Author: Nancy
Disclaimer: I do not own JAG or its characters. This is purely for
entertainment.
Classification: Drama, action, angst PG-13
Category: Harm and Mac angst/romance
Summary: Harm and the crew of a Navy frigate fight to survive a night
of peril on the cold northern Atlantic. I wrote this in October of
2000. But it could work for season 7.
1600
JAG Headquarters
Friday
"Just one more hour, and 4 day leave here I come." I think as I stretch my arms behind my head and lean back into my desk chair. I have worked furiously for the past week to catch up on paperwork that threatens to delay this well deserved break.
My plans are to join Commander Jack Keeter and two other academy classmates for a weekend of fly fishing in northern Pennsylvania. This is becoming an annual retreat consisting of fishing, poker, and sharing exaggerated tales until all hours of the night. No women or work related discussion allowed.
Colonel Sarah 'Mac'McKenzie stops at my office door with a look of amusement on her face. "Commander Rabb you have 57 minutes and 29 seconds before takeoff."
"You're just wishing you were invited." I taunt with a twinkle in my eye.
"Who me, with a bunch of 'I took the short cut through the Academy to get my commission because I couldn't hack OCS' Squids. Not in a million years." Mac fires back rather playfully.
"I'll bet none of you even takes a rod and reel out of the cabin." She continues with the banter.
"I'll have you know. We take very little food with us because fish will be the main course."
"Oh then I'll have the Red Cross drop in food relief packages if that's the case." She counters with one eyebrow raised and a partial smile on her lips.
"Funny." I roll my eyes and shake my head.
"I know this is just one of those guy bonding weekends." Mac smiles.
"Guy bonding weekends! What have you been reading lately Mac. I didn't know you were into psychobabble. Besides I know you girls get together, and what do you call it have 'girl bonding outings'."
"Red light, Commander." She frowns.
"What?! you brought up the whole bonding issue, now I'm stepping out of line!" Surprised at her sudden change in demeanor.
She smiles knowing she got to me.
"You're enjoying this." I smile back and shake my head.
"Just had to have a little fun since it's only 55 minutes and 13 seconds before you leave."
The banter is interrupted by Petty Officer Tiner as he pauses at my door.
"Sir, The Admiral wants to see you immediately."
Mac shoots me a sympathetic look as I stand and walk towards the Admiral's office sensing impending disappointment with each step.
..............
"Commander Rabb at ease." The Admiral has a tone of all business.
"The Secnav has just notified me that someone is feeding the media information that insinuates that the Navy is sending unseaworthy ships to sea jeopardizing the crews of these ships. ZNN is planning on investigating these allegations, and I'm sure they will have a field day with this. He wants someone on this immediately. Sources suggest that these complaints are coming from the command of the USS Thomas S. Hall, a 239 man frigate. Her captain, Mike Crusher is a career man with 30 years experience who plans to retire after this voyage. His record shows that he has served faithfully and with the dignity the Navy expects from her officers. Some feel that he is turning to the media, because he has not received promotions thus stalling his career for the past 10 years. Others believe the complaints may have some validity."
"Sir, I know with the past budget cuts many ships are experiencing maintenance problems, but do you believe it has become this serious?"
"I hope not. On the other side of the coin, a disgruntled officer could be using this to draw negative attention to the Navy. Either way this does not look good. That's why you're leaving out to the Thomas S.Hall in the next hour. Tiner has your orders and travel arrangements. Any questions? Good. Dismissed."
"Aye Aye Sir." So much for my fishing trip.
................
Seven hours later
0200 Eastern Time
0500 Mid Atlantic Time
Saturday
CHF3 Sea Stallion
North Atlantic
"Commander we should be reaching the Hall in about 15 minutes"
Six hours aboard a noisy cold helo was not part of the plan for my weekend. Keeter and the guys are going to be fishing while I freeze my six off in the North Atlantic. I sigh and prepare for landing on the flight deck of the Thomas S. Hall.
The lights of the frigate sparkle on the dark isolated Atlantic. A gust of freezing cold air whips around as me as I disembark. The helo stays just long enough to refuel and heads on to Iceland.
The XO, a Commander Ellis welcomes me aboard. I'm sure he is just thrilled with meeting a JAG officer that's about to investigate the integrity of it's command.
"Commander Rabb, I was briefed on the investigation. The captain will meet with you at 0600 in the ward room. I'll show you to your quarters so you can stow your gear." I notice he avoids eye contact and maintains strict protocol.
0600
Ward Room located just off the main deck and below the bridge.
I feel the fatigue of the all night helo ride. Two cups of coffee later the Captain arrives. Mike Crusher is a man in his mid fifties with gray hair and piercing blue eyes. The wrinkles around his forehead and eyes show the years of stress of his command. His last 3 years serving as captain of the Hall. This is his last voyage. The Hall delivered supplies to the Coral Sea Air Craft Carrier located just south of Iceland, and is returning to Norfolk after picking up outdated 50 caliper ammunition from Iceland.
