by Tom Carroll
Skipper Dickerson interrupted again. “Alright, I think we’re done here. Anything else, Mr. Garrett?"
“That’s it, Skipper. Oh, one more thing. I need your pilot to sign the report form.”
Kurt grabbed the form, signed it, and threw his pen at Colt’s chest, mumbling, “Intel puke!” as he stood and headed for the door.
As Kurt stormed out, Colt called after him, “Hope you enjoy your new callsign, TEDDY!” Again, the room erupted into laughter as Kurt disappeared from view, and the door slammed. From that day forward, Kurt Shaffer’s callsign was TEDDY, his momentary error in ship identification was immortalized, and Colt and Kurt later became best friends.
Kurt Shaffer’s career as a naval aviator had moved forward after what both friends came to refer to as “the incident,” as did Colt’s as an intelligence officer. Colt’s next duty station was Fleet Ocean Surveillance Information Facility (FOSIF), Rota, Spain. During the 1980s, Rota was considered the choice assignment for hard-chargers in the intel community, those destined for eagles or stars on their collars.
Kurt lost contact with Colt for a few years until he heard that Colt had suddenly resigned his commission despite having been deep selected for promotion to lieutenant commander and receiving the Navy Cross for heroism during a top-secret mission in Europe. The Navy Cross was the U.S. military’s second-highest decoration awarded for valor in combat. Who resigns after getting deep selected for promotion and receiving the Navy Cross? the admiral had wondered.
Shaffer maintained sporadic contact with Colt through the years that followed. He knew Colt had joined the Naval Reserve after leaving active duty and had returned as a surface warfare officer, completely separating himself from the intelligence community. Colt completed 30 years of active and reserve service and retired as a captain while simultaneously pursuing his civilian consulting career. Then, about three years ago, Shaffer learned that Colt had been appointed by the Harrison administration as undersecretary of defense for policy. He had watched with interest some of Colt’s confirmation testimony with the Senate Armed Services Committee. He admired his friend’s intelligent yet candid responses to senators’ questions and wasn’t surprised when Colt received unanimous approval.
And now he’s come for a visit to the 7th Fleet, Kurt thought. Regardless of the purpose of the visit, the three-star admiral was determined his friend would be greeted with full military honors.
Colt briskly walked up Blue Ridge’s aft gangway with Lenny in tow. He smiled to himself as he heard the ship’s topside loudspeaker sound eight bells in four sets of two, and then announce, “DEFENSE POLICY, ARRIVING!” As he crossed the ship’s quarterdeck, Colt passed through two rows of eight Sailors wearing their pressed service dress blues, who saluted to the notes of a boatswain’s pipe as he received formal side honors. At precisely the same moment, another Sailor quickly hoisted the flag of the undersecretary of defense up the signal mast. Vice Admiral Kurt Shaffer, Commander, U.S. 7th Fleet, saluted and offered his hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Undersecretary!”
Later, in the admiral’s cabin, the two friends caught up on the life and career events that had taken place since their last meeting. “Well, Colt,” Kurt asked, “what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Sitting back in his chair, Colt placed the heavy ceramic Navy coffee cup down on the end table and replied, “Officially, Kurt, I’m here to observe 7th Fleet operations and any interactions with the North Koreans and the Chinese. POTUS and SECDEF are concerned that the region has been heating up, and they want to be assured that the Navy’s getting everything it needs in order to handle any eventual contingency.”
“Any contingency?” the admiral questioned.
“Look, we both know the Chinese have been flexing their naval muscles out here recently, and on top of that, the president is very focused on moving the North Koreans toward reunification. One of his highest priorities is to get some sort of meaningful and verifiable force reduction before he eases trade restrictions. A strong and visible fleet presence is essential to both initiatives. Besides, the South Korean government is keen to normalize relations with the North, and to see that we formally and finally end the Korean War.”
“Okay, I understand. By the way, your young assistant, Mr. Wilson, mentioned you’d like to visit the Reagan Battle Force while you’re here. I think we can arrange that. Why the Reagan?”
