Rules of Engagement (1991) (19 page)

"That must be exciting . . . flying from the deck of an aircraft carrier."

"Yes," Brad replied, enthralled by Leigh Ann's blue eyes, "it's a different world, believe me."

The couple walked into the sheltered, open-air dining facility and chose a quiet table. Brad seated Leigh Ann as a waitress approached them. They both ordered a sumptuous breakfast and sipped fresh guava juice while they waited to be served.

"So," Brad said, "tell me about yourself, now that I've kidnapped you right off the beach."

She hesitated, smiling an acknowledgment before forming her response. "I'm twenty-two, a recent graduate of Vanderbilt University, with a degree in English. I'm a resident of Memphis, Tennessee, and I'm on vacation with my parents, Doctor and Mrs. Simon Ladasau."

"Interesting," Brad replied slowly. "Have you had an opportunity to sightsee--drive around the island?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Leigh Ann answered as her breakfast was placed on the table. "This is my second trip to the islands, and my father doesn't journey once we arrive. However, I have been on the Pearl Harbor cruise, which was very sobering."

Brad thanked the waitress and looked into Leigh Ann's sparkling blues eyes. "How much longer will you be here?"

She finished a bite of her eggs Benedict and dabbed her mouth with the linen napkin. "We are leaving day after tomorrow. We've been here two weeks today."

Brad felt a twinge of disappointment but decided not to be deterred. "I've spent some time here at the Kaneohe Bay Marine Air Station, so I got to know Oahu fairly well."

Brad pondered his next question. "How about a tour of the island? I know a great place to have lunch . . . a nice restaurant overlooking Kailua Bay."

Leigh Ann swallowed discreetly. "Brad, I do appreciate your offer--I sincerely mean that. We just met . . . and my parents have never met you." Leigh Ann smiled. "You understand . . . I'm sure."

Brad quietly placed his fork on the pink china. "Why don't you introduce me, and we'll invite them along. I'll do the driving, and you and your parents can relax--have a guided tour."

She remained quiet a moment, sipping the fresh guava juice. "You are absolutely relentless, aren't you? Did they teach you that in the Marine Corps, or is it just your nature?"

Feeling slightly sheepish, Brad leaned toward her. "Leigh Ann, I'd like to get to know you, and I'm being honest about taking your mother and father with us."

She looked out at the ocean for a few moments, then turned to face Brad, gazing into his eyes. "Why is it that I instinctively trust you?"

Caught off guard, Brad shrugged and smiled. He remembered what the CO had said about the oath the officers had taken. "My commission states that I'm a gentleman, reposing of special trust and confidence."

Smiling, Leigh Ann studied his face. "I have two questions before I go gallivanting around the island with someone I barely know."

With a degree of trepidation, Brad quickly said, "Certainly." "How did you know my last name, and how did you know I would be walking on the beach this morning?"

Feeling an uneasiness in his throat, Brad swallowed the last of his juice. "I looked at the name on the hotel check that your mother signed. I was fairly sure that you were her daughter."

"Very clever," Leigh Ann remarked with a smile, then added, "but what about this morning? Did you note our room number, then wait around the corner all night?"

Brad chuckled softly.

"What's so funny?"

"Well," he began, carefully choosing his words, "that wouldn't have been a bad idea, but the truth is that our encounter was pure dumb luck on my part."

She smiled serenely. "Your luck is still holding. My parents just walked in for breakfast."

Brad stood and shook hands with the handsome couple when he was introduced. Both parents were friendly and cordial as Brad seated Mrs. Ladasau and returned to his chair.

Leigh Ann explained who Brad was, how they had met on the beach, and then explained that he and his friends were on leave while their ship was being repaired. She also told her parents that Brad had been stationed on Oahu, and had offered to be a tour guide for the family.

Doctor Ladasau casually studied Brad. "Do you come from a family with a military tradition?"

