Admiral Greening viewed the situation with such seriousness, he consulted immediately with the Pacific Submarine Chief, Admiral Freddie Curran. And the two men left Hawaii that evening for Washington, to consult with the CNO, and then with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, before taking the matter inevitably to the White House.
There was nothing on record in the annals of the U.S. Navy that showed a court-martial for mutiny, and the CNO, Admiral Alan Dixon, was especially anxious for that situation not to change, certainly not on his watch. Because mutinies, although rare, possess a special glory of their own. The leader inevitably presents himself as a Samaritan, saving his ship from disaster. Worse yet, he is frequently believed. Even in fiction, the most famous case being The Caine Mutiny, Captain Queeg was widely accepted as some kind of obvious nutcase.
Admiral Dixon greeted Admiral Greening with grave concern. Essentially this should have been the province of the Submarine Fleet Commander, Admiral Curran, but it was likely to be bigger than all three of them. And one hour later, only one fact was obvious: To get rid of the spectacle of putting a Navy hero on trial for his life and career, it would be necessary to stop Commander Reid from pressing charges.
Even then, a Navy Board of Inquiry might very well recommend a court-martial. In fact, they would almost certainly recommend that in any instance of mutiny on the high seas, the offending officer must, by the very nature of his crime, face the most searching examination by his peers.
That, of course, was all very fine, since Navy Boards of Inquiry can be carried out in the strict privacy of the service. But there are certain crimes, transgressions and errors that, if committed by a senior officer, must be examined. And certain findings must, by their very seriousness, be continued into a court-martial.
The U.S. Navy is not as stringent as the Royal Navy in these matters, but they both operate out of a near-identical rule book. And whereas the Americans are often content with a Board of Inquiry, and a stern letter of censure to the officer concerned, the Royal Navy is much more inclined to court-martial, on principle, any officer who manages to lose, or even mislay, his ship. And that applies to a departmental chief who is considered to have created a major foul-up.
Practically the only exception to those rules occurred in the Battle for the Falkland Islands in 1982, when Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher made it subtly clear she wanted no tarnish upon the shining glory of victory.
Admiral Alan Dixon was extremely worried. They must, he knew, convene a Board of Inquiry, just as soon as Shark reached San Diego. And although it might be possible to lean on its members not to recommend court-martial, that was a risky course of action. Members of official Navy boards are apt to consider themselves sacrosanct in all their deliberations, and they would be fully capable of recommmending a court-martial, and making their decision public.
Meanwhile he and the two Admirals from Pearl Harbor were obliged to inform the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs that they stood on the verge of a public relations nightmare, and that they faced a terrible quandary: Do we charge and court-martial Lt. Commander Dan Headley for “mutiny in a U.S. warship on the high seas”? More important, What the hell can we do to stop it?
At 0900 the following morning they all stood in the office of the CJC, General Tim Scannell, and deliberated the problem…to court-martial the hero of the Bay of Bengal, the fearless Naval Lieutenant Commander who drove into the face of the enemy, destroyed that enemy and rescued one of the finest U.S. Navy SEALs assault teams ever to serve the American people.
“Jesus Christ,” said General Scannell. “The Big Man, over yonder, is not going to love this.”
Nor did he. The three Admirals and the General carefully explained the ramifications to Arnold Morgan, and the President’s National Security Adviser told them the whole scenario was a “complete goddamned horror story.” And his reason was, characteristically, one that they themselves had not considered.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I may not yet be ready to inform the People’s Republic of China about our actions, neither in the Strait of Hormuz, nor in the Bassein River Delta. I intend to let them know when I’m good and ready, but that may not be quite yet. Now, the trouble with a court-martial, such as the one you are considering, is that it will promote, for one reason or another, outrage.
“Outrage, on the one hand, in support of the case of an American hero, recognized by the SEALs as the savior of their mission. Then there will be another kind of outrage, by the traditionalists, on behalf of the Commanding Officer, outrage that any half-assed little two-and-a-half can suddenly seize command and control of a U.S. Navy nuclear submarine just because he doesn’t damned well agree with something.
