Brent thought, Who needs to know besides us?
Continuing the lecture Bostwick said, “Advancement in rate is next. We led the squadron last year and now I want to lead the force. Promote ’em and retain ’em is the best re-enlistment policy I know. Does anyone have a better idea?”
Astonished that Bostwick did not address the war readiness counsel given by Commodore Danis in his speech, Brent asked, “What about combat training?”
Dan Patrick frowned. He recognized the precursor to yet another Bostwick-Maddock donnybrook. Uh-oh! Here it comes.
Bostwick said in a tone forced to sound steady, “There’s much to be done to restore pre-overhaul readiness levels. I look to you, Brent, to take the lead. However, I expect you’ll not permit these measures to interfere with projects of higher priority.”
Brent replied, “Understand, Captain.” Here we go again. Another situation where just doing my job gets me deeper into hot water. “Captain?”
“Yes?”
His voice tone caused nervous glances to be exchanged among the other officers.
“We have a full load-out of weapons for the first time since I’ve been aboard. Two of them are new and we don’t have any experience with deploying them. If the commodore’s instructions are to be followed, I need to conduct a full-court press to be combat ready. But on the other hand, Captain, if you have reason to believe there’s no danger, I recommend you share it with us and the crew. The troops are worried about family and friends and a word from you would relieve them immensely.”
Brent had just told the captain to either put up or shut up. The officers slumped in their seats to relieve tension.
Captain Bostwick took Brent’s comment in stride. “I appreciate your point of view, Brent, and you must appreciate mine. We are not robots. I’ve been given the commodore’s perception on the state of international affairs. The final decision on how we factor this into ship priorities remains with me. I make decisions based on how I see the situation. Do I make myself clear?”
“Very clear, Captain. I’ll not interfere with your agenda, but plan to work my department round the clock till we know how to use the new bullets.”
“As you wish, Lieutenant,” Bostwick replied, disregarding the submarine tradition of calling a junior officer by his first name, thus signaling displeasure over Brent’s tenacity to the subject.
The exchange made Jack Olsen’s gut churn. Concerned over growing open hostility between Brent and the captain, he also fretted over Bostwick not having shared the results of his call to SUBPAC on Danis’s war warning. Bostwick liked to gloat when higher authority confirmed his assertions and he had not done this.
“Yes, Commodore?” Lieutenant Commander Karl ‘Dutch’ Meyer responded to Commodore Danis’s summons to the temporary office.
“Hi Dutch. Grab us a cup of mud and sit down. There’s stuff we need to go over.”
Dutch responded with a grin, “These okay, Commodore?”
He held a pair of china mugs pirated from a submarine enlisted mess, each filled to the rim with black and bitter coffee, the preference of both officers. The mugs, more practical than the standard wardroom china’s dainty pieces, held more coffee and had handles big enough for Dutch to stuff his sausage-like fingers through.
Danis said, “Should’ve known you wouldn’t come in here empty handed. Forgive me for not noticing.”
A wooden chair protested as Dutch rested his bulk upon it. “No problem, sir. What’s up?”
“I just got back from SUBGROUP 9 Headquarters at the Trident Base. Pucker factor runs pretty high up there. Keep all this stuff under your hat, Dutch. It’s dynamite.”
“Count on me, sir.”
“The Chief of Naval Operations has passed to all operational commanders that a Soviet invasion of Iran is imminent and expected within the next seventy-two hours.”
Dutch whistled softly. “Dynamite ain’t the word for it. What orders are being given?”
“The general belief is conventional war between us and the Soviets, likely limited to the Middle East. If the Reds make this move, they know we’ll try to kick their asses out. They must believe we can’t or they wouldn’t be taking the chance.”
Dutch exclaimed, “We’re in bomber range here like a bunch of sitting ducks!”
“I know,” Danis agreed, “and we’ve got to get our submarines away from here. Hitch is, we can’t alarm everybody. The public gets a strong enough whiff and concludes nuclear war. Panic will hurt us a helluva lot more than a few Soviet bombs.”
Dutch addressed his boss through a puzzled look, “Move every damn warship outta here and don’t make anybody suspicious? How we gonna do that?”
Danis replied, “SUBGROUP 9’s already buttoning up Tridents in refit to leave today.”
Dutch shook his head in disbelief. “Good for them, but they got less problems than us … security for example. The waterfront’s an exclusive Navy show. No civilians. Tridents can be out in a day with no one ashore any the wiser. We’re in downtown Bremerton and can’t loosen a mooring line without involving fifty civilians. People will want answers when we start moving that much hardware.”
“I thought about that, Dutch. Here’s what just might work.”
“With all due respect, Commodore, it better be good.”
“Good or bad, it’s gonna be our only chance. I’ll tell the shipyard commander we’re conducting a surprise drill, an emergency evacuation of all SUBPAC units in overhaul. COMSUBPAC ordered this and already passed the word to affected squad dogs. Expect some skippers to bitch over having their overhauls interrupted for a drill. The bright ones will see the light and cooperate fully. It’s lousy to keep so many good officers in the dark, but we got to keep the train on the tracks. So far, Admiral Parker at SUBGROUP 9, you and me are all who know the right story so keep it under your bonnet.”
Dutch whistled softly. “I will, sir. When do we start?”
“Immediately.”
“Okay. I’ll identify the boats that are seaworthy and—”
Danis wore a serious expression as he interrupted Dutch. “All of them just like Operation Agile Player,” referring to a Navy drill that got every submarine out in forty-eight hours and loaded out for a ninety-day deployment.
“At least we’re not plowing new ground.”
“We are, Dutch. We did only the operational boats in Player. We got to do the same with boats in overhaul. My gut says we’ll need ’em all, and soon.”
Dutch shook his head. “Some of ’em got access holes in the hull less than three feet above the waterline. They won’t survive a storm on the Sound, much less at sea.”
“I don’t give a damn. They might not survive the Sound, but they sure as hell won’t survive a Soviet air raid. Let’s not forget Pearl Harbor, Dutch. No Navy ought to get caught with its head up its ass twice in the same century.”
Dutch received his boss’s message and got behind it. “We got ships with down propulsion systems. I’ll order tugs for them.”
Danis gave an admiring glance to the wily old mustang, Navy slang for an officer who has come up through the ranks. He knew he could count on the full weight of Dutch’s beefy shoulders to be put to the wheel. Together they’d pull off the impossible.
Danis said, “I called the Bremerton SUBPAC representative and told him it’s a drill ordered by his boss. Told them SUBPAC will give him more if he needs to know.”
“He buy it?”
“Like a low mileage used car, but he complained about interrupting overhauls.”