David Jones was a broad-shouldered ex-athlete of medium height and thinning fair hair. He wore the nickname “Locker” with good humor; Davy Jones’s locker being, of course, seamen’s slang for the bottom of the ocean, the final resting place for sunken ships, articles thrown overboard or burials at sea. And Locker Jones was renowned not so much for his thoroughness as for his grasp of the very finest points of law, an ability to cut a swath through evidence and make it irrelevent, a knack for nailing the one salient fact that could make a case swing one way or the other. Lieutenant Commander Headley could hardly have been dealt a more deadly opponent.
The Judge Advocate, who would sit in on the case, ensuring that the significant points of law were followed, was the veteran Atlantic destroyer commander Captain Art Brennan. He was a tall gray-haired former lawyer from Rhode Island, again a man who had joined, left and then rejoined the Navy. He was a traditionalist with a wry sense of humor, and a surprisingly irreverent way of looking at the world. On the face of it, you would put the 54-year-old Captain Brennan in the corner of the wronged CO. But those who knew him better suspected he would keep a careful watch on the rights of Lt. Commander Dan Headley.
The defense counsel was a matter for agreement between the Trial Service Office and the accused officer. And they chose easily the best man available to them—the sardonic, dark-haired Lieutenant Commander Al Surprenant, whose career, thanks to a wealthy father, had gone: Choate School, Harvard Law School, excellent degree, boredom with law, United States Navy, commission, rapid promotion, missile director battle cruiser Gulf War, U.S. Navy lawyer, Norfolk, then San Diego after he married a Hollywood actress.
Lieutenant Commander Surprenant was generally regarded as the one man in the U.S. Navy who could nail Commander Reid, and bring in a “not guilty” verdict for Dan Headley. He would prove thorough in his preparation, single-minded about the innocence of his client and brutal in his treatment of the CO, whom he knew beyond any doubt had left one man to die and had been about to leave another eight to the same fate.
The date of the court-martial was set for Monday, August 13. It would be the first such trial for mutiny in a U.S. Navy warship, ever. It would take place deep inside the San Diego base, in the Trial Service courtroom, which was much like a civilian courtroom, except for the fact that it was all on one level, no raised dais for the men who would sit in judgment on the submarine’s XO.
The panel would consist of five men, three Lieutenant Commanders and one Lieutenant, all serving under the President, an ex-submarine CO, Captain Cale “Boomer” Dunning. This particular officer would bring strong combat experience to the deliberations of his team, and, to those who knew him, a genuine appreciation of the split-second flexibility required in the command of a nuclear ship on a classified mission.
By anyone’s standards, the U.S. Navy was giving Lt. Commander Headley every possible chance of a sympathetic hearing—perhaps more in their own interests than in those of the hero of the Bay of Bengal.
Meanwhile, the media continued to worry the life out of the story. They had no official information, but they were getting a ton of unofficial leaks. It seemed that with each new breakthrough, each new snippet of possible truth, there was a counterattack. One television network came up with an entire career study of Commander Reid, citing his exemplary record. No sooner had this aired than a newspaper came blasting out onto the streets with the story that he had allegedly left a combat SEAL to die.
It went on day after day…WAS THE HORSEMAN FROM KENTUCKY A RECKLESS GAMBLER? DID THE LIEUTENANT COMMANDER OWE THE SEAL CHIEF MONEY? HAD COMMANDER REID LOST HIS NERVE? WAS THERE A FISTFIGHT IN SHARK’S CONTROL ROOM? IS THE U.S. NAVY OUT OF CONTROL?
Day after day, the media bore into the events that surrounded the mutiny. But still the Navy would reveal nothing. Not even the date of the court-martial. And the press seethed with indignation, not because of a potential miscarriage of justice but because this story about the wronged hero had captured the imagination of the American public, and the press were unable to get a serious grip on the facts. Nor would they ever.
The day of the court-martial dawned bright and warm. Shades in the white-painted courtroom were down, and the air-conditioning was humming. The long, curved mahogany table at which the panel would sit formed a shallow well in the room. And the deadly serious nature of the case was highlighted by twin flags of the United States of America, set immediately behind the five oak captain’s armchairs.
Between the flags, hung at an angle, was a ceremonial Naval sword, which would be used especially at this court-martial, reviving an old tradition. Its gold-plated brass hilt was set around a white fishskin-covered grip. The backpiece was surmounted by an eagle-head pommel. The 31-and-a-half-inch steel blade was encased in a hand-stitched black rawhide scabbard, with brass fittings.
Before the verdict was announced, it would be removed from the wall, unsheathed from its scabbard and placed upon the table. If the verdict was to be guilty, the sharp end would point directly at the accused officer. If he was to be judged innocent, it would be pointed away from him, toward the wall.
