by Jack Ambraw
“I can’t believe Kippen’s overboard,” Hack said.
Decker kept his eyes focused on the ocean. “Me either, but he’s a good swimmer. A little wiry guy like that can tread water for a long time.”
“I hope you’re right,” Hack said. “I wouldn’t be able to survive in those waves. I barely passed the swim test in boot camp. They’d find me floating face down.”
“Not right away,” Decker said. “A body that drowns will sink. It takes several days for it to float.”
“That’s a pleasant thought,” said Hack. “Hey, what’s that smell?”
Big Mo walked towards the two sailors and sat between them, staring at the water the entire time. “Damn, not much of a moon tonight with the clouds. This sucks, man. They sure it’s Kippen?”
“He wasn’t at muster, and he’s either in the water or hiding somewhere,” said Decker. “By the way, you stink.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Mo sighed. “You try working in the engine room all day and night and see how you smell.”
“Have you thought of a shower now and then?” asked Decker.
Mo shrugged. “Thought about it, but I was too tired after watch to clean up. Just took off my coveralls and crawled in my rack. It’s the navy way.” Mo spotted Commander Doerr as he approached within a few feet in the dim light. “Here comes your boss.”
The supply officer sat next to them before they had a chance to stand. “What’s the word, fellas?”
“It’s too dark, sir,” Mo said. “It’s going to be tough to find Kippen, if he’s out there.”
“I agree,” said the commander. “Are we sure it’s him?”
“He’s the only one missing,” said Decker.
The commander and the three sailors sat on the flight deck without saying another word, silently scanning the ocean the best they could. The ship crawled along the same path of open ocean that had just been crossed. The helicopter circled the water in an ever-widening pattern. An hour later three Sikorsky SH-3 search-and-rescue helos from Cubi Point Naval Air Station joined the hunt. Four hours later, the group dropped out, one at a time. Suppo went first, telling the guys he was headed to the bridge. Mo left for watch a half hour later. Hack curled up on the deck shortly thereafter, nodding off in less than two minutes. Decker hung in for a little while longer, but his valiant effort to maintain a lookout for Kippen soon gave way to a lack of sleep. Exhaustion finally overtook him as he leaned back and rested his head on the deck.
CHAPTER THREE
0800, Thursday, December 26
The search continued into its third day. No sign of Kippen. An agent from the Naval Security and Investigative Command arrived on board the Harvey late Wednesday evening. Unwilling to pull into port, Captain Girard had requested that the investigator fly to the ship. He wasn’t about to give up the search and, just as important, one lost day at sea meant the crew would fall behind in its training schedule, a day that the captain was unwilling to forego because of an accident.
Interviews began early Thursday morning. Decker waited his turn, sitting on the mess decks with the others and writing in his Book of Dates. No one talked much. When they did have a conversation, it was in hushed tones. When did you last see Kippen? When did you last talk with him? How could he have fallen overboard? How rough was the sea that night?
Decker drifted in and out of the conversations, thinking about Monday night. He noticed Hack fidgeting with his watch. “Nervous?”
Hack dropped his hands to his sides. “A little.”
“No need to worry. You should get over your fear of authority figures.”
“There’s a death. And an investigation. I didn’t sign up for this stuff.”
“Not a death yet,” Decker corrected him. “They could still find Kippen, if he’s been able to stay afloat.”
“Then why do they want to talk with me?”
“You work with Kippen. It’s a routine procedure they have to follow. Just answer the questions. It’s as simple as that.”
“What questions?” Hack mumbled.
“Whatever they ask,” said Decker, sitting back in his chair. “I’m sure it’ll be a breeze.”
“You’re about to find out,” Hack said, pointing to the ladder leading down from the wardroom.
Decker turned and saw Commander Doerr slowly coming down the ladder from his interview with the investigators. Suppo walked over to Decker and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re next.”
Decker nodded in the affirmative, walked across the mess decks, and ambled up the ladder to the wardroom. He knocked and stepped into the room. A man in his early 30s, wearing a blue sport coat and tan slacks, stood near a sofa. No tie. His short brown hair, Marine style, shaved at the sides, made him look younger than his true age. Decker noticed his service record on a table beside the investigator’s chair.
“Petty Officer Decker, thank you for coming up here,” the man said. “I’m Agent Bogen. Call me Scott.”
“Nice to meet you,” Decker smiled, extending his hand.
“Okay then,” Bogen said. “I won’t take much of your time. This is a routine investigation we perform when there’s a missing person. A few questions and you’ll be on your way. How about something to drink? Water? Coffee?”
Decker surveyed the wardroom, noticing with envy the formal dining table and plush furniture. First-class accommodations compared to junior enlisted quarters. “Coffee if there’s some made. I don’t want to pass up an opportunity to use officer china.”
“You’re my kinda guy,” Bogen laughed. “I like the way you think. Sit down and I’ll get you some. Might have some myself, now that you mention it.”
Decker sat on a leather sofa and watched as Bogen found cups and saucers.
“Let’s get some background out of the way,” Bogen said as he poured coffee. “When did you report on board?”
“A year ago this past Monday, sir.”
