The Edge of Honor Read Online Free Page A

years in a more modern destroyer, all of which gave him more sea time than the average lieutenant. But he also realized now that he still had a lot to learn about how to handle himself in a professional culture where there were many officers whose value was not measured in class rank alone.
    The tugboat came alongside smoothly, snubbing up under the overhang of the bow long enough to let the pilot climb through the lifelines, and then eased herself out a bit so that the deck crew could make her up alongside. The pilot was met by Ens. Jack Folsom, the ship’s first lieutenant, who escorted him aft on his way up to the bridge. The piers at Subic were so crowded with ships that traditional destroyer-force ship handling was not really safe. Tugs were used to push a ship as big as Hood sideways into her berth with a minimum of fuss.
    The tugs were made doubly necessary by this “frigate’s”
    glass jaw, a huge, bulbous sonar dome right at the foot of the bow, which meant that razzle-dazzle, “drive up to the pier and back her down hard” ship handling was out of the question.
    Brian glanced back up at the bridge and saw a cluster of khaki moving out onto the port bridge wing. The captain and the Operations officer, Lieutenant Commander Austin, were standing in the conning position along the bull rail. Brian recalled with some warmth the friendly welcome-aboard extended by Capt.’ Warren L. Huntington on Brian’s first day. In contrast, Austin had been noticeably cooler. As the senior department head, Austin was Brian’s designated sponsor. He had made it clear at the outset that while he, Austin, was an old hand in WESTPAC, Brian was going to be playing catchup ball in Hood. Brian was well aware that the four department heads competed for ranking in the fitness-report system. One of them would win the coveted 1 of 4 ranking; somebody else would have to be 4 of 4. Brian also knew that he had better place in the top half of that ladder or he could forget lieutenant commander. As the new guy, and a novice at Seventh Fleet operations to boot, he knew he faced an uphill battle.
    The tugboat drowned out his thoughts with a loud blat
    of its horn, answered by another horn from the tug made up back aft. The ship was making bare steerage way now as the pilot brought her close in to her designated berth at the bulkhead pier. Brian could see Filipino line handlers waiting on the pier and men standing out on deck on the destroyers already moored to the pier, watching as the newest ship to join the Seventh Fleet was brought alongside.
    There was a sudden blaze of bronze tropical light as the sun surmounted the eastern mountaintops. He realized that he was already perspiring freely in the damp tropical heat.
    The destroyers at the pier looked well used, with running rust and a weather-beaten look to their paint jobs. The older ships, some dating back to World War II, clearly showed their ribs through the thinning hull plating.
    The long line periods of escorting the heavy carriers on Yankee Station, or conducting night-and-day firing missions on the shore-bombardment gun line off South Vietnam, beat both men and ships down. Brian was suddenly acutely aware of how clean and new John Bell Hood must look to these salty veterans. He glanced at his watch. The briefing team was due onboard at 0730, and he was designated to greet them and take them up to the wardroom. He started aft toward the quarterdeck as the first heaving lines snaked over the side to the pier.
    Professionally, Brian had jumped at the orders to be Weapons officer in John Bell Hood. Hood was one of the ships that operated the Red Crown station up in the Gulf of Tonkin. With her powerful three-dimensional air search radars that could see over two hundred miles, long-range surface-to-air missile systems, and large helicopter flight decks, Hood would serve as the air-control nerve center for all the air operations over the Gulf, including the surveillance flights, the combat