Rules of Engagement (1991) (41 page)

Brad started to speak, but Harry held up his hand. "Wait, that's not the best part."

Laughing out loud for the first time in days, Brad sat down on the lower bunk. The tension that had gripped both of them was suddenly shattered by the mental picture of their ludicrous situation.

"The best part is the fact that if we get out of this bucket of shit we're in," Harry paused to take a drink, "we get to take off and get the shit scared out of us again."

"I know," Brad replied, laughing uproariously. "It seems unfair for us to have all the fun." They looked at each other, then burst out laughing again.

Harry made himself comfortable. "Tell me about Leigh Ann, and your trip to San Francisco. Does she know about this?"

"Oh, yes, she knows the whole story," Brad answered with a pained expression.

"She must'uv been impressed."

Brad laughed at himself. "Harry, give me a break. I already feel lower than a snake's belly in a wagon track."

"Seriously," Harry said with a straight face, "what do you think about her?"

Brad stared into his glass. "I don't know. She has many wonderful traits, but she's difficult to reason with. I really do love her, but we have some complications, not the least of which is her father."

Harry cocked his head and swirled his drink. "You're saying that you didn't charm the hell out of him?"

"He's against the war," Brad replied bitterly, "and apparently not enamored with military people. He's off on the left page somewhere, and I'm certainly not what he has in mind for his daughter."

"Well, have another splash," Harry chuckled. "Things can only go downhill from here."

"Thanks, Harry," Brad responded, giving Hutton a caustic look. "You're a real comfort."

Brad lay awake, staring into the darkness while he listened to the hoarse breathing from the top bunk. Thinking about Bull Durham and Russ Lunsford made his situation seem relatively insignificant. How long would they be held captive? Would they survive the ordeal, or die from being tortured and malnourished? As hard as he tried, Brad could not shake the remorse that he felt for his friends in captivity.

He had received a pleasant letter from Cordelia Durham. She had included her mother's telephone number, and had requested that Brad call her again when he had an opportunity. She had told him about her move to her mother's home the day after Brad's previous call, and how well her pregnancy wa
s p
rogressing. Cordelia had avoided talking about her husband until the last sentence of the letter. She had simply said, "God, I miss Lincoln."

Suddenly, the waist catapult fired with a boom and slammed into the water brakes with a resounding thud. The impact caused the carrier to shudder.

"Holy Christ," Harry said, sleepily turning on his reading light. "What the hell is going on?"

Brad got out of bed and turned on the light. "They're exercising the cats."

"Well, the shitbirds picked a helluva time to do it."

After checking the time, Brad grabbed his soap, shampoo, and towel. "I'm going to take a shower before our breakfast is served."

Harry mumbled and closed his eyes, drifting in and out of sleep until Brad returned.

While Brad dressed, Harry crawled out of his bunk and ambled to the head. A few minutes later, a wardroom steward delivered their breakfast in containers covered with aluminum foil.

Brad waited for Harry to return before opening his meal. They were in the middle of their first bite when they heard a knock on the door. "Come in," Harry said after swallowing.

Commander Dan Bailey opened the door, startling the two men. Brad and Harry started to jump to their feet.

"As you were," Bailey ordered, taking a seat next to Brad on the lower bunk. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, lighting it while he observed Brad and Harry. Neither man said a word, quietly placing their forks on the paper plates.

"Well, gentlemen," he inhaled slowly, "your future is currently being discussed in the admiral's quarters."

The telephone rang, interrupting the CO. Brad and Harry looked at each other in alarm. Was it Jon and Mario? Bailey gave them a questioning look when neither one made an attempt to answer the phone. Brad reached for it, removing his hand when it did not ring again.

Smiling, Bailey blew a ring of smoke. "You might as wel
l a
nswer next time. I'm sure your informer has some interesting news to pass along." Bailey watched the red creep into their faces. "It'll save me from being interrupted again."

Twelve seconds later the telephone rang again, shattering the quiet in the tension-filled room. "Give them my regards," Bailey said, watching Brad attempt to contain a laugh.

"Captain Austin," he answered, turning his face away from the CO. "Hi. Hey, the skipper just stopped by . . . said to give you his regards."

Harry coughed and replaced the aluminum foil over his meal. "I sure will. Thanks again," Brad said, hurriedly replacing the receiver.

Bailey turned serious. "The representative from the State Department, with his entourage in tow, just came aboard a few minutes ago. They're talking with the admiral as we speak."

Brad and Harry sat, unblinking, hanging on every word. This was it. The time to face the consequences had arrived with sudden finality.

"I don't know anything else at the moment," Bailey continued in a friendly, fatherly way, "but I'd advise you to be ready for inspection."

"Yes, sir," they answered, setting their meals aside.

"I can tell you this," Bailey said, glancing around their stateroom, "I put in all the good words I could, and the admiral is in your corner, believe me."

Bailey watched the happy reaction on their faces. "He's a fighter jock from the old school," Bailey paused and stood, "and you endeared yourselves to him by eliminating Nguyen Dao."

"Thanks, Skipper," Brad said, extending his hand, "no matter what happens."

Bailey shook both of their hands. "Just tell your story, and don't bullshit anyone."

"Yes, sir."

Nodding his head, the CO left the room.

"Well, partner," Brad said, "put on your flak jacket, and stand by for action."

Chapter
37.

The flag bridge was unusually crowded when Brad and Harry were asked into the admiral's cabin. The commander who had invited them in told the two men to stand at ease.

Admiral Keuseman sat at his desk, flanked by a beefy civilian in a wrinkled seersucker suit and a navy captain in dress blues. The civilian, who had a sour look on his face, removed his thick glasses and slowly ran his eyes over the two fliers. His scrutiny made them even more uncomfortable.

