Larry Bond: Cold Choices

Unusually, daylight and sounds from outside filtered into the space. A loading ramp angled from Seawolf’s deck, just aft of the sail, down through two decks into the torpedo room. Because Mark 48 torpedoes are twenty and a half feet long and weigh almost two tons, a special loading tray had been rigged to control their downward journey. Torpedomen handled the massive weapons as if they were made of glass, while Chief Johnson watched their every move. One torpedoman wore a set of sound-powered phones, communicating with the rest of the loading detail above.

Jerry paused in the doorway, taking in the division’s progress and deciding if this was a good time to talk to Palmer. He was reluctant to distract men loading explosives, but the jaygee saw him and walked over.

“What’s up, Nav?” Palmer’s good mood almost gave Jerry another excuse to delay telling him, but it had to be done.

“You’re going to conn the boat out when we leave on the fifteenth,” Jerry said simply.

Palmer acted like he’d been shot. “Oh, no.” If he hadn’t been leaning on a fitting, he might have fallen down. He was obviously remembering his last attempt, which had cost the navy a splintered piling and nearly a crushed sonar dome.

“You need this ticket punched, Jeff.” Jerry’s tone was firm, but positive.

Jeff Palmer was taller than Jerry, though slim. He seemed to shrink as he reluctantly nodded agreement. “You’re right, I have to do this.”

“And you’ll have to answer questions about underway procedures for the XO day after tomorrow. He’ll see you in his stateroom right after lunch.”

A pale redhead, Palmer turned white. “He’ll grind me up like hamburger! I’ll never be able to satisfy him.”

“Do you think the XO’s going to deliberately trip you up?”

“No, but you know what will happen.”

Jerry sighed, but managed to do it on the inside. Palmer had developed a real confidence problem, but Jerry wasn’t going to blow sunshine at him. That wasn’t his job, and it didn’t really help the guy. Still, he needed to be positive.

“Jeff, you know the material, you’ve proven that to me. If you want to stay in subs, you’ve got to show the XO you know it, then use it to get Seawolf under way safely.”

“What if I can’t get past the XO?”

“Then I’ll have Santana take her out,” Jerry answered flatly. Ensign San-tana was the electrical officer, and was also working on his qualification. To himself, Jerry added, “And you’ll be off the boat and out of subs the day we get back from patrol.”

“Who will be the OOD?” asked Palmer hesitantly.

“Mr. Hayes,” Jerry replied, and then with a slight grin, “And yes, he knows what he’s getting into.”

“Thanks, Nav. I’m not too popular with my department head right now. And I don’t think I could be up on the bridge with him again. At least not right away.”

“You’re right, he’s not happy with your progress,” said Jerry frankly. “And yes, he was upset about your earlier attempt, and not just because he was the OOD. It’s his job to push you, Jeff. If Greg Wolfe had given you up as a lost cause, would he have spent all those hours working with you?”

“No, sir,” answered Palmer quietly.

“All right then. Get your act together and show him you are capable of conning a boat on the surface. You know what to do. You just need to muster the intestinal fortitude and do it. Okay?”

“Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

“Correct answer, Mr. Palmer,” remarked Jerry. “Now you’d better get back to supervising the weapons loading evolution.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Palmer replied with a little more confidence. “And Nav. thanks.”

Tuesday afternoon

USS Seawolf, executive officer’s stateroom

When Jeff Palmer knocked on the XO’s door and went inside, Jerry stayed in the passageway. The XO had required Jerry to be here, but Palmer would have to answer Shimko’s questions alone.

Which was as it should be, Jerry mused. So why was he here at all, he asked himself. Not moral support. The XO had left the door cracked, so Jerry could hear Palmer’s performance.

“Mr. Palmer. What will the tides be when we get under way?”

“Ebb tide, sir. Two feet above mean low water, with a two-knot current.”

“And the weather?”

“High scattered clouds, light winds from the south, about sixty-five degrees. That’s as of this morning according to the NOAA website. I’ll check…”

“What rudder and bells will you start with?”

“Well, sir, last time I used back one-third and twenty—”

The XO interrupted Palmer. “I didn’t ask for a history lesson, mister. What rudder and bells would you use this time, if I let you take her out?”

There was a pause, a little longer than Jerry would have liked, and then Palmer said, “The same. Back one-third and twenty-five degrees right rudder.” Jerry started to worry. He thought Palmer would last longer before getting rattled, but the XO knew where to apply pressure. Which might be what he wanted Jerry to see.

“What orders are you giving the tug?”

“None yet, sir. I have to get our stern swung out. ”

“Won’t that smash our bow into the pier?” The XO’s tone was neutral, with just a tinge of concern. He was challenging Palmer’s answers now.

Palmer stammered, but he knew the answer. “I have to limit the swing to no more than thirty degrees. There’s a tower on the north shore you can use as a mark. As the rudder swings past that point, I tell the tug to start backing. ”

“The tug’s suffered an engineering casualty.” Shimko’s tone was still flat, but he spoke quickly.

“Sir?”

“The tug captain tells you he’s suffered a breakdown. His engines are dead. He can’t give you any help.”

Jerry didn’t hear an answer right away, and counted the seconds. He imagined the wheels spinning in Palmer’s head, and hoped they were finding traction.

“Put number three line back over, then shift to ahead one-third. Use side force from the screw and pivot on number three to push the bow away from the pier.” Palmer sounded tentative. If Jerry heard it, so did the XO.

“But you’re using ahead engines. Won’t that drive our bow into the pier?” More concern in the XO’s tone, mixed with skepticism. He was really leaning on Palmer. Shimko remembered Palmer’s first underway as well. He knew Palmer would be worried about the bow.

“I’d only leave it on for a moment, sir. We have some sternway. As soon as our sternway was off…”

“But what about the tug? As the bow swings around, won’t we hit the tug? We’re big enough to cave in his hull.”

That was a sucker question. Since the tug was up against Seawolf’s side, with fenders rigged, there was no chance of damage. Jerry waited for Palmer’s reply And waited.

“Sir, I’m not sure. ” Palmer’s voice was more than unsure.

“The tug skipper’s on the radio, yelling that he’s holding you personally responsible for any damage to his vessel.”

“Sir. ”

Jerry was waiting for Palmer to implode when the door to the captain’s stateroom opened and Rudel stepped into the passageway. Jerry stepped back out of the way, and the skipper politely nodded to him as he walked to the XO’s stateroom. Knocking on the half-open door, he walked in without waiting for a reply.

Jerry heard him ask lightly, “So XO, what’s the situation?” Shimko quickly summarized the scenario and pointedly remarked, “I’m still waiting for Mr. Palmer’s answer.” After a short pause, he added, “Mr. Palmer is liable for any damage to the tug.”

Jerry was tempted to peek inside, but he didn’t really need to, and certainly didn’t want to be seen. He listened to Rudel ask softly, “Mr. Palmer, do you know the answer to the XO’s question?” His question demanded an answer, but at the same time had a positive tone.