it up somehow. Murdock had the sheriff FAX him the arrest reports, the jail records, fingerprints, and everything else from Douglas's file.
The healing lasted only an hour and twenty minutes. Fernandez had given a deposition about how the trouble began, and it was read in the hearing. Then Murdock tried to introduce the records of Douglas's civilian skinhead activity and arrests, but the Hearing Officer ruled it could not be entered there, but should be filed with the appropriate office.
Joe Douglas contended that the trouble at the beach party was petty and not serious and soon forgotten. He denied that he deliberately did not fire to protect Fernandez in Korea, that the charges were trumped up because the lead petty officer did not like him.
The ruling came after ten minutes of deliberations. Sufficient evidence was presented that Joe Douglas would have a court-martial. The date was set two months away to give counsel on both sides time to prepare their cases. Both would be Navy lawyers.
Murdock copied the civilian records on Douglas, and turned the originals over to Commander Masciarelli. He said he knew exactly where to take them.