Aside from the five-man panel that would sit in judgment, there would be the two opposing lawyers, plus the observing Judge Advocate. Also permitted to sit in on the trial were the SEAL Commander-in-Chief, Admiral John Bergstrom, plus the Pacific Submarine Fleet Commander, Admiral Freddie Curran. There would be two regular court stenographers, officially recording the proceedings. Two armed Navy guards would be on duty at all times, with two more outside the door. Witnesses would be called into the courtroom but would not be permitted to remain after their evidence had been presented. No outsiders, public or media, would be permitted within a mile of the place.
At 0900 sharp, Lt. Commander Headley arrived with his defense counsel. They took their seats at the table set up for the accused man and began poring over the trial papers. In the following 30 minutes the witnesses arrived and were seated in a large anteroom along the corridor. Two Naval lawyers plus two guards were detailed to ensure that there was no discussion about the case, no possibility of corroboration between interested parties.
At 0930 the three Lieutenant Commanders, plus the much younger Lieutenant, walked into the courtroom from a private door behind the long table and took their seats. Captain Dunning, like his colleagues, in full uniform, arrived three minutes later, carrying a large leather binder, and sat in the center chair.
He wished everyone a formal “good morning” but wasted no further time. “Gentlemen,” he said, “please proceed with the case against Lieutenant Commander Headley, charged this thirteenth day of August with making a mutiny on the high seas, while serving in the nuclear submarine USS Shark on the morning of June seventh, in the Bay of Bengal…. Lieutenant Commander Jones…perhaps you would outline the case for the benefit of the court.”
The prosecuting counselor rose from his seat, a look of obvious concern upon his wide, frank face. He hesitated for a few moments, and then said, firmly, “Sir, it gives me no great pleasure to prosecute this charge, because I do not believe any of the parties acted in any way through self-interest. On the one hand we have a dedicated, experienced commanding officer concerned with the safety of both his ship and his men. And on the other we have an equally dedicated Lieutenant Commander desperate to save a team of U.S. Special Forces that was under attack.
“The facts are not in dispute. The Navy SEALs transmitted a cry for help, citing their Chinese attackers in hot pursuit with helicopters and heavy machine guns. Commander Reid’s view was that the helicopters were almost certainly ASW aircraft, and at least one of them would be armed with rockets, and that to bring USS Shark to the surface was tantamount to suicide, because of the threat both to the submarine and the crew. It was, in a sense, one of the oldest quandaries any CO can face—will I sacrifice a very small number of men, in this case eight, in order to protect one hundred ten men, plus a very expensive nuclear ship?
“Gentlemen, Lieutenant Commander Headley
thought not. He thought he could save the SEALs, and he rallied the senior officers to his cause. Despite the protests, indeed the orders, of his Commanding Officer, he seized control of the ship. He arrested the CO under Section one-zero-eight-eight of Navy Regulations and had him marched off under escort to his cabin, where he was incarcerated. And then the XO went in and successfully saved the SEALs under the most gallant circumstances.
“But I submit we are not here to assess gallantry; we are here to assess right and wrong. And I quote now the regulation that governs the actions of Lieutenant Commander Headley on that most fateful morning.
“Naval Regulations, one-zero-eight-eight. The Relief of a Commanding Officer by a Subordinate:
1. It is conceivable that most unusual and extraordinary circumstances may arise in which the relief from duty of a commanding officer by a subordinate becomes necessary, either by placing the CO under arrest, or on the sick list. Such action shall never be taken without the approval of the Commandant of the Marine Corps or the Chief of Naval Personnel, as appropriate. Or the senior officer present, except when reference to such higher authority is undoubtedly impracticable, because of the delay involved, or for other clearly obvious reasons.
2. In order that a subordinate officer acting upon his or her own initiative may be vindicated for relieving a commanding officer from duty, the situation must be obvious and clear, and must admit of the single conclusion that the retention of command by such commanding officer will seriously and irretrievably prejucice the public interest.”
Lieutenant Commander Jones paused, and then continued, “The Section is quite detailed but I mention the salient points, that the subordinate officer so acting must obviously be unable to refer the matter to a common superior, and must be certain that the prejudicial actions of the CO are not caused by instructions unknown to him. He plainly must have given the matter much careful consideration, and—this is important—have made such exhaustive investigation of all the circumstances as may be practicable.
“The final paragraph in this area is one with which I take the gravest issue: that the officer must be thoroughly convinced that the conclusion to relieve the CO is one that a reasonable, prudent and experienced officer would regard as a necessary consequence from the facts thus determined to exist.
“I intend to convict Lieutenant Commander Headley on the words of that last paragraph, and I call Commander Reid as the first witness for the prosecution.”
The doors to the court were opened, and the former CO of USS Shark walked into the room. He was immaculately dressed in uniform and made his way to the witness chair, which had been placed on the left-hand side in order that witnesses could address both the panel and the examining lawyers.
The Judge Advocate rose and walked across to ensure that the oath was taken correctly. With his hand on the Bible, Commander Donald Reid calmly swore to tell the truth.
After the briefest of identification procedures, Locker Jones went straight to work.
