The Command

“I told you, they’re all sailors to me.” He sounded pompous and evasive even to himself. Worse was knowing now where the command master chief stood. The chiefs’ mess was key to how well the ship worked. He didn’t need trouble there.

Eight bells. “Undersecretary of Defense for Manpower and Personnel.”

Dan held the salute as Blair came up the brow, stepping carefully on the slick metal treads in low heels, and faced the flag and then him. She looked very good, indeed, and the sailors on deck stared when he dropped his salute and she took his arm; then, smiling, thought better of it and simply shook his hand.

A cameraman shouted, “Here comes one of ’em.”

He turned back to see a chubby girl boarding. One of the engineers. Patty something… no, Patryce. Patryce Wilson, electrician’s mate third. A gloss-lipped black woman with a microphone thrust it forward, almost knocking her down. A moment later the others were shouting, too, asking whether the men had hazed her, if she had a boyfriend aboard, if she was sorry she’d come to Horn.

Dan said to the public affairs type, “Get them off the fantail. Now.”

“Sir, we can use the exposure. We—”

“Get them off my ship!”

Heads turned, but simultaneously he was dragged backward by both arms. He was about to react violently when he realized it was Hotchkiss, on his right, and Blair on his left. “Let go of me,” he told them.

“No, sir. Please. Don’t antagonize the press.”

“I’ll deal with this,” Blair said coolly. “Step back, Commander.” It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him.

“Berenicia Savage, isn’t it? Blair Titus. We went to Somalia together, do you remember? Did you want a statement on what this ship means to the services?”

“Oh, Blair … Just a moment… This young lady was telling us about how well she’s getting along with her male com — compatriots.”

“That’s fine.” Blair smiled at the girl, who looked bewildered by the cameras and attention, and at the same time radiant, fulfilled, like a game show contestant who’s just scored. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Does this mean the navy’s recovered from Tailhook?”

“I don’t know if we’ll ever recover from Tailhook,” Dan said, catching the PAO’s warning glance but not caring. We defeated a dictator. We liberated a country. The country respected the military again. Then a few drunken louts made us all assholes again.”

Savage’s eyes lit. She held the microphone out. Blair closed her fist over it and pushed it away. “What the commander meant to say is that today is an epochal event in the history of the U.S. Navy. Women went to sea with Stephen Decatur in the War of 1812. Today they’re going again, as combatants. Now let me introduce the other members of the Defense Advisory Committee on Women in the Services.”

* * *

He gave the VIPs a quick tour of the spaces, including women’s berthing, which, thank God, Hotchkiss had made sure was squared away and the signs taken down. When they were standing on the bridge and Boatswain Yerega was explaining the layout, the marine colonel murmured congratulations on Horn’s JTFEX results.

“I’m sorry?”

“I was told your overall score was one of the highest in the battle group. That’s outstanding, Captain. Positively outstanding.”

He was saved from a response by the “DESRON Two Two, arriving.” He took his leave politely, inviting them to coffee and cake in the in-port cabin after they’d completed their tour.

* * *

Aronie had come without an aide. He looked relaxed and fit. Dan offered to take him to his cabin, but the commodore said he’d seen the admiral’s sedan arriving. He’d just wait on the quarterdeck.

Keeping his voice below the output of the band, which was tuning up on the pier, Dan said, “I heard we came out better than I, uh, expected on the JTFEX.”

“Indeed you did. That was outstanding.”

“Sir, the chief observer shared his comments with me before they left the ship. We weren’t as good as that.”

“How good were you?”

“Average. If that. We worked on the sore points after the exercise, but in the exercise itself, I have to say, we didn’t show up all that well.”

The commodore said blandly, maybe a shade too smoothly, as if he’d rehearsed the answer, “Well, that’s not what came out of the pipe on my end. They must have done a recount somewhere between you and me.”

Dan thought this was interesting, but was stopped from pursuing it by the 1MC again. “Naval Surface Forces Atlantic, arriving,” it said. He and Aronie stepped forward and saluted side by side.

* * *