U.S.S. Seawolf am-4 Page 46

  “And did he heed this warning from the Chief of the Boat?”

  “Nossir. He did not. He said there was no need. He said the destroyer was not transmitting on anything and he was just going in closer for pictures.”

  “And what then?”

  “Well, sir. I was being overruled by our Executive Officer. I had no choice but to accept his order. But I did say again, I still thought the CO should be told what we were doing.”

  “And was that final advice accepted?”

  “Nossir. It was not. Lieutenant Commander Clarke proceeded to order the boat across the stern of the destroyer at one mile distance. At least that’s what he believed.”

  “And did you believe that distance?”

  “Yessir. You expect your XO to be able to handle the periscope accurately.”

  “But in hindsight, you now believe he was not doing that.”

  “Obviously not, sir. And when the CO finally arrived, that much became very apparent.”

  “You mean you accept Captain Crocker’s version of what had gone wrong — low power on the periscope, which made the destroyer seem much farther away than it really was?”

  “No question, sir. I heard the lieutenant commander apologize. That’s what happened.”

  “That’s all, Master Chief,” replied Admiral Curran. “Admiral Cameron may wish to say more.”

  “I don’t think so,” replied the chairman. “The evidence of the Chief of the Boat and the evidence of the Officer of the Deck are identical. Mr. Mangone? Mr. Myerscough?”

  “Nothing further from me,” said Art Mangone.

  And once more Philip Myerscough stood up and attempted to cast Linus Clarke in a somewhat better light than that of error-prone number two on a nuclear submarine.

  “Mr. Stockton,” he said, as if trying to distance himself entirely from the military. “You stated that you were certain that Lieutenant Commander Clarke had mistakenly placed the periscope on low power, which subsequently increased the apparent distance between Seawolf and the Chinese destroyer?”

  “Yessir. I did. And I am.”

  “What proof is there? What proof do you have? Is this not a mere speculation?”

  “Well, sir, our commanding officer looked right through the periscope within moments of the error and stated that the Xiangtan was five hundred yards away.”

  “But what proof is there that it was not Mr. Crocker who was mistaken and that Linus Clarke was correct all along?”

  “I guess because we then wrapped our screw around the towed array, which was a lot nearer than Lieutenant Commander Clarke believed.”

  “But how do you know it was not a mile long — and that Lieutenant Commander Clarke made no mistake?”

  “Well, I don’t know that for certain, sir, but I never have heard that the Chinese own a mile-long towed array. No one in the United States Navy has ever even suggested such a thing. Longest I heard was one thousand yards.”

  “But with respect, Mr. Stockton, the fact that you never heard of such a thing does not preclude it from existing?”

  “Nossir. I guess not.”

  “Then it would be foolish to discount the possibility?”

  “Nossir. It would be foolish to include it. Captain Crocker saw the submarine with his own eyes five hundred yards off our port beam.”

  “For three seconds, I believe. Not very long.”

  “Sir, in our trade, assessing the surface picture, three seconds is long. Like three hours to a normal untrained person.”

  Philip Myerscough chuckled a deep sardonic chuckle. “But Mr. Stockton,” he said, “no one else saw it, did they, because the submarine was trimmed stern down and the periscope was under the water?”

  “No one saw it right then. But we came to the surface a very few minutes later. And the destroyer was still five hundred yards away.”

  “And who had the periscope then?”

  “The commanding officer, sir.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Yessir.”

  Philip Myerscough looked temporarily uncomfortable. “And who was that?” he asked.

  “Me, sir. The CO handed over the periscope for me to look at the long wire on our screw. You could see it, about fifteen feet across, a huge tangle.”

  At this point Mangone arose, and requested just one question at this juncture.

  Admiral Cameron said, “Please proceed.” And with some annoyance, Myerscough sat down.

  “Master Chief,” said Mangone, “when you looked through that periscope on the surface, within a very few minutes of the accident, how far was the destroyer from Seawolf?”

