Rules of Engagement

Chapter 37

The flag bridge was unusually crowded when Brad and Harry were asked into the admiral's cabin. The commander who had invited them in told the two men to stand at ease.

Admiral Keuseman sat at his desk, flanked by a beefy civilian in a wrinkled seersucker suit and a navy captain in dress blues. The civilian, who had a sour look on his face, removed his thick glasses and slowly ran his eyes over the two fliers. His scrutiny made them even more uncomfortable.

"Good morning, gentlemen," the admiral said pleasantly, as the commander and another civilian stepped out of the cabin and closed the door.

"Good morning, Admiral," Brad replied while Harry nodded his head. Brad was familiar with the procedures involved in military hearings and investigations. He had studied the procedures at length, and had served as a member of an investigation board. This hearing was far different from anything he had read about or experienced.

Harry had the same unsettling feeling. Something strange was happening. The atmosphere in the spacious cabin was strained.

"Have a seat," Keuseman ordered, motioning toward the couch. "This is Mister Ogilvie, from the State Department, and Captain Emmett from CINCPAC."

Harry and Brad acknowledged the introductions. The captain sat stone still, examining Austin. The two strangers recognized the pilot and his RIO from the photographs that accompanied their service records.

The admiral shifted in his chair. "I'm going to turn this over to Captain Emmett. John?"

The stern-looking man wearing the insignia of a submariner moved forward in his chair. "The first thing we have to establish," the former submarine commander paused, "is that the two of you did, in fact, commit a transgression by flying over an unauthorized air base and destroying an enemy fighter on the ground."

Emmett bore in on Brad. "Is that exactly what happened, Captain Austin?"

"Not quite, sir."

The submariner's eyes narrowed. "Did you, or did you not, shoot down a MiG and attack a taxiing fighter at Phuc Yen? That's what I see in both the message and the report I'm holding."

"Yes, I shot down the fighter over Phuc Yen, and fired at an aircraft on the ground," Brad darted a look at the admiral, "but I trust you will give me an opportunity to explain the extenuating circumstances."

Emmett's facial expression reflected irritation. "Talk, Captain. Explain your breach of the regulations, and make it succinct. We are on a tight schedule."

Brad drew a quick breath. "Captain, the airborne MiG in question was flown by Major Dao, North Vietnam's second-leading ace. In the heat of battle, my close friends — my flight leader and his RIO — were shot down by Major Dao."

"That fact, no matter how tragic," Emmett frowned, "did not give you license to attack a restricted area."

Harry shifted uncomfortably but contained his nervous cough. He focused on a plaque over the admiral's head.

"May I finish, Captain?" Brad asked, drawing a sharp look from Emmett.

"We're waiting."

Speaking clearly, Brad stared back at Emmett. "I would assume, sir, from seeing the dolphins on your chest, that you have never flown a fighter in combat."

Emmett gave him a cold, menacing look. "You're walking a fine line, Captain, and it would serve you well to remember that fact."

Admiral Keuseman arched his eyebrows, giving Brad a silent warning.

"Captain Emmett, this was not a premeditated act. I didn't go to Phuc Yen with the intent of shooting up the field or dropping ordnance on anyone. My intent was to kill a MiG ace. I reacted instantaneously, focused on one mission — to kill Major Dao before he added a ninth airplane and crew to his credit."

Harry finally coughed.

"Sir," Brad continued, trying to keep his emotions in check, "I was determined to destroy Dao, and I chased him down. I didn't have any control over where his airplane crashed." Brad took a deep breath. "I was wrong to shoot at the aircraft on the ground."

Silence filled the room. Emmett rolled a pencil back and forth between his palms. "Lieutenant Hutton, is that exactly what happened?"

Harry braced himself and spoke in a confident voice. "Yes, sir, that is precisely what happened."

"I understand," Emmett perused his notes, "from reading your statements in the report that you tried to talk Captain Austin out of breaking the rules and flying over a restricted airfield. Is that true?"

Taking his time, Harry formed an answer. "I pointed out various options in regard to the restrictions we have to deal with. Low to the ground, in the middle of a supersonic dogfight, is not the time to distract your pilot."

"Answer yes or no," Emmett spat. "Did you attempt to talk Captain Austin out of breaking the rules of engagement?" "Yes, sir."

Emmett folded his hands and stared at Brad for what seemed an eternity. He had used the tactic many times to break the resolve of individuals whom he had investigated.

"Captain Austin," Emmett said, scribbling a hasty note. "We have established, by your own admission, that you did commit a breach of the rules of engagement."

