Launch Code

FORTY

January 1984, New York City

Donna and I spent the entire weekend in her apartment, with the exception of two quick forays by me into the snow to pick up Chinese takeout on Saturday night and bagels and the New York Times on Sunday morning.

I had to return to the base on Sunday evening, so I called to find out the schedule for the last train back to New London. When the time came, we put on our clothes, and Donna accompanied me on a walk through the snowy city to Penn Station.

It was dark, but the newly fallen snow glimmered in the street lights. Silhouettes drifted past us. As we skirted Washington Square, four separate men offered to sell us drugs.

After almost thirty-six hours of almost constant talking, we fell silent, happy to be in each other’s company, walking hand in hand.

Things were changing, and I was excited.

Then I started to think.

We were on Broadway, not far from Penn Station. The area was getting distinctly sleazier, but somehow the snow made it feel safer.

‘What’s up?’ said Donna.

‘Nothing’s up,’ I said, summoning a smile.

‘Oh, come on. Something’s up? Are you worried about going back to base?’

‘It’s not that,’ I said.

‘Then what is it?’

I didn’t want to tell her.

She squeezed my hand.

I knew what she meant by that gesture. I didn’t have to tell her if I didn’t want to. But she would like it if I did, if I trusted her with my thoughts.

OK.

‘It’s the cover-up,’ I said.

‘What, don’t you think it will hold?’

‘No. I think if the Navy wants to cover something up it will stay covered up. Especially if it’s about nuclear weapons. It’s just I’m not sure they should want to do that.’

‘Now you’re beginning to sound like me.’

‘Is that what you’ve been thinking?’

‘Yes, but I wasn’t going to say it. And if they don’t cover it up what would happen to you? You’d get court martialled, right?’

‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. But if they do cover it up and I tell anybody, then I definitely will be in trouble.’

‘I get that,’ said Donna.

I was grateful for her understanding. The reason I had been reluctant to tell her what I was thinking was that I had been afraid she would urge me to blow the whistle and I would have ended up in an argument with her, when what I really wanted to do was explain how I felt.

‘I killed my best friend. I saw the world almost blow itself up. The Navy can’t deny that happened. I can’t deny that happened. We have to tell someone.’

‘I can see why I might think you should,’ said Donna carefully. ‘But why do you say that?’

‘It’s just too big a deal. The world has to know about it so it can react. Take steps to deal with something similar occurring in future. If something like this happened on the Hamilton it can happen somewhere else. It will happen somewhere else. And we won’t be prepared.’

‘So who do you want to tell?’

‘The American government – I bet the Navy won’t inform Congress. The American people. Maybe even the Russians. After all, they are the guys who will be deciding whether to retaliate next time.’

‘So why don’t you do it?’

‘Because I’m a coward. They would call it treason and I’d go to jail for the rest of my life. And – don’t laugh at this – because I gave them my word.’

But Donna laughed. ‘You are such a boy scout!’ She squeezed my hand. ‘But that’s OK. I admire honesty; I like people you can trust.’

I smiled. We were at the entrance to the station. I actually felt better having shared my worry with Donna. It hadn’t gone away; it would probably never go away. I was going to have to learn to live with it, and maybe she could help with that.

When we parted I promised to see her in two weekends’ time. She smiled broadly when she heard this, a smile I held in my mind the entire train journey back to Connecticut.