Larry Bond - Exit Plan

“You’re being gracious, Captain, and I appreciate that. Now before we get started, would you please introduce the three young men with you?”

“Certainly, sir. To my immediate right is Lieutenant Commander Mike Harper, my engineer and acting executive officer.” Guthrie watched as every senior naval officer suddenly looked confused. “To his right is Lieutenant Isaac Simmons, my navigation and operations officer. And to my left is Lieutenant Travis Frederickson, the SEAL detachment officer in charge.”

“Thank you, Captain. Now to the business at… What?” Myles looked annoyed as Hughes leaned over and whispered a question. Guthrie only heard a few words, but he was pretty sure the CNO wanted to ask him the one question he didn’t want to answer. When President Myles gave his consent, Hughes leaned toward the mike and said, “Captain, did I hear you correctly that your engineer is the acting executive officer?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Captain, where is your XO?”

Guthrie took a depth breath before replying. “He is currently not on board Michigan , Admiral. He was piloting the ASDS during the mission.”

“What!?! Explain yourself, Captain,” demanded Hughes. It was a good thing the mikes were muted in the conference rooms at SUBPAC, Sub Group Nine, and the Naval Special Warfare Command as each commanding rear admiral had the exact same reaction.

“My ASDS pilot was injured during a physical fitness exercise with the SEALs less than an hour before we got the message to head to the Persian Gulf. My orders had a very challenging, nonnegotiable schedule I had to meet, and I did not believe it was feasible for me to request a replacement while adhering to the stealth and speed requirements explicit in my orders.

“Lieutenant Commander Mitchell was well versed in ASDS operations, had some experience in piloting the minisub, and is also a qualified Navy diver. I felt he met the spirit behind the ASDS pilot qualifications, if not the exact letter. My only other alternative was to let the SEAL copilot take the ASDS in by himself — an option I deemed unsafe.”

“This is most unusual, Captain,” commented Rear Admiral Fabian, Commander, Submarine Forces U.S. Pacific Fleet. “Don’t you think you overstepped your authority to make that decision?”

Joanna leaned over to Kirkpatrick, who was growing tense as the discussion dragged on. “Sir, I personally know Lieutenant Commander Mitchell. He’s a very capable and skilled officer. He served on my husband’s boat during the special operations mission directed by President Huber to investigate spent nuclear fuel dumping sites in Russia. I participated in that mission and…”

Kirkpatrick motioned for Patterson to stop. “Thank you, Joanna. You’ve already told me this.” Chastened, Patterson sat back in her seat, while Kirkpatrick reined in the VTC.

“Admirals, please, there will be a time for you to get answers to your questions,” injected Kirkpatrick patiently. “But it is not now. As I’ve already explained to your superiors, I am not the least interested in how or why the ASDS was lost, or in why Michigan’s executive officer went on the mission. Our primary concern is how we get our people out of Iran, along with the defectors who have information that is critical to the president’s response to this crisis.

“Besides, I have it on excellent authority that Lieutenant Commander Mitchell is a highly resourceful naval officer who has served this nation very well in the past. I think we should consider allowing him a modicum of trust that he will do likewise during this situation.”

Guthrie watched and listened as the national security advisor immediately silenced the cadre of unhappy admirals. I owe that man a beer, he thought.

“Now then, Captain,” Kirkpatrick went on. “Please tell us your plan to extract said individuals.”

“Yes, sir,” Guthrie replied. He then went into a simplified mission-planning sequence, highlighting what they had learned about Iranian small boat patrols and how they intended to use that information to maximize the probability of mission success. He pointed out the timing issue, and while tight in some scenarios, the SEALs were confident that this was the best opportunity they would have as the element of stealth had been preserved. Carefully, Guthrie then brought up the issue of distance and its impact should the situation not evolve as anticipated. He wrapped up his presentation with a description on how the SEALs and the others would be recovered by Michigan.

“As the Zodiac approaches our location, the rest of the SEAL detachment will egress through the dry deck shelter and swim up with scuba gear fitted with a second demand valve. Once over Michigan, the Zodiac will be abandoned and the occupants will swim down into the DDS and through the lockout chamber into the boat. Under normal circumstances, I would broach the boat and recover the personnel without having to resort to a shallow dive with untrained individuals. But the circumstances are far from normal, and the risk of detection by a patrol boat close to Iranian territorial waters is extremely high.

“As the Iranians, my XO, and the others are swimming down, Lieutenant Frederickson and one other SEAL will scuttle the Zodiac by puncturing several of the air chambers. Once everyone is in the DDS and the hatch is closed, we make best tactical speed for Bahrain. That concludes our proposed plan, Mr. President.”

“Thank you, Captain. Your proposal is sound and I appreciate the detailed planning that went into it. Your plan is approved. I did note, however, your concern about the distance.”

Guthrie had intentionally pushed the topic; he’d tried to be diplomatic, but he just didn’t know if he had pushed too hard. He wasn’t sure whether he would be given permission or a presidential ass chewing.

“Yes, sir. It is the key factor in our evaluation of mission success.”

“Yes, I know, Captain. Both the CNO and my national security advisor have already beaten me about the head on this,” said Myles, smiling slightly. The smile quickly evaporated as the president leaned forward, his expression becoming sterner.

“I realize that my restrictions are not popular, Captain Guthrie. I have also been forced to realize that they are overly conservative. I will allow you to approach the twelve-mile limit to deploy and then recover the occupants of the combat rubber raiding craft. Between these events you are to back away to fifteen miles. Under no circumstances are you to violate Iranian territorial waters. Will this compromise ease your concern a little, Captain?”

Guthrie quietly let his breath go. He’d gotten part of what he wanted, and it was a meaningful compromise.

“Absolutely, Mr. President. This will make a big difference, particularly with those potential scenarios where timing is a very critical issue. Thank you, sir.” He looked toward Frederickson who was obviously pleased and gave him a thumbs-up under the table.

“Just get your people and the Iranians out of there, Captain. The information your passengers are carrying is quite likely the key we need to understand just what the hell is going on over there.”

“We’ll do our best not to disappoint you, sir,” replied Guthrie, as he signed off. The chances of pulling this off just got a whole lot better.

4 April 2013

8:00 AM Local Time/0500 Zulu

Shiraz, Iran

Mehry Naseri was washing up in the kitchen when the phone rang. Irritated at the interruption, she quickly dried her hands and snatched it on the fourth ring.

“I am trying to reach Captain Akbari. This is Major Sadi, his supervisor.”

“Oh, Major, I’m sorry, he’s not here right now. He and Shirin left for the coast yesterday morning. I expect them back tomorrow tonight, but it will be late.”