“I can’t believe this…. I thought the game was up,” said Rick.
“You didn’t think I’d leave you to die, did you? You didn’t leave me.”
“Hey, thanks, shithead,” muttered the SEAL Commander, as they wheeled him into the emergency area.
And Now Lt. Commander Headley was alone with the consequences of his actions. He returned to the control room and ordered Shark back into deep water. Then he found a quiet corner to draft a signal back to San Diego, and it took him longer than he had spent saving the SEALs.
In the end it read: “To: COMSUBPACFLT. 070700JUN. At 16.00N 94.01E. At 0540 this morning under Section 1088 Naval Regulations, I took command of the ship, and placed Commander Reid under arrest on grounds of psychological instability. Commander Reid refused request for assistance from U.S. Navy SEAL assault team operational in Bassein Delta. All senior executives in agreement with my actions. USS Shark subsequently carried out rescue. Four SEALs killed in action before we arrived to save remaining eight men, including badly wounded Commander Hunter. Two Chinese Helix helicopters destroyed with missiles. Submarine undamaged. Request immediate orders to return either Diego Garcia or San Diego. Signed: Lt. Commander D. Headley, CO USS Shark.”
Dan put the signal on the satellite a little after 0700. He then appointed an official second-in-command, the Combat Systems Officer, Lt. Commander Jack Cressend. Then he retired to sleep until 0900, having been awake for almost 24 hours. To sleep, perhaps to come to terms with the word mutiny, and to await his fate.
It was 1430 in Pearl Harbor when the communication from Lt. Commander Dan Headley landed on the desk of Rear Admiral Freddie Curran, Commander Submarines Pacific Fleet. In fact, it did not actually land; it just fell right out of the sky with a resounding thud, like a time bomb. Not in living memory had there been a mutiny in a United States warship on the high seas.
Rear Admiral Curran just stared at it for a few moments, and tried to decide whether to have Shark routed back to Diego Garcia to rejoin the Harry S Truman Carrier Battle Group. Or to order the submarine to make all speed home to its base in San Diego, a distance of more than 12,000 miles—three weeks’ running time.
As far as Admiral Curran was concerned, most of the U.S. Navy was already in the area of the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea, so it was scarcely imperative to get USS Shark back on station. And right now he was holding not so much a hot potato as an incandescent potato, and that three-week cushion would give everyone time to decide a reasonable course of action.
It was clear from the signal that Shark’s XO had acted with the highest possible motives, and there was no doubt that the veteran Commander Reid was something of an oddball. But Christ! thought Admiral Curran. Mutiny is mutiny, and it took place in a United States warship on the high seas. And he hit the secure direct line to the Pearl Harbor office of CINCPACFLT, Admiral Dick Greening, and read him the signal.
The Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Fleet gulped. Twice. “Mother of God,” he said. “Mutiny?”
“Well observed, sir. I’d come to a similar conclusion myself.”
“I assume you’ve ordered the submarine back to San Diego.”
“I was about to do so. And I will have done it in, say, fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
Admiral Curran’s signal was carefully worded…“Lieutenant Commander Headley. Received your signal 1430. Return USS Shark San Diego immediately. Admiral Curran. COMSUBPAC.”
Dan Headley read it minutes later. “Wonder if they’ll give me a job at Hunter Valley?” he pondered. “Because if the Navy court-martials me for mutiny, it’s all over in dark blue. This is probably my first and last command. Kinda unusual end to an otherwise exemplary career.”
Meantime the surgeon operated on Rick Hunter’s ripped thigh. The bullet had mercifully not damaged the femoral, but it had wreaked havoc with all the other blood vessels. And the doctor stitched carefully for three hours, after a major blood transfusion for the mighty SEAL leader.
It was several hours before Rick could sit up in his bed and make any sense. During the late afternoon he listened to Dan Headley’s account of the mutiny in the privacy of the sick bay.
At 1800 he decided to send in his own short satellite signal to Coronado. It read: “SEAL mission on Haing Gyi Island accomplished. Naval base plus two PLAN warships destroyed. Four of our platoon killed, including Lt. Allensworth, Petty Officer Jones and Buster Townsend. We also lost combat SEAL Sam Liefer. Both Riff Davies and myself were wounded. We would all have died but for the actions of Lt. Commander Dan Headley. Signed: Commander Rick Hunter, on board USS Shark.”
That signal went straight in to SPECWARCOM and arrived on the desk of Admiral John Bergstrom in the small hours of the morning. Its result was to put the Navy of the United States of America into one of the biggest quandaries it had ever experienced: whether to court-martial for mutiny a man who was not only an outstanding commander but also a plain and obvious hero.
13
Lieutenant Commander Headley had offered Commander Reid every courtesy, including the freedom to send in his own signal to CINCPACFLT in Pearl. It went, of course, directly to Admiral Dick Greening and portrayed the actions taken by Shark’s XO as nothing short of “making a mutiny.”
It stated: “My command was removed by my own Executive Officer in the most shocking and totally unjustifiable manner. The XO was tacitly supported by other senior officers in the crew, but not verbally. They merely failed to object to this plain and dangerous breach of Navy regulations. I am thus drawn to the opinion that Lt. Commander Headley stands guilty of making a mutiny, and ought, by rights, to be court-martialed forthwith. Signed: Commander D. K. Reid, Commanding Officer, USS Shark.”
“That,” pondered the Commander-in-Chief, “is not the message of a man looking for peace.” And in that moment he understood that battle lines were about to be drawn, despite the obvious danger that press and public opinion might consolidate behind the hero who had saved the embattled SEALs, and against the right and proper Commanding Officer of the nuclear submarine.
And so, as USS Shark made her way home across the wide Pacific Ocean, the High Command of the United States Navy was forced to acknowledge the probability of a court-martial: a court-martial that could very well split opinion in half, both in the service and in the entire nation, if the press managed to grasp its significance.
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 recommending 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.”
“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.”
The Shark Mutiny (2001) Page 45
