George turned and walked toward the door.
“Hey, don’t turn your back on this backstabber, George!” said Buffalo as he turned to follow George. “That’s a dangerous move!”
George paused at the door long enough to say, “Lannis, I don’t mind your having different opinions on these subjects, but backstabbing me and humiliating me in front of the admiral are things I won’t put up with. I agree with Buffalo — I’ve had enough of your crap — you can find your own way home.”
Chapter 11
Six weeks later, Petty Officer Harris entered George’s office and silently handed him a note from the admiral’s yeoman, Petty Officer Ed Humphrey. On it was simply, “Admiral Yates wants to see you, NOW.”
“What’s this about? And why is this note being handcarried? Why don’t they call me or e-mail me like they always do?”
“I don’t know, sir. Petty Officer Humphrey looked pretty grim when he handed it to me.”
“Now what?” His perplexity was aggravated by the fact that Harris was being more formal than usual when they were alone in George’s office. He replaced the folder he had been working on in his desk drawer and turned to ask Harris what she thought was going on, but to his surprise she had already left.
George locked up his desk and file cabinet and headed down the hall for the admiral’s office. He stuck his head into Buffalo’s office intending to ask him if he knew what was going on, but there was no one there. Lannis’s office was next, and even though George rarely talked to him these days, he glanced in to see if Lannis was there. The office was empty.
It looks like I am going to have to go into this without a clue.
When he got to the admiral’s outer office, Petty Officer Humphrey immediately picked up the intercom phone and spoke to the admiral. “Commander Adams is here, sir… Yes, sir… No, sir… Aye-aye, sir.” He hung up the phone. “Go right on in, Commander. Admiral Yates is expecting you.” With a quick glance, Humphrey returned to shuffling papers on his desk.
“Thanks, Hump” said George, although he was starting to dread this unexplained meeting. Petty Officer Humphrey’s expression gave him no clue. Humphrey was probably like those marines at the gate. He had no idea what the admiral wanted — he just knew the admiral said to get Commander Adams down here.
George entered the admiral’s carpeted office, and to his surprise, the room was crowded with people. As far as he could tell by quickly glancing around, the entire staff except for Buffalo was already in there. Even Petty Officer Harris had slipped in ahead of him. George was shocked. Had he forgotten a staff meeting? Why hadn’t Petty Officer Harris told him anything? All he could do was stammer, “Uh, sorry, Admiral.”
Admiral Yates, who was working on something at his large mahogany desk, did not look up. No one else in the room spoke. George looked around. It was strange how the offices of everyone below the rank of admiral had standard gray metal furniture, linoleum floors, cinderblock walls, and bare windows. But admirals got to have real furniture — wood furniture. They also got carpet, wood paneling, and curtains. They were even issued two flag stands — one with a U.S. flag and one with a U.S. Navy flag — to place behind their desks. The reward for twenty to twenty-five years of sacrifice and service to your nation, George noted, was that you were given office furnishings any first-year associate in a law firm or accounting firm would get his first day on the job.
Petty Officer Humphrey entered, handed the admiral a couple of folders, and left the office. Another minute went by with George feeling extremely uncomfortable. The admiral’s intercom buzzed, and Petty Officer Humphrey announced that Commander Sewell had arrived.
“Send him in,” responded the admiral.
Buffalo entered the room, displayed the same shocked reaction as George, and apologized to the admiral. He slid over next to George. While Admiral Yates continued to work at his desk, George whispered, “Where were you?”
“In the head. What’s going on?” Buffalo whispered back.
George shrugged, indicating he had no clue. They both looked at Lannis, hoping to receive some sign of what was going on, but he would not even look at them.
Finally, Admiral Yates rose from his leather chair and came around to the front of his desk. He looked at George and Buffalo and said, “No need to apologize, Captains.”
“Excuse me, sir?” said George. This didn’t make sense; neither he nor Buffalo was up for promotion to captain this year.
The admiral smiled and said, “Congratulations, gentlemen. You have both been selected for command!”
The room burst into applause as it became clear that everyone except George and Buffalo had known what was going on. In the navy, the term captain has two meanings, depending on how it is used. In one meaning, it refers to the rank of captain, which is equivalent to a full colonel in the other services. In the other meaning, it refers to the officer in command of a ship, no matter what that officer’s rank actually is. Lieutenants or lieutenant commanders, for example, may command smaller patrol boats, and navy commanders or captains generally command submarines. Regardless of their rank, their crews still address them as “captain” once they put the Command at Sea button on their uniforms.
“I have some official orders to read for you two gentlemen.”
“Attention on deck!” called the admiral’s aide.
George and Buffalo came to attention standing side by side. Admiral Yates moved to a position in front of George.
“From the Chief of Naval Personnel to Commander George Adams: You have been selected for command of the nuclear fleet ballistic missile submarine, USS Louisiana SSBN 743, Gold Crew. You are to report without delay to Prospective Commanding Officer (PCO) School, and then report for duty no later than April fifteenth to Commander Submarine Squadron 16, Naval Submarine Base, Kings Bay, Georgia.”
The admiral handed George his orders and shook his hand. “Congratulations, George. I know I’ve given you a hard time every now and then, but it’s only because I have known you were command material. You just needed a little developing.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” George responded, shaking the admiral’s hand vigorously. The shock was overwhelming.
The admiral then stepped in front of Buffalo. “From the Chief of Naval Personnel to Commander Robert Sewelclass="underline" You have been selected for command of the nuclear fast attack submarine, USS Texas SSN 775. You are to report without delay to Prospective Commanding Officer (PCO) School, and then report for duty no later than April fifteenth to Commander Submarine Squadron 8, Naval Submarine Base, Norfolk, Virginia.”
The admiral handed Buffalo his orders and shook his hand. “Congratulations, Robert.” (The admiral was not one for using nicknames in formal ceremonies.) “You’ll make a fine commanding officer. You have my full confidence and support.”
“Thank you, Admiral.”
Everyone surged forward to shake hands with George and Buffalo and congratulate them for their accomplishments. George was overwhelmed. In Academy parlance, it was enough to “wet your eyes.” Seventeen years in the navy; two sea tours as a junior officer; two sea tours as a department head; and a sea tour as an executive officer had finally led to command at sea!
At one point in the midst of all the congratulations, Buffalo shook George’s hand and leaned close and asked, “Are you disappointed that you got a boomer, George?”
“Not at all,” George answered. “Command at sea has been my dream since the day I started as a plebe at Annapolis. This is my dream come true.”