The term was demeaning if indeed Rivers was DEVGRU. He was no ordinary SEAL. Nothing of the sort. DEVGRU—United States Naval Special Warfare Development Group—was the reformation of the infamous SEAL Team 6, a special operations group that did their work under the radar, quite good at their jobs.
“I’m no rookie, if that’s what you’re asking,” Rivers shot back. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve, and know how to shoot straight.”
“Ya carry an AK-47, eh?” Clements questioned.
“Sure do. Hits nice and hard.”
“Taliban carry ’em, too.”
“That’s sort of the point,” Rivers remarked, tilting his head, smirk on his face.
“Well, you do know there ain’t no Taliban on base, right?” Clements pressed. “No need to carry it everywhere you go,” he mocked.
“I never leave home without it. Now, country boy . . . ’cause that’s what you sound like, a big redneck country boy. Am I right?” Rivers asked.
“Born and raised in northern Arkansas,” Clements acknowledged proudly.
“Makes sense,” River replied.
“Well, with that tan and blue eyes, I’d mistake you for a beach bum, myself. You a west coast or east coast SEAL? Wait, let me guess . . . California, right?”
“Been stationed there before, yes,” Rivers replied.
“Dam Necks,” Clements said with a scoff, slowly shaking his head. “Now I’ve heard it all. You look like a pretty boy to me, but then again, I’m just a country boy.”
“I actually called you a redneck country boy,” Rivers retorted.
“Whatever you say, Hollywood,” Clements scowled.
“Listen up, country boy . . . or shall I call you, Country Fuck? Yeah, that’s more like it—Country Fuck. Maybe you should just worry about yourself on this one, got that? I’ve been places you haven’t even heard of,” Rivers said. He was getting hot, tensing.
“Enough!” Elizabeth demanded, halting the tension. “If you boys can hold back on your testosterone for a few minutes, I’m not done. Maybe you can compare your penis size after this briefing?” she suggested.
Both men settled a bit, still staring at one another, though saying nothing.
“And Lieutenant Rivers . . .” Elizabeth spoke, gathering his attention “. . . you’re safe on base. No need to keep your rifle on you at all times. You’ve already gotten me into drama with not only a Major, but General Kline himself.”
Rivers had no intention of putting it away. “We’re in Afghanistan. Anything’s possible,” he said with a grin, shrugging it off.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, turning back to everyone else, ignoring the matter for now. She finally went on, saying, “I’d next like to introduce the last member of your team. Her name is Svetlana, and she’s a civilian scientist sent to help us.”
Elizabeth was beautiful in her own way, but Svetlana stole the show. She was striking, gorgeous. She stood five foot four, a petite frame, with deep amber hair. Her face was gentle with a spattering of freckles, smooth skin, a sexy, nervous smile. She walked into the room, head down, self-conscious, glancing up only for a moment to acknowledge the men.
They stared, mouths open.
“A civilian, eh?” Dale asked. “This just gets better and better.”
“Oh, it does,” Elizabeth said smartly. “Svetlana is a Russian civilian, actually. She was sent here by her government . . . to help.”
“Oh, so you’re letting a Russian spy into a secret operation now, eh?” Dale shook his head, baffled.
“Svetlana is loyal to us. To this mission,” Elizabeth reassured.
“But not a traitor?” Dale asked, curious. This made him uneasy.
“No. She was sent to help us with certain intelligence.”
“And she’s going in with us?” Dale asked.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied.
Before Dale could speak, Rivers laughed out loud. Everyone turned to look at him, and Svetlana, seated next to Rivers, jumped a bit in her seat.
“There’s an old saying . . . never trust a Russian,” Rivers said. He looked at Svetlana, up and down, inspecting her beauty. He reached out his hand, shaking the beautiful Russian woman’s hand, then kissing it like a gentlemen.
For some reason, Elizabeth did not like this one bit.
Rivers added, “Don’t hold it against me, but there’s a rule in certain circles. Never trust a Russian, even if she’s smoking hot,” he grinned. “I’m Jeff,” he said with a smile, still holding her hand.
“Svetlana,” she returned meekly.
