Show of Force by Charles D. Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Charles D. Taylor
not subject to this deep nationalism, and he was just beginning to learn it through his immersion in his military life. Jorge was willing to die on the beaches of his native land, if necessary, to bring back the world that he had grown up in. He wanted it for his wife and children in Miami, and for the many other families who also waited back in Florida not knowing where their men had gone or when they would be back. Cuba became a nation to David, home of a fiercely emotional people whom one could easily become attached to. And he was suddenly worried for them.
He had gone to the bridge the night before to talk with Carter. “Captain, is there any chance we won't help Jorge when they hit the beach? He seems to be the only one concerned. The others feel there's no problem. They're sure that Castro's army will join them within a few hours after they see us behind them.”
“I wish I could answer that, David. The orders say 'yes.' Enterprise is out there now with enough firepower to take Cuba without troops. Long Beach is joining up tonight with missiles that could knock down anything Castro could put in the air. Our squadron is ready to lay down enough five-inch gunfire so they could walk up the beach a mile undisturbed, but I don't know what's going to happen.” He paused for a moment, picking out a bright star in the clear sky, enjoying the tropical breeze running over his face. “The orders come from Washington.”
“I know that, sir.”
“We don't move a goddamn muscle until we're told to.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sam Carter picked out the same star again, cautiously selecting his next words. He often worked that way when he was serious, and tonight he wanted to make a point. His blue baseball cap was in his lap and the moon reflected vaguely on his bald head. Carter was one of those men who lost his hair early, and in his late thirties he had already had ten years to get used to the reddish fringe that grew around his head. It never really bothered him and at no time had he even considered the old ploy of growing it long on one side and sweeping it across his head. He was short, too, about five and a half feet tall, but that hadn't particularly bothered him either. Size wasn't important in the Navy. It hadn't seemed to concern his wife, and he had accomplished so much in his short career that most professional acquaintances probably couldn't have remembered how tall he was. His sharp, dark eyes commanded his face whether he was laughing at a party or angrily chewing out a subordinate. But he never did or said anything without thinking about it first, and he wasn't about to now.
Finally, his thoughts in order, he said, “David.” Carter pushed himself upright in the bridge chair and turned to look the young man directly in the eyes. “You're now a naval officer. A lot of money has been spent on putting you through Annapolis and graduating a young man who will learn to make the right decisions in a time of crisis. Often, the decisions you make will be based on orders from Washington, from people who don't know you and don't want to know you because they might hesitate to give those orders if they did. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
“Yes, sir. You don't want me to say anything more.”
Carter's eyes looked back at his, glistening in the dark night. “More than that, David. Jorge Melendez is a soldier of his country, and that's how he will act when he goes ashore. You are an American sailor, and this may be the time you'll be hurt if you don't stand back a little. I know you've gotten attached to Jorge. This is your first real combat assignment, and I want you to carry it out without the emotional concern that you're worrying about now. I like Jorge, too. He's a very brave man. I'd like to march into Havana behind him, but my place is on the bridge of the Bagley. Yours will be in a whaleboat five hundred-yards off the beach, trying to help Jorge march into Havana. But,” and he pointed his finger at a
He had gone to the bridge the night before to talk with Carter. “Captain, is there any chance we won't help Jorge when they hit the beach? He seems to be the only one concerned. The others feel there's no problem. They're sure that Castro's army will join them within a few hours after they see us behind them.”
“I wish I could answer that, David. The orders say 'yes.' Enterprise is out there now with enough firepower to take Cuba without troops. Long Beach is joining up tonight with missiles that could knock down anything Castro could put in the air. Our squadron is ready to lay down enough five-inch gunfire so they could walk up the beach a mile undisturbed, but I don't know what's going to happen.” He paused for a moment, picking out a bright star in the clear sky, enjoying the tropical breeze running over his face. “The orders come from Washington.”
“I know that, sir.”
“We don't move a goddamn muscle until we're told to.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sam Carter picked out the same star again, cautiously selecting his next words. He often worked that way when he was serious, and tonight he wanted to make a point. His blue baseball cap was in his lap and the moon reflected vaguely on his bald head. Carter was one of those men who lost his hair early, and in his late thirties he had already had ten years to get used to the reddish fringe that grew around his head. It never really bothered him and at no time had he even considered the old ploy of growing it long on one side and sweeping it across his head. He was short, too, about five and a half feet tall, but that hadn't particularly bothered him either. Size wasn't important in the Navy. It hadn't seemed to concern his wife, and he had accomplished so much in his short career that most professional acquaintances probably couldn't have remembered how tall he was. His sharp, dark eyes commanded his face whether he was laughing at a party or angrily chewing out a subordinate. But he never did or said anything without thinking about it first, and he wasn't about to now.
Finally, his thoughts in order, he said, “David.” Carter pushed himself upright in the bridge chair and turned to look the young man directly in the eyes. “You're now a naval officer. A lot of money has been spent on putting you through Annapolis and graduating a young man who will learn to make the right decisions in a time of crisis. Often, the decisions you make will be based on orders from Washington, from people who don't know you and don't want to know you because they might hesitate to give those orders if they did. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
“Yes, sir. You don't want me to say anything more.”
Carter's eyes looked back at his, glistening in the dark night. “More than that, David. Jorge Melendez is a soldier of his country, and that's how he will act when he goes ashore. You are an American sailor, and this may be the time you'll be hurt if you don't stand back a little. I know you've gotten attached to Jorge. This is your first real combat assignment, and I want you to carry it out without the emotional concern that you're worrying about now. I like Jorge, too. He's a very brave man. I'd like to march into Havana behind him, but my place is on the bridge of the Bagley. Yours will be in a whaleboat five hundred-yards off the beach, trying to help Jorge march into Havana. But,” and he pointed his finger at a