Arctic Wind

Chapter 4 Acceptance

Dr. Mason was angry. One of his team members had screwed up the latest plate, allowing it to remain in the oven far too long. Already they had determined the new material would completely absorb radio frequency radiation, but they also discovered that it was an astounding antenna. When coupled to a receiver, its ability to pull in distant signals had been amazing. Sticking the initial plate on top of the building, they had picked up television signals from Toronto, Canada. AM radio, they picked up from as far as Honolulu. The Center had then purchased a large oven that would allow them to make plates up to four feet square, nearly three times the original plate. But then the young assistant had begun working on something on his computer and didn’t pay attention to the timing. He had also set the temperature too high. As a result, the plate had come out of the oven black, instead of the usual gray.

Mason watched heat radiate off the plate, now cooling on a wooden table. He walked over to it and looked into the black surface. It was the deepest black he had ever seen. The surface looked smooth as glass, but there were no reflections in it. Reaching over the plate, he tried to feel how hot it really was, when a small arc of electricity shot off the brass attachment grommet and struck his arm, accompanied by the sound of a crack.

The jolt knocked Mason back from the table and onto the floor. The young assistant rushed over. “Are you alright?” he blurted out, concerned.

Mason picked himself up off the floor and looked at the plate. “How the hell did that happen?” he exclaimed. “We don’t have a short in here, do we?”

The assistant shook his head. “No, there’s no electricity to that table at all.”

The men walked around the table looking for a possible electrical source. There was none. They looked at each other. “Beats me,” said the assistant.

Mason put on some rubber gloves and grabbed a grounding tool. After making sure it was grounded, he passed the copper probe near the grommet again. Once again, a spark shot from the grommet to the probe. Backing away again, Mason looked at the young man. “What the hell,” he exclaimed.

Both men simply stared at the plate for a moment until the assistant rolled over a piece of test equipment. “Let’s see how much voltage we are talking about there.”

Attaching a copper lead to the wire from the voltage meter, he eased the end of the probe to the grommet once again. This time, he forced the probe onto the piece of brass. The meter jumped off the initial scale. Resetting the equipment for a different scale, he did it again. The meter reached 450 volts and remained steady.

Mason looked at the man again. “This doesn’t make sense. What is causing this thing to hold a charge?”

“Is it holding a charge or generating the power itself?” the assistant thought out loud. He grabbed a black apron sitting on the chair beside them and threw it over the plate, partially covering it. Immediately, the meter dropped to 275 volts.

Mason’s face became very animated. “It has to be the lights. Let me hold this and you go turn off the overheads,” he nearly shouted.

With all but the light on the meter turned off, the voltage dropped to zero. Mason turned to the young man, “Get me a box or something to put this thing in. It has to be light proof. Then get Dr. Thomas over here. I want to take this thing outside,” he said.

A large diameter steel wire was bolted to the grommet while the assistant brought in a cardboard box that had recently covered the oven. After some cutting and the liberal use of duct tape, the plate was secured inside it.

“What’s going on Greg,” asked Thomas as he entered the lab.

“Boss, this may be even bigger than we thought. Come with us outside,” he said as he and the assistant placed the plate in its box and put it on a rolling cart. The voltage meter was placed under it. The men walked down the hall as Mason explained what had happened. Exiting the corridor, they entered a courtyard where several antennas and steel towers were erected. Still wearing his rubber gloves, Mason set the meter to its highest setting and touched the lead to the steel cable. Already there was some voltage just from light leaking through the cardboard. Urging everyone to step back, Mason used a box cutter to cut along the tape binding. When done, he threw back the cardboard top.

The voltage meter wires melted before their eyes. A bolt of electricity shot from the steel cable across the ground to a steel support just three feet away. The sound of the arcs of electricity crackled in the air until Mason threw the cover back over the plate.

“My God!” exclaimed Thomas. “This is unbelievable!”

Mason nodded and walked over to the smoldering meter. The needle on the dial had frozen in place as it had jumped the top of the scale of over 10,000 volts. The look on the men’s faces was total astonishment. Before, the plate had absorbed RF. Now it was turning sunlight into electricity. Not just a little, but a whole lot. Thomas looked back at Mason. “Greg, call the power company. I want to hook this up to one of their big meters. If this is what I think it is, young Mister Maxwell has just solved the energy crisis and global warming. Can we duplicate it?”

