“Sir, the escort is pulling away. They signal for us to proceed.”
Kronovsky gave a grunt. He always kept a gruff face when a cruise started. Only when the crew had proved its worth would he lighten up. “Signal our thanks. What is the depth of water?”
“Two hundred meters, Captain,” answered another officer.
He grunted again. “Maintain course and speed. I am going below. When water depth reaches five hundred meters, submerge the ship. Keep her at one hundred meters until I say otherwise,” he told the watch officer.
“Yes, Captain!” the officer replied.
Kronovsky got up from his small seat and made his way to the open hatch. Climbing down the ladder he entered the submariner’s world of pipes, equipment, wires, men and smells. Everything was close on a submarine. It was something some never got used to, but for Kronovsky, it was his home. He glanced over at his second in command, who was monitoring the activities around the control room. “Don’t let that wet nose hit anything,” he said for all to hear. “I’ll be in my cabin.”
Kronovsky made his way aft to a door along the passageway. Opening it, he entered his personal cabin. It measured just three meters by three meters. It contained a bed, desk, cabinet for his clothes, and two chairs for when he had company. It was the largest personal space on the ship. There was a door on one end that led to his bathroom which had a toilet, sink and shower. To Kronovsky it was the ultimate luxury. Most officers were crammed four deep in a space only half the size. The crew had to squeeze in where they could.
He pulled off the heavy coat and threw it over the bed. Sitting at his desk, he pulled out the orders in their envelope. Strange, the envelope was only barely sealed. Throwing caution to the wind, he flipped his finger along the top and the flap popped open. What difference does it make, he though as he unfolded the orders and began to read. Kronovsky suddenly froze in his seat. His eyes widened. Flipping through the sheets, he went back and read them again. His heart leapt with joy. He would have shouted if the rest of the crew would not hear him. His dreams would be fulfilled.
It was strange when the Captain made his way back into the control room. He looked and acted very happy.
The gavel was struck and everyone in the meeting room got quiet. Senator George Raymond called the meeting to order.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome Vice Admiral Roger Hammond to these chambers today as the nominee for the position of Vice Chief of Naval Operations. I wish to thank Admiral Hammond for coming and helping us in our task.”
Hammond nodded and said, “Thank you, Mister Chairman.”
Raymond was one of the senators from Georgia. He had a thick, slow drawl, that reminded people of the actor John Barrymore, but behind the voice and smiling face was a keen intellect and shrewd politician. He continued, “I must say it is a rare occasion that we have such a distinguished officer before us. As we get started would you like to make a statement?”
Hammond looked across the seated members of the Senate Armed Services Committee. Several of them he had met before, but there were a few new faces. “Mister Chairman, I believe you have a copy of my biography before you. As some of you know, I am not someone who likes making speeches. I’d rather my record speak for me. I am honored at being given the opportunity to further serve this nation and stand ready to answer your questions.”
Raymond smiled. “Well, now, I see you are also being modest. Your bio does not do you justice. Yes, it says where you have served and the awards you have received, however I know a few more of the details. It seems that on your first ship, just two years into your career, you were credited with saving USS Griffin and its crew from being lost in bad weather. You received the Meritorious Service Medal for that one. Then as the Executive Officer of the Candler you personally led the crew’s humanitarian efforts during the tsunami that leveled a portion of the Southern Philippines. You got the Joint Service Commendation for that one. Then as commanding officer of the Hamilton, you and your ship personally beat back four attempts to Shanghai freighters by Somali pirates. You ended up capturing three of the crews and brought them to the international court. Your actions are credited with ending the Somali piracy for a good five years. You got the Legion of Merit for that one. Then we come to the Korean War. You and your ship are credited with destroying over 150 different enemy encampments or facilities, leading the raid on Wonsan, and other events. You received the Silver Star. Then you had the audacity to place your ship between several cruise missiles and an aircraft carrier. You ended up saving the carrier and kept your ship in action. For that, you received the Medal of Honor. There is more, but I don’t think anyone can top that. So my first question is, “Where the hell did you come from?”
The chamber erupted in laughter and Hammond joined in. “I’m just a regular fellow from Virginia, Senator.”
“Well, I want to know what they put in the water down there,” Raymond joked.
Once again, the chamber filled with laughter. When it calmed, Raymond got more serious. “I would like to know, Admiral, what caused you to leave the navy for a year before the war?”
Hammond had been told this question would be asked and he was ready. “Senator, at the time, my wife had grown tired of the service and I had hoped that getting a civilian job might make things better. I left and got a good job, making plenty of money, but it wasn’t enough for her. She left me for someone else. I had come to the realization that I needed to get back into the navy when I saw the sky light up that night. So the next day, I got in my car and came to Washington. I was going to get with an old friend of mine to see if it could be done. I figured the navy would need all the help they could. So I was offered the chance and I took it.”
“You were offered the chance by none other than the President of the United States. Mind telling us about that?”
Hammond smiled. Those were pleasant thoughts. “I went to my friend’s house. I believe you know him, Jim Butler, currently the President’s Chief of Staff. On the drive up I had kind of figured out what we might need to do, so…”
Raymond interrupted him. “Hold on, you drove up? I remember that my car didn’t move for almost a month before the spare parts came in. How did you accomplish that?”
“My car was a part of the solution. I’ve got a 1968 Olds Delta 88 convertible. Since it didn’t have any electronics, it worked fine. At any rate, when I got to Butler’s house, he was the Navy Liaison at the time, I told him what I thought we needed to do. Communications was the first priority so we drove to the USS Barry and got things going. By the next morning I found myself back in uniform and in the Navy Liaison job.”
“That would be when the old Chief of Staff got fired. From what I understand, you led the way from the White House for a while,” said Raymond.
“Yes, sir. Mostly I talked to people and gave a few suggestions. Before long things were starting to happen.”
“Is it true you lived in the basement of the White House?”
Hammond almost gulped. The sub-basement was not supposed to be talked about, but he got around it. “Yes, I got myself a small cot and just kept out of the way. With the transportation down, it didn’t make sense to have to walk a few miles every morning and night.”
Raymond snorted. “Can’t blame you. I did the same thing myself. Now let’s talk about something else. I would like to know what you see the Navy’s role is and what part you play in it.”