“Begging the CAG’s pardon,” Tombstone said, the words clipped and tight.
“But what the hell does support mean if we can’t engage the enemy?”
“It means, in this case, that you were up there to show the flag, to
demonstrate U.S. support for the That government … not fight their
damned war for them!”
Marusko sighed. In all probability, everyone from the admiral clear up
to the President would love to see this whole thing covered over. That
simply wasn’t possible, though. The incident had been seen by too many
people, from the pilot of the surviving That aircraft to radar operators
on board the circling Hawkeye and the Aegis cruiser Vicksburg. And God
knew how many others had been watching, across the border in Burma, or
even farther north, in the People’s Republic of China. It was getting
increasingly difficult to keep such things private anymore.
“Okay,” he continued at last. “Like I said, Magruder, I understand what
made you do it. This time we’ll leave it at an ass-chewing. Next
time-” He made a sour face, “You had better make goddamn sure there
isn’t another time.
Get me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Interpreting your orders to suit yourself is a damned raggedy-assed sea
lawyer’s stunt. Pull it again and your ass is mine. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Get the hell out of here.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Bayerly, you stand fast.”
Tombstone wheeled and hurried out the door. Bayerly remained standing
at attention. Marusko considered the man for another moment. He had on
the desk before him the report from VF-97’s LSO. He wasn’t concerned
about the bolters–every aviator ran up a string of those at one time or
another–but the no-grade mark was serious. Bayerly had endangered
himself and his shipmates by that juvenile dive for the deck, and that
couldn’t be allowed to pass unpunished.
“Bayerly,” Marusko said slowly. “You and me have a problem. If it was
just the ROES, I’d kick you out of this office like I just did
Tombstone. But your little trick up on the roof this afternoon worries
me. You dived for the deck … and you came damned close to wiping
yourself out, along with your RIO and half the guys on duty up there.”
He waited for a response. “Well?
Anything to say?”
“No, sir. I guess … I guess it was a bad call on my part, CAG.”
“A bad call. How about bad judgment?”
“Yes, sir.”
Marusko studied the big aviator for a moment. “Son, you’ve been moody
as hell for weeks now. Ever since Wonsan, in fact. Am I right?”
“If you say so, CAG.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about, sir.” He shrugged. “I screwed up today, that’s
all.”
Marusko shook his head. “I’m taking you off flight duty, Made It.
You’re in hack until I tell you otherwise.”
Bayerly looked stricken. “But, CAG-”
“Save it.” He tapped the reports on his desk. “You’re grounded,
pending further investigation.”
“Yes, sir.” Bayerly’s face was emotionless once more.
“Dismissed.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Bayerly spun smartly and departed.
Marusko stared at the closed door for a long moment after Bayerly had
left. He didn’t like doing what he’d been forced to do, but there was
no alternative that he could see. Bayerly’s attitude had verged on
sullenness–since Wonsan. That was always a bad sign, and when an
aviator’s emotions began affecting his performance, it was only a matter
of time before there was an accident.
In the meantime, Marusko had to figure out how he was going to word his
report. He didn’t want to see Bayerly’s career endangered, but the guy
was skating close to having his flight status jerked for good.
Sometimes, Marusko did not like his job.
1712 hours, 14 January
0-3 Deck, U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
Tombstone was waiting with Kid and Dixie in the passageway outside the
CAG department suite. They turned when Bayerly stepped out of CAG’s
office.
He looked pale.
“What happened?” Tombstone asked.
“Yeah, Made It. We heard some shouting.”
“Nothing.” Bayerly rubbed his mustache with a stubby finger, and
frowned. “Listen, Magruder. I can get on just fine without your
covering for me.” He pressed past Tombstone in the narrow corridor.