“And what caused you to return to the control room?”
“The submarine began to move forward in complete contradiction to our orders, which had been issued by the flag. Our RV point was in hard copy.”
“And when you did return, what did you learn?”
“Well, there had been some kind of an attack on the team, inshore, and they were on their way back, bringing with them an apparently wounded man.”
“They were also bringing back the body of their leader, Lieutenant Commander Ray Schaeffer, I believe?”
“So I was informed.”
“So. The leader had been killed, and another SEAL was badly wounded, and they were desperately trying to get away, trying to get back to safety after achieving their objective?”
“So I believe.”
“And did Lieutenant Commander Headley inform you that it was perfectly safe under clear skies, and on empty seas, to go in six miles, fast, toward the ASDV and get them back on board with all speed?”
“He was already headed inshore when I reached the control room.”
“And when you learned they had a top combat SEAL on board, dying, next to his already dead Leader, I believe you issued an order for USS Shark to turn around and return to the rendezvous point, leaving this heroic blood-soaked American Special Forces unit essentially to get on with it as best they could?”
“Well, I was certain about my orders: to remain on station until they arrived back.”
“When Lieutenant Commander Headley informed you of the seriousness of the situation, that a man was dying, I believe you uttered the phrase ‘You can’t run a Navy for a guy who’s probably cut his goddamned finger’?”
“I do not recall that.”
“And so you turned around and went back to the RV?”
“Yes.”
“And do you recall a strong protest from the SEAL mission controller, Commander Rusty Bennett, almost begging you to go inshore and save his man?”
“No. I do not recall that.”
“Do you recall the condition of the wounded SEAL when they finally arrived back?”
“You know perfectly well that I do.”
“What was that condition?”
“Do you really have to persist in this unhelpful manner?”
“WHAT WAS THAT CONDITION, COMMANDER?”
“The SEAL was dead.”
“Thank you. And is it your opinion that he might have been saved if you’d gotten him aboard a half hour earlier?”
“I have no idea. I’m not a doctor.”
“And how long had he been dead before your crew got him back aboard?”
“I believe fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you. And would it surprise you to learn that from that moment on, both your crew and the SEAL assault teams regarded you as a heartless, somewhat remote figure who cared nothing about any of them.”
“OBJECTION! Counsel is harassing the witness, asking a question to which he could not possibly know the answer.”
“Sustained. Strike that last question from the record.”
But Al Surprenant smiled the quiet smile of a man who had said precisely what he wanted to say. And he rephrased it, good-naturedly…“Commander, would it suprise you to know that a lot of your crew did not agree in any way with your decision to let the man die?”
“OBJECTION! Commander Reid did not decide to let the man die. He simply followed the orders of the flag. Counsel continues to harass the witness.”
“Sustained. Strike the question.”
“Very well,” replied Al Surprenant. “In the light of everything, let me ask you this: Thirty-six hours previously, do you recall refusing to go inshore for a few extra miles, thus saving the battery of the ASDV when the navigator had informed you there was plenty of water depth.”
“No. I do not recall that.”
“Would you feel happier if I read it directly to you from the ship’s log?”
“OBJECTION. Counsel is treating the witness as if he were on trial, attempting to humiliate him before the court, and now he wants to produce evidence against him we have not even seen.”
“Sustained. But leave the record.” Boomer Dunning was a picture of calmness in increasingly stormy waters.
“Commander Reid,” continued the defense counsel, “would you say you were a man who followed orders to the letter, allowing no leeway, and no room for flexibility.”
“No I would not. I’m as flexible as the next man. But not when it comes to the safety of my ship.”
“Would you say you were as flexible as, say, Admiral Pierre de Villeneuve?”
Locker Jones shook his head, and held his hands apart in mock outrage. Captain Dunning stared at the former CO, awaiting an answer. And when it came, there was a frisson of unease in the room.
“Damn you, Headley,” he hissed, almost under his breath.
And now Lieutenant Commander Surprenant was on him. “Damn who, sir? Damn who? I did not quite catch that.”
Commander Reid’s face was beginning to redden, and he was starting to look angry. He made no reply.
And again Al Surprenant came in. “I asked if you were as flexible as Admiral de Villeneuve. Please answer me. I know you are well acquainted with each other.”
Locker Jones had never even heard of the French Admiral, or if he had, he’d clean forgotten it. But it was hard to object because he could not tell if there was venom behind the innocence of the question.
Still Commander Reid said nothing. And the president stepped in, requesting defense counsel to clarify the question for the benefit of the panel and indeed the prosecutor.