“And on the morning of June seventh, were you startled to find your ship was moving fast at periscope depth in flagrant defiance of your most recent orders?”
“I was.”
“And where were you at the time?”
“I was in my cabin. The XO had the ship.”
“And what action did you take?”
“I returned to the control room immediately, and I ordered Lieutenant Commander Headley to turn the submarine around and to return to our rendezvous point, the place defined in our orders, sixteen degrees north, ninety-four-zero-one east.”
“And did he carry out your orders?”
“No. He did not. He refused.”
“For what reason?”
“He said he was on a mission of mercy to save the very small team of Navy SEALs—only eight of them, I believe.”
“And how did he propose to do this?”
“He said he was taking the submarine on the surface at flank speed in order to effect a rescue.”
“And were you able to approve this?”
“Certainly not. No commander of a nuclear submarine takes his ship to the surface in the face of the enemy. It’s one of the oldest rules in the book. No one does it.”
“And were you aware of the enemy?”
“Well, I knew they were Chinese. And I knew they were helicopters. Two, we were told.”
“And what did you deduce from this?”
“I assessed that they would be helicopters from the two ships we knew were in the Haing Gyi dockyard, a frigate and a destroyer. The chances were very high that at least one of them, probably both, would have an ASW capability, plus, probably, rockets that would both outrange us and pierce our pressure hull. We are not really built to fight on the surface, you know.” The court was listening to the refined voice of reason.
“No, of course not, Commander,” replied the prosecuter. “Absolutely not. I am sure everyone in the room appreciates that. But I continue: And did you communicate your assessment of the situation to your Executive Officer?”
“I sure did. I pointed out to him that there were almost one hundred ten officers and men on board my ship. We had a brave and experienced crew, a first-class crew. And I pointed out that to take the ship straight into the range of air-to-surface missiles, on the surface, on the open ocean, was contrary to everything I had ever known, been taught or believed in the U.S. Navy.
“Quite frankly, it was a risk I could not possibly take. Nor I suspect would anyone else in my shoes. Also I did not believe the U.S. Navy would be greatly thanked for putting a smashed nuclear reactor in the middle of the Bay of Bengal to pollute it for the next forty years. I had much to consider. And I did not believe the lives of the SEALs, just eight of them, warranted the potential destruction of USS Shark and her crew.”
“Thank you, Commander. No more questions.”
The court was amazed at the brevity of Locker Jones’s examination, amazed that he had not extracted chapter and verse the circumstances of the arrest of the CO. Instead he had concentrated on one precious factor—the course of action the Captain of the submarine had proposed, and was it sufficiently crazy to have him placed under arrest and relieved of command?
It was a vintage ploy by the prosecuting counsel, a method of avoiding endless testimony and confusing contradictions. He had presented his star witness in a lean, pared-down light: the order he had given, and the reasons for it. Was it the order of a madman? Not so far, of that everyone in the room was very certain.
And now the frowning figure of the defense counsel, Lieutenant Commander Surprenant, climbed to his feet to begin his cross-examination. And he was perhaps more aware than anyone of the brilliance of the strategy of Locker Jones.
“Commander Reid,” he began, “I want to ask your indulgence right here, because the reasons for Lieutenant Commander Headley’s actions date back for several weeks, and I am sure you will not object to answering my questions while we establish them in this courtroom.”
“Commander Reid,” shook his head, as if to say, “No problem,” but his counsel was instantly on his feet, snapping, “Objection.”
Captain Dunning stared quizzically at the prosecutor, who said, “Sir, the CO is not on trial. He is here to give his reasons for his orders on that particular morning, in those particular circumstances. I am at a loss to understand why defense counsel wants to delve into the past. Lieutenant Commander Headley, under Section one-zero-eight-eight of Navy Regulations, must demonstrate that his CO issued an order that could not possibly be obeyed, without being prejudicial to the public interest.”
Captain Dunning looked doubtfully at Al Surprenant, who responded quietly, “Sir, it is possible that a pattern of behavior by a single individual may become so unnerving for those who serve under him that an action to relieve command becomes necessary. Not just from the immediate orders, but from that pattern of unreliability. With respect, I intend to proceed along those lines.”
“Overruled.”
Lieuten
ant Commander Surprenant now took his time. He shuffled his file papers, and then looked up and inquired, “Commander Reid, may I ask if you recall the events of May sixteenth in the early morning, just before first light?”
“Well, I certainly know we were waiting at our rendezvous point for the Special Forces team to return from a mission.”
“Who had the ship?”
“Lieutenant Commander Headley. Our orders were clear. It was a highly classified operation, and we were detailed to remain at our RV in the Gulf of Iran while the ASDV returned with the team on board.”
“And were you ever informed of a problem during their escape from plainly hostile shores?”
“No I was not.”
“I believe you were not in the control room?”
“That is correct. My XO had overall responsibility for the return of the SEAL team.”
The Shark Mutiny (2001) Page 48