“To be honest, Kurt, I thought I’d take the opportunity to see Dan and maybe patch things up a bit. He isn’t too pleased that his mom and I are living apart, and I’m getting the lion’s share of the blame.” Colt looked down at the blue carpet and waited for Kurt’s reply. He was uncomfortable sharing his personal reasons for the trip and hoped that Kurt wouldn’t think less of him. The admiral purposely let his friend suffer a bit longer, and then broke into a hearty laugh. “Got you, you old SOB! Of course, you can visit Dan! You must be very proud of him! I just wanted to see you squirm since I haven’t forgiven you yet for christening me TEDDY! And do say hello to young Dan for me. I haven’t seen him since his commissioning. But before you visit the Reagan, I need to brief you on the current CTF 70 commander, Rear Admiral Joseph Carlisle.”
“You don’t mean the son of Senator Emmett Carlisle?”
Emmett Carlisle was a senior member of the U.S. Senate, representing the state of Alabama. With only 100 members and regarded by many to be the world’s most exclusive club, the Senate was considered the pinnacle of most aspiring politicians’ careers.
“That’s the one. And it’s my understanding that Rear Admiral Carlisle hopes to inherit his father’s seat in the not too distant future.”
“He doesn’t want to stay in the Navy? He seems to have had a great career, and getting the 7th Fleet carrier group command sets him up nicely for a second star.”
“I truthfully don’t think another star is in Joe Carlisle’s future, Colt. He seems to have slipped through the cracks. He became infamous as an A-6 Intruder bombadier/navigator. The story goes that when his pilot put the plane into an uncontrolled flat spin, Joe Carlisle was supposed to tell the pilot which direction the aircraft was spinning so he could input the correct stick and rudder. Instead, Carlisle shrieked, ‘Do some pilot shit!’ into the intercom. Carlisle and his pilot safely ejected, and the plane crashed into the Mediterranean. Carlisle somehow also survived the resulting mishap investigation, probably because of his influential father. He continued to get choice assignments and has now clearly risen to his own level of incompetence. He’s scheduled to be relieved in a few months, and I’m crossing my fingers he keeps his act together long enough for his relief to assume command.”
Colt hated the fact that capable officers were occasionally overlooked because some other “fortunate son” had the good luck to have a senator as a father. When Colt was initially appointed to serve as undersecretary, he made it what he hoped was crystal clear to his son, Dan, that he should not expect favoritism from his father.
“I still don’t get why he doesn’t just clean up his act and get that second star,” said Colt.
“The Navy’s not for everyone. I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”
Kurt was still mystified why someone with Colt’s service record would resign so early and restart his career. And he still wanted to know about that Navy Cross.
Colt quietly said, “I had my reasons, Admiral,” and stood to leave the cabin. Kurt bounded out of his chair and replied, “Oh, come on Colt. If I can’t say that to you, who can?”
After a momentary pause, the conversation continued. “Hey, I have something for you!” The three-star admiral stepped across the cabin and handed Colt a package he had hidden behind the chair. Colt open the box and found a 1911 semiautomatic pistol inside.
“I know you still like going to the gun range, and I thought I’d get you a pistol from your past.”
When Colt attended Navy Officer Candidate School in Newport, Rhode Island, the standard military sidearm was the model 1911 in .45 caliber. The beautiful stainless-
steel weapon in Colt’s hand was a much more modern version with a 4½ inch barrel to allow concealed carry.
“I got you the 9mm version because the ammo is easier to find, and the felt recoil is less. There’s a leather holster there for you, too! You can take it with you to the Reagan and practice with the security team. That should really piss-off Joe Carlisle! I’d give a month’s pay to see the look on his face when he learns the undersecretary for policy is shooting a 1911 off his fantail!”
This was an exceptional gift, and Colt immediately felt humbled by his friend’s thoughtfulness.
“Thanks, Kurt, really. But how did you get it to Japan?”
The admiral smiled. “Old buddy,” he teased, “some things are best left unexplained. You’ll have no trouble getting it to the Reagan because I’m flying you out there on an Osprey. Getting it back stateside will be your problem!”
