Seals (2005) s-1 Read online

  "Tell 'em the women are gone forever," Brannigan said. "They should have understood that already."

  This led to a murmured exchange between the interpreter and Dahrain. The interpreter spoke to Brannigan. "Mr. Dahrain says his people are very sad because the women are gone."

  "Ask him why," Brannigan said. "We know they planned on killing 'ern."

  "This is a sensitive situation, Lieutenant," the interpreter cautioned. "We mustn't insult these Dharyans."

  "All right," Brannigan said. "Tell him that they were all sick as hell and had to be taken away. They're all probably going to die from being repeatedly raped over the better part of a year. Maybe that'll satisfy the rotten bastards."

  The interpreter smiled. "I shall be more diplomatic, Lieutenant. I shall tell them that the women are not expected to live long because their ill treatment. With your permission, I will quote you as saying you believe it is God's will."

  "Sure," Brannigan said. "You tell 'em that."

  The interpreter turned to Dahrain, speaking in a formal, solemn manner. The clan chief exchanged a few words with his companions. All nodded to indicate acceptance of the American's pronouncement. Then they faced Brannigan and salaamed. The Dharyan group walked away.

  "They have acknowledged the situation," the interpreter said. "Their honor is satisfied."

  "Piss on their honor."

  "At any rate," the interpreter said, "you will happy to know that the young women are now in a place of safety." "What will happen to them?" Brannigan asked.

  "They are more than likely illiterate," the interpreter said. "The UN will provide schooling and see that they are settled somewhere in the refugee system. With any luck, some of them may find nice boys to marry." Then he added, "But not Muslim lads, hey?"

  "No," Brannigan said. "Not Muslim lads."

  .

  COMMO TENT

  1500 HOURS LOCAL

  FRAN K Gomez's commo duties were not too demanding. After the morning PT, he had nothing to do but monitor the receiver of the Shadowfire AN/PSC-5 radio for the rest of the day. So far there had been nothing but the hissing of empty air.

  Now, as he sat beside the equipment reading, Frank's head began to nod. He looked forward to the afternoon naps, deciding that when he retired from the Navy he would sleep no less than twenty hours a day to make up for all the slumber he lost while in the service. Suddenly the platoon's call sign came through, breaking into his dozing, and he came instantly awake. As usual the message came in encoded five-letter word groups. Frank took them down rapidly, wondering what the hell he would be reading when he decoded the rather lengthy missive. After SOCOM signed off, it took him another twenty minutes to change the word groups into intelligible English. When he finished, he grinned to himself.

  The mission was officially ended.

  Brannigan's Brigands would be exfiltrated and returned to the amphibious base in Coronado within seventy-two hours. There was also some data about the cached equipment that had been uncovered on West Ridge, along with the melancholy news that the bodies of Petty Officer First Class Adam Clifford and Petty Officer Third Class Kevin Albee had been disinterred. After a stop at the U. S. Army mortuary unit in Kuwait, the remains had been shipped to the two dead SEALs' hometowns.

  Frank hurried from the commo tent to the CP.

  .

  UN CAMP

  1630 HOURS LOCAL

  CHAD Murchison walked through the camp, looking for Penny Brubaker. The tents were white, with the big blue letters "UN" stenciled across the tops, and the brightness of the canvas structures gave him an instinctive feeling of uneasiness. They attracted the eye too much for a young man who had been trained to always use camouflage when he was in an OA.

  He saw a young blond woman hurrying past with a stack of VCR tapes under her arm. Chad called out, "Excuse me, please."

  The woman stopped and looked at him with a slight smile. "Wie bitte?"

  "Entschuldigen Sie," he said, noting she had spoken to him in German. "kh bin ein Freund von Penny Brubaker. Und--"

  She interrupted him by turning and pointing at a tent and speaking English. "She is over there."

  "Thank you," Chad said.

  He hurried to the canvas structure and stopped, not sure if he should enter or not. He decided to call out. "Penny!"

  He heard a rustle inside, then she appeared. "Chad! What a nice surprise."

  "Can I talk to you? It won't take long."

