superior force."
"But we sank them. And there's no lasting harm done, as it turned out."
"We don't know that yet. Sir. We're a day away from the Texas. We do not know what we will find when we get there, or what Axis strength we'll meet. You compromised our strategic stealth."
"Granted," Jeffrey said. They'd just made one hell of a datum. . . . He remembered what he'd half warned himself about before: a calling card for Eberhard. "There's always risk. At least now you see why I didn't stream the towed array."
"Negative, Commander. We went in there half blind. The enemy got the jump on us."
"It was a judgment call. And mine to make." Jeffrey sat back defensively.
"You should not have gone to the engine room fire. Sir, you're the ex-XO. You must not cherry-pick whatever parts you want to play."
Jeffrey realized he'd been irresponsible, carried away in the heat of action, carried too far. . . .
"The worst damage is morale, Captain, including the junior officers. After Durban and all that, the crew was very high on you. We were in a tight spot and you got us through. But this is different."
This was different. Back then, they were also against a superior force, but that time not by choice. Bell's help had been indispensable.
Jeffrey cleared his throat. "They think I'm a cowboy?"
"Something like that, Captain. Even General Custer's luck eventually ran out. In the Civil War he won the Medal of Honor. Medals reinforce bad habits, sir. Self-appointed heroes in command . . . well, they add to the friendly body count."
"You mean I'm reckless. Going for personal score, so it looks good in my service jacket."
"Something like that. Yes."
Jeffrey knew Bell knew he'd won the Silver Star in Iraq, for the same SEAL op when he'
d gotten the wound in his leg. Jeffrey had recovered, but one of his men was still in a wheelchair from his wound.
Jeffrey had to clear his throat again. "We should have little trouble departing this area stealthily. An Axis air strike, or any long-range cruise missiles, ought to be stopped by Allied air cover from the Azores or the Canaries, not to mention the carriers protecting the convoy. That's the whole reason the second section came through here, not west of here."
"I know that."
"With this big storm topside, enemy airborne ASW will be badly degraded. By heading north we're steaming under a heavy-beam sea. Any Axis destroyers or frigates would have to steam right through it. They can't possibly keep up with us like that, nor can any diesel-AIP."
"I know. I knew that all along."
Jeffrey felt himself tensing, and told himself to calm down. With both men in their masks, needing to work for every breath and shout to be understood, this conversation was getting surreal.
"There's more, isn't there?" Jeffrey said.
"Your treatment of Miss Milgrom, in front of the entire CACC crew, violated every principle of good leadership."
"I apologized."
"You need to do a better job, in private."
"What's your real point here?"
Bell took a deep breath inside his mask. "You gave the crew the impression you think we got stuck with a sideshow rescue mission, at this critical stage in the war. Now everybody thinks that, too. . . . We're the Challenger, Captain, the state-of-the-future boat. We're supposed to be in the middle of the fight, doing things no other sub can do."
"I agree. I'm not happy about it, either."
"Instead we're being worn down bit by bit. More damage here, more crew casualties there, mental stress all around. I'm not a mind reader, sir, but as the new XO it's my job to try. I believe the crew now believe that one reason we're heading for the Texas and then home is that our present acting captain does not have the full confidence of the powers-that-be."
Jeffrey looked away, not saying anything, not daring to.
"Three responsible specialists advised you in almost so many words to keep on going to Texas. Sonar, Oceanography, and myself as XO and Weps. You plain ignored us all, in front of
"But we sank them. And there's no lasting harm done, as it turned out."
"We don't know that yet. Sir. We're a day away from the Texas. We do not know what we will find when we get there, or what Axis strength we'll meet. You compromised our strategic stealth."
"Granted," Jeffrey said. They'd just made one hell of a datum. . . . He remembered what he'd half warned himself about before: a calling card for Eberhard. "There's always risk. At least now you see why I didn't stream the towed array."
"Negative, Commander. We went in there half blind. The enemy got the jump on us."
"It was a judgment call. And mine to make." Jeffrey sat back defensively.
"You should not have gone to the engine room fire. Sir, you're the ex-XO. You must not cherry-pick whatever parts you want to play."
Jeffrey realized he'd been irresponsible, carried away in the heat of action, carried too far. . . .
"The worst damage is morale, Captain, including the junior officers. After Durban and all that, the crew was very high on you. We were in a tight spot and you got us through. But this is different."
This was different. Back then, they were also against a superior force, but that time not by choice. Bell's help had been indispensable.
Jeffrey cleared his throat. "They think I'm a cowboy?"
"Something like that, Captain. Even General Custer's luck eventually ran out. In the Civil War he won the Medal of Honor. Medals reinforce bad habits, sir. Self-appointed heroes in command . . . well, they add to the friendly body count."
"You mean I'm reckless. Going for personal score, so it looks good in my service jacket."
"Something like that. Yes."
Jeffrey knew Bell knew he'd won the Silver Star in Iraq, for the same SEAL op when he'
d gotten the wound in his leg. Jeffrey had recovered, but one of his men was still in a wheelchair from his wound.
Jeffrey had to clear his throat again. "We should have little trouble departing this area stealthily. An Axis air strike, or any long-range cruise missiles, ought to be stopped by Allied air cover from the Azores or the Canaries, not to mention the carriers protecting the convoy. That's the whole reason the second section came through here, not west of here."
"I know that."
"With this big storm topside, enemy airborne ASW will be badly degraded. By heading north we're steaming under a heavy-beam sea. Any Axis destroyers or frigates would have to steam right through it. They can't possibly keep up with us like that, nor can any diesel-AIP."
"I know. I knew that all along."
Jeffrey felt himself tensing, and told himself to calm down. With both men in their masks, needing to work for every breath and shout to be understood, this conversation was getting surreal.
"There's more, isn't there?" Jeffrey said.
"Your treatment of Miss Milgrom, in front of the entire CACC crew, violated every principle of good leadership."
"I apologized."
"You need to do a better job, in private."
"What's your real point here?"
Bell took a deep breath inside his mask. "You gave the crew the impression you think we got stuck with a sideshow rescue mission, at this critical stage in the war. Now everybody thinks that, too. . . . We're the Challenger, Captain, the state-of-the-future boat. We're supposed to be in the middle of the fight, doing things no other sub can do."
"I agree. I'm not happy about it, either."
"Instead we're being worn down bit by bit. More damage here, more crew casualties there, mental stress all around. I'm not a mind reader, sir, but as the new XO it's my job to try. I believe the crew now believe that one reason we're heading for the Texas and then home is that our present acting captain does not have the full confidence of the powers-that-be."
Jeffrey looked away, not saying anything, not daring to.
"Three responsible specialists advised you in almost so many words to keep on going to Texas. Sonar, Oceanography, and myself as XO and Weps. You plain ignored us all, in front of
Similar Books
