“That is correct, sir.”
“Can you explain?”
“Actually, it’s unexplainable.”
“Unexplainable? Did you have a reason for requesting the delay?”
“It’s … it’s a sort of sixth sense. I can’t say for sure. Maybe something I heard, how the ship shuddered in response to the impulse … an additional delay between the time we hit the firing key and bottoming of the ram or maybe a combination of all three.”
“You believed this to be a problem?”
“No, sir. Not a problem but something different. The absence of anything specific prevented delaying the event and we had a tight schedule.”
Members of the board had transcripts of all the pertinent records, including readings taken before and after the casualty and descriptions of the procedures followed.
Brent said, “We conducted the test in compliance with established directions and there were no cockpit errors.”
The chairman replied, “We’re aware of that, Lieutenant. When we interrogated Denver’s weapons department personnel, we found them knowledgeable and well trained. This reflects credit upon you and our findings will so state.”
Brent nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
Invited to make a closing statement, Brent said, “Gentlemen, I have only six years experience at sea. In that time, I’ve learned the ocean is unforgiving and relentless. If there is any way for it to get into a submarine, it will. Mistakes by people are a concern and corrective action must follow immediately. Deliberate omissions on the other hand are intolerable. Those found responsible forfeit their right to be part of submarine service.”
Darby Cameron buried his face in his hands.
Continuing his commentary, Brent said, “Whatever your findings, Mr. Cameron has burned his bridge with submariners. We are a small lot and already know his name. I recommend that he be barred from ever working on submarines again.”
Pausing for a moment as if making up his mind about something Brent went on, “There’s another side to this coin, however. Six months before the overhaul, we very nearly made Mr. Cameron’s mistake for him.”
Darby Cameron raised his eyes.
Interested expressions accompanied the repositioning of board members’ bodies around the table.
Brent knew this would put him deeper into hot water with the captain, but his sense of justice required he speak out. “The overhaul work package had the usual problems. Too much needed to be done, not enough time and never enough money. The eject pump inspections fell initially among the cuts, but reinstated in exchange for having my troops pick up other items approved earlier. The inspections, dropped a second time as salve for an engineering problem, got back into the work package as a result of arguments by Lieutenant Commander Meyer, Squadron Three weapons officer.
“In fairness to Mr. Cameron, this must be considered. Experienced submariners shared his view on the low priority attributed to eject pump inspections; however, I stand firm in my recommendation he never again be permitted to work on submarines.”
Brent responded to a barrage of questions on his statements with answers that presented Captain Bostwick in an unfavorable light.
“Thank you for your testimony, Lieutenant. You are dismissed from these proceedings.”
Brent recognized he had blown the whistle on his captain and understood the consequences. He abhorred being disloyal but believed his testimony essential for a fair judgment of Darby Cameron.
After deliberations, the Chairman of the Board read the findings and recommendations to Darby. “As to the charge, ‘falsification of an inspection record incident to the overhaul work on USS Denver,’ the verdict is guilty. We have reached a unanimous recommendation that you be discharged from the Civil Service, effective this date. We further recommend that rights and benefits accumulated by you shall remain in force.”
The chairman added, “Testimony from Denver officers had a great bearing on the latter recommendation. The findings of this board will be forwarded to the shipyard commander for his final disposition.”
When invited to comment, Darby Cameron shook his head. “No. I expected it would be a lot worse. I’m grateful to the Denver officers.”
The chairman adjourned the inquiry.
Returning to the waterfront, Brent found Woody had the weapons load-out well in hand. The number five Tomahawk Land Attack Missile (TLAM), out of the dozen delivered, made its way into the vertical launcher in the Denver’s forward deck. Chief Cunningham’s presence reassured Brent despite growing confidence in his young first lieutenant. The COB had amassed enough experience to supervise the job on his own, but had an unwritten assignment to prop up any new junior officer’s self-confidence. Woody believed he ran the show, but Cunningham hovered about to protect the young officer from rookie mistakes.
Navy yard weapons load-out deviated from the normal procedure of conducting this at an ammunition facility because Commodore Danis rearranged the process to expedite Denver’s departure. Weapons, barged from the Naval Weapons Station Seal Beach, Detachment Port Hadlock, Washington in upper Puget Sound, made their way into Denver’s vertical launchers at the Bremerton facility.
Brent dropped by the Denver wardroom for a short break and discovered Bea had called.
He dialed her number. “Hi, Den Mother. How’s life among the clerical types of Shipyard Planning?”
She replied in a mock annoyed tone, “Administrative assistant, you macho, male egotist.”
“Guilty on the two adjectives, but I’m too humble to have an ego.”
“And I’m too beautiful to be stuck in a shipyard, but here we are. Now tell me. The whole place is buzzing about Commodore Danis’s speech. What’s going on?”
“Sorry, Bea, but one thing is not going on. Our weekend on the peninsula is history. We’re like a convention of one-legged men at an ass-kicking contest.”
“Oh, damn. You’re kidding?”
“Wish I were. Things we need to do to get out of here on Monday have all but quadrupled.”
Bea asked, “Lunch maybe?”
“It’s a madhouse here, Bea. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Okay, give me a call when things settle down, either here or at home.”
“Sorry, Babe. See ya soon,” Brent said then hung up the phone and went topside to check on Woody’s loading operations.
The Zane family loved retreating to the modest but cozy house on the Olympic Peninsula Pacific Coast. It was also a favorite escape for Bea and Brent. Dave Zane often joined them, but knew when to turn his daughter a blind eye.
They all planned to spend Denver’s final weekend at Bremerton by staying at the Digs, as Dave termed his favorite haunt. Though Dave had not mentioned it, he also invited Eric Danis to join them.
Day wore into night before Woody and the COB Cunningham completed the load-out, but not too late for a farewell drink at the Helmsman with Brent, Dan and Bea Zane.
At the Helmsman, loud blaring disco music made it impossible to communicate below a shout. Woody spotted the young secretary he met at the shipyard commander’s office that morning. He excused himself and made his way to her across the tavern. A short time later, a commotion erupted. Another young man had staked an earlier claim on the target of Woody’s interest.
Brent picked up on the dialogue as he approached the scene.
Denver’s baby-faced ensign said, “She looks old enough to decide by herself whether she wants to dance.”