“If that Aussie had moved that rifle butt one inch toward the prisoner’s head I’d’ve shot the son of a bitch in the kneecap!”
“Gunner,” Brannon said. “the forty-five pistol the deck watch carries is supposed to be unloaded.”
“Yes, sir,” LaMark said. “I musta forgot that order, sir.” He pulled the gun from its holster and pointed the muzzle skyward and released the clip. He put the clip in his pocket, worked the slide, and caught the live cartridge as it was ejected from the gun.
“Full clip and one up the spout,” Olsen said in a dry tone of voice. “Gunner, you’re a bad man, you know that?”
CHAPTER 10
Flanagan rapped at the bulkhead outside Brannon’s stateroom and went through the green curtain in response to Brannon’s reply. Brannon turned from the washbasin and the small locker above it where he was packing his shaving gear.
“Chief Warrant Glover came aboard with a couple of his Chiefs, tube experts, a while ago, Captain. They’ll look at the tube tomorrow morning. I guess the two Chiefs will go over the side with shallow-water diving gear. I’m coming back to the tender for the noon meal and they’ll give me a report then.”
“I’d appreciate it if you get in touch with me,” Brannon said, and Flanagan nodded.
“There’s something else, sir. You’re not supposed to know it so when you get told, Mr. Glover would be happy if you look surprised.
“Admiral Carpender over in Brisbane has been relieved and a new Admiral, Kincaid, has taken over. He’s issued orders to modify the Mark Six exploders, just like they do in Pearl. Mr. Glover, I knew him a long time ago when I was Second Class and he was a Chief Torpedoman, he says not to worry about our exploders back aft not being put back the way they were.”
Brannon smiled. “Ah, that’s a load off my mind, Chief. What about the tube door, have they got one?”
“No, sir. They’ve ordered one from New London. What will happen, I guess, is that they’ll scavenge a door from a boat they’re just starting to build. One of the Chiefs said it might be three, four weeks getting here, and when it gets here, not before he said, then they’ll requisition time for us in the dry dock so they can hang it. Provided the tube itself hasn’t been damaged.”
Brannon cleaned out the small locker over the washbowl and packed the shaving gear in his bag. “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile. I don’t like it but there’s nothing we can do about that.
“I’ve told Mr. Gold to muster the crew when the buses get here. That will be just before noon. Mr. Olsen and Mr. Lee and I have to go to a debriefing at headquarters. One of the Staff officers told me that the paymaster will be in the hotel lobby right after the noon meal at the hotel. Keep the crew together until everyone’s been paid. And please get in touch with me after you talk to the two Chiefs tomorrow.”
“Will do, sir,” Flanagan said.
The Operations Officer, his lined face grim above the silver eagles on his collar tabs, turned to face Mike Brannon.
“The point is, Captain Brannon, you damn well know that you disobeyed orders and modified those torpedo exploders. Your patrol report conveniently leaves out the depth setting for the torpedoes. You people must think we’re idiots! You know your orders; you are to set torpedoes to run at a depth of from five to ten feet below the estimated draft of the target so the magnetic exploder will detonate the warhead beneath the target and break its keel. You fired two torpedoes at the first tanker and missed. You fired two at the second tanker and got one hit. That’s damned bad shooting, Mister!”
“We got a hit on the first tanker, sir,” Brannon said. His normally pleasant face was set and grim. “I observed a low-magnitude explosion against the starboard bow of the first target. I so reported in my contact report and my patrol run report. I observed a hit and exploder failure against the hull of the second tanker. The second torpedo fired at that target worked and the target blew up. Three hits out of four torpedoes is not, I submit, bad shooting.”
John Olsen, sitting beside Brannon at the table in the conference room of the headquarters building, could feel the chill in the air. Bob Lee, sitting beside Olsen, stirred restlessly. Olsen turned his head as Brannon took a deep breath.
“With all due respect, Captain Rivers, I am not going to argue about the Mark Six exploders. Too many submarine commanding officers have already done that. I can add nothing to that argument. You must know, again with all due respect to Admiral Christie, to you and the Staff, sir, you must know that most submarine Captains have very little faith in the Mark Six exploder.”
“You are coming dangerously close to insubordination, sir!” Captain Rivers’s harsh face was set, his eyes blazing.
“With all due respect, sir, I am a ship’s captain —”
“At our pleasure,” Captain Rivers snapped.
“Yes, sir,” Brannon said. “I submit that I intended no insubordination. If I gave that impression then I apologize for stating my thoughts in a clumsy manner.” Brannon stared past the close-cropped head of the Operations Officer, his eyes looking out the window at the lush greenery of the grounds.
“Sam, let me say a few words,” Admiral Christie said from his place at the head of the table.
“Mike, I helped develop the Mark Six exploder, as you know. I helped develop the Mark Fourteen torpedo. I know that the exploder, the torpedo, work. If the approach to the target is made correctly, if the observations by the Commanding Officer are accurate, if the torpedoes are fired to run at the correct depth, if those torpedoes have been properly cared for — remember that part, Mike, because I am going to come back to that — if all those things are done I know that we have a torpedo and an exploder that are far superior to those of any other submarine navy in the world!
“Now let me say this, and what I am going to say does not apply to you or to the Eelfish.
“I have submarines come into this port and into Brisbane with their torpedoes so poorly maintained that those torpedoes would not have run if fired. I have seen some torpedoes with alcohol and water tanks half full. They wouldn’t have run five hundred yards if they were fired.
“I have seen relief crews rig block and tackle and have to use the tender’s crane, sir, to get torpedoes out of the tubes! The tube rollers were so poorly cared for that the torpedoes were literally frozen in the tubes. If they had been fired they wouldn’t have even gone out of the torpedo tubes!”
“Sir,” Bob Lee blurted out, “sir, every torpedo on the Eelfish is pulled out of the tubes and routined on a regular maintenance schedule. Every torpedo we have will leave the tube and run properly when it is fired!” His eyes widened and then squeezed shut as he suddenly realized what he had done. He, a Reserve Lieutenant, Junior Grade, had interrupted an Admiral, had spoken without being asked, had dared to contradict an Admiral.
Admiral Christie, his square jaw set, stared at Lee. Then the Admiral’s glare softened.
“Well said, youngster. I am delighted to hear that.” He turned to look at Mike Brannon.
“You see my point. I am faced with constant criticism of the Mark Six exploder and the Mark Fourteen torpedo by submarine Captains.
“I am faced, also, with the disturbing fact that some of those who criticize the loudest come into port with torpedoes that I know will not run if fired, not run properly.” He lowered his head and stared at the table top for a long minute. Then he raised his head.