Charles Taylor - Show of Force

"Have Jerry roger that and tell them we couldn't have done it without Navy air." He stepped out on the wing to stare into the darkness where his prey was supposed to be. Bagley was rolling heavily on its present course, and he had to hold on to the railing. The lookout next to him was straining through his binoculars for a glimpse of the sub. "Don't think you'll see him for a few minutes, son. We've got to wait for the airdales to light him up." He looked more closely at the sailor, who was probably no more than eighteen or nineteen years old. "How long have you been standing this watch?"

"I've been here since general quarters, Captain, except for being relieved from time to time."

"Were you worried?"

"No, sir. We all know that we're safe here. No one ever expected that you wouldn't get that sub, Captain." Realizing that he had taken his glasses from his eyes, he quickly began scanning wherever the horizon might have been. "What are you going to do to him now, sir?"

"Nothing, son. It's already been done." He turned to move back to his chair, then thought better of it. "You all did a good job, son… a great job. You be sure to tell that to everybody on your circuit." Then he moved back to his chair.

"Illumination in about thirty seconds," David reported.

"Start to take her into about two hundred yards, Bob. I want to get a good look at our friend."

The illumination began sporadically, with the flares going out a couple of times just as the bridge personnel were getting their eyes adjusted. As the light became steady, Collier brought Bagley close in. It did not look at all like they expected their elusive quarry to look. Instead, they saw a black hulk, indistinguishable from any other submarine they had seen tied alongside the piers in Norfolk. It wallowed in the heavy seas, as helpless as any other machine that has been built for the depths. Somehow, it didn't look like an enemy should have looked. It seemed neither dangerous nor frightening.

"Captain, the carrier is sending out aircraft to begin taking pictures for identification. They should be here in about twenty minutes."

The ultimate humiliation, thought Carter. "David, come on over here. I want you to see something. Take a good long look at that submarine, then remember he may be your real enemy someday. He looks pathetic there with the waves breaking around his sail, doesn't he? After all he's been through, he's probably got men barfing their guts out in this heavy sea.

"We won today, so to speak, but don't ever forget that he's lost not only to us but back home, too. They'll probably send him to the salt mines, wherever they are, because now we can prove that Russian subs are patrolling the Caribbean to back up all those missiles in Cuba. But, even more important, they'll be punishing the wrong man. He did the best he could without his cow or a base to return to for repairs. He drove us six ways to Sunday and back again, and did more than I would have thought possible with that thing he's riding. And then, to top it all off, he had the audacity to try to escape when he should have given in… and he almost got away with it." Carter looked over his shoulder to where the other ships were steaming nearby.

"He could have gotten sunk for his troubles if that nut on Bartlett hadn't been just a bit unsure of himself, enough so that he called me before he fired." He pointed at the sub, where two figures could be seen guiding their craft as best they could. "David, you're going to be a fine officer someday, and I want you to remember this night. That captain set an example we should never forget. And I'll bet he's no more than eight or nine years older than you. They really didn't start building that class until a few years ago, and then they had to go out and train a new set of officers to drive them. I'll bet he's only a lieutenant, or whatever they call them in Russia, and I'll say he's not more than thirty. How old are you, David?"

"Twenty-three, Captain, almost twenty-four," he grinned.

"See what I mean. Maybe he's only six or seven years older than you. He's accomplished a lot in his short life, and I sure hope they're not too rough on him."

Soon the planes came from the carriers for the next step, picture-taking. The Navy was taking no chances on the sub diving before dawn to avoid photos. They dropped longer-lasting flares from higher altitudes, and when they came in low for their pictures, they used flashes that lit the air like daytime. As well as anyone could see from the Bagley, the two men on the sub's bridge never looked up once. General quarters was secured shortly after, and the Gold Team relieved to complete the watch. David Charles stopped for a moment on the main deck to look over at his enemy outlined against the artificial lights, and saw only a black, dented hull that still looked strangely like every other sub in Norfolk.

The watch had been relieved for breakfast. The crew was now completely awake, ready for another tedious day after the excitement of the previous night. The ship's PA system clicked on. "This is the Captain speaking again. First, my sincere, personal thanks for the contribution each of you made. You made Bagley a ship of war to reckon with again, years after a lot of people would have junked her. Ships are important, but the Navy can never replace the men who sail them.

"Of course, I have received a message from the Admiral that I will have distributed in each compartment. But even more important is the message that was handed to me a few minutes ago. It's addressed to Bagley, Bartlett, Payne, and Kerns, and the helos and fixed-wing squadrons that worked with us. It is from our Commander in Chief, Mr. Kennedy, and says, 'My congratulations to all units of Task Force Alpha and especially those of you who participated in the surfacing of the Russian Foxtrot submarine on the nights of October twenty-three and twenty-four. Though I personally reviewed your units with admiration last year, I can now truly say you have served your country more than your loved ones at home will know for some time to come. And today, I say with pride I was a sailor, too.'

"I want each of you to hear that now," Carter added. "This operation is classified, and you will be unable to relate your accomplishments to anyone when we finally return home. But, we can all have confidence in our ship and our Navy in the future, for we will have that sailor at the helm of our country for many years to come." There was a long moment of silence throughout the ship after Carter switched off the PA and returned to the open bridge.

Captain Carter told me yesterday that I'd make a fine officer some day. Coming from him, that's the finest compliment I guess I'll ever hear. I've been watching him pretty closely, trying to learn how he commands a ship. Now I'm beginning to think it just comes naturally and you have to be like that from the beginning. Maybe if he feels I can be a good officer, I'll be able to command like he does.

I'm pretty sure that last night the United States came about as close to a major war as it has for a long time. Even Sam Carter was scared, enough so that he was ready to take some chances to keep it from happening. The captain of the Bartlett must be some kind of nut or else the Navy's making some big mistakes with some of its CD's. The man really wanted to fire torpedoes at the Russian submarine. I don't think he was really concerned about what would have happened on a national scale. He just wanted to kill a sub, maybe to show someone how tough he was. But Sam Carter talked him out of it and used our ship to do it. It was taking a big chance, but I know today that the odds were worth it. Captain Carter's making me an expert in hindsight, but maybe that's the way you train ensigns.