“Sir, can you hold up?”
The Commander stopped in between ladders.
“Before we see him, I just wanted to ask you a question. If you don’t mind, perhaps we could keep it between us?”
The Commander looked around. They could hear echoes of people clanking up the metal stairs from several decks below. “Sure.”
“Can you tell me what happened? The real story?”
The Commander shifted. He put his hands on his hips and looked Chase in the eye. “There’s an investigation going on, son. So, no, I really can’t. But know this. I’ve served under your old man for almost three years. He’s a hell of a warfighter, and a great leader.”
“But?”
“But… it’s a kinder, gentler Navy. And your father rules with an iron fist.”
Chase said, “I’m aware.”
The Commander smiled. “I’m sure you are.” He checked his watch. “Listen, your old man’s taking the fall here. But there isn’t an E-2 through O-6 on this ship that wouldn’t give his left nut to take his place if it meant saving your dad’s ass. He’s loved by his men, and with good reason. He makes us work hard, but we’re better for it. He’s the last of a breed. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
Chase nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, sir.”
“No sweat. Sorry, bud. Your dad’s a good man. Everyone in the battle group knows it. And if it was up to us, he’d be staying.” The Commander turned and they continued on up.
Several decks up, they opened another hatch and Chase stared out onto an expansive flight deck. It was like standing on a huge parking lot surrounded by a vast drop-off in every direction. It was incredibly hot up here. The sun cooked the dark surface of the flight deck, and the men and women who worked in it.
He followed the Commander to one of the helicopters, an MH-60R. A young sailor in a blue vest and an older man in a flight suit were lying on their stomachs on top of the metal aircraft. They both had protective headgear on, and they were perched about twelve feet up from the deck of the carrier. The man in the flight suit had a single white star on each shoulder.
The Commander cleared his throat. “Sir, he’s here.”
The Admiral looked down. A slight smile formed on his sweat-soaked face.
Chase didn’t really know what to say. “Hi, Dad.”
“That will be all, Commander,” Admiral Manning said. “One moment, Chase.” He said something to the mechanic he was with and then started climbing down the helicopter.
The Commander turned to leave and then whispered to Chase, “That’s something else about your old man. I’ve never seen a flag officer turn the wrenches with the young enlisted guys like that. As busy as he is, that’s unbelievable. He cares about his men, and he sits with them in the trenches. I hope that one day I’m half the officer that he is.” The man shook his head as he walked away.
Admiral Manning got down and took off his protective headgear and gloves, then embraced his son. For a brief moment, Chase thought he saw sadness in his father’s eyes. Then the steel look crept back over him.
“It’s good to see you, son. Thanks for coming. Elliot contacted me and mentioned that you might be in town.”
“Yes, he asked me to send his regards.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Are you hungry?”
Chase said, “Sure.”
“Follow me.”
They walked down several decks. Chase followed his father. Everything looked the same. The entire ship was one big maze of tubes and pipes, passageways and ladders. How anyone could find their way around an aircraft carrier was beyond him.
Then the Admiral opened a blue door with a gold placard marked CSG HST. Commander, Strike Group, Harry S. Truman.
His father sat behind an ornate wooden desk. His computer had a big red SECRET sticker just below the keyboard. The phone rang as the two men sat down on opposite sides of the desk.
His father picked it up. “Manning.”
A pause while some young Ensign, no doubt pissing himself because he had to speak to the Admiral, gave him a report.
“Okay. Thank you.”
Admiral Manning hung up, then picked the phone back up and dialed a five-digit number. “Hello, CS1, this is the Admiral, how are you this morning? Would you be able to rustle up some breakfast for two? Thank you kindly. Have a great day, CS1.”
After he placed the phone back down, Chase asked, “Have you heard from David?”
“Yes. I spoke to him and Lindsay on the phone this morning, actually. He tells me that the new baby is doing well. I just missed her birth, unfortunately. We had to leave that week. That is one aspect of all of this nonsense that will work out in my favor, I suppose. I’ll finally be able to see my granddaughters.”
Chase squirmed in his chair. “Dad, I’m very sorry to hear about—”
“Don’t.” The Admiral held up his hand. “There’s nothing anyone can do about it.” He pointed at the star on his shoulder. “This whole thing is a crapshoot anyway. There were better men than me that didn’t make O-6. All you can do is prepare and be ready when fate comes a-knocking.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Chase said, “What about Victoria? Have you heard from her?”
“She deploys this week, actually. I sent her an email. She didn’t write back.”
“Probably busy.”
“Probably.”
No one in the family could articulate exactly why or when Admiral Manning’s relationship with his daughter had grown strained, but it had. Perhaps it was because they were so much alike. Both fierce leaders, always wanting to be in control and make their own way. Victoria resented any suggestion that her success in the Navy had come from either her father being an Admiral, or her sex being female.
She was just like their father, Chase thought. She kept her emotions inside, and her sense of self-worth was derived from her career. She never bragged about her successes. That wasn’t what drove her. She wanted command. As often and as high up as her bright career would take her. And Victoria wanted it based on her own merit.
Father and daughter had gotten into more than a few arguments over the years. They were each too proud to back down, when that happened. Ironically, Victoria was probably the thing in life that Admiral Manning was most proud of. And now she wasn’t returning his emails. Chase would have to say something to her.
The door opened and two enlisted men in black culinary uniforms with CSG HST MESS on inscribed across their chest wheeled in a food cart. They placed a sterling silver pot of coffee on a small table next to the desk. Then they laid out two place settings and placed plates with eggs, sausage, toast, and jam on table. The toast looked like cheap white bread from a grocery store, and the sausage looked like a rock. It was not the Four Seasons. But the men that delivered it were doing their best with what they were given.
“Thanks, guys,” said Chase.
The Admiral thanked them as well, and then they were off. Chase and his father ate.
They continued making small talk about Chase’s brother and sister. The Admiral was happy to hear that David was doing well at his civilian job in D.C. It was no secret that he wasn’t thrilled that his son had resigned his commission. It had been conceivable that he could have stayed in the Navy as a restricted warfare officer. He could have been in the supply corps or perhaps the construction battalion, often referred to as the Seabees. But David had not been interested.
Their mother had supported his decision. And she had been thrilled when David had settled down in the D.C. area, less than an hour from Mrs. Manning’s home. The Admiral rarely made it back there.