"Good morning, gentlemen," the admiral said pleasantly, as the commander and another civilian stepped out of the cabin and closed the door.

"Good morning, Admiral," Brad replied while Harry nodded his head. Brad was familiar with the procedures involved in military hearings and investigations. He had studied the procedures at length, and had served as a member of an investigation board. This hearing was far different from anything he had read about or experienced.

Harry had the same unsettling feeling. Something strange was happening. The atmosphere in the spacious cabin was strained.

"Have a seat," Keuseman ordered, motioning toward the couch. "This is Mister Ogilvie, from the State Department, and Captain Emmett from CINCPAC."

Harry and Brad acknowledged the introductions. The captain sat stone still, examining Austin. The two strangers recognized the pilot and his RIO from the photographs that accompanied their service records.

The admiral shifted in his chair. "I'm going to turn this over to Captain Emmett. John?"

The stern-looking man wearing the insignia of a submariner moved forward in his chair. "The first thing we have to establish," the former submarine commander paused, "is that the two of you did, in fact, commit a transgression by flying over an unauthorized air base and destroying an enemy fighter on the ground."

Emmett bore in on Brad. "Is that exactly what happened, Captain Austin?"

"Not quite, sir."

The submariner's eyes narrowed. "Did you, or did you not, shoot down a MiG and attack a taxiing fighter at Phuc Yen? That's what I see in both the message and the report I'm holding."

"Yes, I shot down the fighter over Phuc Yen, and fired at an aircraft on the ground," Brad darted a look at the admiral, "but I trust you will give me an opportunity to explain the extenuating circumstances."

Emmett's facial expression reflected irritation. "Talk, Captain. Explain your breach of the regulations, and make it succinct. We are on a tight schedule."

Brad drew a quick breath. "Captain, the airborne MiG in question was flown by Major Dao, North Vietnam's second-leading ace. In the heat of battle, my close friends--my flight leader and his RIO--were shot down by Major Dao."

"That fact, no matter how tragic," Emmett frowned, "did not give you license to attack a restricted area."

Harry shifted uncomfortably but contained his nervous cough. He focused on a plaque over the admiral's head.

"May I finish, Captain?" Brad asked, drawing a sharp look from Emmett.

"We're waiting."

Speaking clearly, Brad stared back at Emmett. "I would assume, sir, from seeing the dolphins on your chest, that you have never flown a fighter in combat."

Emmett gave him a cold, menacing look. "You're walking a fine line, Captain, and it would serve you well to remember that fact."

Admiral Keuseman arched his eyebrows, giving Brad a silent warning.

"Captain Emmett, this was not a premeditated act. I didn't go to Phuc Yen with the intent of shooting up the field or dropping ordnance on anyone. My intent was to kill a MiG ace. I reacted instantaneously, focused on one mission--to kill Major Dao before he added a ninth airplane and crew to his credit."

Harry finally coughed.

"Sir," Brad continued, trying to keep his emotions in check, "I was determined to destroy Dao, and I chased him down. I didn't have any control over where his airplane crashed." Brad took a deep breath. "I was wrong to shoot at the aircraft on the ground."

Silence filled the room. Emmett rolled a pencil back and forth between his palms. "Lieutenant Hutton, is that exactly what happened?"

Harry braced himself and spoke in a confident voice. "Yes, sir, that is precisely what happened."

"I understand," Emmett perused his notes, "from reading your statements in the report that you tried to talk Captain Austin out of breaking the rules and flying over a restricted airfield. Is that true?"

Taking his time, Harry formed an answer. "I pointed out various options in regard to the restrictions we have to deal with. Low to the ground, in the middle of a supersonic dogfight, is not the time to distract your pilot."

"Answer yes or no," Emmett spat. "Did you attempt to talk Captain Austin out of breaking the rules of engagement?" "Yes, sir."

Emmett folded his hands and stared at Brad for what seemed an eternity. He had used the tactic many times to break the resolve of individuals whom he had investigated.

"Captain Austin," Emmett said, scribbling a hasty note. "We have established, by your own admission, that you did commit a breach of the rules of engagement."

Brad felt the tension increasing throughout his body. "That is correct, Captain. I broke the rules because we are warriors without competent civilian leadership
. W
e the people of our country need clear objectives in this war. We're wasting a hell of a lot of lives because of the flawed policies emanating from the civilians in the White House."

"You," Ogilvie shot back, pointing a pen at Brad, "are in deep trouble. I suggest that you keep that in mind, and conduct yourself accordingly."

Austin remained silent, staring back at the State Department official.

"Brad," Admiral Keuseman said with a firm voice, "I understand your feelings, but you will cooperate fully."

"Yes, sir."

"Captain," Emmett continued, "have you broken the rules of engagement before this incident?"

"No, sir, I have not."

Emmett turned to face Harry. "Is that correct, Lieutenant?"

"That," Harry stammered, "was my first flight with Captain
Austin. I know him well, and he doesn't disregard rules." Emmett swiveled to ask Keuseman a question. "Admiral, I'
d l
ike to hear from Captain Austin's usual RIO."

"John," Keuseman frowned, "his former RIO, Lieutenant Lunsford, was in the flight leader's aircraft. As you know, the crew was captured as soon as they landed."

Emmett jotted another note. "Captain Austin, CINCPAC would like to hang your ass out to dry, but there are complications. I'l
l l
et Mister Ogilvie explain the situation, then we'll discuss your future."

Harry gently tapped the sole of Brad's shoe. Neither man showed outwardly the glow of hope they felt inside.

The State Department representative opened his attache case and removed a piece of paper. He gave Brad a frigid look. "Captain, for political reasons, the State Department has been directed to deny that the incident at Phuc Yen ever happened. The mandate originated in the White House."