Chapter 8 - The Citation
"ATTENTION TO ORDERS!"
The voice of the Command Master Chief boomed through the high-powered PA horns, bouncing off the steel hull of the Reagan and carrying across the entire harbor.
Two thousand sailors snapped their heels together in concussive unison. The sound was like a thunderclap rolling over the water.
I stood at the base of the dais, looking up at the Secretary of the Navy and Admiral Carrow.
Secretary Vance, a distinguished man with silver hair and a quiet, deliberate presence, stepped down to the lower platform. Admiral Carrow accompanied him, holding an open velvet box lined with dark blue satin.
The flag aide stepped to the microphone.
"The President of the United States takes pleasure in presenting the NAVY CROSS to LIEUTENANT COMMANDER MAYA ALDEN, UNITED STATES NAVY, for service as set forth in the following CITATION:
For extraordinary heroism while serving as Engineering Officer of the Watch aboard USS RONALD REAGAN (CVN 76) during operations in the Philippine Sea on July 14.
Following a catastrophic structural failure of the main steam isolation flange on the auxiliary reactor loop, superheated steam and ignited hydraulic fluids engulfed Lower Machinery Room Three. Recognizing the immediate threat of a primary coolant containment failure and the imminent loss of life to trapped personnel, Lieutenant Commander Alden deliberately entered an area of catastrophic thermal radiation without regard for her own safety.
Suffering profound, life-threatening burns across her back and shoulders, she manually operated the emergency steam bypass valve, containing the rupture and venting the lethal discharge away from the reactor space.
With total disregard for her excruciating injuries, she then physically extracted a trapped junior officer from the flaming compartment, shielding his body with her own until emergency damage control teams could breach the hatch.
By her extraordinary courage, resolute determination, and selfless devotion to duty, Lieutenant Commander Alden reflected great credit upon herself and upheld the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service."
When the aide finished reading, the silence over Pier 14 was absolute.
Secretary Vance took the Navy Cross from the velvet box. He stepped directly in front of me, his eyes solemn and brimming with profound respect.
"Commander Alden," the Secretary said, his voice quiet enough that only I could hear. "On behalf of a grateful nation, and an institution that failed you for too long, I offer you our deepest apologies, and our highest honor."
He reached out and pinned the heavy medal above my left pocket, directly over my heart.
The weight of the bronze and blue silk was cool and solid against my chest.
Then Admiral Carrow stepped forward.
She looked at me, a faint, proud smile touching the corners of her eyes. "Welcome back to the line, Commander."
She stepped back, brought her heels together, and saluted.
Behind her, Secretary Vance placed his hand over his heart.
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And then, down the entire quarter-mile length of Pier 14, two thousand sailors and every officer on the dais brought their hands to their covers in a simultaneous, magnificent salute.
The ship’s horn of the USS Ronald Reagan detonated with a long, deafening blast that shook the very air in my lungs—the traditional naval honors rendered only to heroes and kings.