“Sir,” said Al Surprenant, “Admiral de Villeneuve was the commander of the French Fleet at the Battle of Trafalgar. He presided over probably the biggest disaster in a sea battle in history. He lost twenty ships, was captured by the British and soon afterward committed suicide. There is a picture of him on the wall of Commander Reid’s cabin, which is unorthodox for a U.S. Navy commanding officer, at best.”
“I see,” said Captain Dunning. “Well, I suppose it may be relevant. Please proceed.”
“Thank you,” said the counselor, and, turning back to Commander Reid, said flatly, “Is it not a fact that you believe you WERE Admiral de Villeneuve in a previous life?”
“Millions of people believe in reincarnation,” replied the Commander.
“And so they may,” said Lieutenant Commander Surprenant. “But that scarcely answers my question, does it? Shall we try again? Do you believe you WERE Admiral de Villeneuve in a previous life?”
“Well, even General Patton believed he had been a great warrior in a previous incarnation.”
“So he may have. But would you be willing to give my question yet another try? Do you believe, Commander Reid, that you actually WERE Admiral de Villeneuve in a previous life? That’s a yes, or a no.”
“Well, we do share some deep French roots.”
Captain Dunning interrupted. “Commander Reid, please answer the question. Yes or no.”
“No,” replied Shark’s former CO. “I do not believe I actually was Admiral de Villeneuve.”
“Thank you, Commander,” said defense counsel. “And now, if I may, I should like to read something to you—‘Another life, another battle, so many mistakes in Bucentaure. I must never repeat them now that I have another chance. June 1980. DKR.’ Do you recognize those words, Commander.”
“Well, vaguely, yes I do.”
“Who wrote them?”
“I did.”
“Where did you write them?”
“In a book, I believe.”
“A book about reincarnation, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“Commander, perhaps you would care to tell the panel whose ship the Bucentaure was?”
“It was Admiral de Villeneuve’s flagship.”
“In your own words, Commander: ‘…so many mistakes in Bucentaure. I must never repeat them now that I have another chance.’ Sir, you believe you
are the reincarnation of one of the worst Naval commanders in history, correct?”
Locker Jones had had enough. He leaped to his feet and almost shouted, “OBJECTION! This quotation, written more than twenty-five years ago, was plainly pilfered from the private quarters of the Commanding Officer of USS Shark, unlawfully and disgracefully. It cannot be admissable evidence in any court of law in the free world.”
Captain Dunning nodded. But he said, “This is not a civilian court of law, where lawyers are trained to find loopholes to free guilty people. This is a United States Navy court-martial, and we have no other objective except to find the truth. We are assessing the guilt or innocence of men who are trained to take charge of ships worth four hundred million dollars. Everything is relevant in this regard.”
“But my client is not on trial, sir,” protested Lt. Commander Jones.
“I know he’s not,” replied Boomer. “Objection overruled.”
Al Surprenant continued. “Commander, do you think it might be unnerving for a crew to discover that their leader believed he was a navy disaster area in a previous life?”
“I cannot say what they might feel.”
“But do you think they might quite properly be concerned?”
“OBJECTION. The question’s been asked and answered.”
“Sustained.”
“Commander,” asked the counselor, “are you a spiritualist?”
“In some ways.”
“Does that mean you have merely inherited the spirit of Pierre de Villeneuve, or do you believe you have been in contact with people from…er…the other side, I believe is the phrase?”
“Like many millions of others, I may have.”
“Commander, have you spoken lately with Captain Grigory Lyachin?”
Donald Reid remained silent.
“Someone enlighten me,” interjected Boomer Dunning. “Who’s Grigory Lyachin?”
“He’s that Russian commanding officer who died with his crew in the Kursk submarine, Barents Sea, seven years ago,” said Al Surprenant.
“Commander Reid, would it surprise you to know that certain senior members of your crew heard you talking to him by candlelight in your cabin?”
“DAMN THIS. DAMN YOU ALL! I’M NOT ON TRIAL HERE.” The ex-CO of Shark was standing now, shouting back at the defense lawyer, all semblance of self-control slipping away.
Lieutenant Commander Jones was also on his feet. “Sir, I really must object most strenuously to this line of questioning. Defense is attempting to paint this veteran commander of many years standing as an oddball, which is patently unfair.”
“Your word, not mine,” interrupted Al Surprenant. “Thoughtful of you.”
“SILENCE!” snapped Captain Dunning. “Please be seated, and listen carefully. “If I consider the questioning of a witness to be irrelevant or unfair, I shall make my views known. If you object to anything, please say so, and I will make a judgment. But I will not tolerate banter.