Mason nodded. “The only thing changed was the temperature and duration. The lab is still making filaments, so we can make another within 12 hours. Our problem is transporting this thing. It needs to be kept in a lightproof box. If not, it might fry anyone near it.”

Thomas nodded. “Do whatever it takes. I’m going to make some calls. I think this just got bumped up to a much higher level.”

“Roger, Claire, I appreciate the brief on what is going on over there,” said Burt Williams, Undersecretary of Defense for Intelligence. “We’ve been keeping an eye on things going on, but it’s great to understand their thinking. Do they think any of this will work?”

Hammond chuckled, “No, but they realize something has to be done that’s outside the norm. With the numbers we’re facing, they could walk all over us if we do things the old way. They are actually taking a few things from our book. Hit them where they least expect it, keep nipping at their flanks and in their soft spots. Short, quick strikes, then back off. Any direct assault will end up with a lot of dead people and broken equipment. But our European allies are at the end of their rope. They just don’t have the kinds of capabilities we have, or they don’t have enough. Even the Brits are scrambling to find answers. Quite frankly, they are hoping we can make the difference. Unfortunately, I’m not sure we can in this situation. My team is wrapping up the study and it isn’t looking good. Our one chance is if our technology can make up the difference. We are so far ahead in some areas it could change quite a bit,” Hammond said to the group.

“That little thing we are testing over at David Taylor may help tremendously,” said Mark Price, Undersecretary for Acquisition, Technology and Logistics. “I got a call from Dr. Thomas a little earlier. It appears it will do all you thought and much more,” he said to Hammond. “I also got a call about those drones, you asked about, General. It appears they could be manufactured with a weapon for just $500 more per unit. After a little bit of testing, we might get them in a year or so,” he said.

Richardson sat forward in her seat. “Sir, I don’t think we have a year. I don’t think we have six months. Things are moving way too fast. Our European friends agree we will see something begin within four months. Is there a chance we can get the things before that?” she asked.

Price looked concerned. “Our hands may be tied. With all the procurement regulations, we just can’t do it within that time frame,” he said as he looked at the front of the table.

The Secretary of Defense sat with his fingertips together, obviously deep in thought. He looked up and around the room. “Actually, I believe you’re right. When I talked to the President this morning, he said the same thing. What do the Joint Chiefs think?”

General Black didn’t waiver. “It’s going to happen. We either ignore it and pay the consequence or we jump in with both feet. I will say this. If war starts, it will be too late to start anything. The Russians will run all over Europe. We may not have to worry much at first, but it will eventually meet us right here. We need all the tools in the tool box,” he said.

The Secretary nodded his head, then his face adopted a determined look. “I don’t want to take a head-in-sand approach. Mark, let’s get things rolling. I’ll talk to Congress and let them know what’s happening. I feel sure they won’t hold us back too much. Draw up the contracts to get those drones. I also want those plates manufactured and installed on every ship and plane that we can. I’ll leave the tactical uses to you,” he said to Black. “I also want to know what other materials and equipment we need so that our people are fully equipped for this thing. We’re not going in wanting. How many of those drones do you think we need,” he asked Richardson.

“Sir, if we use them like I would want to, I need thousands,” she said.

Price grinned. “At only $4,500 apiece, it’s a small price to pay. My people will get this thing done within a few days. From what I understand, the manufacturer had proposed this when they bid on the initial contract and we told them no guns. They just grind off the supports instead of redesigning it. I am told they can manufacture a couple hundred a day if we need them.”

“Make it happen. I am calling the President now. I’m sure you all know he will be behind this. As of now, we are going on a war footing as far as acquisitions go. If our guys need it, get it. Within reason, of course,” he grinned. “Thank you all for filling us in. Now let’s get going.”

The men and women got up from the table and began making their way out. Price stopped Hammond and Black as they were leaving. “Roger, you haven’t heard, but there’s an extra benefit to young Mister Maxwell’s discovery.”

“Oh really?”

Price nodded. “They had a small screw up over there and left it in the oven too long. What came out is totally different from what we started with. It seems in sunlight, that four foot square plate generated over 10,000 volts of electricity.”

Black let out a whistle. “Good Lord, that’s way more than any solar panel I know of.”

