“And were you aware of the enemy?”
“Well, I knew they were Chinese. And I knew they were helicopters. Two, we were told.”
“And what did you deduce from this?”
“I assessed that they would be helicopters from the two ships we knew were in the Haing Gyi dockyard, a frigate and a destroyer. The chances were very high that at least one of them, probably both, would have an ASW capability, plus, probably, rockets that would both outrange us and pierce our pressure hull. We are not really built to fight on the surface, you know.” The court was listening to the refined voice of reason.
“No, of course not, Commander,” replied the prosecuter. “Absolutely not. I am sure everyone in the room appreciates that. But I continue: And did you communicate your assessment of the situation to your Executive Officer?”
“I sure did. I pointed out to him that there were almost one hundred ten officers and men on board my ship. We had a brave and experienced crew, a first-class crew. And I pointed out that to take the ship straight into the range of air-to-surface missiles, on the surface, on the open ocean, was contrary to everything I had ever known, been taught or believed in the U.S. Navy.
“Quite frankly, it was a risk I could not possibly take. Nor I suspect would anyone else in my shoes. Also I did not believe the U.S. Navy would be greatly thanked for putting a smashed nuclear reactor in the middle of the Bay of Bengal to pollute it for the next forty years. I had much to consider. And I did not believe the lives of the SEALs, just eight of them, warranted the potential destruction of USS
“Thank you, Commander. No more questions.”
The court was amazed at the brevity of Locker Jones’s examination, amazed that he had not extracted chapter and verse the circumstances of the arrest of the CO. Instead he had concentrated on one precious factor — the course of action the Captain of the submarine had proposed, and was it sufficiently crazy to have him placed under arrest and relieved of command?
It was a vintage ploy by the prosecuting counsel, a method of avoiding endless testimony and confusing contradictions. He had presented his star witness in a lean, pared-down light: the order he had given, and the reasons for it. Was it the order of a madman? Not so far, of that everyone in the room was very certain.
And now the frowning figure of the defense counsel, Lieutenant Commander Surprenant, climbed to his feet to begin his cross-examination. And he was perhaps more aware than anyone of the brilliance of the strategy of Locker Jones.
“Commander Reid,” he began, “I want to ask your indulgence right here, because the reasons for Lieutenant Commander Headley’s actions date back for several weeks, and I am sure you will not object to answering my questions while we establish them in this courtroom.”
“Commander Reid,” shook his head, as if to say, “No problem,” but his counsel was instantly on his feet, snapping, “Objection.”
Captain Dunning stared quizzically at the prosecutor, who said, “Sir, the CO is not on trial. He is here to give his reasons for his orders on that particular morning, in those particular circumstances. I am at a loss to understand why defense counsel wants to delve into the past. Lieutenant Commander Headley, under Section one-zero-eight- eight of Navy Regulations, must demonstrate that his CO issued an order that could not possibly be obeyed, without being prejudicial to the public interest.”
Captain Dunning looked doubtfully at Al Surprenant, who responded quietly, “Sir, it is possible that a pattern of behavior by a single individual may become so unnerving for those who serve under him that an action to relieve command becomes necessary. Not just from the immediate orders, but from that pattern of unreliability. With respect, I intend to proceed along those lines.”
“
Lieutenant Commander Surprenant now took his time. He shuffled his file papers, and then looked up and inquired, “Commander Reid, may I ask if you recall the events of May sixteenth in the early morning, just before first light?”
“Well, I certainly know we were waiting at our rendezvous point for the Special Forces team to return from a mission.”
“Who had the ship?”
“Lieutenant Commander Headley. Our orders were clear. It was a highly classified operation, and we were detailed to remain at our RV in the Gulf of Iran while the ASDV returned with the team on board.”
“And were you ever informed of a problem during their escape from plainly hostile shores?”
“No I was not.”
“I believe you were not in the control room?”
“That is correct. My XO had overall responsibility for the return of the SEAL team.”
“And what caused you to return to the control room?”
“The submarine began to move forward in complete contradiction to our orders, which had been issued by the flag. Our RV point was in hard copy.”
“And when you did return, what did you learn?”
“Well, there had been some kind of an attack on the team, inshore, and they were on their way back, bringing with them an apparently wounded man.”
“They were also bringing back the body of their leader, Lieutenant Commander Ray Schaeffer, I believe?”
“So I was informed.”
“So. The leader had been killed, and another SEAL was badly wounded, and they were desperately trying to get away, trying to get back to safety after achieving their objective?”
“So I believe.”
“And did Lieutenant Commander Headley inform you that it was perfectly safe under clear skies, and on empty seas, to go in six miles, fast, toward the ASDV and get them back on board with all speed?”
“He was already headed inshore when I reached the control room.”
“And when you learned they had a top combat SEAL on board, dying, next to his already dead Leader, I believe you issued an order for USS
“Well, I was certain about my orders: to remain on station until they arrived back.”
“When Lieutenant Commander Headley informed you of the seriousness of the situation, that a man was dying, I believe you uttered the phrase ‘You can’t run a Navy for a guy who’s probably cut his goddamned finger’?”
“I do not recall that.”
“And so you turned around and went back to the RV?”
“Yes.”
“And do you recall a strong protest from the SEAL mission controller, Commander Rusty Bennett, almost begging you to go inshore and save his man?”
“No. I do not recall that.”
“Do you recall the condition of the wounded SEAL when they finally arrived back?”
“You know perfectly well that I do.”
“What was that condition?”
“Do you really have to persist in this unhelpful manner?”
“WHAT WAS THAT CONDITION, COMMANDER?”
“The SEAL was dead.”
“Thank you. And is it your opinion that he might have been saved if you’d gotten him aboard a half hour earlier?”
“I have no idea. I’m not a doctor.”
“And how long had he been dead before your crew got him back aboard?”
“I believe fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you. And would it surprise you to learn that from that moment on, both your crew and the SEAL assault teams regarded you as a heartless, somewhat remote figure who cared nothing about any of them.”
“
