The Shark Mutiny Page 46

  2. In order that a subordinate officer acting upon his or her own initiative may be vindicated for relieving a commanding officer from duty, the situation must be obvious and clear, and must admit of the single conclusion that the retention of command by such commanding officer will seriously and irretrievably prejucice the public interest.”

  Lieutenant Commander Jones paused, and then continued, “The Section is quite detailed but I mention the salient points, that the subordinate officer so acting must obviously be unable to refer the matter to a common superior, and must be certain that the prejudicial actions of the CO are not caused by instructions unknown to him. He plainly must have given the matter much careful consideration, and—this is important—have made such exhaustive investigation of all the circumstances as may be practicable.

  “The final paragraph in this area is one with which I take the gravest issue: that the officer must be thoroughly convinced that the conclusion to relieve the CO is one that a reasonable, prudent and experienced officer would regard as a necessary consequence from the facts thus determined to exist.

  “I intend to convict Lieutenant Commander Headley on the words of that last paragraph, and I call Commander Reid as the first witness for the prosecution.”

  The doors to the court were opened, and the former CO of USS Shark walked into the room. He was immaculately dressed in uniform and made his way to the witness chair, which had been placed on the left-hand side in order that witnesses could address both the panel and the examining lawyers.

  The Judge Advocate rose and walked across to ensure that the oath was taken correctly. With his hand on the Bible, Commander Donald Reid calmly swore to tell the truth.

  After the briefest of identification procedures, Locker Jones went straight to work.

  “And on the morning of June seventh, were you startled to find your ship was moving fast at periscope depth in flagrant defiance of your most recent orders?”

  “I was.”

  “And where were you at the time?”

  “I was in my cabin. The XO had the ship.”

  “And what action did you take?”

  “I returned to the control room immediately, and I ordered Lieutenant Commander Headley to turn the submarine around and to return to our rendezvous point, the place defined in our orders, sixteen degrees north, ninety-four-zero-one east.”

  “And did he carry out your orders?”

  “No. He did not. He refused.”

  “For what reason?”

  “He said he was on a mission of mercy to save the very small team of Navy SEALs—only eight of them, I believe.”

  “And how did he propose to do this?”

  “He said he was taking the submarine on the surface at flank speed in order to effect a rescue.”

  “And were you able to approve this?”

  “Certainly not. No commander of a nuclear submarine takes his ship to the surface in the face of the enemy. It’s one of the oldest rules in the book. No one does it.”

  “And were you aware of the enemy?”

  “Well, I knew they were Chinese. And I knew they were helicopters. Two, we were told.”

  “And what did you deduce from this?”

  “I assessed that they would be helicopters from the two ships we knew were in the Haing Gyi dockyard, a frigate and a destroyer. The chances were very high that at least one of them, probably both, would have an ASW capability, plus, probably, rockets that would both outrange us and pierce our pressure hull. We are not really built to fight on the surface, you know.” The court was listening to the refined voice of reason.

  “No, of course not, Commander,” replied the prosecuter. “Absolutely not. I am sure everyone in the room appreciates that. But I continue: And did you communicate your assessment of the situation to your Executive Officer?”

  “I sure did. I pointed out to him that there were almost one hundred ten officers and men on board my ship. We had a brave and experienced crew, a first-class crew. And I pointed out that to take the ship straight into the range of air-to-surface missiles, on the surface, on the open ocean, was contrary to everything I had ever known, been taught or believed in the U.S. Navy.

  “Quite frankly, it was a risk I could not possibly take. Nor I suspect would anyone else in my shoes. Also I did not believe the U.S. Navy would be greatly thanked for putting a smashed nuclear reactor in the middle of the Bay of Bengal to pollute it for the next forty years. I had much to consider. And I did not believe the lives of the SEALs, just eight of them, warranted the potential destruction of USS Shark and her crew.”

  “Thank you, Commander. No more questions.”

  The court was amazed at the brevity of Locker Jones’s examination, amazed that he had not extracted chapter and verse the circumstances of the arrest of the CO. Instead he had concentrated on one precious factor—the course of action the Captain of the submarine had proposed, and was it sufficiently crazy to have him placed under arrest and relieved of command?

  It was a vintage ploy by the prosecuting counsel, a method of avoiding endless testimony and confusing contradictions. He had presented his star witness in a lean, pared-down light: the order he had given, and the reasons for it. Was it the order of a madman? Not so far, of that everyone in the room was very certain.

  And now the frowning figure of the defense counsel, Lieutenant Commander Surprenant, climbed to his feet to begin his cross-examination. And he was perhaps more aware than anyone of the brilliance of the strategy of Locker Jones.

  “Commander Reid,” he began, “I want to ask your indulgence right here, because the reasons for Lieutenant Commander Headley’s actions date back for several weeks, and I am sure you will not object to answering my questions while we establish them in this courtroom.”

  “Commander Reid,” shook his head, as if to say, “No problem,” but his counsel was instantly on his feet, snapping, “Objection.”

