Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [63]
“Well, let’s see, shall we?”
“Yes, sir.” As the communicator walked out he said in low tones of reproach, “Good God, Willie.”
Captain de Vriess paced the narrow cabin, taking no notice of Willie. Except that he puffed his cigarette faster than usual, he gave no sign of being disturbed. In a few moments the coding machine began clicking in the wardroom. The captain went out, leaving the door open, and peered over Keefer’s shoulder as he whirled through the message, working from the long white Fox schedule. De Vriess took the completed decode from Keefer’s hands and scanned it.
“Thank you, Tom.” He came into his cabin, closing the door. “Too bad you didn’t break it when it came, Mister Keith. It might have interested you. Read it.”
He handed the breakdown to Willie. Lieutenant Commander William H. de Vriess USN detached when relieved. Report to BuPers by air transportation for further assignment. Class two priority authorized. Training duty of Lieutenant Commander Philip F. Queeg has been canceled and he is proceeding to relieve at once.
Willie returned the despatch to the captain. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s incredible stupidity and carelessness on my part,” he said, choking over the words. “I don’t know what else to say, sir, except-”
“What happened to the despatch Smith gave you?”
“It’s still in the pocket of some dirty khakis. Smith handed me the despatch while Mr. Maryk was swimming for the float. I stuck it in my pocket and-I guess I became interested in the float recovery and forgot all about it. ...” The words sounded so lame to his own ears that he blushed.
De Vriess leaned his head on his hand for a moment. “Have you any idea, Keith, how serious the mislaying of an action despatch can be?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not sure you have.” The captain ran his hands through his hanging blond hair. “Conceivably this ship might have failed to carry out a combat assignment-with all that that entails. I hope you realize that for such failure I would have borne sole responsibility at the court-martial.”
“I know, sir.”
“Well, how does that fact register on you?”
“With a determination never to let it happen again.”
“I wonder.” The captain picked up a stack of long yellow forms on his desk. “By a coincidence which is perhaps unlucky, I’ve been filling out the work sheet of your fitness report this morning, together with those of the other officers. I have to submit them to the Bureau when I’m detached.”
A tremor and tingle of alarm passed through the ensign.
“How do you suppose this incident ought to affect your fitness report?”
“It’s not for me to say, sir. Anybody can make one mistake-”
“There are mistakes and mistakes. The margin for error is narrow in the Navy, Willie. There’s too much life and property and danger involved in every act. You’re in the Navy now.”
“I realize that, sir.”
“Frankly, I don’t think you do. What just happened calls for me to give you an unsatisfactory fitness report. It’s an unpleasant, dirty thing to do. These sheets lie in the Bureau forever. Everything written on them becomes part of your name. I don’t like to wreck a man’s naval career, even when he regards it lightly.”
“I don’t regard it lightly, sir. I’ve made a bad mistake and I’m desperately sorry. I’ve made that as clear as words can make it.”
“Maybe now is the time to clean up your report,” said the captain. He pulled out one of the forms from the batch, picked up a pencil, and started to write.
“May I say one thing more, sir?” Willie put in quickly.
“Certainly.” The captain looked up, pencil poised.
“You’re writing that report with this incident pretty fresh in your mind. It’s bad enough, I know. But I wonder whether twenty-four hours from now your phrasing might not be a little fairer-”
De Vriess smiled in the familiar sarcastic way. “A good point. But I’ll look over all the sheets tomorrow anyway before giving them to the yeoman. Perhaps I’ll be feeling more charitable then, in which case I’ll make the necessary changes.”
“I’m not asking for charity, sir.”
“Very well.” De Vriess