Brad felt the tension increasing throughout his body. "That is correct, Captain. I broke the rules because we are warriors without competent civilian leadership. We the people of our country need clear objectives in this war. We're wasting a hell of a lot of lives because of the flawed policies emanating from the civilians in the White House."

"You," Ogilvie shot back, pointing a pen at Brad, "are in deep trouble. I suggest that you keep that in mind, and conduct yourself accordingly."

Austin remained silent, staring back at the State Department official.

"Brad," Admiral Keuseman said with a firm voice, "I understand your feelings, but you will cooperate fully."

"Yes, sir."

"Captain," Emmett continued, "have you broken the rules of engagement before this incident?"

"No, sir, I have not."

Emmett turned to face Harry. "Is that correct, Lieutenant?"

"That," Harry stammered, "was my first flight with Captain Austin. I know him well, and he doesn't disregard rules." Emmett swiveled to ask Keuseman a question. "Admiral, I'd like to hear from Captain Austin's usual RIO."

"John," Keuseman frowned, "his former RIO, Lieutenant Lunsford, was in the flight leader's aircraft. As you know, the crew was captured as soon as they landed."

Emmett jotted another note. "Captain Austin, CINCPAC would like to hang your ass out to dry, but there are complications. I'll let Mister Ogilvie explain the situation, then we'll discuss your future."

Harry gently tapped the sole of Brad's shoe. Neither man showed outwardly the glow of hope they felt inside.

The State Department representative opened his attache case and removed a piece of paper. He gave Brad a frigid look. "Captain, for political reasons, the State Department has been directed to deny that the incident at Phuc Yen ever happened. The mandate originated in the White House."

Wide-eyed, Harry and Brad glanced at each other. Washington was going to cover up the incident.

"The official stance," Ogilvie grunted, "is simply that Phuc Yen was an attempt to discredit the United States. The matter is being regarded as a propaganda stunt in their disinformation campaign." He read from the top-secret message. " 'An attempt to exploit the Communist doctrine, and tarnish the image of our government.' "

Brad inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. What did Captain Hard-ass have up his sleeve?

Ogilvie placed the message back in his attache case. "I have been given explicit instructions to relay to both of you." Harry and Brad digested each word.

"The incident never happened. Do you both clearly understand?"

"Yes, sir," they answered, trying to contain their excitement. The State Department and the politicos in the White House were going to actually deny that Brad had shot down North Vietnam's second leading ace.

"The two of you," Ogilvie pointed his pen again, "are not going to mention the incident, or this meeting, to anyone." He paused for effect. "Is that crystal clear?"

"We understand," Brad answered for both of them. "If someone asks us questions, how are we to respond?"

Ogilvie looked at Brad, then Harry. "This didn't happen. Your names have not been divulged. They slammed a lid on this at the very top. If you are approached by anyone — the press or your associates — you had better keep your mouths shut, if you have any smattering of intelligence."

Brad flared, but quickly controlled his emotions. This was not the time to enter into a skirmish. For whatever reason, they had been spared from a certain court-martial.

Emmett took his cue. "The media is going to be scrutinizing this carrier until you put to sea. If you know what's good for you, you'll blend into obscurity and keep a low profile."

Harry and Brad nodded understandingly.

"Nothing," Emmett emphasized, darting a cold look at Ogilvie, "will be placed in your records. However, Captain Austin, you are going to be quietly transferred back to the marines near the completion of the next at-sea period." The contempt was evident on Emmett's face. "Any questions?"

"No, sir," Brad replied with relief.

Ogilvie and Emmett rose from their chairs. "Thank you, Admiral," Emmett said, shaking hands with Keuseman. "We appreciate your cooperation."

Harry and Brad stood to attention.

"You're certainly welcome, John. Please tell the admiral hello."

"Will do, sir."

Ogilvie shook hands with Keuseman, thanked him, then followed Emmett out of the cabin.

When the door closed, Keuseman walked to the coffee urn.

"Have a seat."

Brad and Harry sat down, unsure of what was going to happen next. The only thing certain was the knowledge that they would not be facing a court-martial.

Keuseman poured a cup half full. "Coffee?"

"No thank you, sir," Brad replied, realizing that he was too nervous to hold a cup steady.

Harry responded with a negative gesture of his hand. "No thanks, sir."

The admiral returned to his chair. "Well, gentlemen, you dodged a big one." There was no indication of victory on Keuseman's serious face. "But that's water under the keel." He slid his cup to the side and folded his hands on his desk. "Now, we need to address your collective futures."

They sat in silence, waiting to know their fate.