Price nodded again. “I asked Thomas to get Maxwell back up here. We need to make sure he gets in on all of this. Papers need to be written and patents filed. This is one young man I want to watch out for.”

Hammond smiled. “I’d appreciate that. He was one of my people on the Iowa. Anything you can do to help him out would be welcome.”

Price held up his hand. “Well, I do have ulterior motives. I am hoping he will allow us to manufacture it for the military. We’ll pay him for it, but then we’ll also help him sell this second version to the power companies across the country. Unless I’m mistaken, he’s just become a billionaire.”

Petyr and Freda had just finished their lunch when her phone rang. The message had been clear. Get to the hospital. Her mother had taken a turn for the worse. The look on Freda’s face told Petyr all he needed to know. The news had been very bad.

After several weeks of going around together it was obvious to anyone, they were meant for each other. Petyr had become one of the family — even sitting and talking to her parents until late on some evenings. Likewise, Freda had become a staple with Petyr’s family. On two separate occasions, the families had come together for a meal. They were becoming close friends.

It took fifteen minutes for the two to get to the hospital on the tram. Rushing into the room they found Mr. Polski sitting beside the bed, holding his wife’s hand. Her brother sat alone in a chair in the corner of the room. His face was a mask of concern and confusion. It was obvious he didn’t really know what to do.

Letting go of Petyr’s hand, Freda rushed to the opposite side of the bed and looked at her mother. She was very pale and her breaths were more like gasps. She could tell her mother was having a very bad time breathing. Looking at the gauge on the wall, she could tell the oxygen supply had been turned all the way up. The heart monitor barely showed the beatings of her heart. You could hear the oxygen coming out of the tube under her nose. Looking at her father, she saw the sad look she rarely saw on his face.

Turning back to her mother she called out to her. Mrs. Polski’s eyes fluttered open. She gently squeezed Freda’s hand.

“We came as soon as we heard,” Freda told her mother.

A faint smile crossed her mother’s face. Taking a very bubbly, heavy breath, she said, “You need not worry about me. I think it is my time.”

A tear appeared at the corner of Freda’s eye. “But there’s so much we still need to do,” she said with a forced smile.

The smile appeared again and her eyes focused in. “Now, now. No tears. You and Rudy have always been the pride of my life,” she said with difficulty. Her voice was faltering and she had to pause between each sentence. “Watching the two of you grow up has been wonderful. I only wish I could always be there for you. Rudy will have his Papa, but who will take care of my little girl?” she asked slowly.

It was a steady and determined voice that answered. Everyone turned as Petyr said, “I will.”

A look of calm came over Mrs. Polski’s face. The smile brightened and a little color returned. Petyr stood next to Freda now and she could tell by his look that he had meant what he said. Slowly, she lifted her frail hand and took his. She then placed both his and Freda’s hands between her own. “I believe you will,” she said steadily. The smile widened to a grin. “Now I can leave content,” she said. Her hands seemed to go limp as she let go of them. They fell to the bed.

She turned to her husband. After taking a long breath, the paleness returned as she turned almost white. “Hector, you made me very happy,” she said.

Mr. Polski took her hand again. “And you have done the same for me. But let’s not talk. Just get some rest,” he said.

She nodded weakly before her eyes closed. No one took their eyes from her. The heart monitor let out an alarm as her heart took its last beat, then rested. Despite the rushing of the hospital staff, the family kept their eyes on her face. It was the most serenely happy expression any of them could remember seeing. After a minute of trying, Mr. Polski urged them to stop. He would not prolong her suffering.

Freda turned to Petyr and placed her face in his shoulder. There were tears, but no weeping. Petyr held her closely as the nurse pulled the blanket over her mother’s head. Rudy stood stunned. He had never witnessed death and he stood there not knowing what to do. At fifteen, he knew that as a man, he shouldn’t cry. He looked at his father, who stood stoically beside the bed for a moment. There were no tears there. Rudy took a gasping breath and turned away.

Mr. Polski walked over and put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. He nodded at Petyr. “Petyr, can you take Freda and Rudy home? I’ll stay and take care of things, then meet you there later,” he said. He turned to Rudy. “Go with Petyr and your sister. I’ll be home soon.”

“No, I want to stay. I’ll help you out if I can,” Rudy said.

Mr. Polski smiled at his son. “I guess a young man needs to learn about these things. You can stay and help,” he said nodding approvingly at his son. He gave Petyr a nod.

