Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [96]
“May I know, sir,” Queeg said in a faltering tone, “in what respect the admiral finds fault with me?”
“Well, hang it man, first time under way you run up on the mud-of course, that can happen to anybody-but then you try to duck a grounding report and when you do send one in upon request, why, it’s just a phony gun-deck job. And then what do you call that despatch to us yesterday? ‘Dear me, I’ve lost a target, please, ComServPac, what shall I do?’ Admiral blew up like a land mine. Not because you lost the target-because you couldn’t make a decision that was so obvious a seaman second class could have made it! If the function of command isn’t to make decisions and take responsibility, what is it?”
Queeg’s upper lip raised, showing his teeth in a mechanical half-smile. “By your leave, sir, I made my estimate of the situation and my decision. Then, considering the expense of the target which you have just mentioned and all, I made another decision, which was that the matter ought to be referred to higher authority. As for the grounding report I did not try to duck it, sir, I did not wish to trouble higher authority with a despatch about a trivial matter. It seems to me that I am being reproved here in one case for bothering higher authority, and in the other case for not bothering higher authority. I respectfully submit, sir, that the admiral ought to make up his mind as to which policy he prefers.” There was a glimmer of triumph in the down-hung face.
The operations officer ran his fingers through his gray hair. “Commander,” he said, after an extremely long pause, “do you really see no difference between those two situations?”
“Obviously they were different. But in principle they were the same. It was a question of consulting higher authority. But as I say, sir, I accept full responsibility for whatever happened, even if it means a general court-martial-”
“Nobody’s talking about a general court-martial.” Grace shook his head with a pained, exasperated expression. He stood, with a motion to Queeg to keep his seat, and paced the little office several times, whirling spirals in the layers of smoke that hung in the air. He came back to the desk and rested one haunch on the corner. “See here, Commander Queeg. I’m going to ask you a couple of straight off-the-record questions. I promise you your answers will go no farther than this room unless you wish. In return, I would greatly value a couple of forthright answers.” He looked into Queeg’s eyes in a friendly yet searching way.
The Caine skipper smiled, but his eyes remained opaque and expressionless. “Sir, I’ve tried to be as forthright as possible in this interview, and I certainly wilt not stop being forthright at this point-”
“Okay. Number one. Do you think your ship, in its present state of training, and with the caliber of subordinates you have, is capable of carrying out combat assignments?”
“Well, sir, as to a definite yes-and-no commitment on that nobody can predict the future and I can only say that with the limited resources at my command I will to the utmost of my ability strive to carry out any orders I may receive, combat or otherwise, and-as I say-”
“You’d be happier if the Bureau had given you another assignment, wouldn’t you?”
Queeg grinned with one side of his mouth. “Sir, I respectfully submit that that’s a question nobody would care to answer, not even the admiral.”
“True enough.” Grace paced in silence for a long time. Then he said, “Commander Queeg, I believe it’s possible to transfer you to a state-side assignment-with no reflection whatever,” he added hastily, “on your performance of duties aboard the Caine. The transfer would be a simple correction of an unjust and erroneous assignment. Among other things, as you know, you’re rather senior for this post. I understand the squadron is filling up with CO’s who are reserve lieutenant commanders and even lieutenants-”
Queeg, frowning at the air in front of him, his