“Either way, whichever way a court-martial jumps, you’re gonna get outrage. And you know what outrage does? It makes people talk. Animatedly and indiscreetly. In short, gentlemen, it blows gaffs, hard and fast. It causes people to vent their outrage to media assholes and other third-class citizens. And it causes that which we want to remain secret, for the greater good, suddenly to become very public.
“Media assholes, who know close to nothing in any depth about any subject, cannot tell the difference between what they believe is an exciting and dramatic story and blowing a major secret straight to the pain-in-the-ass Chinese, in flagrant disregard for the stability of world peace and world markets. That’s what being a media asshole is. They have to take an examination in advanced ignorance and intermediate crassness before they’re allowed to join.
“But, and you can mark my words on this, not one of them will put in a check call to the military—Is this okay to use? Or might it put us in a compromising position with the Chinese?
“No, gentlemen, that is not what they will do. They will instead seize upon the outrage of someone involved in this court-martial and blab it all over the earth, to the possible damage of the USA. And not one of them will give a damn about the consequences. Children, gentlemen. Always remember, they are essentially children. Which is why we gotta try to head off this court-martial.”
Admiral Morgan’s military visitors nodded in agreement. Alan Dixon was extremely worried. “It’s just the procedures, Arnie,” he said. “And you know them better than I do. Right here, we have a wounded, hurt and dangerous commanding officer. He’s been humiliated in front of his friends, in front of his peers and in front of his family. There is nothing else in his mind except clearing his name. On the other hand, we have a plainly gallant and probably brilliant XO who, for whatever reason, believed his own CO was prepared to let the SEAL team die. So he seized the ship, arrested the CO and carried out his own program perfectly, destroyed the enemy and saved the SEALs.”
“Well said, CNO,” replied the NSA. “That states it just like it is. And I realize there is no way we can avoid a formal Navy Board of Inquiry. Just to establish the facts. It’s the events after that which may burn out of control. Because to exonerate Headley, they gotta write the CO off as some kind of nut. And they will not do that unless they are certain, to a man, that the guy is deranged.”
“And that’s not going to happen,” said Admiral Freddie Curran. “Commander Reid is going to show up at the inquiry, all scrubbed up in his number-ones, and give his evidence in tones of calm, but surprised, incredulity. They might make him look a bit eccentric, but no group of veteran officers serving on a Naval board is going to write off a fellow officer, of thirty years standing, ten of them commanding a nuclear submarine. There, but for the grace of God, go I.”
“Then our only chance,” said Admiral Morgan, “is to get with Commander Reid, as soon as he arrives back in the USA, and try to persuade him to admit he was not feeling well, and that he handed over command of the Shark voluntarily to his XO, who performed heroically.”
“That is correct, Admiral,” replied the CNO. “But there’s not a snowball’s chance in Hell of his agreeing to that. I can nearly guarantee we’ll find a man bent on revenge, determined to punish the men who overthrew him in his own ship.”
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“Yes. I am afraid you are right,” replied Admiral Morgan. “But we have to try. Because in the end, if Commander Reid wants that XO court-martialed, the Navy will have absolutely no option but to court-martial him.”
“And at that moment, we will be holding the flimsiest of redoubts against a massively hostile press and public. And I, for one, am not looking forward to it,” said Admiral Dixon.
“Do you think we could try the national security tack, the highly classified nature of the entire mission?”
“That’s probably our best shot, sir,” replied Admiral Dixon. “And certainly the one we should try first—and of course we do have the argument that events proved Lt. Commander Headley correct. He achieved his objectives.”
“It’s a powerful, but not necessarily winning, argument,” said Admiral Morgan, thoughtfully. “Though an old friend of mine, Iain MacLean—he’s an ex-Royal Navy flag officer, submarines—once told me it was the best way to convince everyone of the merits of the case.”
“They’d never had a tougher one than this, though?” asked Admiral Curran.