  Captain Dunning stared quizzically at the prosecutor, who said, “Sir, the CO is not on trial. He is here to give his reasons for his orders on that particular morning, in those particular circumstances. I am at a loss to understand why defense counsel wants to delve into the past. Lieutenant Commander Headley, under Section one-zero-eight-eight of Navy Regulations, must demonstrate that his CO issued an order that could not possibly be obeyed, without being prejudicial to the public interest.”

  Captain Dunning looked doubtfully at Al Surprenant, who responded quietly, “Sir, it is possible that a pattern of behavior by a single individual may become so unnerving for those who serve under him that an action to relieve command becomes necessary. Not just from the immediate orders, but from that pattern of unreliability. With respect, I intend to proceed along those lines.”

  “Overruled.”

  Lieutenant Commander Surprenant now took his time. He shuffled his file papers, and then looked up and inquired, “Commander Reid, may I ask if you recall the events of May sixteenth in the early morning, just before first light?”

  “Well, I certainly know we were waiting at our rendezvous point for the Special Forces team to return from a mission.”

  “Who had the ship?”

  “Lieutenant Commander Headley. Our orders were clear. It was a highly classified operation, and we were detailed to remain at our RV in the Gulf of Iran while the ASDV returned with the team on board.”

  “And were you ever informed of a problem during their escape from plainly hostile shores?”

  “No I was not.”

  “I believe you were not in the control room?”

  “That is correct. My XO had overall responsibility for the return of the SEAL team.”

  “And what caused you to return to the control room?”

  “The submarine began to move forward in complete contradiction to our orders, which had been issued by the flag. Our RV point was in hard copy.”

  “And when you did return, what did you learn?”

  “Well, there had been some kind of an attack on the tea
m, inshore, and they were on their way back, bringing with them an apparently wounded man.”

  “They were also bringing back the body of their leader, Lieutenant Commander Ray Schaeffer, I believe?”

  “So I was informed.”

  “So. The leader had been killed, and another SEAL was badly wounded, and they were desperately trying to get away, trying to get back to safety after achieving their objective?”

  “So I believe.”

  “And did Lieutenant Commander Headley inform you that it was perfectly safe under clear skies, and on empty seas, to go in six miles, fast, toward the ASDV and get them back on board with all speed?”

  “He was already headed inshore when I reached the control room.”

  “And when you learned they had a top combat SEAL on board, dying, next to his already dead Leader, I believe you issued an order for USS Shark to turn around and return to the rendezvous point, leaving this heroic blood-soaked American Special Forces unit essentially to get on with it as best they could?”

  “Well, I was certain about my orders: to remain on station until they arrived back.”

  “When Lieutenant Commander Headley informed you of the seriousness of the situation, that a man was dying, I believe you uttered the phrase ‘You can’t run a Navy for a guy who’s probably cut his goddamned finger’?”

  “I do not recall that.”

  “And so you turned around and went back to the RV?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you recall a strong protest from the SEAL mission controller, Commander Rusty Bennett, almost begging you to go inshore and save his man?”

  “No. I do not recall that.”

  “Do you recall the condition of the wounded SEAL when they finally arrived back?”

  “You know perfectly well that I do.”

  “What was that condition?”

  “Do you really have to persist in this unhelpful manner?”

  “WHAT WAS THAT CONDITION, COMMANDER?”

  “The SEAL was dead.”

  “Thank you. And is it your opinion that he might have been saved if you’d gotten him aboard a half hour earlier?”

  “I have no idea. I’m not a doctor.”

  “And how long had he been dead before your crew got him back aboard?”

  “I believe fifteen minutes.”

  “Thank you. And would it surprise you to learn that from that moment on, both your crew and the SEAL assault teams regarded you as a heartless, somewhat remote figure who cared nothing about any of them.”

  “OBJECTION! Counsel is harassing the witness, asking a question to which he could not possibly know the answer.”

  “Sustained. Strike that last question from the record.”

  But Al Surprenant smiled the quiet smile of a man who had said precisely what he wanted to say. And he rephrased it, good-naturedly…“Commander, would it suprise you to know that a lot of your crew did not agree in any way with your decision to let the man die?”

  “OBJECTION! Commander Reid did not decide to let the man die. He simply followed the orders of the flag. Counsel continues to harass the witness.”

  “Sustained. Strike the question.”

  “Very well,” replied Al Surprenant. “In the light of everything, let me ask you this: Thirty-six hours previously, do you recall refusing to go inshore for a few extra miles, thus saving the battery of the ASDV when the navigator had informed you there was plenty of water depth.”

  “No. I do not recall that.”

  “Would you feel happier if I read it directly to you from the ship’s log?”

  “OBJECTION. Counsel is treating the witness as if he were on trial, attempting to humiliate him before the court, and now he wants to produce evidence against him we have not even seen.”

  “Sustained. But leave the record.” Boomer Dunning was a picture of calmness in increasingly stormy waters.

  “Commander Reid,” continued the defense counsel, “would you say you were a man who followed orders to the letter, allowing no leeway, and no room for flexibility.”

  “No I would not. I’m as flexible as the next man. But not when it comes to the safety of my ship.”