  "Of course, darling," she said, taking his arm.

  They walked past the clinic and out into the area between the compound and the SEAL bivouac. "We're going back Stateside," Chad said. "SOCOM has scheduled us to leave in three days."

  "Well," Penny said in a resigned tone. "Well, we knew we were going to have to face up to that sooner or later. Our UN team will be here for a while. They're talking about setting up a semi-permanent mission here. They have to make a study first to make sure it is a safe enough area."

  "That's a good idea," Chad said. "The Al Qaeda might be lurking nearby waiting for the American military to leave."

  "Anyway, Chad," Penny said, "we never had a serious discussion about where we stood."

  "I guess we didn't," Chad said. "The other evening we obviously took up where we left off back in college."

  Penny smiled. "We didn't leave off making love. That was something new. Our relationship is a lot more grown-up now, Chad." She looked at him to make sure he sensed the seriousness in her words. "What are your future plans?"

  Chad shrugged. "At the moment I want to stay in the SEALs. The idea of going back to the civilian world isn't that appealing at this particular juncture of my life. I don't think I'd fit in back there."

  "The last time I visited your parents," she said, "they were expecting you to return to school and get your degree. Then they would find you a position in the family banking system."

  "I don't think I could handle that," Chad said. "Not now. Not after everything I've been through."

  "Maybe if you became an officer, your family would be more accepting of your naval career."

  "I don't want to be a fucking officer--whoops. We enlisted men just naturally say that:' Chad said. "Anyhow, if I got a commission I'd have to leave the SEALs to follow the Officer Career Program. That would mean I would eventually become a headquarters puke. If I can't be a SEAL, I don't want to stay in the Navy."

  "Chad, I'll go wherever you go," Penny said seriously. "Even if you remain an enlisted man, we would have our trusts to augment your Navy pay. We'd live in the best parts of town in a really nice house. It wouldn't be difficult for us to afford a housekeeper and cook."

  Chad thought of how that would segregate him from his buddies. He would become the "rich guy" in the platoon. Right now none of the Brigands gave his former privileged civilian existence much thought or consideration. "I'd be gone a lot:'

  "I don't care," Penny said. "I could be a good Navy wife."

  Suddenly Chad felt she was intruding into his life, putting his friendships in jeopardy and threatening a lifestyle he had learned to love. And she seemed girlish and immature to him now. This sudden flash of negativity surprised him, especially when it was directed toward a girl he once worshipped and dreamed of as his wife.

  Penny frowned. "Why aren't you saying anything, Chad?"

  "I think we should stay in touch and keep all this under consideration," he said. "We're still young and have the luxury of time on our side." He checked his watch. "I've got to go. I'm on the second dog watch at the CP."

  "What in the world is a dog watch?" she asked.

  "The dog watches are two hours each between sixteen-and twenty-hundred hours," Chad explained. "It keeps you from having watch at the same time every day. It's also when the evening meal is served aboard ship."

  "But you're not on a ship," Penny pointed out.

  "But we're in the Navy, so we follow naval tradition." He looked at his watch again. "I have to go, but I'll come off watch at twenty-hundred. Can we go
for another walk tonight?"

  "All right."

  "Let's make love again, Penny," he urged, with more feelings of horniness than romantic affection.

  She nodded yes and smiled at him, yet she felt a sudden nagging uneasiness. She had always been able to manipulate boys, especially Chad. But somehow she sensed things had changed where the SEAL was concerned.

  .

  C-130 AIRCRAFT

  0VER THE MID-ATLANTIC OCEAN

  12 SEPTEMBER

  0930 HOURS LOCAL

  THE debriefing at Station Bravo in Bahrain had taken more time than expected. The Army's Special Forces were planning some operations in the area of the ravines, and their A-Teams scheduled for the mission had a plethora of questions. All this had to be taken care of in Isolation, where the platoon performed the functions of assets. The SEALs were sympathetic to their brothers-in-arms and presented a thorough briefing along with sketch maps to help out the soldiers. They gave dire warning of the shortage of water in the OA. None of Brannigan's Brigands envied the Green Berets for the ordeal they faced.

