“Permission to leave, sir,” he said in a thick voice.
“Granted!” The harsh planes of Severn’s face began to work. “Leave! Get out of my sight, damn you!”
Commander Rudd’s office was empty of its normal complement of a dozen hard-working officers and yeomen when Hinman and Brannon entered. Rudd jumped to his feet and closed the door to the corridor. He got clean cups from a cupboard and poured coffee.
“Sit down, relax, damn it!” Rudd lounged back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “Old Iron Ass must have chewed you up pretty good! Both of you looked like you’d been hit with a five-inch shell when you walked in my door!” He raised his coffee cup in a mock salute.
“I figured he’d do something like that. He’s been eating himself up inside ever since you sent your patrol action report and he realized that every skipper in the Fleet was laughing at him! You had a good chewing out coming, Art. Damn it all, I taught you better than that!”
Hinman sat rigid in his chair, holding his coffee cup in both hands, his face set.
“Oh, come on!” Rudd said. “I’m not mad at you, for Christ’s sake! Relax, man! It isn’t as bad as you think it is!”
“What isn’t as bad as I think it is?” Hinman said. He could feel the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes and he blinked rapidly. “Losing my ship isn’t bad? What could be worse? Getting shot at dawn?”
“I think old Iron Ass entertained that idea,” Rudd said with a broad smile. “If you’d been at that Staff meeting where we all read your contact and action report I think he’d of hung you to the nearest yardarm if he could have found one and if he couldn’t he would have ordered up a firing squad!
“The only thing that stopped him was a new guy we had on the staff, came aboard a couple of months ago. A Reserve they sent to us to do public relations, whatever the hell that is. The dude’s name is Ben Butler and he used to be the editor of a big newspaper in Chicago.
“This dude Butler spiked old Iron Ass’ guns like I never saw anyone’s guns get spiked before! He didn’t leave old Iron Ass sea room to turn around in! And he did it so damned smoothly!” He leaned back in his chair and described the Staff meeting at which Captain Severn had ordered Mako home. As he talked he noticed that Hinman was beginning to relax, to sip at his coffee. When he had finished he grinned at Hinman.
“So that’s the deal and it isn’t so bad, actually.”
“Well,” Hinman said slowly, “I certainly owe this man Butler my thanks and I want to thank him personally. But it’s still nothing to be happy about, Bob. I’ve lost my ship! And with that letter in my service jacket my career is ruined! I’ll never get command again! And what’s worse, I’ve ruined Mike’s career!”
“Don’t blow your damned ballast tanks so soon!” Rudd growled. “Item one: I’ve got a Chief Yeoman in this office who is the best damned man you ever saw at losing things like the letters that Captain Severn writes! We’ve had to do it two or three times. My God, do you think I’m going to let that iron-assed old bastard ruin the career of a man who’s only fault was that he fought the enemy? Bullshit! How do you think I could handle Mike’s transfer if that damned letter was in his record?”
“Mike’s transfer?” Hinman’s eyebrows went upward.
“To new construction, Portsmouth,” Rudd said. He opened his desk drawer and took out a thick envelope.
“Here you are, Captain Brannon. You take over the U.S.S. Eelfish. She goes in commission in eight weeks. You’ll be short of shakedown cruise time, so work your ass off when you get there because we need every damned submarine we can get our hands on. The damned Jap is getting very good at sinking our ships.”
He stood up back of his desk and stuck out his big hand. “Shake hands, Mike. Accept my congratulations, you deserve them. Anyone goes to sea under someone I trained deserves to be patted on the back! I only wish I could cut some orders for myself and take out a boat but Nimitz says I’m too senior and that he needs me around.” Rudd turned to Hinman.
“Damn it, Art. Could I cut orders for Mike to take over a new boat if that shitty letter was in his service jacket? The letter is going to be taken out of both your jackets, don’t worry about it. Come up into the fresh air and start breathing again!” He turned to Mike Brannon.
“You remember Riley Morrison? He was a class or two ahead of you, I think. Riley had the Eelfish, new construction. He had a heart attack ten days ago, maybe it was two weeks, I forget. He’s going to be all right but he won’t be going to sea again for a long time. So you get the Eelfish.”
Brannon’s face was working strangely as he tried to keep the tears from spurting out of his eyes.
“I thank you, Bob, jeez! I mean, what can I say? It’s going to be great….” His voice trailed off and his eyes took on a stricken look.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Rudd boomed. “You aren’t leaving tomorrow! I don’t want Gloria banging me on the head with a shovel! You’ve got about eleven or twelve days before you have to leave.” He turned back to Hinman.
“You, old friend, ain’t got that much time. We’re getting you out of here in forty-eight hours, as per Captain Severn’s orders!”
“I don’t mind leaving in a day or two,” Hinman said. “I’ll be glad to get away from Captain Severn. But I don’t know if I like the idea of going on this tour, Bob. I could make a damned fool of myself.”
“You listen to me, Art,” Rudd leaned both arms on his desk, his beefy face stern.
“I was going to let Ben Butler tell you this himself but I guess I’ve got to do it now.
“Butler’s been pulling strings. He’s got so much influence in Washington that it scares me! Your first stop on this bond tour is at the White House. FDR is going to shake your hand in front of the newsreel cameras and call you a damned hero — which you and I know you ain’t, you’re just a helluva good submariner — but nobody else knows that so you’ll be a hero on every newsreel in every theater in the country and overseas.”
“President Roosevelt?” Hinman’s voice was shaky.
“The Man,” Rudd said. “The way Butler figures it is this: If FDR puts his arm around you, and pats you on the back can Captain Severn block you from another command? Figure it out, old Severn wants to be an Admiral so much that he wouldn’t dare!
“That’s one angle. I’ve got another. Butler says that when you get to the White House, FDR will want to sit down and talk to you privately. Right then is when you can drop a bug in his ear about the defective exploders and torpedoes. You get the picture?”
“It’s politics,” Hinman shook his shoulders. “In the end it all comes down to politics and I don’t like politics! But I see your point, Bob. It could do some good. If that man in Washington pushes a button then things should get done.”
“It finally gets through your thick head,” Rudd said. He turned to Brannon. “Butler’s got a little thing cooked up for you, too. You’ll be interviewed after you get to Portsmouth. He’ll brief you on that but from what he’s told me your line is going to be that you’ll hope that by the time you take the Eelfish to sea on a war patrol all the little things that go wrong in a war will be cleared up. There’s been leaks about bad torpedoes and that sort of thing so we don’t want to let too much get out. Butler will talk to you about that.” He walked around his desk and put his arm around Hinman’s shoulders.
“Damn it, Art, I’m proud of the way you carried out that attack on that convoy! It reminded me of the old days when we’d sit in the Wardroom and talk about tactics and how a submarine should be used. You used to agree with me in those days, follow my judgment. Do that now. Take it easy on this damned bond tour, it’s only for a few weeks. Ride with the sea. Don’t make any waves.” He walked the two men toward the door of his office and into the corridor and to the front door of the building.