“I...I truly don’t know, Bruce. I’ll think about it very seriously, but right this second I don’t know.”
Bruce was momentarily confused. “Uh, well, how long will you have to think? What do you have to think about?”
“I don’t know, we’ll see. Hopefully not long. Maybe later tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll think, and let you know.”
He turned and started walking again. “Okay. But I hope you’ll say yes, and real soon.”
“We’ll see, Bruce. We’ll see.” And they walked on in silence.
PALMA DE MALLORCA—When the Fortson arrived in Palma on Friday all of the slips at the deep water pier were taken, so the ship had to anchor out and run small boats to the landing for the crew’s liberty. Hugh had stayed onboard that night, but Teri had mentioned to him on Saturday morning that it was her birthday, and he decided that they could both use a break from what was now five months of deployment.
Hugh had just been reading in his daily Bible sessions about Paul’s teaching on fleeing from temptation, and he’d even smiled that afternoon while shaving, thinking about it. He really didn’t consider going out with Teri to be a temptation any more—he knew he wouldn’t actually do anything.
But he hadn’t counted on the electricity between them that evening, as they danced at a restaurant near the harbor. Maybe it was that the end of the deployment was actually in sight. Maybe it was a reaction to the hard work and danger. Or maybe it was just being away from home for so long. Whatever it was, he felt the tug of her presence, so close, as they danced slowly together. He held her close and smelled the fragrance of her hair. The tension between them was almost as strong as it had been that night at Guantanamo Bay.
Once again, as he felt his throat go dry and his heart begin to race, he thought of Saint Paul, only this time he didn’t smile. How do I get myself into these situations? Why didn’t we just bake a cake in the wardroom? Please Lord, just get me out of this safely, and I promise to run the other way from now on!
Teri seemed to sense his thoughts. She pulled back as they continued to dance slowly, her face only inches from his. She looked into his eyes as she whispered with a slight smile, “I know, Hugh, this is tough. I’m sorry to get us into these situations. I guess you know that I could love you very much... I also know that you’re taken. Jennifer is a wonderful wife and mother—I just got here too late. I only hope someday I’ll find a man like you. Please forgive me—this has been a wonderful birthday present. Thank you.”
Hugh felt torn. He almost leaned over and kissed her, but caught himself and felt disgusted by his own thoughts. He stopped dancing but kept hold of her hand, took a very deep breath, and said. “Teri, Teri. Look, this is about to do me in. You’re great. You’re beyond great, but I can’t do this. Come on, Lieutenant, let’s head home.”
“Is that an order?”
“I guess so.” He smiled.
“My place or yours?”
“Uncle Sam’s.”
Thirty minutes later they were huddled with twenty sailors in one of the ship’s small boats for the cold and sometimes choppy run out to the Fortson. As Teri snuggled close to him, Hugh thought how easy it would be to go astray without the help of a moral compass, even one as crude as his still was. And he said a short prayer of thanks.
During the evening the wind and tide had changed, swinging the ship almost completely around at its anchorage. The starboard midships ladder from which they had departed that afternoon was taking a beating in the increasing wind, so the deck crew rigged a temporary ladder in the protected lee off the ship’s port quarter. The small boat stood off the ship for five minutes, circling, while the crew finished their work on the fantail. Once alongside, naval courtesy called for the senior officers to depart first, so Hugh and Teri were the first two to come onboard by that path all night.
As they made their way into the port passageway leading forward, they couldn’t miss the loud cheers, whistles, and claps coming from behind the closed door to the machinist mates’ quarters. They were about to pass on when the content of the loud comments and exclamations caused them to stop. They looked at each other for a moment, listening. Then with a quick rap on the door, Hugh opened it, found the compartment to be dark but packed with men, and flipped on the overhead light.
Followed by Teri he entered the space, which had bunks on both sides and an open area at the far end. The bunks were full of sailors who had been cheering but now were grimacing as the lights flicked on. The floor in the open space was covered with blankets, and the area had been illuminated by flashlights held by several sailors on the top bunks. There on the blankets two of the ship’s female Admin personnel had obviously been putting on a show for the assembled men. Teri looked past Hugh, saw what had been going on, whispered “Gross!” and left.
Hugh looked around and was shocked to see three of the ship’s junior officers on the top bunks, one holding a flashlight.
“Ensign Malone, what’s going on here?” he asked, the anger obvious in his voice. He noticed some of the sailors starting to leave, and before Malone could answer, he barked, “Pearlman! Everybody stays.”
Clearly embarrassed, Ensign Malone looked at the senior officer, shrugged, and tried to smile. “Sir, gee, I guess it’s been a long trip, and, well, some of the guys got together and put some money in a pot and asked around the ship’s office if anyone wanted to make some money, and that’s all. No one was going to do anything.”
“This isn’t doing something? How much money?”
Malone hesitated. “I think about two thousand dollars—a hundred dollars a man.”
Hugh was stunned. “A thousand dollars for each of them?”
Malone nodded.
“I see.” Hugh turned and offered a hand to the two sailors on the floor, who by now had wrapped blankets around themselves. “I’ll escort you to your berthing space. Malone, I want you and Burton here to get everyone’s name who’s in this room.”