“Tougher,” replied the National Security Adviser. “They went to war over such a quandary.”
“They did?”
“Sure they did. The Falklands War. Iain MacLean was there.”
“I don’t quite follow, sir.”
“Well, when the Argentinians invaded in the spring of 1982, they put a force of about fifteen thousand on the islands. And that put the old Brits in a bit of a spot. They had this group of goddamned rocks, containing about eighteen hundred of their citizens, in the middle of the South Atlantic, eight thousand miles from home. They’d sold their carriers, there was no air cover for any assault force to land, the Falklands were now fortified by a well-equipped army, protected by a land-based air force.
“Unsurprisingly, the military advice was absolutely negative. The Royal Air Force said forget it, the Army said no air cover, no go. The United States wrote the whole thing off as impossible. In fact everyone said it was impossible for the Brits to travel that far and win the islands back.
“Except for one man, and he happened to be the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir Henry Leach, another old friend of mine. He said it could be done. He knew the carriers were sold, but not yet gone, and he convinced Margaret Thatcher the Navy could do it.
“As most of you know, it was a goddamned shaky exercise. The Brits lost seven warships, more than two hundred fifty men, and they fought like fucking tigers to pull it off. But they damn near lost it, and if they had lost it, one man would have taken the blame for probably Britain’s most humiliating defeat: Henry Leach.
“However, they did not lose it. They won it, thanks almost exclusively to Admiral Sandy Woodward and the parachute regiment. Without them, they would have lost it. Trust me. And the notion of taking an unforgivable risk, which you could say Henry Leach did, is never mentioned. Why? Because he was proved RIGHT.”
“Guess we could do with a few more like him around here,” said Admiral Greening. “Guys with the courage of their convictions, guys prepared to operate with no thoughts whatsoever for their own self-interest.”
“Guys like Dan Headley,” said Arnold Morgan, softly.
Two weeks later.
Friday, June 24. San Diego.
Admiral John Bergstrom paced the inner sanctum of the offices of SPECWARCOM. Before him sat the silent figures of the professional heads of America’s Pacific Strike Force, Admirals Freddie Curran and Dick Greening.
“You realize that my ultimate successor in this chair, Commander Rick Hunter, is quite prepared to put his entire career on the line and resign his commission over this, do you not?”
“Of course we do, John,” replied Dick Greening. “I am just trying to ask you if you feel just as strongly. Will you also resign if Dan Headley is court-martialed and found guilty?”
“Right now it is not necessary for the United States Navy to know whether I will resign. However, you should bear in mind that I have not yet decided not to.”
“John, I know how bad you all feel about this,” said Admiral Greening. “But I am afraid you have to inform the appropriate authorities if you intend to announce your retirement, if the Navy board recommends the court-martial of Lieutenant Commander Headley.”
“Listen, you guys,” said Admiral Bergstrom, slipping into the easy informality this particular High Command had always enjoyed. “We’ve all known each other for a lot of years, and I think we all know the pros and cons of this case.
“But I am here to tell you I have never known such intense feelings of betrayal by the SEALs. It is common knowledge that this nutcase captain of yours refused to help the guys coming out of Iran. Indeed, he left one of my men to die. And he would have left all my men to die coming out of the Bassein Delta. You guys somehow appointed a fucking psychopath to take my SEALs in and out of an area of operations. Twice. And there’s no way we’re gonna sit still for that.
“Anyway, my position here would be untenable if you decided to jail Lieutenant Commander Headley for making a mutiny. I’d never be taken seriously again. Not by the Special Forces. I would have to resign, because I’d be a standing joke—the SEAL chief who sent the guys in, put ’em in the hands of a rule-book shit, who everyone knew was fucking crazy. Do you have any idea what that would do to the morale of this place?
“Guys, somehow you have to stop this bullshit; you have to award Dan Headley a high decoration, and somehow get this fuckwit Reid the hell out of the United States Navy. Quietly, if possible.”