  “Five hundred yards or so, sir.”

  “Thank you, Master Chief. Just checking. No further questions.”

  Philip Myerscough stood again. “Mr. Stockton, how long have you served with Captain Crocker?”

  “Oh, we’ve done maybe six tours of duty together.”

  “Would it be fair to say you admire him greatly?”

  “Yessir. The best I ever sailed with.”

  “And would you say you are completely loyal to him? As your CO?”

  “Yessir. I am.”

  “Perhaps too loyal?”

  “Nossir.”

  “Perhaps more loyal to Captain Crocker than you might be to the absolute truth?”

  “THAT’S ENOUGH!!” Admiral Cameron was on his feet. “I have already explained to you, Mr. Myerscough, that I will not have my men examined as if they were in a civilian court. Perhaps I should spell it out further. Men like Brad Stockton hold this Navy together. He is not an ordinary man. He is a man of vast integrity, holding a position of quite awesome responsibility. Not for money, not for cheap glory, but for the sense of achieving a massively important task. Every day. In harm’s way. Protecting this nation. I will not have him treated like the kind of criminal you deal with in your chosen way of life.”

  And then he softened a little. “Mr. Myerscough, you will treat my men with total respect, or I will not hesitate to have you escorted from this Board of Inquiry. IS THAT QUITE CLEAR?”

  Admiral Cameron, however, was too late. The question had been asked, though not answered. And it was in the record. The seed of doubt had been sown, that Brad Stockton would support anything Judd Crocker said.

  And Philip Myerscough knew it. He just said, “With respect, sir.” And resumed his seat.

  The next witness to be called was Lieutenant Commander Clarke himself. And for the first time he moved away from his lawyer’s side, standing now in front of the admirals.

  The formalities were dispensed with, and the President’s son swore to tell the truth.

  There were no discrepancies in the basic points of evidence. The times and facts were not in dispute. What was in dispute was how far away that destroyer was when Linus Clarke drove Seawolf over the towed array.

  And if Linus had been apologizing in the conn on the morning of July 5, he very definitely was not doing so now. He stood back and argued with Admiral Freddie Curran that he had been correct, that there was a mile between the ships. It was not, could not have been his fault. He would never make such an elementary error with the periscope.

  In his opinion, the Chinese towed array must have been a mile long. There was no other explanation, and it could not be proved one way or another. So far as Linus was concerned, it was his word against Judd Crocker’s and that was all.

  The Board of Inquiry listened carefully to the deadlock, and then invited Mangone to ask any further questions, if he so wished.

  The California attorney came straight to the point. “Two important members of the submarine’s crew, the Officer of the Deck and the Chief of the Boat, have both sworn they heard you apologize to the CO for committing the fundamental error of having the periscope on low power. Do you now deny that was so?”

  “No sir. I did apologize. I was completely intimidated by Captain Crocker, sir. He looked as if he was going to strike me. He was out of control.”

  “Were you normally a
fraid of Judd Crocker?”

  “A little. He’s a very physical person. And he can be quite threatening.”

  “Mr. Clarke, I did anticipate that you may wish to develop that line, and I took the trouble to comb through his naval record. Would it surprise you to know that no one else in all of his career has ever suggested for one split second that Judd Crocker had ever threatened anyone, or even growled at anyone, far less actually struck anyone? Does it surprise you to learn that?”

  “Yessir. He almost knocked me flying trying to get to the periscope.”

  “Since you had virtually wrecked his ship, he might have been excused a little haste, don’t you think?”

  “Not that much, sir.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Clarke, do you know what he wrote about you in his personal log of the incident, written on the carrier on the way home?”

  “No sir.”

  “Let me read it to you. ‘Poor Linus Clarke. Never was I so sorry for a young officer. It was a devastating mistake to make. But he will have many years to reflect upon it. At the time I was so angry, and I am just grateful that I kept it all in check. Never even raised my voice, because it would not have done any good. Linus Clarke was sufficiently distraught without my adding to it. There were many times I enjoyed serving with him.’”