The Hyatt Regency, Tokyo
Colt paced his room at the Hyatt, unable to sleep. He wasn’t sure if it was jet lag, the unfamiliar surroundings, or the prospect of seeing his son the next day. Most likely, it was all of the above. An hour later, he finally relented, putting on a pair of jeans, a collared shirt, and a sport coat and headed for the hotel’s lounge. Hotel lounges were the same the world over, filled with patrons wishing they were home but trying to have a good time. He sauntered over to the bar and had just sat on a stool when he heard a woman’s familiar voice shout, “Hey, Colt! Come join us!”
Colt turned and saw Ashley, the Delta flight attendant, waving from a booth near the window. She was sitting across from a couple he guessed were also flight attendants, and as he approached their table, Ashley scooted over to make room for him on her side of the booth.
“Hi, I’m Carol, and this is Steven. You already know Ashley.”
“Careful you two, Colt is a Fed,” teased Ashley.
“That’s just great,” Steven said. All we need is an FAA dude hanging with us as we party the night before a flight!”
It was clear the party had been going on for some time, based on the number of empty glasses on the table.
Colt smiled. “Actually,” he said, “I don’t work for the FAA — I work at the Pentagon.”
The two other flight attendants weren’t paying attention. Steven was listening to Carol describe her Bahama vacation plans and what she was planning to wear once she hit the beach.
“What do you do at the Pentagon?” Ashley inquired, as she leaned closer to him.
Colt considered all the ways he had answered that question in the past, and he just didn’t feel like telling another lie. He simply said, “I’m the undersecretary of defense for policy. I’m the principal adviser to the secretary of defense for matters concerning the formation of national security and defense policy for our nation. I was appointed by President Harrison with the consent of the Senate, and I serve at the pleasure of the president.” Ashley didn’t try hiding how impressed she was. “Well, I’ll be damned!” she gushed and grabbed his arm.
After an hour of flight attendants’ tales of various obnoxious passengers, Colt was ready to call it a night. He paid the table’s bill and headed for the elevators, with Ashley, Carol, and Steven not far behind. He pressed the “up” button, the doors opened, and all four walked in. Steven pressed the button for the 32nd floor, the concierge level. All four exited, and Colt opened his room door while the others passed behind him on the way to their rooms.
Once inside, Colt removed his jacket and shirt and sat down to remove his shoes when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to find Ashley looking up at him with a smirk on her face. “Carol and Steven are hooking up tonight,” she said. “I thought I might hang out here with you?”
Ashley saw the concerned look on Colt’s face. “Come on, just one little drink?”
Ashley walked in past Colt and over to the window to admire the view, while Colt poured two glasses of wine from the complimentary bottle provided by the hotel. She took a sip from her glass. “I need to visit the restroom,” she explained. “I’ll be back to you in just a sec,” and with that, she gave Colt a kiss on his cheek and stepped into the restroom.
Seriously tempted by Ashley, Colt had made this mistake before. But this time, he really wanted to see if he could make his marriage work. A time comes in every man’s life when he’s faced with a decision that challenges his values and his self-control; this was one of those times. When Ashley came back into the room, Colt looked into her hopeful eyes and knew what he had to do.
“I’m pretty tired, Ashley, and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I really like you, but I think it’s best for both of us to end the evening.” He steered Ashley in the direction of the door, and they exchanged polite good nights.
Back in her room, Ashley leaned against the closed door and thought, Great, I finally meet a nice guy who’s actually somebody, and it turns out he’s too nice. She walked across the room and climbed into her bed. As she drifted off to sleep, she reminded herself, Well, there is always tomorrow’s flight.
Russian Military Intelligence HQ, Khodinka Airfield, Moscow, the Russian Federation
So, the old man died before we could kill him, Colonel General Igor Korobov thought to himself as he read the headline in the American newspaper. The Chief of the Main Intelligence Directorate of the General Staff, Armed Forces of the Russian Federation (GRU), found it ironic that his best and most reliable source of intelligence was the American news media. If either the Federation Council politicians or the ruthless bureaucrats running the Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR) ever discovered this fact, he was confident his agency’s budget would be decimated. He also was resentful that while most of the world was familiar with the SVR and its infamous predecessor, the KGB, the larger and much more powerful GRU was still practically unknown. After all, the GRU survived the transition from the former Soviet Union to the new Russian Federation — unlike the old KGB and its ruthless history.