  Now sitting in his usual spot in the aircraft, next to the cockpit, Brannigan relaxed back into the roar of the four engines, his mind turning off the sound as he reflected on this, the platoon's first mission. The results were excellent. Even though they were unable to link up with the defector as in the original OPORD, they destroyed two unruly warlords who had the potential of aiding Al Qaeda operatives in Afghanistan. It was a damn shame that Kevin Albee and Adam Clifford were KIA.

  The Skipper glanced over to where Senior Chief Buford Dawkins and Chief Matt Gunnarson sat napping. They were the best chiefs in the Navy as far as Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan was concerned. The two had the uncanny ability to anticipate just about everything that happened. At no time were they stumbling around in confusion; instead, they reacted quickly to unexpected incidents in a timely manner. Lieutenant Jim Cruiser had been a laid back 21C, but that was nothing against him. Some guys just aren't real emotional or verbose, but he was always effective and quick-thinking.

  Chad Murchison seemed withdrawn where he sat by himself in the midst of the webbed seating. The whole platoon knew he'd taken up with a girl who had once dumped him for another guy. From the way Chad was talking, it was evident to everyone that there was an aura of uncertainty about their romance. No doubt some lingering anger, over the old romance still troubled the SEAL. That was something the two kids would have to work out.

  The Odd Couple were both napping; Puglisi, Connie Concord, Guttorm Olson, Milly Mills and Joe Miskoski were playing poker at the rear of the fuselage, and the clever Puglisi seemed to be pulling in the most pots. James Bradley was inventorying his medical kit while Frank Gomez, like Chad, was lost in deep thought. He was thinking about his wife and child, no doubt.

  Brannigan knew that later on the whole bunch would either be napping or reading some of the paperback books left over from the package sent up to them from Kabul. Brannigan laughed without sound in the pounding of the engines when he remembered that most of the novels were adventure books. It was hard to conceive guys who had plenty of excitement and danger in their lives wanting to read fictional accounts of made-up characters and their escapades.

  Brannigan checked his watch, then turned his reverie to his wife Lisa. He wondered if it was all over between them. He couldn't blame her if she wanted a divorce, especially after the incident of flinging that pilot over the hors d'oeuvre table. But he'd like to give things another try. Of course she might have already found another guy. She was in daily contact with plenty of eligible bachelors who would appreciate her sexiness and beauty. The thought of her being with someone else stung Brannigan emotionally enough to cause a wave of sadness and regret to sweep over him. If Lisa now preferred someone else, the guy would probably be a pilot. It was better that way for her. Brannigan loved Lisa enough to want her happiness to come first. And she sure as hell couldn't be on cloud nine married to Wild Bill of the U. S. Navy SEALs.

  The Skipper yawned, and his eyes slowly closed. Within moments he was fast asleep.

  Chapter 24

  OFFICERS' CLUB

  NAS NORTH ISLAND, CALIFORNIA

  15 SEPTEMBER

  1130 HOURS LOCAL

  BRANNIGAN entered the club at the front door, cutting across the foyer to go directly to the bar. He slid onto a stool, ordered a vodka tonic and sat tapping his fingers impatiently until it was served. He downed the libation in three quick swallows. "Another, please."

  "Yes, sir," the bartender said indifferently. The young sailor was used to pissed-off or stressed-out people quickly knocking back the first drink even that early in the afternoon. He mixed another vodka tonic, this time a little bit stronger, and served it.

  Brannigan took a sip, then set the glass down, checking his watch.

  He'd called Lisa the day before from McConnell Air Force Base in Wichita, Kansas, during a refueling stop. She'd told him that her squadron would be finishing up their training operation on 15 September, and they should return to North Island by 1400 hours that same day. She said it would be more convenient if she met him at the officers' club between 1700 and 1800. He'd shown up a half hour early to get a little extra lubrication of vodka for their get-together. It occurred to him that instead of their driving home together, she might inform him that the locks on the house had been changed and he wouldn't be able to get in. He would have to find a place to stay in the BOQ.