"Yes, sir," Brad replied uncomfortably. "I am a third-generation graduate of the Naval Academy. My father is a vice admiral, and my grandfather is a retired rear admiral."

The doctor continued to quiz Brad. He was reserved, obviously scrutinizing this young man who had asked his daughter to breakfast and had offered a tour of the island.

When Brad reiterated his offer to drive the family around the island, Dr. Ladasau thanked him but declined the invitation, explaining that he had a tennis match with a colleague. Mrs. Ladasau also graciously declined, suggesting that Leigh Ann and Brad did not need to be dragging around old fogies.

Blushing, Brad stood when Leigh Ann neatly folded her napkin on the table and rose. Reaching for his check, Brad was unprepared when the doctor slid it to his side of the table.

"Please allow us, Captain," he said, casting a warning glance at his daughter. "You and Leigh Ann have a pleasant tour."

Catching the intimating look, Brad expressed his thanks and escorted Leigh Ann to the lobby. He suggested that she bring a bathing suit and a pair of sunglasses. They set a time to meet in the lobby, then Brad hurried across Kalakaua Avenue to a car-rental franchise. He selected a white Mustang convertible, and drove to the Royal Hawaiian.

Back in the suite, Palmer was showering while Lunsford was shaving. Dressed and ready to go, Hutton was lying peacefully on one of the sofas. He had donned his bright yellow-and-purple aloha shirt.

"Harry," Brad offered, trying to keep a straight face, "you look dashing."

Lunsford yelled from the bathroom. "I thought you couldn'
t b
e a RIO if you were color-blind. Guess Harry slipped through." "Where the hell have you been?" Hutton asked, not waitin
g f
or an answer. "Better get your shit together, your Captaincy
,
'cause we're going trolling."

"I've already got a date," Brad replied, yanking open his section of the dresser drawer. He grabbed his swimming suit and his military-issue sunglasses. "I'm taking that brunette--the one who was in the lounge yesterday--on a tour of the island."

Hutton snickered. "Don't bullshit me."

"I'm serious."

"How'd you get a date with her?" Lunsford asked, wiping the shaving cream from his face.

"I met her on the beach. We had breakfast together."

Lunsford leaned around the corner. "You're talking about the knockout . . . the one who looks like a twenty-year-old version of Elizabeth Taylor?"

"One and the same," Brad replied as he grabbed two thick towels and hurried to the door. "Have a great day, boys."

Chapter
17.

With the trade winds tousling their hair, Brad and Leigh Ann motored along Diamond Head Road, taking in the sights of Kupikipikio Point and Maunalua Bay.

"Brad," Leigh Ann paused, looking back at the volcanic crater, "how did Diamond Head get its name?"

"Some of the pioneer sailors found glittering coral-encrusted crystals on the side of the crater, so they named the formation Diamond Head."

Leigh Ann turned slightly in her seat, facing Brad. "You are a good tour guide," she smiled.

Brad grinned. "It's my pleasure, I can assure you."

They continued past Hawaii Kai to the Koko Head Crater and stopped at Hanauma Bay. Brad pulled off the side of the main highway and parked near the scenic overlook.

Leigh Ann was mesmerized by the tranquility of the sparklin
g b
ay. "Brad, this is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen."

"I thought you would like it," he answered, silently thinkin
g t
hat the woman next to him was every bit as lovely as the setting.

"I think it's one of the most peaceful, serene locations on the island."

They watched the snorklers swimming among the thousands of brightly colored tropical fish in the warm, crystal-clear waters. Fishing had been prohibited in the cozy bay, turning the flooded volcanic crater into a giant seaquarium.

Leigh Ann smiled at him. "I had no idea the rest of Oah
u w
as so . . . I don't know . . . dissimilar and beautiful."

"Yes, it would be a pity not to get beyond the Waikiki area
,
which is not representative of the entire island."

