U.S.S. Seawolf (55 page)

The CNO had argued for a week that the preliminary reports were private to the United States Navy, and that no one beyond CINCPAC should have access to their contents, certainly not the parent of one of the significant officers. Certainly not the father of the man who might very well have had the conn of the submarine on that fateful morning.

But the President’s men had come out fighting, arguing that as Commander-in-Chief of the United States Armed Forces he had the right to see any documents he so wished. For five days the rights and wrongs of the Presidential position had been debated, and finally it was agreed that the deadlock should go to immediate arbitration, and the decision of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Tim Scannell, would be final.

General Scannell took only a half hour to rule against the President, on the grounds that it would compromise him unforgivably throughout the investigation. It would be, he said, “just plain wrong for the President to be seen trying to gain any advantage whatsoever for Lieutenant Commander Clarke. Certainly he cannot be seen attempting to obtain a preview of the case, and then acting on it, against the interests of other serving officers.”

Nonetheless, the President had secured one advantage for his son, a most unusual advantage in a U.S. Navy Board of Inquiry. He had gained permission for Linus to have one of the best lawyers in the country sitting with him throughout the entire evidence. The attorney was the urbane and learned Philip Myerscough, who was not permitted to make any statement whatsoever, but was permitted to question witnesses. Admiral Mulligan made it
clear that he would not tolerate any civilian cross-examining witnesses, as they might in a regular court of law. However, Mr. Myerscough would be allowed to “probe and clarify” certain points of evidence. But he would answer at all times to Admiral Cameron and, if necessary, to Lieutenant Commander Kirk.

Judd Crocker’s father, the 66-year-old Admiral Nathaniel Crocker, himself a former destroyer commander, had flown to the West Coast to meet with his son and visit his daughter-in-law. And for the past few weeks he had taken a keen academic interest in the forthcoming case. The moment it was agreed that Lieutenant Commander Clarke would be permitted an attorney in his corner, he insisted that
Seawolf
’s CO should also have one.

He appointed an old friend with whom he had attended the Naval Academy in Annapolis back in 1960—Art Mangone, who had lasted only six years in dark blue before leaving to take a belated law degree at UCLA. Art liked the law better than he liked submarines, and had been practicing in La Jolla, the coastal suburb of San Diego, since 1976. The investigation of USS
Seawolf
would grant him a chance to combine knowledge acquired in both his careers.

“The only thing I know about Mangone as a lawyer is that he plays golf to a five handicap,” said the admiral. “But I trust him, he’s a gentleman, and he’s free.”

“Spoken like a true Boston Yankee,” observed Judd.

And now the scene was set. Captain Crocker and his attorney, plus Lieutenant Commander Clarke and his, would sit in the courtroom throughout all of the evidence.

And now Admiral Cameron called the Board of Inquiry to order, read out the formalities, and requested the first witness to enter the room and swear to tell the truth.

The routine examination of each witness would be undertaken by the vastly experienced ex-Polaris commander Rear Admiral Curran. At the conclusion of his questioning, other members of the board would ask their
questions and then the two attorneys would be permitted to elaborate on certain points should Admiral Cameron deem it relevant.

After the regular establishment of identity and career, Lt. Andrew Warren,
Seawolf
’s Officer of the Deck, turned to face Admiral Curran directly.

“Lieutenant Warren,” he said. “Will you tell us where you were between the hours of oh-four hundred and oh-eight hundred on the morning of July fifth this year?”

“Yessir. I was on duty in the submarine
Seawolf
in the South China Sea. I served as Officer of the Deck.”

“And did your duties take you to various different stations in the submarine?”

“Yessir.”

“And did you spend some time in the control room?”

“Yessir.”

“And were you able to see who had the conn at all times?”

“Yessir. Whenever I was in there.”

“And would you mind telling the board who did have the conn during your watch?”

“Yessir. For a short while, maybe a half hour when I first came on duty, Captain Crocker had the ship. Then he went to his bunk, and Lieutenant Commander Clarke took over. I was in the conn at the watch change.”

“And how would you describe the period of time while Commander Clarke had the ship?”

“Fine, at first, just like always. But then something terrible happened.”

