“Fine.”
Tiger’s cool got on Jake’s nerves. “For once it’d be nice if you were just a wee bit uptight.”
“I’m scared shitless,” Cole replied calmly.
Jake looked at him and managed a laugh. “Try to hide it. Don’t always wear your emotions on your sleeve.”
Jake hung his flight gear in the locker room and descended the ladder to his stateroom, where he dumped his suit bag in the middle of the floor and lit another cigarette. He smoked it down quickly and then left for Camparelli’s stateroom.
At his knock, Cowboy opened the door.
Jake entered and stood until the skipper, seated at his desk, waved him over to the bunk. A khaki shirt with wings hung on a hook on the back of the door. The Old Man looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept much recently.
Jake thought that was probably the case.
“Truth or consequences, Grafton.” Commander Camparelli’s eyes bored into Jake. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Jake swallowed. “What do you want to know, sir?”
“I want you to tell me just exactly what you and that maniac Cole did. I want to be the first to hear what you’re gonna tell that Pentagon headhunter tomorrow at your hearing. Speak, boy.”
“Sir, Cole and I tried to take out the National Assembly building in Hanoi with eight Mark Eight Three slick snakes after we hit the power plant at Bac Giang the other night. Apparently we missed.”
“Now tell me about the other unauthorized, unfragged targets you and Cole in your combine wisdom-which wouldn’t fill the head of a pin, decided to take out.”
“That was it, sir!
There was only the one raid. But I wish that we’d blasted that National Assembly into a pile of bricks. We’d have tried harder if we’d known it’d come to this.”
He knew he was exaggerating. They couldn’t have tried harder if the target had been Ho Chi Minh himself.
“What does Lundeen know about this?”
“Not a thing.” He could lie for his friends but not for himself.
“Bullshit, Grafton!” Camparelli Stood up and put his nose inches from Jake’s face. “You’re lying.”
“Hanging me and Cole’ll have to do, Commander.”
“How about Cowboy?”
Jake was startled and glanced at Parker, who betrayed no emotion.
Jake shook his head. “No, sir. Emphatically no. I talked Cole into the National Assembly job and we enlisted Steiger. Cowboy didn’t know a damn thing about it-and neither did anyone else.”
“‘Job.” You talk about a ‘job.” Just who the hell did you think you were-a couple of safecrackers or Mafia hit men? Come to think of it, those’ll be just about the only careers open to you after this, if you’re lucky enough to avoid Leavenworth ‘ Camparelli sat on the edge of his desk. He was silent for a moment. “Why? Why’d you do it?”
Jake examined the skipper’s lined face. “You hit it on the head the other night, Skipper. Stupidity. I just wanted to hit them harder than the frag list allowed. I figured if I was going to risk my ass and my bombardier’s, I wanted them to know we’d been there.”
“Well, you sure fucked up.” Camparelli shook his head. “If my career survives this, it’ll be a miracle-like a dog laying an egg. I’ve got too much invested in -the navy to want to kiss it all off.”
“I’m sorry, Skipper. I know we’ve blown your trust.”
The skipper rubbed the side of his head with the heel of his hand.
“Yes, you sure as hell did, Jake.” He turned to Parker. “Cowboy, you and I better get some sleep. Grafton isn’t flying and neither is New, so somebody has to. First brief at 2200.” He looked at his watch. “Six hours from now.”
Cowboy stood up. “Jake,” the skipper said, “when we’re in that hearing tomorrow, I want you to make damn sure you tell the truth. Tell the God’s truth and let the chips fall where they will and maybe somehow we’ll all be able to live with this.”
In the passageway Jake apologized to Cowboy, who momentarily put his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. “Nothing to apologize for. I just wish you’d wasted that building and the entire goddamn National Assembly.”
Jake went to his room and locked the door.
He thought about pouring a drink but decided against it, a warm can of Coke would do instead.
The untidy room and the pale green walls and the sounds of the ship weighed on him. He wanted Callie McKenzie with him and not just for a night or weekend. He didn’t even have a photograph of her.
He dug through the stuff on his desk until he came up with a writing tablet with white, lined paper. Halfway through the first page, he suddenly wanted to buy an engagement ring for her the next time he was in port.
If he could get off the ship. Then he remembered he seen some rings in the window of the ship’s store. Maybe it was still open. Checkbook in hand, he slammed the door behind him.
They sat in the empty wardroom next to the lounge where the hearing was being held. Jake and Tiger were there, as well as Sammy, Cowboy Parker, and A Steiger. COmmander Camparelli and Rabbit Wilson were already inside. Everyone was wearing fresh starched khakis. Most of the men were smoking cigarrettes; no one had anything to say. A marine corporal in dress uniform stood at parade rest near the door.
At last the door opened and a lieutenant in whites stuck his head out.
“They’re ready for you, Grafton.
Jake levered himself upright and turned toward the door. Sammy caught his eye. “Keep the faith, Jake. The pilot nodded and passed through the door, which the orderly closed behind him.
“What faith?” Abe Steiger asked. Sammy just looked at him.
The presiding officer’s long-sleeved khaki shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, barely contained his bulging torso. Silver eagles shone on each collar and a set of gold wings gleamed on his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing forearms bristling with black hair. The stubble on his head was less luxuriant.
“Mister Grafton.” He spoke from behind a long table. “Please take a seat.
I’m Captain Fairleigh Copeland. I invited you in to hear Doctor Catton testify about the results of the physical examination he recently gave you. Physicals are supposed to be held in confidence. Since this is an official inquiry I can hear it and enter it into the record without your consent. But I wanted to ask you if these other gentlemen can hear what the doctor has to say.”
Jake had never before heard Mad Jack the Jungle Quack referred to by his surname. His eyes swept the room. The commanding officer of the Shilo, Captain Boma, was there, dressed in his customary white uniform even though every other officer on the ship wore wash khakis. The task force commander’s chief of staff, a captain, sat beside him. The other chairs contained the CAG, the air operations officer, Commander Camparelli, Rabbit Wilson, and a couple of younger officers Jake didn’t know. He assumed the lightweights had come from Washington to help Captain Copeland slay the infidels. “That’s fine with me, sir,” he told Copeland.
“Okay, Doctor. What did you find when you examined Lieutenant Grafton?”
“I examined Lieutenant Grafton in the early morning hours of 7 December.”
Mad Jack consulted his notes. “He’s a physically sound Caucasian male, age twenty-seven, with 20-15 vision in both eyes and excellent hearing. His heart rate and blood pressure are at the low end of normal limits. The only physical abnormality is an incipient case of hemorrhoids. As you gentlemen are well aware, this is an occupational disease in jet pilots and is aggravated by extreme G-loadings.
Other than that, he’s in perfect physical health.” Mad Jack folded his notes and laid them on his lap “I should mention one other thing. Lieutenant Grafton had palsied hands when I examined him. This is usually associated with the aged or those with nervous disorders-In his case, I believe the palsy can be attributed to the constant, heavy stress this officer has been under for an extended period. I’ve seen the same disorder in marines after lengthy patrols in hostile territory where the tension was unrelenting. Palsy may be one of the ways the body reacts to continuous adrenal stimulation. But in view of his otherwise healthy state, Lieutenant Grafton’s hand tremors have no medical significance other than demonstrating that he needs a break from the stress.”
Jake cast a quick look at his hands, which tremble only a little.