“No need for the ‘sir’,” Bogen said. “How do you like it?”
“If you don’t mind the endless days at sea and the long workdays in port, I guess I like it okay,” Decker said. “Overnight duty every four days makes up for the bad times,” he added, sarcastically.
“I mean your coffee,” Bogen said.
“Sorry, I thought you meant the ship. Cream and a little sugar. The real stuff, if it’s there. I’ve never been a fan of artificial sweeteners.”
“I’m with you,” Bogen said. He filled two mugs and walked over to Decker. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, sir, I mean Mr. Bogen.”
“Don’t call me that, either. Mr. Bogen’s my father. Call me Scott.” He sat down and took a sip of his coffee. “Okay, back to the ship. You go to sea, and the work life isn’t the greatest, but how are things on board the Harvey? Everybody get along?”
“For the most part,” Decker nodded. “We all live as amicably as can be expected with five hundred guys crammed into the small living quarters of a Belknap-class cruiser.”
“Where were you stationed before reporting on board the Harvey?”
“This is my first duty station. I spent two months in boot camp in Orlando, and two months in supply school in Meridian, Mississippi.”
“When did you arrive in the Philippines?”
“A year ago this past Monday. I went straight from Clark Air Base to the ship.”
Bogen browsed his notes. “Okay, let’s see. You’ve been on board a year. How well do you know everybody in your department?”
“I know them all well. But, except for Hack Wilson, I don’t hang out with any of them.
“Why do you call him Hack?”
“His choice. I don’t think he likes Lewis as his first name. He’s named after a baseball player, a former Cub great, if there’s such a thing.”
Bogen laughed and scribbled something in his no
tebook. “How well did you know Petty Officer Kippen?”
“Did? I hope he’s still treading water and they find him.”
“You’re quite right,” said Bogen. “Thank you for correcting me. Now, how well do you know Kippen?”
“I’ve known him my entire time on board the Harvey.”
“How is he as a coworker? Does he seem to enjoy his work, and being on the ship?”
“As far as I can tell, he likes it as well as anybody. I’ve never heard him complain about anything other than the usual stuff.”
“What usual stuff?”
“You know, going to sea a lot. Long workdays under-way. The usual gripes sailors have.”
Bogen sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Has he ever mentioned anything that was bothering him? Maybe something with work, or in his personal life?”
Decker paused. “No, not that I can remember.”
Agent Bogen shifted positions in his seat. “You hesitated. Don’t hide anything.”
Decker focused on a welded seam in the bulkhead to his left. He had promised Kippen that he wouldn’t tell anyone about their late night conversation. But with Kippen missing, Decker knew the deal was off. “Monday night. He came looking for me topside.”
“What time was that?”
“Around 2230.”
“How long did you talk with him?”
Decker shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe 15 or 20 minutes. Then I went inside.”
“What did you talk about?”
“He was worried about some missing parts. And his girlfriend had broken up with him Sunday. He was tossing her letters overboard.”
Bogen rested his hands behind his head and stretched his legs. “What was his mood like?”
“Somewhat dejected. Must’ve been because of Claire.”
“The girlfriend?”
Decker nodded. “She’s transferring to CONUS and ended it.”
“Do you know her last name?”
“Shelley or Shelby. Something like that. I never had the chance to meet her. She’s in the air force stationed at Clark.”
Bogen took a slip a paper wrapped in a Mylar sleeve out of his notebook and handed it to Decker. “Someone found this topside along the starboard passageway forward of the fantail. We don’t have the second page with the writer’s name on it.”
Decker read the first line of the letter. “It’s probably from Claire. He was throwing her letters overboard. The wind must’ve blown it back on the ship. I told him it happened.”
Bogen took the letter from Decker and set it on a nightstand. “You mentioned missing parts. What did he say about them?”
“He just said some parts are missing and that he was worried he’d get blamed for them. I told him he’s just being a perfectionist. I reminded him it’s happened before.”
“What has? Missing parts?”
“No, things that he thinks are life and death that turn out to be nothing.”
“I see,” said Bogen. “Did Kippen mention anything else? People who disliked him or were out to get him?”
Decker shook his head. “No, and I can’t imagine him even getting into an argument with someone.”
Bogen put his notebook in his lap and sat back in his chair. “Where was he when you left him?”
“On the flight deck.”
“Where were you when he went overboard?”
“In my rack. Sleeping.”
“Can anybody verify that?”
Decker thought for a moment, suddenly becoming nervous.
“Just one or two names,” Bogen urged.
“Hack saw me.”
“And he can confirm that you were asleep when the alarm sounded?”
“I was in my rack,” Decker repeated.
Bogen stared at Decker. “It appears that you were the last person to have a conversation with Kippen. It’s important that someone can attest to your whereabouts.”
Decker started to reply when the forward wardroom door flew open. He saw who it was, and hastily shot to his feet.
CHAPTER FOUR
0800, Thursday, December 26
Captain Girard lumbered into the stateroom in crisply pressed khakis, making a beeline to the coffee pot. “Sit down, sit down. Don’t let me interrupt. Just looking for Cheng and the coffee.”
