“No doubt about it, sir.” His voice carried the soft accent of the southwest. “Just let me find a little wood and I’ll teach those cooks things they never learned in Navy schools.”
“Now you’re talking,” Nelson agreed. “I never figured you were limited just to missile systems, Jeff. Another trade’ll mean a hell of a lot someday, when you’re finished with the Navy.”
“Just one problem, Captain,” the OOD said, winking at the chief who was diving officer on his watch. “There’s just no such thing as barbecue without beer.” His accent grew heavier. “Back home, we used to say that was like going to a nuns’ beach party.”
“Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to wait to the end of this patrol, because I don’t believe in Florida doing anything half-assed.” Nelson grinned at the quartermaster. He’d started out with a little blue-skying just to get their attention. Now it sounded like a great idea, “I hereby promise that when we get back to Bangor and the blue crew takes her out, we’ll have one hell of an outing. No hot dogs or hamburgs. Just steaks and real barbecue, and Mr. Sones is going to teach our cooks what real Texas-style sauce is all about. He loves the hot stuff. And I bet I can have a couple of bags of hickory or mesquite or whatever you need sent over from Seattle. What do you think of that, Jeff?”
“I think y’all got yourself a deal, Captain.” Jeff Sones’s accent brought a snicker from the diving officer.
“We’re all witnesses, sir,” the chief agreed.
“How about the beer, sir?” the bow planesman reminded.
“Beer, too, Cody, As long as we’re ashore, I think everything can be arranged.” Nelson moved over behind the planesmen, his eyes darting from the bubble to the depth gauge. There wasn’t much effort required of a good man to hold depth when you were moving so slowly. He bent closer to Cody’s ear. “You are old enough to drink beer legally, aren’t you?”
Just as Nelson anticipated, that drew a laugh from the watch. Although Cody was near the end of a six-year enlistment, he was baby-faced. “Aw, come on. Captain. Not you, too!”
“Cody, my friend, you offered me a target. I couldn’t resist. As a way of apologizing for teasing you like that, I’ll use my authority right now and appoint you head bartender for our barbecue. How’s that?”
“All right,” Cody exclaimed enthusiastically, taking care that his eyes never left the dials in front of him, “You just hired the best bartender on Florida, Captain.”
“I’ve been watching that depth gauge since I wandered in here, and I don’t think it’s varied a millimeter, Cody. I wouldn’t be surprised if maybe you’re one of the best planesmen, too.”
The helmsman, who also controlled the stern planes, had remained silent until then. “Hey, Captain, Cody’s got the easy job now. Those bow planes hardly do a thing at this speed.” He never looked away from his dials either. “I’ll give him a run for his money any day.”
“I don’t doubt that, Smitty. I guess it’d be unfair to pick out anyone in this watch section or any of the others.” Nelson turned toward his OOD, who was standing relaxed with his arms folded behind the diving officer’s station. “I’ll bet it feels good to have men like this standing watch with you, Jeff. I’m going back to try to get a little paperwork out of the way, so why don’t you run them through some drills. A man can get stale as hell out here.”
“Sure enough, Captain. I was planning on giving you a buzz to get your permission anyway.”
The captain removed his rimless glasses carefully with his right hand at the same time he was pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket with the other. He held each lens to his mouth and breathed on it before systematically polishing each glass. Then he placed them neatly back in position on his head with both hands. “And I want everyone here to remember that barbecue. Mr. Sones has been appointed head chef and Cody’s the bartender.” With that, he left the control room.
Buck Nelson experienced a feeling of self-satisfaction when he settled in the single chair in his stateroom and turned the handle to pull down the desktop. There was no doubt about it. Life could be boring as hell aboard a boomer on patrol. Maybe he’d promote a couple more chefs and bartenders from the other watch sections in the next few days. Florida definitely needed something to look forward to.
“I suppose I have to talk to him.…” The grin on Admiral Larsen’s face at the start of that sentence was meant to express his lack of enthusiasm for the President, but it faded just as quickly. “Don’t I?” he concluded, realizing that he, in fact, was overwhelmingly sympathetic to the man at that very moment. “Put him through on the secure line,” the CNO requested.
There was no response from the others. They understood why Ray Larsen had begun that way and why he acknowledged his relationship with the President just as quickly. The man in Washington had not been kind to Larsen the past two years, not when it came to budgets. He said that the Navy was pretty well-heeled from previous administrations and it was his job to make sure the other services got a fair shake. While Larsen could admit privately that possibly his commander-in-chief might have a valid argument from the taxpayer’s point of view, publicly the two men remained in opposition to each other. Unlike a politician, Ray Larsen also possessed an inherent respect for the office and its responsibilities, regardless of its inhabitant.
“This is Admiral Larsen, sir. This line is secure.”
Bennett, Arrow, and Newman quietly studied the change of expressions on Ray Larsen’s face as he talked with the President. There was no speaker phone; a secure line would automatically cut out the feedback. Listening to a one-way conversation is much like eavesdropping, though there is no guilt since only one individual is under direct observation.
“Our conclusion could as easily be based on our combined experience. But to reinforce that, it appears statistically almost impossible that two of our boomers could be lost as the result of an engineering casualty in this manner.”
Eyebrows raised in frustration.
“I fully agree that anything’s possible, sir. However, the number of reasons one would disappear without our having some prior knowledge of a problem, either through an analysts of earlier engineering casualty reports or an unanticipated emergency, is almost zero. It would almost have to be human error. But two of them like this — no chance, in our opinion.”
A nod as his explanation was acknowledged.
“Yes, sir. Admiral Bennett, OP-02; Admiral Arrow, Pacific Submarine Force Commander, and Admiral Newman, Director of Naval Nuclear Propulsion.
A slight smile.
“I’d have to agree with you. If they can’t figure it out, then no one can,” he added for their benefit.
Knit eyebrows — a question he hadn’t expected.
“Beyond the Russians, only the French and British have that sort of capability, and I can’t imagine a scenario that would cause them to do it. They have nothing to gain, sir, nothing I could possibly imagine in my wildest dreams. On the other hand, the Soviet Union has a thousand and one ways to benefit.”
Larsen shook his head.
“Well, sir, you are privy to much more intelligence, but my personal knowledge of their naval leaders would still negate even that. Sort of like cutting their own throats, you might say. And I think the fact that they have no SSN’s anywhere in that vicinity or even close enough to have an impact should knock them off the list.”