Sex and the High Command Read Online Free Page B

understand, but do you mean Anne’s husband. Ralph?”
    “Yes. We were talking about him last night.”
    “You were talking about him, Ben. I was talking about Ben Jonson… So, Ralph killed himself. Well, he must have wanted it.”
    “He didn’t want it. He came home after eighteen months at sea and found Anne pregnant. The shock did it.”
    “I suppose Anne will be able to support the child on Ralph’s pension.”
    “That’s true, Helga, and that’s the irony of it. She kills him and collects his pension.”
    “You said he killed himself.” Helga was obviously still half asleep.
    “Yes, but morally she’s responsible. Through her infidelity the Navy has lost an officer it took tens of thousands of dollars to train.”
    “Training for what, Ben?”
    “To navigate a ship. Eventually to command.”
    “Doesn’t the Chattahoochee have one of those little black boxes ? What do you call it, an inertial navigation device?”
    “Yes.”
    “They cost about six thousand dollars installed, don’t they?”
    “In round figures, yes.”
    “Ben, I’ll never understand why the Navy spends so much money to train a man to do what a little black box can do.”
    “Instruments break down, Helga.”
    “You still have the box, Ben. The man broke down.”
    There seemed to be an element missing in her conversation. “Dear, you can’t put a money value on a man’s life.”
    “I didn’t, Ben. You did. I was recapping your figures.”
    She had him there, he had to admit. “I’m upset, Helga.”
    “I know, Ben.” Her voice grew suddenly tender. “You were seeking certainties in this, our life. Well, Ralph found his. I’ll arrange for the flowers and go over and help Anne.”
    “Then you won’t be aboard for lunch?”
    “I don’t think it would be proper. You men will want to be alone with your grief.”
    “Helga, there’s nothing I don’t wish to share with you and Joan Paula…” He could feel himself swinging closer to her, feel the beginning warmth of their old intimacy, when the base telephone operator broke into his call.
    “Captain Hansen, I have a top-priority call awaiting you from the Pentagon.”
    A true Navy wife, Helga heard the operator and hung up promptly.
    It was Harvey Arnold. “Ben, I just got the word! Admiral Darnell wants the whole scoop on Chief McCormick—service record, medical log, the works. He’s calling the Norfolk base infirmary to put an analyst on standby, but he wants you, personally, to check out the chief’s story, make sure it’s more than just scuttlebutt…”
    “Harvey, doesn’t the admiral consider it below the dignity of a captain to check on…”
    “Ben, if McCormick won’t tell his captain the truth, who will he tell? There’s something big breaking here, top priority and top secret, because I don’t know what the hell’s going on, myself. Ring me back, Ben, when you get the scoop.”
    “Very well, Harvey. Over and out.”
    It gave Hansen short-lived satisfaction to click first. Always it had been his pride as an officer to hoist “execute” promptly, but how did a captain in the United States Navy go about verifying the alleged carnal relations of a chief water tender? “Orderly,” he called, almost wearily, “bring me the service record and medical log on Chief Water Tender McCormick, and pass the word to the quarterdeck for the chief engineer to report to the captain.”
    Before the engineering officer arrived, Hansen had read the service record of Angus Hull McCormick, CWT, a native of Cumberland, Tennessee, age thirty-seven, unmarried, with a high school education and nineteen years in the Navy. His medical log showed three venereal complaints. By far his greatest distinction was his proficiency in rating, an incredible 3.9. His military appearance also rated a 3.7.
    Hansen laid the records aside when the chief engineer entered, but he did not invite him to sit. The engineer had oil on his dungarees. Besides, he used language suited only for