The GRU had, for decades, been operating a program to place illegal intelligence officers, those without the protection of diplomatic status, in countries around the world. These operatives provided a cornacopia of western intelligence to GRU headquarters, covering a wide variety of military, economic, political, and cyber topics of interest. The GRU headquarters were located at Khodinka Airfield, which also included a range of other military and aerospace facilities. Korobov’s office was located in a building known as “the aquarium” because of the large amount of glass used in its design. Only a Russian bureaucracy would decide to house its major intelligence agency in a transparent, glass-enclosed structure.
But the world was finally paying attention to the GRU. In a 2018 Washington Post article, a former KGB officer was quoted as saying that GRU officers refer to themselves as the “badass guys who act.” The KGB officer continued quoting his GRU associates: “Need us to whack someone? We’ll whack him! Need us to grab Crimea? We’ll grab Crimea!” Then in early 2019, Britain’s The Guardian ran an article claiming that a suspect linked to the 2018 poisoning and attempted murder of the former Russian double-agent Sergei Skripal and his daughter in Salisbury, England, had been identified as a high-ranking officer in the GRU. Although Korobov’s superiors on the Russian General Staff were horrified with the publicity, Korobov was privately pleased that the GRU was finally getting the attention it deserved, and as a result, GRU morale was reaching an all-time high. In fact, recruitment was improving, and Korobov was enjoying increased prestige and influence within the halls of the General Staff. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who read western newspapers. Perhaps a fourth star was in his future!
The natural death of the American secretary of defense was timely, if not convenient. A GRU operation had been in the final planning stages to eliminate the prominent cabinet member and former astronaut because of what many referred to as the O’Kane Doctrine — a complete set of American policies and actions solely aimed at reducing Russia’s global prestige and influence. Although the undersecretary of defense
for policy, Colton Garrett, was the doctrine’s principal author and advocate, his mentor, Secretary O’Kane, had claimed it as his own. Garrett had coordinated with the U.S. State Department in a combined program of military and diplomatic initiatives that were successfully limiting Russian expansion, both geographically and in its relations with central European nations.
GRU analysts estimated that O’Kane’s death would now mean the deputy secretary of defense, Travis Webb, would soon be appointed as acting secretary and eventually be scheduled for Senate confirmation hearings. Webb, an electrical engineer and Vanderbilt University graduate had vast experience in defense procurement and design — skills that had initially brought him to the department of defense. He had come to the attention of the GRU many years earlier and a special relationship had been cultivated with the rising star along the way. Webb had expensive tastes that his government salary didn’t fully cover, and his resulting personal debt had created classic intelligence leverage for the GRU. Additionally, the GRU had discovered photos of Webb taken during his time at Vanderbilt that would be embarrassing at the least, should they become public. Webb could be depended on to be much more supportive of Russian interests than his recently departed superior. His new position of leadership at the DOD would mean a return to the normalcy that had existed between America and Russia before O’Kane had become secretary. And there was an added bonus: Webb would be directed to ask for undersecretary Colton Garrett’s resignation. The O’Kane Doctrine would simply melt away.
The White House, Washington D.C.
“So, the old man finally died. I thought it would never happen.” President William Charles Harrison was reading the Army CID report detailing Secretary O’Kane’s death, as he sat in the Oval Office at the Resolute desk. A gift from Queen Victoria to President Rutherford Hayes, the desk had been built in 1880 from the oak timbers of the British navy ship HMS Resolute. Every U.S. president since Hayes — except Johnson, Nixon, and Ford — had used the Resolute desk. Perhaps the most famous photograph of the desk was taken of President Kennedy’s son, John John, peering out from under the desk just a year before his father was assassinated on a sunny day in Dallas. This was a historic piece of furniture, and the sitting American president was a man who loved history.
