“All stop! Take the mooring lines and double up fore and aft!”
The line handlers on the dock whipped their heaving lines across the Mako’s deck as the long, lean submarine shuddered to a dead stop alongside the pier. Rhodes, standing on the forward deck, saw Admiral Nimitz nod his head in approval of Captain Hinman’s perfect docking. Rhodes turned to face the Bridge.
“All mooring lines are doubled up, sir. Request permission to take the brow from the dock?”
“Permission granted,” Captain Hinman said and as the portable gangway rumbled down from the dock to Mako’s deck Hinman walked aft to the Mako’s cigaret deck and swung himself nimbly down to the main deck. He stood at the foot of the gangway as Rhodes supervised the securing of the brow lines. Admiral Nimitz put one foot on the gangway and paused.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”
“Welcome aboard, Admiral,” Hinman said. Admiral Nimitz went down the gangway, pausing to salute the flag and the quarterdeck. He held out his hand and took Hinman’s square fist and pumped it.
“Well done, Captain! Fine patrol!” He looked up at the side of Mako’s Conning Tower where three small flags had been painted, two of them Japanese merchant shipping flags, white with a red ball in the center, the other the Rising Sun warship flag of the Japanese Navy.
“Fine patrol!” the Admiral repeated. “Damned fine shooting!” He turned and nodded toward the pier and a stream of officers began to move down the gangway to Mako’s deck.
“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Captain,” the Admiral said. “If you’ll excuse me I see an old friend and the Chief of Staff wants to talk to you.”
Captain Severn came down the gangway with his staff at his heels. He nodded curtly at Hinman and stood to one side as his staff, led by Commander Bob Rudd, lined up to shake hands with Hinman. Chief Rhodes moved into the group and saluted Hinman. “Request permission to release the crew from quarters and to take mail and fresh fruit aboard, sir,” he said.
“Permission granted,” Hinman said. He turned to Captain Severn.
“My crew will be ready for transportation to the Royal Hawaiian Hotel at your convenience, sir. My officers and Chief Petty Officers are at the disposal of the Relief Crew Officers for consultation on repairs requested, sir.”
“Transport to the hotel will be provided at twelve hundred hours,” Captain Severn said. “Uniform of the day is clean undress whites, white hats and shined shoes. Arrangements have been made to feed the crew its noon meal at the hotel. I want the reports of materiel performance and damage in the Wardroom in ten minutes for the Relief Crew Officers and Chiefs.” Hinman turned to Mike Brannon:
“Mr. Brannon, I want a clean sweep down fore and aft. Tell the Chief of the Boat to have the crew topside at eleven hundred hours and forty-five minutes in clean undress whites and white hats. With shined shoes. Division Officers and Chiefs will have their damage and repair reports in the Wardroom in five minutes.” He followed Captain Severn as the older officer walked to the gangway. Severn turned, his mouth set in a grimace, his eyes flinty. Hinman followed Severn’s eyes and saw Admiral Nimitz in deep conversation with Chief Dusty Rhodes.
“The Chief of the Boat served with the Admiral, sir,” he volunteered. “They’re old friends.”
“Admirals and Chiefs of Staff have no friends, Captain,” Severn snapped. “When the Admiral leaves the ship you and your Executive Officer will report at once to my office. It’s only a short walk from here.” He turned and left the ship, followed by his Staff officers. Hinman waited patiently until Admiral Nimitz and his aide walked up to the gangway. The Admiral looked at Hinman.
“Results count in war, Captain. Never forget that. I don’t.” He shook hands again and went up the gangway. Hinman went in search of Mike Brannon.
A Chief Yeoman was waiting at the door of Captain Severn’s office.
“Sir,” he said to Captain Hinman, “Captain Severn would like to see you alone, first. Mr. Brannon is to wait out here with me.” Hinman nodded and went into the office, removing his hat and tucking it under his left arm. He walked with measured stride to the desk where Captain Severn was sitting and came to a halt.
“You should not be misled by Admiral Nimitz’s cordiality,” Severn began. “The Admiral is very aware of what he calls public relations.” He stopped and drew a deep breath and Hinman saw there were beads of perspiration on the pale forehead of the man sitting back of the desk.
“You deliberately disobeyed my orders!” Severn’s words came out like a whiplash. “You not only disobeyed my orders, you had the audacity to broadcast your disobedience to the entire Fleet! Who do you think you are, sir!”
Hinman stood silent, his cold eyes staring at the ashen face of the man in front of him.
“You will answer when addressed, sir!” Severn’s voice was vibrant with the emotion he was concealing.
“With all due respect, sir, I was sent to sea with a weapon which my past experience convinced me was defective.”
“Who gave you the authority to sit in judgment on any weapon? Who gave you the authority to follow your own inclinations? Who gave you the authority to broadcast your actions, your damned disobedience, sir, to the entire Fleet, to the enemy?” Captain Severn’s bony forefinger began to tap the top of his desk. The faint noise made by the tip of his fingernail hitting the wood of the desk sounded to Captain Hinman like the slow beat of a distant drum, a drum that was heralding his march to the scaffold of disgrace.
“I offer no excuses, sir,” Hinman said. “I thought I was being constructive, that if I achieved positive results my actions would clear the way for what every submarine commanding officer knows is a necessary modification of the Mark Six exploder mechanism, sir. If my disobedience failed to get results I was, and am, prepared to take the consequences.”
Severn stood up, the muscles on the sides of his lean jaws working convulsively. He walked past Hinman to his office door.
“Chief, bring Mr. Brannon in. Stand by to record my comments when you are given the word.” He walked back to his desk and sat down. The Chief Yeoman seated himself at a small desk over on the side of the office and uncapped his pen and opened a notebook.
“Captain,” Severn began, “Admiral Nimitz and his staff will pay another visit to your ship at twelve hundred hours to award submarine combat pins to your officers and crew. You will be in dress white uniform without sword, as will your officers.” He turned to the Chief Yeoman.
“You will record my orders as of now:
“Acting as Chief of Staff, Submarine Command, Pearl Harbor, I hereby notify you, Lieut. Comdr. Arthur M. Hinman, United States Navy, that as of thirteen hundred hours on this date you are relieved of command of the U.S.S. Mako for reason of direct disobedience of orders!” He turned his bleak face toward Mike Brannon.
“As Chief of Staff, Submarine Command, Pearl Harbor, I hereby notify you, Lieut. Comdr. Michael P. Brannon, United States Navy, that you are officially relieved of all duties aboard the U.S.S. Mako as of thirteen hundred hours this date for reason of failure to officially protest your Commanding Officer’s direct disobedience of published orders.
“You will both report to Commander Rudd’s office at once for further assignment. That is all.”
Hinman’s lips thinned against his teeth and his body tensed and then he felt Brannon’s heavy arm pressing against him. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them, staring past Captain Severn’s head at the air conditioner in the room’s window.