Rivers then spoke a few words, softly. They were in her language, and she instantly smiled.
“You know Russian?” she asked.
“I do. My mother was Russian,” Rivers replied. “And that was a joke . . . about not trusting Russians. I know many. Good people.”
Svetlana blushed at the attention, and for a few moments the two chattered, as if in their own world.
That is, until Elizabeth coughed, interrupting them. “Can we continue?” she asked.
Rivers smiled, lowering his head.
Dale spoke up, saying to Svetlana, “No offense darling, but why are you here? I’m guessing you’re smart and all, but you do know where we’re headed, right?”
“I do,” Svetlana said softly.
“I don’t think you do,” Dale protested. “We’ll be entering a war zone. Got that? Bullets flying, people getting killed—hopefully them and not us. You sure you’re up for it?”
Svetlana merely nodded.
Elizabeth took over, still glaring at Rivers, irritated she was being interrupted. Irritated at his presence. “Svetlana has two masters degrees, specializes in advanced DNA research. She studies molecular structure and genomes, speaks four languages, has firsthand knowledge of certain things useful to this mission. She also stays in shape, and yes, she’ll be joining your little party. Are there any problems with this?” Elizabeth asked.
“Actually, no,” Rivers said with a smile, staring at the younger woman. “I’m great with it. But Country Fuck over there, he might not like having a woman in the field. She might outdo him, ya know?”
“Shut up,” Clements responded.
“I think Svetlana here will make a great camping partner,” Rivers added, ignoring Clements.
Again, Elizabeth glared, and everyone noticed.
Dale spoke up again, frustrated. “Don’t know what this is about, but seems you two have some personal matters,” he said to Elizabeth and Rivers. “Thing is, we have some serious matters to sort out, first being, bringing her,” he said, pointing to Svetlana. “You ask if anyone has a problem with that . . . well I do. I can handle the Lieutenant coming along just fine. Even a civilian contractor would be all right. Shit, I’d take some Rangers if you’d let me, but I’m not taking a woman.”
Elizabeth replied, “She won’t get in the way.”
“We’re not babysitters,” Dale retorted, growing angry. “Russian or not, smart or not, I’m not bringing her. I’m team leader, and that’s my call. Can’t have a broken nail slow us down,” he said.
The man wasn’t sexist, unlike Thompson or Clements. He despised the idea of bringing such a beautiful young woman into a possible engagement. The thought of this pretty woman’s death didn’t sit well with the man—it just wouldn’t be right.
“She’s going,” Elizabeth insisted.
“Makes no sense,” Dale fired back. “If she knows vital information, she can just tell us. What sort of debriefing is this? Let’s get to the mission and get on with it. But babysitting isn’t my thing,” he said.
“I’ll babysit her,” Thompson said, giving her a nod and the flashy smile that got the man laid many times over.
Svetlana glared at Thompson. “My eyes are a bit higher,” she said.
“Oh, shit! I forgot she speaks English,” Thompson said, laughing.
Clements chuckled with him. “Busted,” he said.
“Whatever. She’s hot,” Thompson said, his
voice loud enough for Svetlana to hear him.
“Makes no difference,” Dale said, returning to the subject at hand. “No offense,” he said to Svetlana, “but it’s a man’s world in Khost. It’s best you stay, unless you can convince me otherwise. Call me old fashioned, but I can’t be held responsible for you. I need to focus on my mission, and with you here, I can’t. Neither can my men,” Dale said.
Elizabeth chimed in, saying, “Lieutenant Rivers will be responsible for Svetlana’s well-being. Sergeant Comstock, your men will hold no worry over her safety. Svetlana knows what she’s getting herself into. She understands the risks, and she’ll do as she’s told. I understand your concerns, but Sergeant, there’s no other option. My superiors have given this order. If you want to remain team leader, I suggest you accept it,” Elizabeth said to Dale.
Dale took in a deep breath, muttering, “Fine.”
“Fucking great, Dale,” Clements moaned. “We have to bring a SEAL and a woman?”
“Sure looks like it,” Dale replied, unhappy.