  “Would you say you were as flexible as, say, Admiral Pierre de Villeneuve?”

  Locker Jones shook his head, and held his hands apart in mock outrage. Captain Dunning stared at the former CO, awaiting an answer. And when it came, there was a frisson of unease in the room.

  “Damn you, Headley,” he hissed, almost under his breath.

  And now Lieutenant Commander Surprenant was on him. “Damn who, sir? Damn who? I did not quite catch that.”

  Commander Reid’s face was beginning to redden, and he was starting to look angry. He made no reply.

  And again Al Surprenant came in. “I asked if you were as flexible as Admiral de Villeneuve. Please answer me. I know you are well acquainted with each other.”

  Locker Jones had never even heard of the French Admiral, or if he had, he’d clean forgotten it. But it was hard to object because he could not tell if there was venom behind the innocence of the question.

  Still Commander Reid said nothing. And the president stepped in, requesting defense counsel to clarify the question for the benefit of the panel and indeed the prosecutor.

  “Sir,” said Al Surprenant, “Admiral de Villeneuve was the commander of the French Fleet at the Battle of Trafalgar. He presided over probably the biggest disaster in a sea battle in history. He lost twenty ships, was captured by the British and soon afterward committed suicide. There is a picture of him on the wall of Commander Reid’s cabin, which is unorthodox for a U.S. Navy commanding officer, at best.”

  “I see,” said Captain Dunning. “Well, I suppose it may be relevant. Please proceed.”

  “Thank you,” said the counselor, and, turning back to Commander Reid, said flatly, “Is it not a fact that you believe you WERE Admiral de Villeneuve in a previous life?”

  “Millions of people believe in reincarnation,” replied the Commander.

  “And so they may,” said Lieutenant Commander Surprenant. “But that scarcely answers my question, does it? Shall we try again? Do you believe you WERE Admiral de Villeneuve in a previous life?”

  “Well, even General Patton believed he had been a great warrior in a previous incarnation.”

  “So he may have. But would you be willing to give my question yet another try? Do you believe, Commander Reid, that you actually WERE Admiral de Villeneuve in a previous life? That’s a yes, or a no.”

  “Well, we do share some deep French roots.”

  Captain Dunning interrupted. “Commander Reid, please answer the question. Yes or no.”

  “No,” replied Shark’s former CO. “I do not believe I actually was Admiral de Villeneuve.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” said defense counsel. “And now, if I may, I should like to read something to you—‘Another life, another battle, so many mistakes in Bucentaure. I must never repeat them now that I have another chance. June 1980. DKR.’ Do you recognize those words, Commander.”

  “Well, vaguely, yes I do.”

  “Who wrote them?”

  “I did.”

  “Where did you write them?”

  “In a book, I believe.”

  “A book about reincarnation, wasn’t it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Commander, perhaps you would care to tell the panel whose ship the Bucentaure was?”

  “It was Admiral de Villeneuve’s flagship.”

  “In your own words, Commander: ‘…so many mistakes in Bucentaure. I must never repeat them now that I have another chance.’ Sir, you believe you are the reincarnation of one of the worst Naval commanders in history, correct?”

  Locker Jones had had enough. He leaped to his feet and almost shouted, “OBJECTION! This quotation, written more than twenty-five years ago, was plainly pilfered from the private quarters of the Commanding Officer of USS Shark, unlawfully and disgracefully. It cannot be admissable evide
nce in any court of law in the free world.”

  Captain Dunning nodded. But he said, “This is not a civilian court of law, where lawyers are trained to find loopholes to free guilty people. This is a United States Navy court-martial, and we have no other objective except to find the truth. We are assessing the guilt or innocence of men who are trained to take charge of ships worth four hundred million dollars. Everything is relevant in this regard.”

  “But my client is not on trial, sir,” protested Lt. Commander Jones.

  “I know he’s not,” replied Boomer. “Objection overruled.”

  Al Surprenant continued. “Commander, do you think it might be unnerving for a crew to discover that their leader believed he was a navy disaster area in a previous life?”

  “I cannot say what they might feel.”

  “But do you think they might quite properly be concerned?”

  “OBJECTION. The question’s been asked and answered.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Commander,” asked the counselor, “are you a spiritualist?”

  “In some ways.”

  “Does that mean you have merely inherited the spirit of Pierre de Villeneuve, or do you believe you have been in contact with people from…er…the other side, I believe is the phrase?”

  “Like many millions of others, I may have.”

  “Commander, have you spoken lately with Captain Grigory Lyachin?”

  Donald Reid remained silent.

  “Someone enlighten me,” interjected Boomer Dunning. “Who’s Grigory Lyachin?”

  “He’s that Russian commanding officer who died with his crew in the Kursk submarine, Barents Sea, seven years ago,” said Al Surprenant.

  “Commander Reid, would it surprise you to know that certain senior members of your crew heard you talking to him by candlelight in your cabin?”

  “DAMN THIS. DAMN YOU ALL! I’M NOT ON TRIAL HERE.” The ex-CO of Shark was standing now, shouting back at the defense lawyer, all semblance of self-control slipping away.