Admiral Greening nodded in agreement. “If it were that damned simple, we wouldn’t be sitting in this room, John,” he said. “But it isn’t. These things develop a life of their own. We have, right here, a ten-year veteran of a nuclear submarine command who was arrested on the high seas by his own XO and fellow officers, relieved of command of his own ship, locked up and told to shut up, while his orders were flagrantly contravened. Those actions plainly give the right to be heard, at least. The right to request a full Naval Board of Inquiry. The right to defend himself in front of his peers.”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” replied the SEAL boss. “But let me ask one question: In this specific case, who was right, Headley or Reid? And I mean both morally and in terms of war-fighting expertise? And even gallantry, concern for others? Headley or Reid?”
“Headley. Plainly. Headley was right,” replied Admiral Greening. “But I’m afraid that’s irrelevant. Being right gets you off the hook, as long as no one cares to push the case. But here we have an antagonist, who has been wronged in his own eyes and does not give a flying fuck whether Headley was right or not.
“We have a CO, who is brandishing the goddamned official book of rules, and saying loudly, I’m the injured party, and it says so, right here between these sacred covers…. Well, Admiral Bergstrom, right here we got a problem. A real, live problem. And we gotta deal with it. And if you don’t like it, Johnny, baby, I’m afraid that’s show business.”
Admiral Bergstrom chuckled. “You want me to get a couple of guys to take him out, nice and quiet?”
It was of course only a joke, a black, macabre joke. But the sheer simplicity of the solution was not lost on the two visiting Admirals, and neither of them laughed.
Admiral Freddie Curran just said, “Precisely the kind of solution one would expect from the SEALs…What’s that motto of theirs?…Oh, yes…‘There are very few of the world’s problems that cannot be solved with high explosives.’ Isn’t that it?”
“Guess so, and it’s mostly right.” The SEAL Chief looked grim now, because the consequences of this impending Board of Inquiry were beginning to look so far-reaching, they were out there beyond the horizon.
“When do you want to initiate the inquiry?”
“Oh, right away, John. Here in San Diego, as soon as Shark arrives back. She’s due Tuesday night. We’ll aim for Thursday. Most of the men are entitled to leave, so we’ll get under way while they are all right here at th
e base.”
“Will it take long?”
“I’m not sure. If the board is in any way compliant they’ll agree to make a firm decision, one way or another, as soon as they have ascertained the facts. They are not sitting in judgment on the case. They are just being asked to establish the simple truth, and most of that’s not in dispute:
“One. Was there a mutiny on board the submarine?
“Two. Was Commander Reid relieved of his command and placed under arrest?
“Three. Who was responsible?
“Four. Did that officer have the support of the senior officers?
“Five. Why? What had the CO done wrong?”
“Dick, we’re talking real basics then, at this stage?”
“Absolutely. And those basics should be established very quickly. Which will allow the board to arrive at one of two conclusions: A) There was a mutiny, and the ringleader MUST be court-martialed under Navy regulations. B) There was no mutiny, the CO was under psychological stress and Lieutenant Commander Headley was well within his rights to assume command of the ship under Navy Regulation one-zero-eight-eight.”
“Yeah,” said Admiral Bergstrom, “but B requires the CO to agree he was under stress, and that Headley was correct to take over.”
“Afraid so,” said Admiral Greening. “And my forecast is that he will do no such thing. We will talk to Commander Reid at the highest level. Admiral Dixon will have him into the Pentagon, maybe even to Admiral Morgan’s office in the White House. They’ll pressure him, but I cannot see him agreeing to accept the most complete humiliation any CO can suffer. Just can’t see it.”
“Well, I’ve got another curve for you,” replied Admiral Bergstrom. “Tonight, at approximately twenty-one hundred, Commander Rusty Bennett is arriving back here from Diego Garcia, and he has a major problem with your Captain Reid, leaving that young combat SEAL to die out there in the gulf. To my certain knowledge he is filing a formal complaint about the conduct of Shark’s CO during the time the guys were trying to get out of Iran.
The Shark Mutiny Page 43