They passed Makapuu Point and Waimanalo Beach. When they reached the outskirts of Kailua, Brad pulled in front of a small restaurant overlooking Kailua Bay, where scores of colorful sailboats tacked back and forth across the placid, greenish blue water.

Brad got out of the convertible and walked around to open Leigh Ann's door. "This used to be one of my favorite restaurants when I was stationed at Kaneohe."

"For the food, or for the view?"

"Both," he replied, holding the door open. He examined the bay. "The view hasn't changed."

"I'm sure the food is still excellent, too." They sat on the open-air porch and ordered.

"Your father," Brad said, carefully selecting his words, "left me with the impression that he isn't very fond of the military, or perhaps he doesn't care for me."

"My father," she replied with a trace of frustration, "is a dyed-in-the-wool antiwar sentimentalist, especially the Vietnam War. I love him very much, but he sometimes embarrasses me." She glanced down. "I apologize for his . . . coolness."

"No apology needed," Brad chuckled. "I don't agree with the war either."

"You don't?"

"No," Brad replied, growing serious. "Our military commanders don't start wars, but when they are ordered to fight a war, they should be allowed to win . . . in minimum time, and with the least amount of casualties."

"I'm not sure I understand. Why would we be in Vietnam if we weren't trying to win?"

"Because," Brad replied, attempting to conceal his contempt, "the Johnson administration won't listen to their military commanders, or let them do their jobs. Johnson and McNamara dole out targets on a piecemeal basis, with the mistaken belief that the Communists will see the futility of their aggression and come to the peace table."

Leigh Ann's look registered her concern. "What's going to happen?"

"Well, I suspect that the administration will continue to bungle along, until someone faces the facts of war. The North Vietnamese won't give up until we destroy their capability to wage war."

"Aren't we doing that now?"

"To a degree," Brad answered uncomfortably, "under the current rules of engagement. But we aren't going to win the war until our military is allowed to attack all of the airfields, power plants, transportation systems, military installations, port facilities, war industries, and other targets in major population center."

Leigh Ann frowned. "What a horrible thing . . . war." "Yes, it is," he sighed, glancing at the bay.

Leigh Ann studied Brad. "What's it like to be a jet-fighter pilot, and fly from the decks of ships?"

Unprepared for the question, Brad searched for an answer that would not offend her sensitivity. "Leigh Ann, flying is fun for me, whether I'm in a fighter, or rolling and looping an aerobatic biplane. Flying from a carrier, especially at night, is the most exhilarating and terrifying experience I've ever had. The sensations and visceral fear are difficult to describe."

He paused, carefully phrasing his words. "You would have to ride through a cat shot and a one-hundred-fifty-mile-an-hour trap--arrested landing--to know what the brain and body experience."

"I'm sorry," Leigh Ann smiled, "but I don't believe I would care to experience the feeling."

Brad chuckled. "That's probably valid thinking." Cautiously, Leigh Ann began to ask the questions that ha
d p
iqued her curiosity since breakfast. "Where are you from .. .

where do you call home?"

Without removing his eyes from Leigh Ann's delicate face, Brad thought about the past Christmas. Because of the animosity between his father and himself, which had developed into an unspoken estrangement, Brad had elected to forego future trips home. His mother, who had not been pleased with his decision, had understood the reason for Brad's resoluteness. His father was not accustomed to having people thwart his wishes.

"Well, I was born in San Diego, grew up all over the world, and would have to say that my home is the aircraft carrier."

Leigh Ann sensed that there was something more lying just below the surface. Something about his family that Brad Austin did not care to discuss.

He glanced at the sailboats and then looked up at a section of marine F-4s departing Kaneohe Bay Air Station. "That's what I fly."

Leigh Ann followed the thundering jets until the fighter pilots had deselected their afterburners. "What kind of airplanes are those?"

Brad turned back to Leigh Ann. "Fighter-bombers. It's officially called the F-4 Phantom, but it has earned various nicknames in the past couple of years."