Chapter 11 - The Wreck
The USS Anzio was raised from the bottom of the Pacific in the fall of 2029.
It took six months. It took a team of two hundred Navy divers. It took a heavy-lift crane barge and two support vessels and a fleet of tugs. It took a budget of approximately forty million dollars. It took a decision by the Chief of Naval Operations that the ship should be raised because the men who had died aboard her deserved to be brought home.
Morgan Hale was not on the raising team. She was retired by then. She had retired from the Navy in 2038 — wait, no. She had retired in 2038. The Anzio was raised in 2029. She was not retired yet. She was fifty-one years old. She was a master chief petty officer. She was the senior enlisted leader of the Naval Sea Systems Command's salvage detachment at Naval Base San Diego.
She was assigned to the raising team.
She was not assigned to the raising team because she was the daughter of the chief boatswain's mate who had died aboard her. She was assigned to the raising team because she was a master diver with thirty-one years of experience and because she was the most qualified person in the Navy to supervise the raising of a Spruance-class destroyer.
She was assigned to the raising team.
She did not ask to be assigned.
She was assigned because the Navy wanted her to be assigned. The Chief of Naval Operations had personally directed that she be assigned. The message had said, in careful language, that "Master Chief Petty Officer Hale's unique qualifications and personal connection to the vessel make her the appropriate leader for the recovery of the remains of the crew."
She was assigned.
She accepted the assignment.
She supervised the raising of the ship.
The ship was raised in six months. It was towed to a dry dock at Naval Base San Diego. It was pumped out. It was cleaned. It was examined.
The remains of the six sailors who had died aboard her were recovered.
The remains of Chief Boatswain's Mate Thomas Hale were recovered from compartment 04 on the second deck, forward. They were found at the base of the ladder. They were identified by dental records and by DNA. They were returned to his family.
They were buried at Arlington National Cemetery in the spring of 2030.
The funeral was attended by approximately three hundred people. It was attended by Morgan Hale and by Kevin Brennan and by Brennan's son Thomas and by Morgan's aunt Linda and by Special Agent Diane Reyes and by the dive crew and by the Chief of Naval Operations and by the Secretary of the Navy and by the men and women of the Naval Sea Systems Command's salvage detachment.
It was attended by the families of the other five sailors who had died aboard the USS Anzio.
It was attended by the families of the sailors who had been recovered — the five who had been rescued by the submarine. One of them was Kevin Brennan. The other four were still alive. They were all in their seventies or eighties. They were all there.
The flag was presented to Morgan Hale.
She was fifty-two years old. She was a master chief petty officer. She had been diving on wrecks for twenty-nine years. She had been diving on her father's wreck for eight. She had found her father's nameplate in a berthing compartment. She had testified in a court-martial. She had watched Commander Peter Vale be convicted. She had watched the Navy correct her father's record. She had watched the Navy raise the ship. She had watched the Navy recover her father's remains.
She was standing at the graveside at Arlington National Cemetery with a folded American flag in her hands.
The flag was warm. It was warm because it had been folded on the parade field. It was warm because a Marine had been holding it. It was warm because a Marine had been holding it while the chaplain read the prayers and while the bugler played taps and while the sailors of the USS Anzio honor guard fired the volley.
She held the flag.
She did not cry.
She had cried enough.
She held the flag and she looked at the casket and she said, out loud, "I found you, Papa."
Then she walked out of the cemetery with the flag in her hands.
She walked out of the cemetery and into a world where her father was not a deserter and not a storm victim and not a mystery — a world where her father was a hero. A world where her father had gone back down a ladder twice. A world where her father had died saving two sailors. A world where her father had been honored by the Navy he had served. A world where her father had been buried with honors at Arlington National Cemetery.
A world where her father had been brought home.
She walked out of the cemetery and into a world where the truth had been told.
The truth had been told because a chief boatswain's mate had left a nameplate in a berthing compartment. Because his daughter had found it. Because his daughter had testified. Because a court-martial had been held. Because a man had been convicted. Because a ship had been raised. Because a family had been given a flag.
The truth had been told.
And the truth was enough.
That is the whole story.
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That is the entire story.
That is all it has ever been.
