“There is not much to tell. Everything happened at once, and the entire engagement lasted perhaps five minutes.”
“The quartermaster’s log indicated you came under attack at 0012 and your abandon ship order came at 0015,” Conner read from his notes. “That’s three minutes.”
“That’s all?”
“Continue, Lieutenant.”
“My recollection is we came under fire from anti-aircraft guns, 20-mm and 40-mm rounds. I had never thought about using anti-aircraft guns as anti-ship weapons. Ships aren’t supposed to get close enough for that to happen. I think Captain Levitte took a hit from a 40 mm and. . . .”
Conners waited for several seconds before asking, “Do you need a moment, Lieutenant?”
It took a few more seconds for O’Toole’s glazed eyes to refocus. “No, sir, I’m fine. Somehow, I managed to make it to the wheelhouse deck on the port bridge wing and got a look at the enemy ship. They had two searchlights on us and pounded away with their six-inch guns. I would guess our range at one thousand to fifteen hundred yards, so we took a hit every five to ten seconds. The men were sleeping on deck to escape the heat, and the Jap anti-aircraft guns slaughtered them.”
Conners waited.
“Three torpedo hits cut us in two, and everything aft of the forward boiler room sank like a rock. Those men didn’t have a chance.
By the time I figured out what had happened, the enemy ship had gone silent and dark and disappeared into the night. We had men in the water, and I tried to get them back aboard. Not many of them made it. Once the depth charges went off, I gave the abandon ship order.”
“How long does it take to get a torpedo firing solution on a target, Lieutenant?”
“Three minutes.”
“Then the Green and the enemy ship both had to hold steady course and speed for at least three minutes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How much time elapsed between the flashes on the horizon and the attack?”
“A few seconds at most.”
“So is it reasonable to assume the enemy coordinated their attack on the Green with the attack south of Savo Island?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Since no one could predict when the southern engagement would begin, the enemy ship had to be waiting for the gun flashes from the southern attack. Has that figured into your thinking?”
“Yes, sir. A reasonable conclusion is the enemy ship had been keeping station with us for some time, waiting for the southern engagement to begin. How they did it without us spotting them is beyond me.”
“And beyond me as well.”
O’Toole remained silent, his brow furrowed.
“Lieutenant, did the Green manage to return fire?”
“No, sir, the forward mounts remained trained dead ahead.”
“Why didn’t they return fire?”
“I had ordered Mount 51 to fire star shells if attacked, but they didn’t. I think I ordered the guns to return fire, but nothing happened. I suspect we didn’t return fire or fire the star shells because someone told me we lost power to the gun mounts.”
“What about manual operation?”
“The scuttlebutt says the battle lanterns didn’t work and the crews weren’t trained for firing on manual.”
“No training whatsoever?”
“That’s what they said.”
The captain to Conners’ left whispered into his ear, “I think we have the picture.” Conners said.
The stress of retelling the story had ripped away O’Toole’s commanding persona, and conflict and confusion covered his face. Garrett had experienced this before in the Great War, except he was the one answering questions. He had been the one who lost his ship to a German U-boat. He had been the officer trying to figure out what he had done wrong.
Conners glanced at the other board members, and their expression told him they had no questions. To O’Toole he said, “We have no more questions for you, Lieutenant. You’re our last witness, and we are almost done with our report. You have no further responsibilities to this board, and you are free to travel. You are excused.”
“May I ask a question, sir?”
“Yes.”
“What could I have done? What should I have done to avert the disaster?”
A fair question, Garrett thought.
“Good question,” Conners began, “but as a member of this board it would be inappropriate for me to make specific comments. I think it would be safe to say you were on the right track. Be a warrior. Challenge anyone who is not.”
Even though O’Toole tried to hide his inner turmoil, Garrett understood. He wanted to find out if O’Toole needed some encouragement to work his way thought the Green debacle. Besides, he wanted to catch up with O’Toole.
“Lieutenant, a second please,” Garrett called, coming over to him. “It’s been a while since the academy, and if you have nothing scheduled, would you mind having lunch with me?”
4
The awkward silence made the walk to the officers’ mess seem much longer than normal. O’Toole’s barrel-chested six-foot frame made walking next to him intimidating, even for an admiral. Garrett visualized O’Toole as the prototype for a defensive football tackle, one who could easily crush him. To the disappointment of the academy’s football coach O’Toole had chosen fencing, wrestling and boxing as his sports.
O’Toole’s individual competitiveness was born not of ego but something deeper. It was as if he was trying to prove himself, and no matter how well he did, it was never good enough for him to celebrate his victory. Garrett remained silent, wondering if O’Toole would start a conversation. He didn’t.
Garrett did have something he wanted to tell O’Toole, and was trying to figure out how to say it. At Annapolis, he had assigned the class a term paper to explain naval doctrine. O’Toole’s term paper was the best he had ever seen, but Garret was forced to give him D because O’Toole hadn’t followed instructions. He still felt guilty about it.