Petyr pulled Freda around. “Let’s go home.” He led her out of the room and out of the building. The sun warmed them as they made their way to the street. She didn’t say anything, just walked beside Petyr staring blankly ahead. Even on the tram she remained silent, but when he started to let go of her hand, she tightened her grip and wouldn’t let go. He called home to let his family know.

Getting back to the apartment, they found that Petyr’s mother had everything arranged. She would prepare their meals and take care of the house. Petyr nodded and led Freda to their apartment. Sitting down together on the couch, she again laid her head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, she looked up at him. “You meant it, didn’t you?” she asked.

He looked at her questioningly. “Meant what?”

“That you would take care of me.”

He smiled at her. “Yes, I meant it.”

“She could tell. She knew it, and it made her so happy.”

Petyr smiled. He didn’t know why he had said it, but he knew it was the truth. He chuckled slightly. “I don’t think I realized it until I said it. But I think for the rest of my life, I will take care of you,” he said.

She looked into his eyes and could see the same thing her mother saw. He loved her. She suddenly realized that she felt the same way. Placing her head on his shoulder again she said, “Then we can be happy together.”

Petyr held her for more than an hour before the family returned. Sometimes there were tears, others just quiet contemplation. She didn’t speak again until Mrs. Kursov called them to dinner.

Captain Leonid Kronovsky watched the seawater as it came up over the bow of his ship, the Oscar Class submarine, Voronezh, and pour off to either side. It was getting cold in the Baltic and his heavy jacket was pulled up tight against him. He and his crew had been training for months to get ready for this day. The reactor had been overhauled and his ship loaded full of 24 SS-N-19 “Shipwreck” cruise missiles. On this trip, there would also carry 23 torpedoes. His orders had been handed to him personally just before departure and would not be opened until the third day at sea. Until then, he was to take his ship into the North Atlantic. His orders would spell out the rest.

There wasn’t much doubt what they were about to do. Their job would be to take on the United States Fleet. What else would they do with these weapons, he thought to himself. Kronovsky had started his career in the Soviet Navy. In those heady days they had dreamed of sinking all those large ships the Americans boasted about. An aircraft carrier would look nice painted on the side of the ship’s sail. He only hoped this wasn’t just a drill, like they had always had before. The mood at headquarters had changed recently and it appeared that the days of drills were over. His thoughts were interrupted by a report from his watch officer.

“Sir, the escort is pulling away. They signal for us to proceed.”

Kronovsky gave a grunt. He always kept a gruff face when a cruise started. Only when the crew had proved its worth would he lighten up. “Signal our thanks. What is the depth of water?”

“Two hundred meters, Captain,” answered another officer.

He grunted again. “Maintain course and speed. I am going below. When water depth reaches five hundred meters, submerge the ship. Keep her at one hundred meters until I say otherwise,” he told the watch officer.

“Yes, Captain!” the officer replied.

Kronovsky got up from his small seat and made his way to the open hatch. Climbing down the ladder he entered the submariner’s world of pipes, equipment, wires, men and smells. Everything was close on a submarine. It was something some never got used to, but for Kronovsky, it was his home. He glanced over at his second in command, who was monitoring the activities around the control room. “Don’t let that wet nose hit anything,” he said for all to hear. “I’ll be in my cabin.”

Kronovsky made his way aft to a door along the passageway. Opening it, he entered his personal cabin. It measured just three meters by three meters. It contained a bed, desk, cabinet for his clothes, and two chairs for when he had company. It was the largest personal space on the ship. There was a door on one end that led to his bathroom which had a toilet, sink and shower. To Kronovsky it was the ultimate luxury. Most officers were crammed four deep in a space only half the size. The crew had to squeeze in where they could.

He pulled off the heavy coat and threw it over the bed. Sitting at his desk, he pulled out the orders in their envelope. Strange, the envelope was only barely sealed. Throwing caution to the wind, he flipped his finger along the top and the flap popped open. What difference does it make, he though as he unfolded the orders and began to read. Kronovsky suddenly froze in his seat. His eyes widened. Flipping through the sheets, he went back and read them again. His heart leapt with joy. He would have shouted if the rest of the crew would not hear him. His dreams would be fulfilled.

It was strange when the Captain made his way back into the control room. He looked and acted very happy.