"First, I want to tell you — as a crew — that I'm proud to have you in the air wing."

They both breathed easier.

"I know this has been a rough ordeal, but it could have been much worse, believe me." Keuseman measured the two officers. "Off the record, there are cabinet-level negotiations currently in progress, accompanied by the usual posturing. The White House is trying to get the Hanoi regime to the bargaining table, at any cost. There are a number of sensitive issues being discussed, and your incident set off a series of events that could have jeopardized those negotiations. There have been a number of accusations lobbed from both sides.

"That's all I know, but I agree with Mr. Ogilvie — the two of you had better keep a low profile."

The admiral tried his coffee. "Captain, I would suspect, provided everything blows over, that when you return to your marine squadron, your record will be clean. They will have no knowledge of this incident. That assumes, of course, that you keep your nose clean until we get through this next at-sea period."

Keuseman smiled for the first time. "Commander Bailey is a good man, and he thinks a lot of both of you."

"Thank you, Admiral," Brad and Harry said, feeling as though they had survived a plunge over Niagara Falls.

"Just play by the rules from here on out."

Keuseman read the smiles on their faces, remembering a time in the past when an admiral had gone to bat for him. Keuseman had flown an F-9F Panther jet into a restricted area over Korea in an effort to strafe a train. A ground officer had witnessed the strafing run and had reported the incident. Keuseman had barely escaped losing his wings.

"I believe your CO will want to visit with you," Keuseman said, reaching for his phone. "I'll let him know that you're on your way to his stateroom."

"Thank you, Admiral," Brad and Harry said in chorus as they stood to attention.

"Stay out of trouble," Keuseman chuckled.

Dan Bailey leaned back and took the unlighted cigar out of his mouth. "I'm going to make this short and sweet."

Harry and Brad remained standing just inside the CO's stateroom.

"I don't know all the particulars, but suffice it to say that no one knows about Phuc Yen and the two MiGs." Bailey clamped his hands together behind his neck. "You," he looked at grad, "are very fortunate, and don't forget that fact. One more feat of unusual skill or daring — one more claim to notoriety — and you will be history."

Brad swallowed. "I understand, sir."

"When you return to your squadron, you can be as infamous as you want to be. Until then, you had better be as squeaky clean as a virgin in church."

Brad nodded but remained quiet. Harry was filled with excitement and relief, but he managed to keep the grin off his face and his emotions under control.

"Now," Bailey continued, reaching for his cigar, "we have a squadron party to attend."

Harry and Brad looked puzzled. They had just avoided a court-martial and now they were going to a party?

"Due to the media scrutiny about Phuc Yen, everyone has been encouraged to enjoy as much liberty as possible. There are only a handful of people who know the truth, so the media will get every conceivable rumor. That will help debunk the story."

Bailey studied their reaction. "The two of you don't know anything. You are directed not to discuss the incident with anyone." His voice rose in pitch. "That means don't even talk to each other about your screwup."

They both winced. "Yessir."

"When you get older, you'll have plenty of time to tell the story to your grandchildren. We shove off in less than Seventy-two hours, so I figure we can take half of that time for a party."

Bailey, seeing the small smiles spreading on their faces, decided not to mention the upcoming missions. The air war was heating up, and enemy air defenses were proliferating at an alarming rate.

"Ernie Sheridan has commandeered a bus from special services, so we're going to Kamakura most rikky-tik."

"Kamakura?" Harry asked, vaguely remembering the name.

"It's a small village across the peninsula by Sagami Bay. Ernie has reserved a block of rooms at a hotel, and the entire dining room and bar is exclusively ours."

"What can we do to help, Skipper?" Brad asked, but without enthusiasm. He was happy about being out of hack but still worried that he might get the ax. He also was desperate to get to a telephone and call Leigh Ann. He wanted her to know that the court-martial threat had been removed.

"Not a thing, except show up in the ready room in an hour and twenty minutes."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered gleefully.

"One other thing," Bailey said, thinking about the excitement when he announced the party, "we're going for the purpose of having a great time. Plan to return tomorrow afternoon. One word of caution, however."

Brad and Harry stopped smiling.

"I've told everyone that I don't want the place destroyed, and if there is any damage, everyone is going to ante up to pay for it. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," they both said.

"Better go pack," Bailey smiled, getting to his feet. "You have time to grab a bite and a few beers at the club before we leave."

"Thanks, Skipper," Brad replied, reaching for the doorknob, "and thanks for sticking up for us."

"Hell, I had to," Bailey responded, clamping a hand on each of their shoulders. "Just think how boring my life would be if they carted you two off to the dungeon."