“That’s like bringing two women,” Clements added, looking to Rivers in amusement.
“Go to hell, Country Fuck!” Rivers replied.
59
To interrupt the ego-fest, Elizabeth turned, motioning to Michael. A pop of static and the giant television screen flickered.
Clements and Rivers stopped bickering.
Instead, everyone in the room watched the sequence of video clips, lasting nearly twenty minutes.
The first session.
Many sessions.
The interrogation of Sergeant C. York.
And they saw the beatings, the emotional distress, the turmoil this man was in.
They watched in horror.
*
“What the fuck was that?” Jefferson bellowed after the video ceased and the lights brightened in the room once more. A vein bulged from his shaved head, his mouth widened, his thick beard prevalent in the light. He was normally quiet, a man who took his work quite serious. “What the fuck are they doing to him?”
“Calm down,” Elizabeth said.
“Fuck you, bitch!” he shouted, standing up.
“Hey,” Dale said, standing up and staring at Jefferson. “Relax, man. Let her explain.”
“There’s no explanation for this!” Jefferson boomed. “He’s Delta. One of us, right? What the fuck they doing to him?”
“Sergeant, I understand this is hard to watch, and I understand your anger,” Elizabeth started.
“Bullshit you do. You ain’t been in the same sand as a guy like him.”
“Do you know him?” Dale asked.
“I’ve met him. Pulled Saddam out of a hole with the guy. The brother knows how to fight. But this is fucking torture.”
“Let her explain,” Dale said, looking back to Elizabeth. He, too, was angry. It was unheard of to black-bag a Delta member. The video showed a wide array of bruises and cuts. The man was chained down, the guards using a bit too much force keeping him still.
“Listen, I didn’t do this,” Elizabeth. “This was three weeks ago, before my arrival.”
“We’ll take names,” Thompson said.
“Sure will,” Jefferson agreed. “Don’t give a fuck who they are, I’ll make sure to get the guy some payback.”
“Well, thankfully you’ll never know who. May I go on or are your guys going to waste more of my time?” Elizabeth asked Comstock.
“Sit down,” Dale said to his men.
Jefferson sat down reluctantly.
“Now, I’ll continue,” Elizabeth began. “This is Sergeant York. And yes, he was part of Task Force 121. While most of you were taking out his sons, he helped find Saddam. Been an Operator for years and he’s the sole survivor of the Delta group that went . . . missing.”
“What’s his story?” Dale asked. “He seems a bit . . . off.”
“He’s suffered massive post traumatic stress,” Elizabeth answered.
“’Cause he watched them all die,” Rivers said.
“Yes. Watched as his men were slaughtered. Sergeant York reported they were all killed. He was fortunate, if you can call his emotional state such.”
“The guy’s trained for such things. Part of the job. You’re telling me the death of his men made him like this? I just don’t see that happening,” Dale said.
“You’re right, Sergeant Comstock. York has suffered something far worse than you know. He fully broke down. Took a dozen Marines to subdue him. He had to be sedated and chained every time they interviewed him.”
“You mean interrogated,” Dale countered.
“Either way, as you can tell he’s undergone much stress. Originally, they assumed two things. First, that he was under the influence of something. His blood samples are negative, just as I thought. Secondly, they assumed he was simply delusional. I know the psych evaluations are pretty heavy, but you guys know spending years out here can mess you up. Once in awhile, a guy goes off the reservation, as they say.”
“Is that what happened?” Rivers then asked, curious. He was angry too, though kept his feelings on the issue reserved.
“No. I took him off the medications the moment I first spoke with him. He’s calmed down. I agree, their tactics were wrong, but the military brass and their bosses at the DOD couldn’t figure it out. They just couldn’t accept his story. It made no sense to them, so they assumed he had cracked. And I suppose in some ways he has, though he’s far more lucid and aware at the moment. Still, his story hasn’t changed. And this causes me . . .”
“His story . . . you actually believe it?” Dale asked, bewildered.
“I do.”
“Now wait a fucking second,” Jefferson said, beginning to stand once more, thinking twice when Dale glared at him. “You’re saying . . . you’re saying his team fought monsters? Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, Sergeant, this is no joke.”
