Dick Couch - Out of the Ashes

“There was a reason for that, General, and I don’t need a history lesson from you on Libya. That was then and this is now. This is Syria, not Libya. It’s on my watch and yours, and we have to deal with it. Are we clear on that?”

“We are, sir, but I know Syria. That’s my job. I suspect I needn’t remind you, Mr. Harward, Russia has sold Syria the S-300 missile. That’s one of the best — if not the best — air defense missiles in the world; it’s better than our Patriot missile system. Our initial intelligence has told us the A-300 is deployed throughout the country, and in substantial numbers. Sending aircraft over Syria is just too risky a proposition. I’m not going to send my pilots on a one-way mission.”

“Yes, I know that, General. No one is asking you to do that; there are always risks in war.”

“Sir, we need to get more information on where other missile sites may be located. I’ve just got an additional Global Hawk moved into theater and another one arrives the day after tomorrow. I am increasing overhead coverage of Syria as fast as the other combatant commanders can send me more assets. Nevertheless, Mr. Harward, regardless of what we can see, we have to believe what the communications intercepts we are getting are telling us. Syria has multiple DF-21D missile sites deployed throughout there desert. It’s a huge area, sir. It may take us days to find them, no matter how many overhead assets we have. For right now we need to move more forces into the area to support Truman . One hit from one of those DF-21D missiles and my aircraft carrier will look like the Marine barracks in Beirut. I’m sure you don’t need a history lesson from me on what happened there.”

“No, General,” Harward said tightly, “I do not.”

The VTC continued, with both men standing their ground, and the National Security Staff staffers around the table were becoming more and more uncomfortable.

Laurie had printed out what Charlie Bacon had sent her, found Lieutenant Commander Watson in CDC, and laid out her case to Normandy’s ops officer. Watson absorbed what she presented and they went to see Captain Blackman on Normandy ’s bridge.

“Ops O. Ms. Phillips,” Blackman began, wary that they might be approaching him on the same subject they had bothered him about in his cabin the day before.

“Captain,” Watson began. “After our meeting yesterday, Ms. Phillips decided she needed to get some additional help interpreting what the Global Hawk video was showing, so she reached out to a colleague at the NRO—”

“The NRO?” Blackman interrupted.

“Yes, Captain, the National Reconnaissance Office—”

“Neil! I know what NRO stands for,” Blackman interrupted again. Then turning to Laurie, his face hardened. “Ms. Phillips, I thought we settled this yesterday in my at-sea cabin. Did you tell anyone else you were going way outside our chain of command to ‘reach out to someone’ at NRO?”

“No, Captain, I didn’t.”

“Both of you, my at-sea cabin, now,” Blackman said as he pushed himself out of his bridge chair. He turned toward his officer of the deck. “OOD, I’ll be in my at-sea cabin for a few minutes.”

“Captain’s off the bridge,” the bos’n mate on watch chimed as the pair followed Blackman out the door at the aft end of the bridge and back to his at-sea cabin a deck below on Normandy ’s port side. They entered the cabin; no one sat down. “Ms. Phillips, Mr. Watson has been with me since I took command, so he knows why we just came back to my at-sea cabin. I’ll ask you, why did we move off the bridge?”

The question threw Laurie off-guard. “Well, so it would be quieter, Captain?”

“No. How many people were on the bridge?”

Another off-guard question. “I’m not quite sure, Captain. A half dozen maybe?”

“Eight to be exact. Ms. Phillips. Now I have the class to try not to have disagreements, or to be disagreeable, in front of a crowd of people. I’m not sure you share my view.”

“But, Captain, this is important and I wanted to inform you, sir.”

“Ms. Phillips, before you ‘inform’ me, can you tell me first what you think you were doing communicating with the NRO without informing me or anyone in your chain of command?”

Blackman looked toward his operations officer. “You know about this, Mr. Watson?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you tell anyone else, Ms. Phillips?”

“No, Captain.”

“I see. We’ll deal with your flagrant disregard of professional courtesy later. To show you that, as opposed to you, I have good manners, what is it you came to so urgently tell me?”

Still off-guard a bit from the captain’s initial questions, Laurie plunged forward, going back to the original Global Hawk video received aboard Normandy . She segued seamlessly to her prior work on UAV comm links and sensors at NRO and the Center for Naval Analyses. She told the captain about Charlie Bacon’s expertise but didn’t reveal his name. Finally, she laid down the attachment Charlie had sent her on the small, gun-metal gray desk in the captain’s cabin.

Pete Blackman picked up the paper and studied it. He looked at Laurie. Then he looked at Watson.

“Well, Ms. Phillips, thank you for coming forward. This is a lot to absorb. Now, I think you told me you are on watch in CDC so I’ll let you get back to that. That will be all right now. Mr. Watson, stay behind a moment, will you?”

“Captain?” Laurie said, now completely off-guard, wanting to hear Blackman’s verdict.

“Thank you. That will be all right now.”

Laurie staggered out of Blackman’s cabin, not knowing what to do next.

Aaron Bleich stood behind Maggie Scott and looked at what their decision support software displayed on her screen. He leaned over, took control of her mouse, scrolled down, then up again, then relinquished control.

“Whew, this is something,” Bleich said.

“We going to see Roger?” she asked.

“You bet.” The pair headed for Roger McCord’s office.

The senior chief walked up behind Laurie, who sat at her watch station in CDC. She was still stunned and didn’t know what to think of the encounter in the captain’s cabin. Even three hours after the meeting she was still trying to make sense of what happened.

“Ms. Phillips?”

“Yeah, Senior Chief, what’s up?”

“Ma’am, Commander Watson requests you meet with him in his stateroom.”

“Ah, sure. Can you get someone to cover my station?”

“Already done, ma’am.”

Laurie made a beeline for Watson’s office. She was cautiously optimistic that, in spite of his reservations, her proof had carried the day with Captain Blackman.

“Commander, you wanted to see me,” Laurie said as she knocked on his open stateroom door.

“Yes. Please come in and sit down, but close that first, would you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Laurie sat with her hands on her knees, leaning toward Watson, her anticipation growing.

“Ms. Phillips, first of all, let me say I respect your professional ability and what I think is your wanting to do the right thing, but it’s my duty to present this to you and ask you to sign it.”

Watson slid a piece of paper across the small table in his stateroom. As Laurie began to read the paper her jaw dropped. She finished reading it and slid it back toward Watson.

“With respect, sir, are you shitting me?”

“I assure you, I’m not, Ms. Phillips. The captain drafted the language himself and had our legal officer review it. You’re to have no other communications, via e-mail or any other means, with anyone off the ship, other than your immediate family members, for the duration of Normandy ’s time in a war zone.”