I won't make myself available for any combat assignments again for a long time. Not only was Mundy right about taking such chances, but now that I have Maria, there is suddenly more to live for than I ever imagined. And she's taught me so much, beyond just how to love. Perhaps it was some of the things she's said to me that made me come to the decision I mentioned above. She told how she stood out on the rocks near the Cliff House the day Enterprise left for Vietnam. She watched the ship pass under the Golden Gate, her deck empty except for the plane-guard helicopters. Then she heard, before she actually saw, the Phantoms passing low overhead, only moments after their takeoff from Alameda. They swept ahead of their carrier in formation, then circled as Enterprise turned into the wind to take the air group aboard. She thought one of them had tipped its wings, as he always said he would whenever they went to sea, but she was never sure. She told me how hard she cried, so hard she couldn't drive home for more than an hour afterward. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't come back.
What hurt her the most after he was shot down was his attitude, that he always felt he'd get through, that it would be the other guy who wouldn't bail out. I think that's why I've changed my attitude about my own survival. The other reason is simply that she wouldn't agree to marry me at first if I stayed in the Navy, and then she relented when Sam promised her he'd always be looking over my orders to make sure I stayed out of trouble. I think perhaps the fact that the Navy made it quite clear that they wanted me to keep a low profile for quite a while helped change her mind. Now, I have a responsibility other than myself.
The other thing that Sam and I did discuss again before he went back to Washington was his old concept of power. Since that first time he talked about it, I've done a lot of reading and a lot of thinking. Use of power and abuse of power are hard to differentiate sometimes. And power doesn't always have to come from sheer might. The VC proved that to me. Power can be ninety percent in your head, and I suppose that goes right back again to the German General Staff. The VC used their heads to take advantage of their land and our American egos. When that happens, you can create the biggest bang in the world, but you're not going to impress anyone other than yourself if the enemy is simply waiting for the smoke to clear so they can get back to the business at hand. That's what they always did, whether they were slipping into camp on a hit and run, disappearing during the day, or hiding on the other side of the border. And they made more use of American stupidity than anything else. The concept that you allow your enemy to shoot at you and then let them cross an imaginary line where you don't go after them is the dumbest idea any civilian ever thought up, and I think even Sam agrees with that. The politicians constantly let us beat ourselves. Clauswitz spent a lot of time writing about that, so I guess that proves wars don't change much in a hundred years, even if the weapons do.
I need this time at school. Monterey is a lovely place. I'm married and happier than I've ever been before. I have time now to learn more about myself and maybe grow up a little bit. No more of the American warrior for a while. I'd much rather be a professional military man in the intellectual sense. Perhaps if there are enough of us, we can keep the civilians away from wars. Maybe what bothered me more than anything else over there was that while I was practicing being good at my job, a lot of people were dying to satisfy politicians' egos and academics' theories.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sailor on the small flight deck raised his arms to signify over the noise that all was clear. A helicopter lifted slowly from the deck, rotors cutting the air with a whistling sound to compete with the roar of the engines as California moved away from under it. Then, obviously clear, it hurtled rapidly upward before swinging out and away from the ship. Already another of the choppers had appeared, hovering behind the ship, waiting its turn to land and retrieve more of David Charles's staff for their transfer to Nimitz. Inside the cabin of the first helicopter it was much quieter, enough so that the occupants could hear themselves talk.
"When we're about halfway there, have him take her up to five thousand feet," said David. "I'd like to take a look at the others," He was referring to the additional ships that had joined Nimitz and her escorts moving northward after her feint toward South Africa. Knowing that the Russians followed each move of the U.S. carriers, he had sent Nimitz on a supposed visit to Capetown as soon as he had been made aware of the situation surrounding Islas Piedras. He hadn't actually expected Gorenko to believe he would permanently shift his flag to a cruiser and send his airpower off to spread goodwill at a time like that, but he wanted to keep them guessing. The Russians were almost paranoid about American movements that did not fit into their way of doing things.
"Approaching five thousand, sir," came the voice from the pilot's cabin.
"Hover," he casually said as he leaned to look below him. "Or slow circle… or whatever the hell he wants to do, as long as I see the whole damn force," he added.
Below, the Indian Ocean stretched out before him in a blue, shimmering expanse in whatever direction he looked. It was broken only by the sun's reflection on the whitecaps that twinkled back at him incessantly — and the outlines of the mighty ships cutting through the water. To the west was Nimitz, the mightiest warship afloat, tremendous even from that altitude. Scattered in every direction were the smaller cruisers, destroyers and frigates, each scurrying for a point around the carrier now that the two forces were joining. The Admiral for whom the carrier was named would never have dreamed that a formation could actually exist when each of the ships was at such a great distance from the others. His great task forces of the forties were composed of many more ships, but they never had to fear an atomic attack.
Further to the west and south were the service forces, ready to provision those non-nuclear-powered ships that would require fuel or perhaps even munitions if it became necessary to use weapons. And even farther away to the west, off the east-African coast, were the amphibious ships with their marines going through the exercise that had been so carefully planned the previous year. It had been announced the year before to assuage the fears of the other nations that Islas Piedras might be the reason for the Marines' presence. Only the attack submarines were not in view.
They circled for a few more moments as he counted the ships again, checking over in his mind what his flag lieutenant always had on his clipboard — the description of each ship. He noted that Frank Welles, Nimitz' CO, had placed the Aegis-equipped defensive vessels ahead of their line of movement, reserving the smaller frigates for whatever might be required later. Then he noticed the bigger ships reversing their course. He finally pointed down with his thumb, nodding that he was ready to land. The moment he was there the joyride would be over. He would go inside the great ship to an artificial world of darkness, air conditioning, red light, and no visible change in time. There would be no day or night unless he allowed himself to stroll for a few moments on the flight deck or kibitz on the bridge between flight operations.
They set down near the carrier's island, by the aft elevator. Even before the rotors had stopped, six sailors in dress whites scurried out from the main hatch and positioned themselves at attention at the foot of the helicopter's steps, three on either side. At the same time, Frank Welles, in freshly pressed tropical whites, also came across the flight deck, accompanied by his executive officer and department heads.