“Monsters?” Rivers laughed out loud. “Lizzy, what the hell are you talking about? That’s bullshit. Look, his Delta team got caught. It happens. Probably overcommitted or some shit and he’s trying to cover for them. Or hey, maybe he did snap. Maybe he took his team out. What’s the real story, Lizzy?”
“What you just heard is all true,” Elizabeth said, glaring at Rivers. Then she turned back to the group, saying, “You’ll all learn soon enough. Gentlemen, this is why Svetlana is here. She has the expertise on such matters, and even more importantly, personal information that might help you. Now, if you’ll listen to her, maybe you’ll learn what’s really going on down there,” Elizabeth said. “This is a delicate situation, and she’ll better explain what you’re up against.”
All eyes shifted as the Russian woman, her voice meek and quiet, began.
Svetlana was a work of art; her body, her gentle features—but it was her intellect that she most cherished. Nervous about this, she knew she had a duty. She knew she must help these men. She was under orders from her own government to assist, to withhold nothing, and that fact concerned her greatly. This was no cakewalk, this was no simple task ahead of them, and Svetlana was scared out of her mind.
“I’m here to tell you the story of my father. I’m here to help fix what my government began over two decades ago. I’m not here for any other reason than to right an injustice,” she began, her voice hardly above a whisper. “I’m on your side, and I hope we can work together to fix this problem. Now let me begin . . .”
60
“The Cold War hurt my country,” Svetlana began. “More than my government will ever admit, the loss in Afghanistan is what did us in. That triumph was needed, needed to spread communism to the world. Needed to be a major influence.”
“Just want we need, a world filled with communists,” Clements insulted.
“If you’re suggesting I’m communist, I’m not. But for the Soviet Union, they banked on it. The Americans, though having lost in Vietnam, were gaining ground. Our defeat in Afghanistan set our country back, and during the time, my gov
ernment got desperate.
“They tried everything against the Mujahideen. Tens of thousands of soldiers, helicopters and airplanes, mortars, you name it. The fought and fought and eventually the Soviet Union was pushed out by the Mujahideen. For those of you unclear on your history, they’re the same people you’re fighting today. A formidable enemy,” Svetlana said.
They all nodded at this.
“Same rules applied in ’84 as do today. There were no rules. The Mujahideen were constantly at conflict with one another, so when we invaded, they were battle ready. They were organized and angry, willing to die for their land. As your government learned in Vietnam, it’s hard to get any soldier to die in a far off land, even if Afghanistan is our neighbor, it felt a million miles from home,” Svetlana continued.
“So the Soviets fought the Taliban?” Clements asked, attempting to understand.
“No, the Mujahideen,” Rivers corrected. “It’s in just about any history book,” he smarted back.
“I’m usually too busy beating on SEALs to read”, Clements remarked.
“All right, enough,” Colonel Reynolds scolded. “The history lesson isn’t for higher education, it’s to let you know what happened. Before you hear the story, you must first learn why.”
“Fine, go on,” Clements grumbled, shooting up his middle finger at Rivers who laughed.
“Much like the Soviets helped the VC in Vietnam, the Americans helped the Mujahideen in the eighties. On the geopolitical scale, they couldn’t allow my country to win, much like Vietnam. They aided them with money, arms, tactics . . . whatever they needed,” Svetlana told.
“We even built most of their caves,” Reynolds added.
“Well that’s just great,” Clements said with a huff. “So we teach these fuckers how to fight, arm them, build them caves, and years later they use that shit on us. Am I following this history lesson correctly?” he snapped.
“Indeed. Welcome to the world of politics,” Reynolds replied. He could tell the tension in the room was causing Svetlana to balk. “Listen, back then, the Mujahideen were valuable fighters to the cause of keeping the Soviets at bay. We needed them to win. Thing was, though they were accustomed to war, they hadn’t seen a conventional army such as this. The Soviets brought everything—did anything they could to win. Remember, it’s only Americans who set certain rules to engagement. The Soviets held no such restraint. The goal was to invade and take over, and they nearly did.”
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