The gavel was struck and everyone in the meeting room got quiet. Senator George Raymond called the meeting to order.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome Vice Admiral Roger Hammond to these chambers today as the nominee for the position of Vice Chief of Naval Operations. I wish to thank Admiral Hammond for coming and helping us in our task.”

Hammond nodded and said, “Thank you, Mister Chairman.”

Raymond was one of the senators from Georgia. He had a thick, slow drawl, that reminded people of the actor John Barrymore, but behind the voice and smiling face was a keen intellect and shrewd politician. He continued, “I must say it is a rare occasion that we have such a distinguished officer before us. As we get started would you like to make a statement?”

Hammond looked across the seated members of the Senate Armed Services Committee. Several of them he had met before, but there were a few new faces. “Mister Chairman, I believe you have a copy of my biography before you. As some of you know, I am not someone who likes making speeches. I’d rather my record speak for me. I am honored at being given the opportunity to further serve this nation and stand ready to answer your questions.”

Raymond smiled. “Well, now, I see you are also being modest. Your bio does not do you justice. Yes, it says where you have served and the awards you have received, however I know a few more of the details. It seems that on your first ship, just two years into your career, you were credited with saving USS Griffin and its crew from being lost in bad weather. You received the Meritorious Service Medal for that one. Then as the Executive Officer of the Candler you personally led the crew’s humanitarian efforts during the tsunami that leveled a portion of the Southern Philippines. You got the Joint Service Commendation for that one. Then as commanding officer of the Hamilton, you and your ship personally beat back four attempts to Shanghai freighters by Somali pirates. You ended up capturing three of the crews and brought them to the international court. Your actions are credited with ending the Somali piracy for a good five years. You got the Legion of Merit for that one. Then we come to the Korean War. You and your ship are credited with destroying over 150 different enemy encampments or facilities, leading the raid on Wonsan, and other events. You received the Silver Star. Then you had the audacity to place your ship between several cruise missiles and an aircraft carrier. You ended up saving the carrier and kept your ship in action. For that, you received the Medal of Honor. There is more, but I don’t think anyone can top that. So my first question is, “Where the hell did you come from?”

The chamber erupted in laughter and Hammond joined in. “I’m just a regular fellow from Virginia, Senator.”

“Well, I want to know what they put in the water down there,” Raymond joked.

Once again, the chamber filled with laughter. When it calmed, Raymond got more serious. “I would like to know, Admiral, what caused you to leave the navy for a year before the war?”

Hammond had been told this question would be asked and he was ready. “Senator, at the time, my wife had grown tired of the service and I had hoped that getting a civilian job might make things better. I left and got a good job, making plenty of money, but it wasn’t enough for her. She left me for someone else. I had come to the realization that I needed to get back into the navy when I saw the sky light up that night. So the next day, I got in my car and came to Washington. I was going to get with an old friend of mine to see if it could be done. I figured the navy would need all the help they could. So I was offered the chance and I took it.”

“You were offered the chance by none other than the President of the United States. Mind telling us about that?”

Hammond smiled. Those were pleasant thoughts. “I went to my friend’s house. I believe you know him, Jim Butler, currently the President’s Chief of Staff. On the drive up I had kind of figured out what we might need to do, so…”

Raymond interrupted him. “Hold on, you drove up? I remember that my car didn’t move for almost a month before the spare parts came in. How did you accomplish that?”

“My car was a part of the solution. I’ve got a 1968 Olds Delta 88 convertible. Since it didn’t have any electronics, it worked fine. At any rate, when I got to Butler’s house, he was the Navy Liaison at the time, I told him what I thought we needed to do. Communications was the first priority so we drove to the USS Barry and got things going. By the next morning I found myself back in uniform and in the Navy Liaison job.”

“That would be when the old Chief of Staff got fired. From what I understand, you led the way from the White House for a while,” said Raymond.

“Yes, sir. Mostly I talked to people and gave a few suggestions. Before long things were starting to happen.”

“Is it true you lived in the basement of the White House?”

Hammond almost gulped. The sub-basement was not supposed to be talked about, but he got around it. “Yes, I got myself a small cot and just kept out of the way. With the transportation down, it didn’t make sense to have to walk a few miles every morning and night.”

Raymond snorted. “Can’t blame you. I did the same thing myself. Now let’s talk about something else. I would like to know what you see the Navy’s role is and what part you play in it.”