  Mangone looked up. “Does that sound much like the raging bull you describe?”

  “Well, no, sir. But he’d had time to think about his image by then.”

  “So he may have done. But he still doesn’t sound much like a raging bull to me. No further questions.”

  The final witness of the day was Captain Judd Crocker, and his tenure in front of the admirals would be short, because of the four principal crew in the conn at the time of the disaster, he was there the least amount of time, arriving only after the mistake had been made.

  The only disputed issue upon which he had to pronounce was the distance he saw through the periscope between the two ships, and he confirmed to Admiral Freddie Curran that it was indeed 500 yards. No doubts. “And,” he added, “it was still five hundred yards when we got to the surface and checked again a few minutes later.”

  Admiral Curran concluded by saying, “Yes, Captain Crocker. I think that is all very clear to the board now.”

  Which left the coast clear for Philip Myerscough’s final attack. He rose to his feet and said, “Captain Crocker, I believe this patrol had an element of a disaster to it right from the start?”

  Judd looked puzzled, and said nothing.

  “I mean, Captain, that you were under strict orders not to be detected under any circumstances. Is that correct?”

  “I am not at liberty to mention any details of a classified operation in Far Eastern waters.”

  “But Captain Crocker, it is, I believe, general knowledge that your submarine was detected by the Chinese three times?”

  “Sir, you could only have learned such fantasies from Lieutenant Commander Clarke, and he is no more empowered to speak of them than I am.”

  “Are they fantasies, Captain?”

  “I have nothing to say on that, counselor. Our mission was highly classified.”

  “Very well. Perhaps I may conclude by saying there were mistakes made by the commanding officer of USS Seawolf throughout the voyage. And possibly he made another when the distance had to be judged between the destroyer and the submarine.”

  Philip Myerscough knew well enough that he must have incurred the immediate wrath of Admiral Cameron, and he sat down swiftly.

  But the senior admiral was measured. “I am not entirely surprised that things may have been said to you which ought not to have been said. But such things happen in incidents like these when lives and careers are threatened. For the record, I would like to confirm that the United States Navy has no formal proof that Seawolf was ever detected before she caught the towed array. But we do have proof that her very difficult mission was accomplished under the command of Captain Crocker, who was not of course in the conn when the accident happened.”

  The chairman then thanked everyone for the frank and honest way in which the evidence had been presented, and confirmed that the board would continue in session for the rest of the week, examining further aspects of the loss. And that the findings would be made public on October 9, as previously stated.

  1130. Tuesday, September 26.

  The Oval Office.

  President Clarke was as angry with the United States Navy as he had ever been. In his hand he held the report from the Board of Inquiry investigating the loss of Seawolf, and the news it contained was not good.

  The admirals, conscious of a growing unrest in the media and the public about the precise circumstances of the submarine’s demise, were considering the possibility of a Special Court-Martial charging both the captain and the executive officer with gross negligence.

  In the past four days there had been a succession of stories leaked about the loss of Seawolf, and the media was beginning to get warm. The admirals felt that a court-martial would clear the air and put everyone off the scent of what had really happened in the South China Sea, especially since the President’s son was involved. Nothing, surely, could be worse than that.

  And so the admirals, including Mulligan and Cameron, had agreed upon this course of action. The court-martial would almost certainly find both men not guilty, but to have staged it, and put two of their own through the humiliation, would hopefully absolve the Navy from further blame.

  The trouble now was that the President was not having it. He stood before Admiral Morgan and said categorically, “No one is going to court-martial my son. Not while I sit in this chair as Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces.”

  “But, sir, I don’t see that we have any choice. We have to deflect the media from the real story, which would have this administration thrown out. You would be in disgrace, sir. Going to war with China, to save Linus. Even you, sir, could not get away with that.”

