Larry Bond - Shattered Trident

Myles paced about in silence, worry clearly visible on his face. After about thirty seconds, he turned abruptly toward Kirkpatrick. “What do you think, Ray?”

“Sir, I recommend that you increase surveillance in the region. We don’t know enough about what’s behind this, and that makes me nervous. You’ll need more eyes if we are going to get adequate warning, and more data so we can react properly.”

Kirkpatrick handed Myles a sheet of paper. “I recommend moving some satellites, revising the deployments of our reconnaissance aircraft in the area, and increasing the number of submarines. The South China Sea is too big for just two subs. We can brief the squadron commodore and the commanding officers by video-teleconference, and then deploy the remaining Squadron Fifteen submarines. This will give you a total of four boats on station.”

“Very good, Ray. We’ll go with your recommendation, but with a slight twist.”

“Sir?” asked Kirkpatrick, confused.

“Have the two boats already in the South China Sea head for Guam. I want the commanding officers to be briefed personally.”

Surprised, Kirkpatrick was about to protest when the president cut him short. “I know there’s a risk with this decision, Ray. But if Joanna is right, we have time to coordinate this properly. Besides, I’ve become sensitive to having a submarine exposed for long periods of time doing a VTC at sea. Only this time, it’s two subs in a potentially hostile environment. I want those commanding officers to have all the time they need to ask questions. Besides, sending someone out will reinforce the seriousness of the situation. Pull them back and have Joanna go out and brief them.”

“Me, sir?” Patterson was surprised by the president’s order, but she quickly composed herself. “I mean… yes, sir.”

“It’s okay, Joanna, I know it’s a bit of a surprise. I have to send one of you, but I can’t send Ray. Sending the national security advisor out to Guam would draw far too much attention; you’re less conspicuous. Give those captains everything you can and emphasize our need for more information. Get them out there and probe, but for God’s sake tell them to be careful. If people are getting ready to shoot at each other, our subs should not be in the way.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll leave immediately.”

“Give the commanding officers my personal best wishes for a safe and successful mission, and while you’re out there, pass on my regards to Commander Mitchell.”

22 August 2016

USS North Dakota

Apra Harbor, Guam

It was an absolutely glorious bright summer day. Jerry basked in the warm sun as North Dakota cleared the entrance to Apra Harbor at Guam Island. He noted with satisfaction that Lieutenant Junior Grade Quela Lymburn had “split the uprights,” passing the channel marker buoys right down the middle. One of three female officers in his wardroom, “Q,” as she was dubbed, was one of his best ship handlers. His XO said she was a natural and strongly recommend she conn the boat in, as the passage to Guam’s inner harbor was even narrower than the channel out of Pearl Harbor. So while Q and the harbor pilot shared the confined space of the cockpit, Jerry and the lookouts enjoyed the more luxurious accommodations of the flying bridge.

Confident that his boat was in capable hands, Jerry leaned against the railing and took in the sights; this was his first visit to the U.S. territory. It was everything he expected from a South Pacific island. The water was a deep bright blue. The surface was barely rippling from the light wind, marred only by the occasional splash from one of the escorting dolphins as it leapt ahead. The cliffs of Orote Point to his right were covered with lush, thick green bushes and protruding palm trees. He strained through his binoculars to see if he could pick out any remnants of Fort Santiago, a nineteenth-century Spanish fort, or a more recent Japanese pillbox.

Down on the deck, the XO and the chief of the boat were busy with the line handlers as they prepared the fittings to moor the sub. Master Chief Electrician’s Mate Marco Pompei moved with ease along the still-wet deck as he carefully checked each cleat to make sure it was secure. The diminutive figure literally sprang from one cleat to the next, his movements betraying his excitement. Pompei was coming home, and it had been a long time.

Everyone was where they should be, doing what they were supposed to in a diligent and professional manner. Jerry felt pride well up within him, as well as a sense of fulfillment. It was then that he realized this was the “feeling” that Senator Hardy had spoken about during the change of command ceremony.

It had been a typically mild Hawaiian spring day, with abundant sunshine and a light breeze. Jerry was all decked out in his dress whites, complete with several rows of medals. They clinked with his every move, and he was sure everyone would know just how nervous he really was by all the jingling. Looking toward the audience, Jerry saw his wife, Emily, his sister Clarice flown in from Minnesota, and Joanna Patterson sitting in the front row. All were brightly dressed with huge smiles on their faces—beaming the pride they all felt. He considered himself a very blessed man.

Jerry had asked his former skipper to be the keynote speaker, not because Lowell Hardy had been a particularly good commanding officer, but during a stressful combat situation he’d risen to the occasion and showed true leadership. He was also, now, a close friend and mentor.

Addressing the crowd, Hardy explained that “taking command of a submarine will be one of the most exhilarating things Jerry will ever do during his lifetime; it will also be one of the most terrifying.

“Just think about it,” Hardy instructed them. “When you take command, you are responsible for over two billion dollars’ worth of hardware, including a nuclear reactor, and the lives of over a hundred people. You have to make sure they have what they need to do their jobs. You have to train them, get them promoted, if you decide they deserve it, and sometimes discipline them. Their well-being is your charge; and not just the members of your crew, but their families as well.

“And you’ll be surprised that even with one hundred and fifteen or so people crammed into exceptionally tight quarters, at just how lonely you will be. Every eye will be on you, superiors and subordinates alike, watching your every move, your every decision. In times of adversity, you can turn to no one else. Your chiefs and officers can provide wise counsel, but in the end, the decision rests with you, the captain. You are where the buck stops. ”

Hardy paused to let the point sink in, and then added bluntly, “If that doesn’t scare the hell out of you, then you are either not human or insane.

“Now, I have to confess that I wasn’t the ideal commanding officer. I let the terrifying aspect of the job dominate my thoughts, and it had an adverse effect on my behavior. But more importantly, it had an adverse effect on my crew.”

Jerry was flabbergasted. Did Hardy really just publicly admit to his shortcomings as a captain? Stunned by what he had just heard, Jerry sat in total amazement. Then the other shoe dropped.

“Stop looking so shocked, Mr. Mitchell!” Hardy commented casually. “You’re not showing proper deference to your former skipper.”

The audience burst into laughter, while Jerry’s face flushed with embarrassment. Hardy hadn’t even turned around while at the podium.

“Now, where was I?” the senator asked whimsically. “Oh yes, the fear thing. You can’t get away from it. It’s an integral part of the responsibility that an individual bears as a commanding officer. And though it does force you to think your decisions through, a good skipper doesn’t let it dominate his thoughts and actions. A good skipper focuses on the positive aspects of command, which inevitably means focusing on the crew.