Now came the harder questions. Hammond plowed ahead. “Senator, the Navy’s role is just like that of all the other services, really. We are serving as our nation and the elected leaders need us. For us, it can’t be any other way. We really depend on you to do your jobs so that we don’t have to do ours. Only when politics and diplomacy fail, are we are called to step in. Sometimes it is just for a show of force, sometimes we must fight. But throughout history wars have started because the politics of the situation have failed in some way. You, as our elected officials select the course our nation must go. Our diplomats follow that lead and try to integrate our ideas with those of other countries to come to mutual agreements. When that happens, we aren’t needed except to show the flag and act as a kind of goodwill ambassador. I did a lot of that in our cruise after the war. But with a dictator, who refuses to come to a mutual agreement, or has other more sinister desires, the politics fail and we are called upon to bring back some sort of stability so that the political process will work again. It’s been true of every conflict we have been in. So our job is to be ready. We must use the tools at our disposal to get the job done in a satisfactory manner. It is our hope that that time never comes.”

“My job is to follow the orders of the Commander and Chief. To do that becomes a little more intricate the higher in rank you get. At this level, I need to be a part of that political process, informing you, our elected officials on what I can, working with you as needed to make sure we remain ready and leading our men and women in a way which keeps them safe and secure while getting the job done. It gets difficult at times, but the safety of our people is a priority for me, as I am sure it is a priority for you.”

Raymond smiled at Hammond, “Thank you, Admiral. Senator Clark.”

Senator Clark was from Philadelphia and was in the minority party. He was more known for his scowl. “Admiral, I have several questions. First of all, can you tell me the role you played in the forced retirement of Vice Admiral Granger?”

The silence in the room was deafening. Hammond got a questioning look on his face. “My role, Senator?”

“Yes, I understand you were there in the room the day it happened and that it was the start of your meteoric rise to power.”

“I believe you have been misinformed, Senator. I had nothing to do with his retirement.”

“Well, it is my understanding that the president accosted him over the phone that day while you were there,” Clark said accusingly.

Hammond took a breath. “Senator, Admiral Granger was a respected senior flag officer in the United States Navy. I have no idea why he retired and it was not mentioned during that meeting. I also refuse to drag that officer’s name through the mud on something that clearly is between him and our leadership. I say again, I had nothing to do with his retirement and it was not mentioned during the meeting. As a matter of fact, I have not seen Admiral Granger since that very day.”

“So you had nothing to do with him being drummed out of the service.”

“Senator, I don’t know how he left the service. As far as I know, he retired, and retired with full pay and benefits.”

“That’s not the information I received. Going on, you said you always kept the safety of your people a priority, yet, you placed your ship between deadly cruise missiles and the carrier. It seems you may not really have their best interests in mind,” the Senator said snidely.

Hammond was starting to become angry, but he couldn’t show it. Either this guy was a bully or he was playing some dirty politics. Either way, Hammond didn’t like it. “Senator, we were in a war. The North Koreans had fired missiles at one of our carriers with over 6,000 people aboard. My ship had only 1,500 people aboard and is one of the most heavily armored vessels ever constructed. As a matter of fact, that armor is over seventeen inches thick in some places. When I ordered my ship into harm’s way I also ordered everyone in the ship to get inside the armored belt if possible. Yes, the ship was hit three times, but we did not lose one single life to those missiles. More importantly, we saved the lives of the 6,000 sailors and Marines on that carrier. My ship could take it, while that one couldn’t. I made the decision and I stand by it. If I had commanded a destroyer, a ship very lightly protected, I would have done the same thing to protect that carrier. It is something that has to be done.”

“So you would sacrifice your crew,” Clark insisted.

Now Hammond raised his voice slightly. “Yes, Senator. I would sacrifice the few to protect the many, and a ship of much lesser value than one of the most valuable assets we have.”

“Mister Chairman, if I may, I was a naval officer, and in my service that is exactly what must be done. If someone has been in the military at all, they might understand this. It is a shame that some of our distinguished colleagues have missed out on this opportunity,” said Senator Kelso, a junior senator from Ohio. “I can assure my distinguished colleague that this has been a part of our military doctrine from its very beginning, and it is a sign of the dedication to our ultimate victory in war many of our best officers emulate,” he continued. He made his remarks while looking at Hammond and not at his ‘distinguished colleague.’