Once they took their seats and had their food, Garrett decided to get his mea culpa out of the way. “Something’s been on my mind for a few years now. Do you remember the D I gave you on your doctrine term paper?”
O’Toole chucked. “Sorry, Admiral, but I’ll never forget the grade you gave me. I just chalked it up to falling short again, so no hard feelings. You were just doing your job.”
“Well, I want you to know, I thought the paper was brilliant. I had to give you a D because the assignment was to explain naval doctrine not rebut it. I couldn’t tell you that then, and I’ve felt guilty ever since.”
“Well I seemed to have a habit of getting into trouble like that.”
“If I remember correctly, that was because you were always pushing the line. That time you went across it.”
“Sorry I put you on the spot, Admiral. No hard feelings.”
Garrett was relieved, and O’Toole’s smile broke the ice. “It’s been a while since the academy. Are you married now?”
“Yes. My wife, Kate, and I got married as soon as I graduated. Been six years.”
“Where is she now?”
“She stayed in San Diego for a while, but she moved back to Gloucester to stay with her parents. She got a job teaching in the high school.”
“Why didn’t you take leave state-side?”
“Too much to do. There are dozens of letters I need to write. Besides, I’m not in much of a mood for company now, and I felt I’d be better off to stay here and wait for my orders.”
“All by yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I would think you’d jump at the chance for a few weeks at home. Getting a ship blown out from under you is serious stuff,” Garrett said.
O’Toole’s eyes turned hard. “I need to work through that stuff you mentioned. I didn’t think further emotional complications would help.”
Garrett smiled to himself. He had forgotten how much he liked the fiery midshipman. The line O’Toole had just drawn was not a d
are but a promise. Garrett decided not to push the point.
“I see,” he said.
Sometimes kicking a mule is the only way to get its attention.
“How bad are the nightmares?”
O’Toole clenched his jaw, and his face turned beet red. “I don’t have nightmares.”
“I never did hear why you joined the navy,” Garrett said.
“My uncle worked at the Philadelphia shipyard, and I got to visit him from time to time. He showed me the sights. The shipyard and the memorial to Commodore Barry were my favorites
“Commodore Barry, as in the founder of the US Navy?”
“Yes sir, my childhood dream was to grow up and become an admiral and a leader like him.”
“I can’t think of a better role model. He was resourceful, gutsy, and his gunners were renowned for their accuracy. Did you know some British ships surrendered to him after a single broadside?”
O’Toole cracked a weak smile. “Yes, once he did that twice in the same day; his cannoneers were legendary. I read just about everything about him. I found a new book about him at the PX, and I’m reading it now.”
“Good reading, I’m sure. So how did you get into Annapolis?”
“That’s a long story. After my father died my mother and grandfather raised me. My mother is a schoolteacher, and she wanted me to get a college degree so I could be something other than be a fisherman, which is the opposite of what my grandfather wanted. My grandfather was involved in local politics, and for some reason he reversed course and talked the local congressional representative into nominating me to the academy.”
“Fishing is a hard, dangerous life. It takes a tough man to make a living that way.”
“True, my grandfather is a character. If he ran head first into a battleship, the battleship would lose. He’s stern, doesn’t show any emotion, and doesn’t say much. When he does say something you can bet what comes out will be a five-word declarative sentence followed by silence. His crew bitches about him all the time because he never says anything when they do a good job. His highest form of praise is two words: ‘That’s adequate.’”
“I imagine it would be tough growing up with a man like your grandfather.”
O’Toole smiled. “Not really. I made adequate two or three times.”
“Lieutenant, I read your file. Your evaluations from Annapolis are strong, and your captains have all had nothing but praise for you. The survivors of the Green all spoke highly of you. That squares pretty good with the officer I’m having lunch with, but I sense something’s eating at you. What is it?”
O’Toole rubbed his forehead and stared at his plate for several seconds. “It’s the question I asked Admiral Conners. What should I have done? When I took the watch, I was responsible for the Green and every life on board. That’s an incontrovertible fact. Admiral, you know the words as well as I do: ‘The officer of the deck is responsible for the safety of the ship and all those who sail within her.’
“I did a few things to improve the ship’s battle readiness, but I fell short of the mark. That’s a fact. I could have done a dozen things to thwart the attack, but they were against the captain’s orders. That’s a fact. Officers are supposed to take the initiative. That’s a fact. Therein lies the dilemma. The question remains, what should I have done? I can’t find the answer.”
“Let’s walk through your situation. What actions were available to you?”
“Run the sleeping men on deck back to their quarters. I didn’t, and the Japs slaughtered them.”
“The stern section contains most of the berthing space, and by your description it sank like a rock. My guess is you saved lives by allowing them to sleep on deck. Either way, it wouldn’t have saved the Green. What else could you have done?”
“I jacked up the lookouts and the gunners. I got the captain on deck and tried to reason with him about the airplanes overhead and the Jap force headed south.”
“The captain was aware of the report, didn’t care, and sent you packing. What else could you have done?”
“Perhaps I made a mistake by calling him to the bridge. I should have started zigzagging on my own authority and prevented the Jap ship from obtaining a firing solution or keeping station on us.”