“Would you describe that?”

“Yessir. At around oh-five-thirty, our sonar picked up a Chinese destroyer coming toward us at flank speed.”

“Lieutenant Commander Clarke had the conn, correct?”

“Yessir. And then the destroyer slowed right down. We were twenty-four hundred yards off her starboard beam.” I had the conn while Linus Clarke used the periscope. He ordered me to keep the ship straight and level, which I did.”

“And then?”

“Lieutenant Commander Clarke was going in closer. He was after some close-up shots of the extra-large housing for the towed array, which he could see on the stern.”

“Did he say he was going in closer?”

“Yessir.”

“And did you reply?”

“Yessir. I said, ‘steady, sir, we don’t know how long that towed array is.’”

“Do you normally issue that kind of advice to your Executive Officer?”

“Nossir. In this case I meant it as some kind of a warning. In good faith, sir.”

“And did Lieutenant Commander Clarke reply?”

“Yessir.”

“And what did he say to you?”

“He said, ‘don’t worry, Andy.’ Then he said he would not go in closer than a mile. I remember he said the towed array ‘won’t be that long, will it?’ And he mentioned that it would be angled down in the water, not straight out like a submarine.”

“And what happened then?”

“Well, by now Master Chief Brad Stockton was in the control room, and he spoke up suddenly. He said he thought the CO should be informed we were ‘groping around the ass of a six-thousand-ton destroyer.’ I remember his words very well.”

“And was he issuing those words to Lieutenant Commander Clarke in an informative way, because he thought the XO did not know what he was actually doing?”

“Oh, nossir. He was telling the XO to inform the CO of our actions.”

“And did the lieutenant commander heed that warning?”

“Nossir. He said there was no need to alert the CO. He was just going to take the destroyer’s stern a mile off and take some pictures.”

“And did the Master Chief reply?”

“Yessir, he said again that, in his opinion the CO should definitely be informed because this was a critical part of our mission.”

“And did Lieutenant Commander Clarke heed that second warning?”

“Nossir. He did not. He said in his judgment, he was fine. And then he ordered the course change to cross the destroyer’s stern.”

“You still had the conn?”

“Yessir. He ordered me to steer right standard rudder, course zero-nine-zero at eight knots.”

“And did you do so?”

“Yessir.”

“And what happened then?”

“Sir, I thought we had made it, but there was a sudden slowing down in power. We were still at PD, and I could feel there was a slight alteration in trim, stern-down just fractionally. The regular beat of the machinery was just different, and we were slowing down, definitely not completing our crossing of the destroyer’s stern.”

“Were you able to ascertain what had happened, Lieutenant?”

“I KNEW what had happened, sir. We’ve had enough talk about the length of the new Chinese towed arrays.”

“And then what happened?”

“Captain Crocker came charging into the conn.”

“No longer asleep?”

“Nossir. Wide awake, and not real pleased with Lieutenant Commander Clarke.”

“Did he realize what had happened?”

“Nossir. Not immediately. He kinda snapped, ‘What’s going on, XO?’ Then he grabbed the periscope and took a very quick look before it washed under the water because of our stem-down trim.”

“How long was he able to look?”

“I’d say about three seconds. No longer.”

“And was that long enough?”

“Definitely long enough for the CO, sir.”

“How do you know?”

“Sir, he solved the problem right away. He said the destroyer was only five hundred yards away. Not the mile Lieutenant Commander Clarke had stated. He said the XO had turned the periscope handle the wrong way, right onto low power, which made it look like a mile when it was nothing like that.”

“And did the XO reply?”

“Yessir, he did. He said, ‘Oh my God,’ twice. And then he said he was extremely sorry.”

At this point Myerscough sprang to his feet and said that he objected to this line of hearsay questioning involving his client.

Admiral Archie Cameron was furious. He ordered, “SILENCE.” And then he said quietly, “Mr. Myerscough, if you attempt to interrupt these military proceedings one more time, I’ll have you escorted out of the room, and right off the station, by Navy guards. You may speak when I say you can speak, and at no other time. Do you understand me?”