Malone hung his head. “I think we’ve already got that, sir. We had to pay up front and get on the list to get in.”
“Wonderful. Then everyone turn in—no one leave the ship until further instructions, and I’ll take the list to the XO and see what he wants to do about it. Come on, ladies, after you.”
WASHINGTON—That Sunday morning’s Meet the Nation featured another coup for Leslie Sloane: a live interview with the vice president, the first in-depth, one-on-one interview she’d granted since the night of January 29, and Leslie was proud to have won it. The two women were seated in comfortable chairs in the vice president’s enlarged office in the Executive Office Building, which some in Washington were now calling the Far West Wing of the White House, since the vice president was beginning to issue policy statements of her own, and sounding more presidential every day.
“Ms. Vice President,” Leslie began, “let’s start with the State of the Union address. Did you have any idea what was going to happen beforehand?”
Patricia Barton-North smiled like a schoolteacher and sat just a little taller in her chair. “None, Leslie. We’d had some general indications that not everything was right with the president for a month or two beforehand, but nothing that prepared us for what happened that night.”
“What kinds of indications?”
“Well, that whole program of trying to tell everyone’s side of a debate, for example, which just confused people, seemed awfully presumptuous to many of us.”
“Did you try to warn him about your concerns?”
“Yes, of course. But unfortunately, he wouldn’t listen to good advice. We had no idea, you know, that he was spending hours every day reading the Bible and being taught all sorts of stuff by people no one even knew were in the White House. It’s no wonder he lost his attention so quickly!”
“I see. And immediately after the president’s speech, what did you do?” Leslie asked.
“It’s ironic. I came right back to this office that night. Right here. And I made a list of good, intelli
gent people, men and women from all races and backgrounds, whom I believed this nation could count on at this time of crisis, and I began calling them.”
“That night?” Leslie was obviously impressed by her take-charge initiative.
“Yes, that very night, and again on Wednesday, after our meeting in the White House. I wanted to get the message out that not everyone in
Washington had lost their minds, that there was still a stable and sound executive branch, waiting to get back to real work.”
“Tell us about the Wednesday morning meeting with President Harrison.
The vice president shifted in her chair and straightened her dress. She looked as if she were describing a meeting with a delinquent child. “Leslie, I can only say it was bizarre. And I repeat what I’ve said so often: I have nothing against the president. This is a human tragedy. He told us the same things he’d said Tuesday night, that we should each choose one worldview or the other—you know how he calls them ‘God’s’ and man’s’—and that unless you chose his version of God’s, you were out of the administration! Can you imagine that? In this day and age, telling someone what she or he has to believe, or be fired!”
Leslie slightly shook her head. “That does sound unusual. What did you do?”
“I stood my ground. I told him that what he was doing was wrong, that the American people wouldn’t stand for religious tests—they’re unconstitutional, by the way—and that if he persisted, I’d have to leave his team, but remain on in my official capacity, of course, awaiting what I think will be the obvious decision of the voters in November. I just hate that our country has to be paralyzed for yet another year because of what’s happened to someone who was once such a great leader.”
“Have you read his Twenty Points? What do you think of his program?”
“Yes. I think his program is a tragedy—a dangerous, tragic disaster being foisted on the American public.”
“How?”
“Leslie, everybody knows that God doesn’t drop what he’s doing and worry about every little problem we’ve got. I mean, should I pray for guidance on my grocery list? Those were all myths, which man’s—and woman’s—reason has triumphed over during the long centuries since the Dark Ages. Now William wants us to return to them, giving people some kind of cruel false hope that if they’ll just believe in God, everything will be fine. It won’t be. We’ll still have all the same problems. We’ve got to use our own rational minds to solve our problems, even to choose between what’s right and wrong. We’ve been doing a pretty good job of it since the founding fathers erected the wall of separation between church and state, and I’m not about to let him and his inexperienced pals destroy this great nation because of their misguided and dangerous faith!”
Leslie took a deep breath. “If you believe we should be able to choose what’s right based on each individual’s rights, then why are you opposed to consensual polygamy?”
The vice president leaned back, obviously surprised by the question. Then she said, “That’s completely different, Leslie. That’s not right versus wrong. That’s exploitation! Men exploiting women, setting up a system of sexual subjugation to fulfill their own misguided sex drives. Using women, pure and simple.”
“But some women seem to prefer it. Shouldn’t they be allowed to live that way if they want, as their individual freedom?”
“No, because even though they don’t know it, or won’t admit it, they’re being exploited, and we can’t allow that as a role model for our children. Those women are simply wrong, and anyone who thinks it through will agree with me, I’m sure.”
“Thank you, Ms. Vice President. We have to take a short commercial break, but when we return I want to ask you about your plans for the upcoming People’s March on Washington on Easter Saturday, and for the election in general. This is Meet the Nation, and I’m Leslie Sloane. We’ll be right back.”
AT SEA OFF PALMA—Captain’s Mast is one form of American justice that is still swift and tailored to the offense. The captain of a U.S. Navy ship is both judge and jury for minor infractions, though his decisions can be appealed.