  They had really been on the outs when he went into Isolation back in early August, and he had been unable to speak to her since that time. He knew his confrontation with the mouthy pilot at the squadron party had pretty much demonstrated that their professional rapport had gone to hell along with their marital relationship. Things were bad and showed every potential of getting worse. He dreaded the words he would hear from her. No doubt the announcement of a separation followed by divorce was in the works. When everything was finalized, the BOQ would be his permanent home.

  Brannigan shrugged. What the hell? That was where he was living when he first met her. He took another swallow of the cocktail, feeling strange in civilian clothing after the long weeks in the OA. He wore a polo shirt, jeans and loafers. There was not an item of equipment or weaponry either strapped on or hanging off him. The atmosphere of the club was also alien to this man who had only recently been prepared to make a last stand against an overwhelming enemy force. Now he was back in this other world where people existed in a peaceful, ordered environment.

  He glanced over at the bartender, who had begun preparing his workstation for the busy hours to come that evening. Brannigan considered the fact that this serviceman worked behind a bar during his duty hours, never stood watch, never went on combat or reconnaissance patrols and never became involved in firefights with crazy-ass mujahideen. He wondered why such a guy would even think about enlisting in the armed forces. He'd be better off at a resort hotel or maybe an upscale bar in a big city somewhere serving wealthy clients while pulling in big tips. The kid wasn't bad looking either. Maybe he'd find some rich old lady who would keep him in fine style.

  Brannigan finished his drink and pushed the glass forward to signal for yet another refill. He glanced up in the mirror behind the bar and saw the reflection of Lisa as she walked into the room dressed in her flight suit. He turned on the stool and smiled. "Hey."

  "Hey," Lisa replied. She walked up and kissed him on the mouth. "Welcome home."

  "Same to you," Brannigan replied. He studied her face, noting that she displayed no animosity. She even seemed glad to see him. "Care for a drink before we leave?"

  She smiled. "What's the matter, sailor? Not horny after a long absence? I'm suspicious."

  Brannigan grinned. "I just wanted the honor of having a cocktail with the prettiest pilot in the United States Navy."

  "I think that would be a guy named Brucie I know of in an F-14 squadron."

  "Oh yeah?" Brannigan said. "How about introducing me to him?"

  "You hav
en't been gone that long," Lisa said, laughing. "Now shut up and order me a Black Label on the rocks." Brannigan signaled to the bartender.

  .

  BRANNIGAN RESIDENCE

  CORONADO, CALIFORNIA

  1900 HOURS LOCAL

  THE couple's lovemaking had been intense and passionate, but with a touch of tenderness too. Neither spoke a romantic word as they took pleasure in the act, letting their physical actions express the love they felt for each other.

  Now, following their custom of having a beer during the post-physical period of sexual intercourse, Brannigan and Lisa sat up in bed, leaning back on pillows propped against the headboard. Neither one spoke as they enjoyed the somatic comfort brought on by a combination of the lovemaking and the beer. It was Brannigan who broke the silence.

  "The platoon was in a sort of hairy situation out there a couple of weeks ago."

  Lisa looked over at him. This was how Bill always began when he wanted to relate one of his combat experiences that had been particularly dangerous. The man was a master of the understatement. She asked, "What happened?"

  "We had our backs to the wall and all of a sudden we got this call over the radio," he said. "It was a Navy aircraft wanting to know if we could use a hand." He tipped up his bottle and drained it, then reached over to the six-pack on the bed stand for another. "It was a Prowler."

  "No kidding?"

  "No kidding. Just like what you and your squadron fly. He called in some Air Force F-16s to give us some support," Brannigan said. "They saved our asses."

  Lisa knew her fright about the incident was belated, but she still felt a stab of nervousness, even though everything had obviously turned out fine. "Well! That was lucky, huh?"

  "When the dust settled, I had to admit to myself I felt like the quintessential asshole for being such a shit heel toward your friends."

  "They admire you, Bill," she said. "They really do." "I find that hard to believe."

  "My colleagues aren't idiots," Lisa said. "They know you lead a tough life, and they cut you slack. We do it for each other too when one of us is on edge."