It was a while since Myerscough had been spoken to in quite those terms. But he was not about to tangle with this admiral, and he did not think he would be much thanked by the President for being evicted in the first hour of the proceedings.

And so he just nodded formally, apologized and sat down. The admiral then added, “I do not consider the sworn testimony of a lieutenant in the United States Navy, and second officer of the deck at the time, to be giving us hearsay when he recounts a conversation that took place within five feet of where he was standing.…Please continue, Admiral Curran.”

“Lieutenant, was it your impression that Lieutenant Commander Clarke agreed with the CO’s assessment or his error?”

“Yessir. Very definitely. He was really upset. Very apologetic.”

“Did you, the officer with the conn, agree with the CO’s assessment?”

“Absolutely, sir. No doubt in my mind. The difference between five hundred yards and one mile through a periscope is unmistakable.”

“Quite so,” replied Admiral Curran, a lifelong submariner himself. And with that, he said he had no further questions for
Seawolf
’s Officer of the Deck, though his colleagues might wish to question him further.

Admiral Cameron conferred with his colleagues very briefly, and they were in agreement that this was as far as the investigation should go—to the point where the submarine became disabled. No further.

“Very well,” said Admiral Cameron. “The attending lawyers may now ask questions of the witness. But I do stress, this is not some kangaroo civilian court. This is a United States Navy Board of Inquiry. And I will not tolerate theatrics or aggression toward one of my trusted submarine officers.”

“I have no questions, sir,” said Art Mangone.

“I have a few,” said Philip Myerscough, rising to his feet on behalf of the President of the United States. “First, I would like to ask whether three seconds is a sufficient amount of time to make a judgment call of this dimension?”

“Plenty, sir. We are all trained to make the fastest possible observations through the periscope. Seven seconds is routine maximum in hostile waters. Captain Crocker is renowned for his grasp of the surface picture. He’s the best, sir. The best I ever saw.”

“That was rather more than I asked for, Lieutenant,” said Mr. Myerscough, not quite interrupting, but almost. “Perhaps you could restrict your answers to my precise question, rather than adding on a character reference for. your CO.”

“Absolutely, sir. No problem right there. I just thought you’d like to know, sir.…he’s the best.”

Philip Myerscough visibly flinched. But he recovered
and then said, with civilian inexactitude, “So you believe that short space of time would be fine to make such a judgment?”

“Oh sure, sir. Three seconds’ concentration, for a man trained like Captain Crocker…no problem. He probably could’ve done it in one second.”

Admirals Cameron and Curran could hardly contain their thin smiles at the obvious discomfort of a city lawyer trying to deal with Navy precision.

“Lieutenant,” said Mr. Myerscough. “You stated that you thought Lieutenant Commander Clarke was plainly upset and apologetic. Could you have been mistaken in that assumption?”

“Nossir.”

“On what do you base that assumption?”

“It’s not an assumption, sir. It’s a fact. He was upset and apologetic. I heard him saying, ‘Oh my God,’ and I heard him say, ‘I’m extremely sorry.’”

“Are you quite sure of that? Because Lieutenant Commander Clarke has a very different recollection.”

“He was probably too upset to think straight right then, sir. Anyone would have been. You make a mistake like that. Sir, I even recall what Captain Crocker said after the XO said how sorry he was.”

“I have not asked you to recount that.”

“Nossir. But I’m real happy to tell you. He said, ‘So am I, Linus. So am I.’”

“No further questions.” Mr. Myerscough shook his head in some exasperation, as if unable to cope with the ingenuous, no-lies, no-bullshit mind-set of a Navy officer accustomed to telling the truth to all higher authority. Lieutenant Warren, like everyone else, had it ingrained in him since first he entered Annapolis and was told, “The only thing they’ll throw you out for is lying. So don’t even consider telling one. They’ll forgive damn near anything, except for a lie. That’s death in the Naval Academy.”

“Call Master Chief Brad Stockton.…”

Recovered now from the battering he had taken in Xiachuan Dao, the Master Chief entered the room and walked purposefully to the front, saluted the admirals and swore to tell the truth.

Admiral Curran walked him through the first exchanges and then concentrated on the significant points.