“Zigzagging was against the captain’s orders, which would have landed you in the brig. What else could you have done?”
“I don’t know, but we should have been able to see the Jap ship. I checked, and I didn’t see a thing, but they had no problem seeing us.”
“Let me ask you a rhetorical question. Did your captain on the Green provide adequate leadership?”
O’Toole paused. “What’s your definition of adequate?”
“Adequate is being better than the enemy no matter how good the enemy is. Adequate means you’ve got a chance to come home alive.”
“Captain Levitte was okay.”
“Did he train the crew to fight in battle, not just training exercises? Did he keep his crew sharp and on their toes? Did he accept excuses? Did he have high standards? Can you answer yes to any of those questions?”
O’Toole looked down at his plate and thought for a several seconds. “No, sir.”
Garrett puckered his lips and nodded. “Do you realize the opportunity your positive record and Annapolis diploma give you?”
“I don’t understand, Admiral.”
“We’re building ships faster than they can find crews and captains. Someday you’ll be the captain of one of those ships if you do your job from here on out.”
“I’m not sure about that, Admiral, not after the Green. I fell short again, and my ship was lost. Why would the navy give me a command after this?”
“What do you mean, again?”
“You know what I mean. I fell short.”
“We’ve been over this, Lieutenant. You didn’t fall short.”
“I disagree, sir, unless you are telling me that the navy doesn’t expect every officer, regardless of rank, to lead in these types of situations to prevent such disasters and that no other options were available to me.”
He got you again.
If there was a central tenet taught at Annapolis, it was that every officer is responsible for leadership and must have the courage to step forward in difficult situations and do the right thing, regardless of the personal consequences. Garrett couldn’t argue against O’Toole’s point.
“Lieutenant, you were dealt a bad hand. Your superiors were mentally unprepared for this war. Your superiors are responsible for the loss of the Green, not you. Your captain tied your hands. No matter what legal action you took, the outcome would not have changed. As a matter of fact, the board of inquiry is going to recommend you for the bronze star for the way you led the survivors afterward.”
“I don’t care about legalities. Men died, and I don’t deserve a medal for anything I did.”
“Well, the Green’s gone, and you can’t go back. You’re tearing down your confidence by not taking credit for what you did right and by taking the blame for decisions beyond your control. Without your confidence, you’ll degenerate into a lousy officer. I don’t think you would be able to live with yourself if that happened. It would eat at you for the rest of your life and end your career. That’s not adequate. Or maybe you’ll get lucky and get killed.”
“I’m sorry, Admiral, I had the bridge; I am responsible. Everything I’ve been taught tells me this shouldn’t have happened.”
“And that’s exactly why you’re a good officer. Find your answers. Follow Admiral Conners’ advice. Be a warrior. Challenge anyone who is not.”
§
Later that week, Admiral Garrett’s mind kept drifting back to O’Toole. He invited his friend, Admiral John Karson, Nimitz’s chief of staff, to lunch.
Garrett deliberately arrived early and waited for Karson just inside the door. When Karson arrived, they shook hands and made their way through the buffet line in the large dining area before heading to the smaller flag officers’ dinin
g room. The room had six four-seat square tables, each covered in linen tablecloths set with heavy silver utensils. Garrett chose a back corner table, forsaking an empty table overlooking the harbor. After some small talk, Garrett got down to business.
“John, you see almost everything that happens in the Pacific, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but I hope it isn’t almost everything. We have to know everything.”
“I have a favor I want to ask,” Garrett said. “Could you track an officer for me and let me know what’s happening to him and his ship?”
“It would take some work, but yes. Why do you ask?”
“There’s a young officer named O’Toole who was involved in the battle of Savo Island. I think he’s one hell of an officer, but the navy dealt him a bad hand, and he wound up with the conn when the Japs sank the Green. He seems hell-bent on taking the blame.
“I taught him at the academy, and he seems to be holding himself to an unreasonably high standard, higher than he would hold any other officer. I should have asked him how he would judge his actions on the Green if he were in my shoes. Either way, he’s carrying a heavy load. I’ve been in a similar situation, and you probably have as well. I’m just curious on how he turns out.”
“That’s tough, but it’s standard stuff. He’ll work through it, and you know it, so why are you so interested in this guy?”
“Don’t know exactly. It’s his bearing, his voice, or something. I feel there is something special about him. You can always see the wheels turning, absorbing everything around him.
“At the academy I gave the class a term paper on US naval doctrine. What I got from O’Toole was a complete rebuttal of our doctrine.”
Karson arched an eyebrow. Garrett nodded and continued, “It was well researched, completely thought out, and convincing. I still think about it to this day. I gave him a D because he didn’t follow my instructions.”
“Independent thinker?”
“And then some. Behind his current problems I think he is the type of warrior Nimitz is looking for. If he finds his purpose, he’ll be exceptional naval officer. When he does, I owe it to him and the navy to help him along.”
Vows to the Fallen: O'Toole (The Marathon Series) Page 4
