My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

90

“Excuse me, sir,” O’ Brien greeted me, handing over a printout as I entered the Control Room this morning. “This just came from the White House for the skipper, it’s official, but…” he said glancing over at the still closed pleats.

“You want me to take care of it?”

“Yes sir…”

“Very well. I’ll handle it,” I said and began to read the official orders, “set a course for Washington. I’ll inform the captain about the rest of it.”

“Aye sir. Thank you, sir.”

He pressed the button to open the pleats and we were greeted to the view of the still slumbering skipper.

“Lee?” I asked gently as I approached. “Lee?” I said a bit louder and shook his shoulder. “Lee? C’mon son, wake up.”

“Mmmf?”Lee muttered as he stirred, “Oh, sorry, Harry. I guess I fell asleep before our nightcap. What time is it?” Lee yawned  as he sat up.

“0745.”

“I slept in here all night?”

“It’s not that you have an actual watch, Lee.”

 “One of the perks,” he grinned, stretching out the kinks, “slept like a baby.”

“Apparently. Official orders,” I added, handing him the printout, “I’ve already had our course changed.”

“Very well,” Lee said after he read them, “you know, if that man wasn’t our commander-in-chief, I’d complain that he’s abusing his power. In fact, I think I’ll complain anyway.”

“Lee, son, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Sparks?” Lee called out, ignoring  my advice and headed to the radio shack. “Get me the president. His private line.”

“Um…his private line, sir?"

“Tell the switchboard I want to have a little talk with the president. They’ll put me through.”

“It’s still night there, sir.”

“I don’t care if I wake him up in the middle of connubial bliss with the first lady, get him! Wait…no, I guess that wouldn’t be a good idea…all right, ask the switchboard to have him call me as soon as it’s ‘convenient’.”

“Aye sir,” Sparks said noticeably relived. So was I.

“What’s for breakfast, Mr. O’Brien?” Lee asked.

“Scrambled eggs, hash browns, ham, sausage, pancakes and good old fashioned American coffee.”

“Technically, that’s not quite correct,” Chip said as he and Joe entered the Control Room, “only if the beans are from Hawaii can it be called American Coffee. Only place it grows for us. Now, if you’d said, American ‘style’ coffee, well, that’s one thing, but there’s nothing quite like good old fashioned U.S. ‘Navy style’ brew. That’s what we have this morning, Skipper. And please, don’t stand there drooling over my nice clean deck.”

“You heard him, Lee,” I said slapping Lee on the shoulder. “Let’s go while we wait for your call from the president.”

“The president?” Chip asked.

“We’ve been ordered to Washington,” Lee said sadly.

“Actually, Lee’s been ordered to Washington," I said, "we’re just his transport. Of course, he could use the flying sub.”

“ONI?” Joe asked.

“I wish,” Lee sighed, “er…sorry, Harry. You know how I feel about Seaview. But you also know how I feel about the agency. When I re-upped in the Reserves I also added myself back to ONI’s roster as well.”

“The president wants him to attend an award ceremony,” I continued,“ to be followed by a state dinner.”

“So why the long face, bro?” Joe asked his friend.

“Because it means dress whites and we’ll be delayed getting back to Santa Barbara, among other things.”

 “Oh.”

“Call for you, skipper,” Sparks called out,” the president. Not a secure line.”

“Put in on the monitor,” Lee ordered.

 It sprang to life.

 “Did you have to call in the middle of the night, Captain?” the president, in bathrobe, fumed from the Oval Office videophone. 

 “Respectfully, Mr. President,” Lee said, “I wish to refuse your order.”

“Look, Crane….”

I cleared my throat.

“Crane, Nelson-Crane, whatever. You’re back in the Reserves, so you do what I say. You don’t have to like my orders to follow them.”

“I don’t deserve a damn medal, sir. I wasn’t in the Navy at the time and…”

“Shut up. The SecNav confirmed that for me. So you’re not getting a Navy medal. You’re getting the Medal of Freedom. 100% civilian, so there. To be followed by the Ambassador’s dinner and ball I’m hosting. You can bring Nelson along if it makes you feel better.”

“Gee, thank you, Mr. President,” I said snidely.

“If it’s a civilian medal,” Lee said, “then I still don’t have to accept it or.…”

“Technically you can just sail your damn boat home, but,” he glared, “listen, man. We can’t just not do anything when other countries already awarded you their highest medals. Congress has been beleaguered by their constituents to give you something! Even children across the country wrote them, wrote me.  

“The Medal of Freedom is the highest civilian award in the land. Now, be a good boy and make nice with congress and the country.Me, I don’t really give a damn if you want it or not. You’re still an opinionated SOB, but even I have to admit you did a great job over there and your country’s proud of you. I’m even proud of you, even if I don’t like you personally.”

“Congress, huh?” Chip asked.

“Congress. It was a unanimous vote. Both houses, one abstention.”

“Children wrote to you about me?” Lee asked.

“The did. Some used crayon. Most used emails. They seem to think you’re America’s Hero.”

“I didn’t do it alone, sir.”

“I know that. Congress knows that…we all know that…Jackson and the Special Operation team will be awarded a Presidential Citation at a later time as they were in active service at the time."

“All right, all right,” Lee acquiesced, “just…make it short. You won’t mind if I don’t stay too long?”

“I don’t, but our guests would.  Would be seen as impolite. Polite is pretty important to you isn’t it?”

“Very well…we’ll be arriving in….”he stopped, and looked at Chip.

“Two and half days, Skipper.”

“Why not use the flying sub?” the president asked, “it will get you here a lot earlier."

“The flying sub is being repaired,” Lee lied. “Seaview will park in Norfolk.”

“I’ll have a limo waiting. Of course, you’ll be in dress whites for the presentation.  By the way, Captain, your mother will be in attendance. So if you think about reneging, you’ll he hurting her feelings and not just the national pride.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there. If that will be all, Mr. President?”

“That’s all.”

“Oh, and include Joe and Chipee…er…Commander Morton  in your invitation.”

“Ah yes, the bottomless pit, I’ve heard. Very well, we’ll expect them as well.” And with that he ended the call and the screen went blank.

“Chip, I’m so sorry,” Lee said. “It just came out so naturally.”

“Lee, Lee, Lee,” Chip said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can call me anything you like. And thanks for the invite. I’ve heard that the White House has the best chefs in the country. I wonder what’s going to be on the menu….”

And so, Lee and I headed to the Wardroom to finish off whatever was left of the hash browns and scrambled eggs, and groan about the accursed dress whites.