“And, for the record, I do think it is extremely important to know that Commander Reid has some unusual views. I was once in a ship where the Captain was known to pray extensively on a nightly basis, and it damned near caused a mutiny. Ships are like that. Little things can mean a great deal, especially concerning a CO.
“This evidence about Commander Reid matters. And I am afraid he is going to have to put up with it. He was, after all, instrumental in bringing this court-martial, and my sympathies are not with him in these instances. Please proceed, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Al Surprenant, humbly. “Commander Reid, have you ever tried to contact Grigory Lyachin in a spiritual way? Perhaps to seek counsel or guidance from a man who has paid the ultimate price for carelessness?”
“It was never his fault. Any more than it was de Villeneuve’s. They were both let down by others.”
“Then you have been in contact?”
“In a sense.”
“Thank you. And now I would like to return to more immediate concerns. As you know, Lieutenant Commander Headley, by the morning of June seventh, had much on his mind. His CO, a spiritualist who associated himself closely with two massive Naval disasters, had twice made decisions apparently detrimental to a SEAL operation—we have established that. He was dealing with a man who played rigidly by the book, presumably to avoid making the same foul-ups he had committed at Trafalgar.”
This was too much for Captain Dunning. “Counselor,” he snapped, “kindly desist from this soliloquy. You are not asking questions. You are merely ridiculing the witness. Ask, or sit down.”
“Of course, sir,” said Lieutenant Commander Surprenant courteously. “Commander, would you be surprised to learn that Lieutenant Commander Headley knew you would refuse flatly to help the SEALs. Because of your beliefs and your record?”
“Yes, it would.”
“You will later hear that he did indeed know. It was the predictability that caused the mutiny—that they all knew you would leave the SEALs to die. I have no more questions.”
“Commander Reid, you are excused. But please do not leave the building.” Captain Dunning wrote carefully in his book.
And then Lt. Commander Jones called his second witness, Shark’s Combat Systems Officer, Lt. Commander Jack Cressend, who testified very briefly that he had indeed been asked by Lt. Commander Headley to take part in an act of defiance toward the Commanding Officer, in order to save the SEALs.
At the conclusion of his evidence, a short account of how they did not turn the ship around but proceeded inshore to meet Commander Hunter and his men, Al Surprenant had just one question.
“Lieutenant Commander,” he said, “if you could live June the seventh over, would you still support the XO in his determination to save the SEALs?”
“Absolutely, sir. I would. No doubt in my mind.”
At this point, Lt. Commander Jones announced that he had no more witnesses—but would confine his cross-examination to those appearing on behalf of the accused.
Immediately, Al Surprenant called Commander Rick Hunter, who walked into the courtroom and swore to tell the truth before being seated.
After identification, the SEAL Commander admitted under oath that he had the gravest worries about the possible conduct of Commander Reid under pressure. He and Lt. Commander Headley knew each other well, and had discussed the “unreliable” nature of the CO, even before the mission began.
“When you first transmitted your distress call to Shark, while your men were fighting and dying in the open boats, did you think help would come?”
“Not if Commander Reid had his way. I knew it would not come.”
“Did you think you had a chance to survive?”
“Only if Dan Headley took over the ship, in a big hurry.”
“But for Lieutenant Commander Headley’s actions, would you and your men have been killed.”
“Yessir.”
“Do you think he deserves to be court-martialed?”
“Nossir.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s just about the best officer I ever met. And he saved all of our lives.”
“Do you intend to make any protest whatsoever if Lieutenant Commander Headley is found guilty of mutiny?”
“Nossir. But I shall resign my commission immediately.”
“After a working lifetime in the Navy? And the very real prospect of becoming C-in-C of SPECWARCOM?”
“Yessir. I could never feel the same about the service if they convicted Dan Headley.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
Locker Jones arose. “You stated that you and Lieutenant Commander Headley knew each other well. That was not quite the whole truth, was it?”
“Sir?”
“You and Dan Headley are boyhood friends, correct? Best friends, correct? You went to school together, correct? Your father employs his father, correct?”
“All correct, sir. I am privileged to have him and his father as my friends.”
�
�Is it not probable that you would never hear a word against Dan Headley, from anyone?”
“Very probable. Because he does not do things to cause people to utter words against him.”
“He has now, Commander.”
“But not by people who really know him, sir.”
“And you think you know him well enough to say he could not be guilty of the crime with which he is charged?”
The Shark Mutiny (2001) Page 49