After leaving port that Sunday afternoon, the Fortson’s department heads and executive officer were assembled around the big table in the captain’s cabin. Seated at one end of the table, Captain Robertson began, “We’ve got Captain’s Mast scheduled for sixteen-thirty in the wardroom, but Lieutenant. Commander Dobbs wanted to meet with the XO and me beforehand. Since so many of our people were involved last night from so many divisions, I thought we all ought to get together. Thomas, you’ve got the floor.”
“Thank you, sir. I simply want to be sure that these two young women will be treated as the victims they really are in this incident and not charged with any type of violation.”
The captain seemed genuinely confused. “Just a minute, Thomas. Are you aware of what they were doing?”
“Yes sir, of course. I’ve spoken with them, with Hugh, and with Ensign Malone. I know what they were doing, and I know why, which is what I want us to focus on.”
“You’ve lost me,” the captain said and obviously meant it.
“Sorry,” the operations officer smiled. “Let me explain. In the first place, what two off-duty sailors want to do together is their business and should not be subject to punishment, or else it’s a violation of their individual rights. I’m sure that’s not the first time those two sailors have engaged in a legitimate and natural act of love, nor do I doubt that there are others on the ship of all sexual preferences who have their own personal love lives. So I believe you would be wrong even to charge them for something so personal.
“Second, these young sailors were obviously used and exploited by those older and senior to them for their own lurid purposes, and rather than being charged, they should be allowed to bring charges against those who forced them to display themselves in this way.”
Hugh, sitting on the opposite side of the table from Thomas Dobbs, thought, Is this a capital ship of the United States Navy or Alice in Wonderland?
The captain, more confused than ever, said, “Thomas, I think we’ll hear in a few minutes that three young seaman thought this idea up and offered to pay them. The women are both third-class petty officers, and they accepted the proposal. This episode may be a lot of regrettable things, but how is it exploitation?”
“Sir, officers were present! Clearly this was sexual harassment of the most basic and sordid type. I’m sure they felt if they didn’t go through with it, there could be negative repercussions on their careers.”
“Thomas, Ensign Malone is a twenty-two-year-old Iowa farmboy who’s been in the navy six months. Do you really think he intimidated them?”
“Sir, he and the other two ensigns are officers, nonetheless, and there were four chiefs in attendance old enough to be their fathers. That’s harassment and a violation of their rights.”
The captain seemed flabbergasted. “I’m not sticking up for the men—I intend to throw the book at them. But without the two women, nothing would have happened! And did I hear you correctly a minute ago that you believe there’s nothing wrong with everyone having sex on this ship whenever they want to?”
Dobbs smiled and looked directly at the captain. “So long as they’re off-duty and not affecting anyone else, what right does the navy have to interfere?”
The captain was obviously flustered. “I...you mean...why, because it’s wrong! We’re not supposed to be like cats and dogs, Thomas. The law and for that matter the Bible say not to commit adultery, fornication, or sodomy. How can we run this ship if everyone is sleeping with everyone else or worrying about who’s sleeping with whom? Not to mention pregnancy and deadly disease. There are good reasons for all those old regulations, Thomas, and we shouldn’t change them willy-nilly. We’ll regret that very much.”
“You see!” Dobbs retorted, as though he’d caught the captain in a lie. “Now you’re quoting the Bible, too. Forget about what it says, or even Navy Regulations, if they’re
based on the Bible. The Supreme Court has ruled that our collective rational minds establish what’s right and wrong—not some religious myths. And despite what President Harrison said in his last address, the Supreme Court is still very much the ultimate law of this land, not him, thank goodness, or the Bible.”
Hugh squirmed in his chair as Dobbs concluded, “So if two consenting adults want to play cards or dance or make love off-duty, the navy has no reason and no right to stop them. And if you try to do so here, I’m sure there’ll be an appeal, and you’ll have a lot to explain on this deployment, from obvious sexual discrimination and harassment to the death of a hardworking woman sailor.”
The other officers couldn’t believe Dobbs’s final remarks and expected the captain to blast him. Captain Robertson opened his mouth as if to do so, but then stopped and sank back in his chair. There was a prolonged and embarrassing silence.
Finally the captain spoke, looking down at his fingers resting on the edge of the table. “I joined the navy almost thirty years ago to help defend our country, Thomas. I can tell you every detail of the Battle of Trafalgar, the workings of a high-pressure steam boiler, or the flight characteristics of a standard missile. But I don’t understand social experimentation on navy ships, and I don’t understand violating well-proven laws, whether they originally came from God or just from men wiser than us.” He looked up at the operations officer. “I stand by my warning that we violate those laws at our own considerable risk. But it’s probably time for me to retire and leave all this to you younger types. Come on”—he unexpectedly stood up, and the others quickly rose as well—“it’s time for Captain’s Mast. I hope I get some insight into what to do about this mess in the next few minutes.” And he walked past all of his officers, picked up his hat, and headed for the wardroom.
Without saying a word, the others left as well, leaving Thomas Dobbs alone with his victory.
The President Page 51