Raymond nodded. “I thank the Senator from Ohio. This act was judged several years ago as reaching the zenith of the dedication and heroism our fighting sailors demonstrate. We cannot debate this topic during these proceedings. I hope my colleague agrees,” he said eyeing Clark critically.

Clark had just been told he was an idiot without saying the words. He quickly backpedaled. “Of course, Mister Chairman, I am simply bringing out that very point, that he made the hard decision, despite the sacrifice it might have incurred. I have one further question.”

“Proceed.”

“Admiral Hammond, what is your relationship with the President of the United States?”

Hammond could tell this was something Clark might use against his friend. He plunged right in. “Senator, Steve O’Bannon is one of my best friends. I didn’t know him at all before that first visit to the White House, but working with him and getting to know him over the years has been one of the highlights of my life. The best part is that I know he didn’t do anything to help me in my career. I owe him no favors, and he doesn’t owe any to me. We have a genuine friendship, and that friendship will last long after he has left office. I found that when you get to know the man personally, he is a good, decent man, who tries not to place his burdens on others. There’s one other thing about Steve O’Bannon. He is one of the best natural leaders I have met. And I’m not saying that because of our friendship. I got to see the man work, up close. He listens to all sides and then invites others to join him. Some of you on this committee may have had the opportunity to see it. Some may say it’s politics, but I have seen him in other situations act the same way. As a military man, I would gladly follow him.” Hammond paused for a second, then continued, “Please excuse me if in this case I am a little more enthusiastic, but I feel that’s what having a true friend is all about.”

The room was silent. Then someone started clapping. Others joined in. After several bangs of the gavel, Raymond restored order. “I must admonish the attendees that we cannot have such outbreaks during these proceedings, no matter how much we may agree with the speaker,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “If that is all, I now turn to Senator Collingwood.”

The hearing lasted over four hours. The rest of the senators were polite in their questions and with few exceptions, didn’t try to corner Hammond in any issue. After closing the hearing, Hammond went to the front of the chamber and thanked Raymond.

“Admiral, I have to tell you what a great impression you made today. Not only did you give us upright and truthful answers to our questions, but in some cases dazzled us with your insight. Although some may have had doubts, I doubt there will be any real opposition to your appointment. I plan on a vote on Tuesday. By the way, I know your wife is up to her ears in California. Is she well?”

“She is fine, Senator. I am planning on a quick trip to take care of a few things, then will be back on Monday.”

Raymond slapped him on the arm. “Good! Please convey my personal best wishes and thank you again for being with us today,” he said warmly.

“My pleasure, Senator,” said Hammond.

As he exited the building, Hammond was surprised to see a blue Rolls sitting at the curb. Jeffers was standing beside the car waiting. He opened the door for Hammond to get in.

“Well, what’s this for?” Hammond asked.

Jeffers started the car and pulled into traffic. “I’m here to take you to the airport. Your boss, the CNO, and a certain friend of yours told me to get your ass on the next flight to LA. Your bag is packed and in the trunk.”

“I thought I was supposed to debrief.”

“No need. The CNO and the President watched it on C-SPAN. You were a big hit, from what I heard. Then I was given orders, and you know how I follow orders,” Jeffers grinned.

Hammond threw his hands up. “I will give in this once,” he said.

Jeffers handed some brochures to Hammond. “What are these?” Hammond asked.

“Boss, I found out your home was pretty much leveled during the quake. I talked to Boats Patnaude and he said Patricia and Steve are in your old cabin for now, but they can’t stay there forever. He told me to call a guy named Jack Latham. When I mentioned your name he told me to tell you to see about buying or renting some sort of an RV to live in temporarily. He said he would take care of the rest. So here are some local dealers. If you see something you like, let them know. I was told by each of them they would cut you and the mayor a sweet deal,” he said while he drove.

Hammond looked at the brochures, but didn’t really see them. It seemed that O’Bannon wasn’t the only guy with good friends. After a minute, he seemed to settle on a particular model. It was a pull behind trailer, but had some nice features. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number. By the time he reached the airport, they had agreed on a price. The unit would be delivered and set up by the time he got home. “Just come in and sign the papers sometime in the next couple of days,” the owner had said.

Within an hour, he was on his way home.