Bogen looked at Decker, confused.
“The Chief Engineer,” Decker whispered to the investigator. “He hasn’t been in here the past half hour, sir,” he replied to the captain.
Captain Girard glanced up from pouring coffee. “Okay well, he must be hiding from me.” He turned to Bogen. “Have you talked with whomever you needed to?”
“Yes, sir, I’ve been able to interview most of the people on my list. Some of the others have been on watch or asleep. I’ll talk to them later tonight, or tomorrow morning.”
“Just do what you have to do,” said the captain. “I’m saddened about the whole thing. An injury on board my ship is bad enough. To have someone fall overboard just makes me sick to my stomach.”
“I understand, sir. It’s a tragedy,” Bogen said, sympathetically.
The captain nodded and sipped from his mug. “What’s your assessment of it?”
Bogen caught Decker’s eye. “That’ll be all.” The investigator closed his notebook and extended a hand. “Petty Officer Decker, thank you for your time. If you think of anything else that Kippen may have said to you, here is my card. Call me anytime. I’m at the embassy in Manila, so I can be here quickly if need be. When you get to the mess decks, please tell Wilson I’m ready for him.”
Decker took the card and put it in his shirt pocket. “I will, sir. But that’s all I know.”
He walked out of the wardroom, closing the door behind him. He paused at the top of the ladder and realized that a bead of sweat had formed on his forehead. He took a deep breath, collected himself, and started to walk down the ladder. Then it hit him. A low, but audible, conversation coming through the thin metal door. He knelt to tie his shoes, his head as close to the door as he could get it without looking too obvious.
“At this stage, I haven’t reached a conclusion,” Bogen said. “But it looks like either an accident or suicide.”
“Suicide?” the captain grunted.
“Kippen’s girlfriend broke up with him the day before you got underway. Of course I’ll need to talk to a few more people, but that’s the way it’s looking.”
The captain grunted. “Yeah? Well, my money’s on it being an accident. I’ve warned these damn sailors about walking around the ship at night. Especially on a night when the seas were a little rough.”
“How rough were the seas, sir?” Bogen asked.
“Oh, nothing too terrible. Had some swells big enough to rock the ship a little.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad, sir,” Bogen said. “Especially for a ship this size.”
“You ever been to sea?”
“No, sir.”
“Yeah? Well, let me tell you about the waves. It doesn’t take much to rock a ship, even a ship of this size. Get a little water on deck and a sailor can lose his footing pretty easily.”
“I’m sure that can happen, sir.”
“You’re damn right it can happen. I was just telling the supply officer that it happens to me, maybe half a dozen times every cruise. The problem isn’t the waves, as much as the rolling of the sea. It can be smooth for a long stretch of ocean, then the ship hits a rolling wave, and wham, we get knocked to one side. It can take a person by surprise. Hell, we have enough broken furniture to prove that point.”
“I don’t doubt that, sir,” Bogen said. “Most everyone I’ve talk to has said the same thing. And they’ve all been very helpful.”
“What did they have to say?” asked the captain. “As far as I know, Kippen didn’t have a
ny enemies. He was 4.0 all the way in his evaluations. Never had a problem with him. And that’s saying something, being stationed in a place like Subic Bay with all sorts of distractions for young men.”
“From what I can gather, Kippen was well liked,” Bogen said. “Everyone had nice things to say about him. I couldn’t find a motive for anything malicious.”
“Another reason it makes me believe it was an accident,” said the captain. “Did you talk with the boiler techs who were on the fantail?”
“I did, sir. Their story is straightforward. Heard something in the water. Thought they saw a body float by. Went to the ship’s store to call the bridge about the man overboard.”
“We’re lucky they saw him. It annoys me that they were out there smoking at night, but I’m glad they saw him,” said the captain.
“It was very fortunate,” Bogen said. “We also spoke to Chief Fray. Apparently, he was also on the fantail prior to Kippen falling overboard, but went inside before it happened.”
“That’s what Suppo told me,” the captain said.
“What can you tell us about the chief?” asked Bogen.
“Solid perfomer. The top chief on board. I’m lucky to have several top-notch chiefs with me,” the captain added. “Hell, they run the ship. They get things done. And Chief Fray is as good as it gets.”
“That confirms what I’ve learned,” Bogen said. “Oh, and there is one more thing, sir. “It’s probably nothing, but something about missing inventory items came up in my interviews with Kippen’s shipmates.”
“What about it?”
“Petty Officer Decker told me just now that Kippen said he was looking for missing parts.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” said the captain. “We have thousands of parts on board this ship. Hell, there are more storerooms than I know about, and I’m the captain. I’ll check on it and let you know if I find out anything.”
“I’d appreciate that, sir,” Bogen said. “As for now, I’ve done all I can do. I’ll interview the others and be out of your hair when the ship returns to port.”
“That’d be much appreciated,” the captain said. “We’ll need to do a lot of work when we get back to Subic. I want you to do your job, but I also have a ship to run. We’re leaving on a six-month deployment to the Persian Gulf in a few months and I’m going to need all hands working when we return to base.”