  “Okay. I accept that. But look here, Arnie, I’ve read this report, and I don’t think anything of this Crocker guy. Jesus, I’m a lawyer, and there’s not one shred of corroboration to back his claim that Linus made a mistake. Nothing, ’cept stuff that happened after the fact. I mean, give me a break. There was three seconds on the periscope. And you guys want to hang my own son on that? Nossir. That’s not going to happen.”

  “Mr. President, the Navy is going to court-martial either Linus, or both him and Judd, for the loss of the ship. After all, he was driving the damned thing.”

  “So he may have been. But this Crocker guy should have been there. He’s the captain. And his evidence is flawed against my boy. Linus has always been truthful, ever since he was little…and this Crocker character is trying to turn him into a liar. And that’s what I’m not having.

  “Admiral Morgan, I want that captain court-martialed. But I’m not having Linus there with him. He’s the CO. Let him take the blame. It’s just his word against the truthful word of my boy. I’ll even have Linus stand witness for him. But I’m not having that boy facing a Navy court-martial, which would ultimately bring a much greater disgrace upon him than it would for a normal person.”

  “Sir, I will make your wishes known to the respective admirals, and we’ll just have to see how the cards fall. But I do know everyone is very concerned about how much press this thing is beginning to attract.”

  “All right. But don’t come back with a lot of crap. I just want to be told that Linus is not going to be facing a U.S. Navy court-martial. Not after all that boy’s gone through.”

  0900. Wednesday, September 27.

  The Oval Office.

  Morgan paused before the door of the Oval Office, then entered.

  “Sir, you’re not going to like this,” he said to the President. “The Navy is to convene a Special Court-Martial charging both Captain Crocker and Lt. Commander Linus Clark with gross negligence in the loss of the submarine Seawolf. Sir, they feel they have no choice in the current climate, and I agr
ee with them.”

  “GODDAMNIT, ARNIE! Can I overrule, strike Linus off the charge?”

  “Yessir. As C-in-C you may do as you wish. But I am told you will then receive the instant resignations of your chief of naval operations, Admiral Joe Mulligan, and that of the commander of the Pacific Fleet, Admiral Archie Cameron.”

  “THEN TELL ’EM TO GET THE HELL OUT AND I’LL APPOINT A COUPLE OF GUYS WHO WILL HELP ME OUT HERE…MAYBE APPRECIATE SOME OF THE STUFF I’VE DONE FOR THE NAVY.”

  “Is that your last word, sir?”

  “It sure as hell is. I need a new CNO and a new CINCPAC, right? Please start things moving, and announce nothing about the court-martial.”

  “Very well, sir. But we have to hurry. They intend the court-martial to sit on Friday morning, while the evidence is fresh.”

  “They can sit whenever the hell they like. But the only man they’ll be trying is Captain Judd Crocker. I want him charged with being absent from his place of duty in the face of the enemy. China, right. That’s an enemy.”

  Arnold Morgan left without another word. And within 30 minutes the two resignations were in. It took another five hours to make new appointments, and both men were given to understand that if the Navy wanted its massive budget for the next two years to be approved by the President, they would acquiesce to his wishes in the court-martial of Judd Crocker.

  Admiral Dick Greening, flying in from Pearl to replace Archie Cameron, had no feelings about the trial, and felt that the probable letter of censure to a captain who had lost his submarine could not possibly be worth such a total disruption.

  The appointment of a new CNO was more difficult, but in the end they appointed Admiral Alan Dickson, Commander-in-Chief of the Atlantic Fleet. His views, too, were ambivalent on the subject of Judd Crocker’s court-martial. He was not, however, appraised of the President’s wish that the captain should be found guilty, and the entire matter closed at that point.

  Admiral Morgan requested a delay until Monday for the trial of Judd Crocker, which was granted. And he spent much of the weekend trying to reason with the President. But there was no reasoning. He did not wish Linus Clarke even to attend the hearing, and he sent him home to the ranch in Oklahoma.