I carefully ask him to describe the problems he has experienced with the Hall. He sighs, "Commander, the Hall is one of the oldest ships still in operation in the Atlantic Fleet. She has served the Navy well, but like me it's time to retire. We experience electronic and electrical problems with every voyage. She has been in port for repairs, but you can use tape and Band-Aids for only so long." He laughs sarcastically.
"You have voiced your concerns with Fleet Command?"
"Every voyage I turn in a list of maintenance repairs. I know we are struggling with cutbacks, but no one seems to be listening.."
"So you think the media may make someone start listening?" I inquire while watching the Captain's nonverbal behaviors.
The Captain looks me square in the eye "Commander, I choose to fight my battles directly. And when I become tired of the battle I will walk away."
"So you're retiring because you're tired of fighting this issue with Command?"
His shoulders drop and his expression is that of defeat, "What do you think Commander....Commander you will be provided with a list of the crew. You may want to begin questioning the Chief Petty Officers, they are the ones keeping this boat afloat. If you will excuse me, I have my duties to perform." He pauses and with a slight laugh. "Tonight the officers are honoring me with a party in the Ward Room, you are invited to come."
I'll be about as welcome as a snow storm in D.C.
I stand at attention as he leaves. This is going to be a long day. I'm the enemy sent by Fleet Command.
........
Later that afternoon
Saturday
After interviewing the Quartermaster Chief, Electrician's Mate Chief, and Damage Control Chief, I see the trend in the stories. Multiple power and structural problems pose a constant challenge to the officers and crew.
I stifle a yawn as Master Chief J.R. Murphy a boatswain's mate with over 30 years experience enters the quarters I was using for interviews. Chief Murphy, a short stocky man with multiple tattoos on his arms and could bend iron with his hands was known by the crew as Chief Murf or the 'Murf'. He is part of the old Navy. A jack of all trades, any problem or question could be solved by the 'Murf'. He stands at attention until I direct him to sit. I reach for my 6th or 7th cup of coffee and offer him a cup which he refuses.
I detect disdain as he answers questions about the Hall. "Commander this frigate is still useful, pull it into port at Norfolk, crank her up once a day and use her to train new recruits. They'd get more experience fixin her than most seaman get in a career. She's a real cluster f--k." I raise my eyebrows at his frankness.
"Chief how long have you served on the Hall?" The caffeine and lack of sleep begin to wear on my patience.
"Three years, Sir."
"Why haven't you put in for transfer. A chief with your experience usually receives priority in transfers," a hint of confusion in my voice.
"Permission to speak freely, Sir." I have a feeling he speaks freely all the time.
"Speak away," I wave my hand tiredly.
He stares at my academy ring, "This Navy is run by a Command that lacks balls, we have a president who ran from military service, a congress that is clueless about what the military is all about, and the brass are more concerned about whose toes they might step on rather than maintaining a strong defense. Most of the Navy's officers are Academy grads who have been pampered and are ignorant about the people who serve under them. When the going gets tough, they bail out.... I see you have wings, Sir, but now you are a legal eagle. I've served on carriers. The pilots are prima donnas that think their crap doesn't stink. Now we've got a pilot turned lawyer trying to save the Navy's image. You must be Command's Chief of Damage Control, Sir" he sneers with eyes showing no fear.
I don't know if I'm just too tired to really care or that I know some of what he has said I agree with. I wonder if his personal attack at me was an attempt to anger or intimidate me."
"Chief you have the right to your opinions, but I'm not looking for opinions, I'm looking for the truth to this situation." My eyes hold his "Dismissed Master Chief."
..........
The rest of my day was spent interviewing officers and some of the crew. There was consistency, the frigate was in poor condition, and the Captain was well respected.
I call Admiral Chegwidden and report my findings thus far and have just enough time to dress for the Captain's party. I plan to make an appearance and then leave to allow the officers to enjoy themselves without being reminded of the investigation.
2100
Flight Deck of the Hall
I walk the deck reviewing in my mind the information I collected through out the day. The cold windy air hints of an approaching storm. A shadowy figure approaches and stands several feet away.
"Commander, you didn't stay for the Captain's party?" The gruff sarcastic voice from earlier today interrupts my thoughts.
"Master Chief Murphy." I acknowledge his presence, but ignore his comment. "You have duty tonight?"
"We're running gun practice exercises. We have some outdated amo we picked up and are moving from the bow down the ammunitions hoist to the magazine below."
............
On the Bridge
USS Thomas S. Hall
2100
"Lt. Marks, the radar is malfunctioning again. I can't get any readings, and we're heading into more ice."
"Notify the Captain and post another seaman on watch."
A few minutes later a sudden jerk followed by a loud grating sound is carried through out the ship. "We've hit ice sir," a panicky voice reports. Another rough jerk throws the crew to the floor. A sudden explosion bursts from the main deck violently jarring the ship. A huge blast of fire shoots up on the main deck encompassing the ward room, communications room and the bridge.
On the flight deck, the sudden explosion throws the Master Chief flat on the deck, and me over the rail which I grab and hold on while dangling precariously over the dark freezing churning waters of the North Atlantic. Repeated explosions continue to jar and shake the frigate.......
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