SEAL's Code

by Sharon Hamilton

  Yazen had killed a goat then dried and stored the meat, hanging the intestines in the sun on one of the bleachers in a haphazard manner to avoid interest from eyes above. Danny noted how, like his ancestors, this former military man was using every part of the animal, even using the goat hooves as blades on a trowel for digging small caches under the soil, or using their sharp edge to sand and whittle wood for stakes.

  Kyle spoke to him as he watched the father and son work on stitching together two stiff pieces of goat hide. “Most of these men, even the generals, are only one generation from the desert bands who traveled like Bedouins, herding their food behind them. Very skilled guerilla fighters, if their will is strong. Their strength is in adapting to the harsh environment and completely living off the grid, off the land of their ancestors.”

  Danny completely understood and felt a strange kinship. Two generations ago, his People lived in mud and animal skin hogans, or out in the high desert, and not in houses or even the luxury of mobile homes like today.

  He fashioned the boy a slingshot made from pieces of a discarded inner tube from a burned-out military van and goat intestines he found drying. He sat one long afternoon and showed the boy how to use it, all the while under the watchful eye of his father, who seemed to have lost the capacity to smile. Danny instructed young Ali the right size and shape of pebbles to use for different trajectories, and how to pull it out of his clothes quickly without making a sound.

  While most of the men seemed more relaxed in the daytime, Danny felt more comfortable at night. His eyesight was well suited for the dark, and he used a single scope goggle he’d crafted so he could rely on his own eyesight, but have the use of the night-vision resolution when he needed it.

  This land reminded him of the land of the Four Corners back home. He’d roamed the desert floor with his grandfather, using the moonlight as their guide, listening to small animals, snakes, and night birds. They’d sometimes sleep out there for a week.

  The smell of the soil in Iraq was not the same. It didn’t have the sweet smell of adobe soil of his homeland when wet. But the texture of the sand when the night wind blew reminded him exactly of what it was like sleeping out on the desert floor with the stars so thick he imagined them to be a wooly blanket that kept him warm at night. He could remember how their brightness almost hurt his eyes as a child.

  Danny showed Ali shapes in the night sky, using a small penlight to demonstrate drawing these shapes in the sand with a pointed stick they’d whittled together. There was a coyote—although not the same stars he saw in the Southwest—a bear, a snake, and jackrabbit, something Ali could not understand. When Danny tried to explain the long ears and powerful hind legs of the jackrabbit, Ali kept insisting it was a goat.

  “Maa’ez,” Ali insisted, creating horns that came up out of the top of his scalp with his little fists, trying to imitate a goat. T.J. Talbot had learned the Arabic word for rabbit, and although not a jackrabbit with the long ears, finally Ali understood, and laughed. He motioned back to Danny the folly of the pretend floppy ears a rabbit in Iraq would have, wrinkling his nose in disgust and disbelief that such a lowly animal would take such a lofty place in the heavens.

  Danny shook his head and insisted his rabbits at his house had long, long ears, whiskers that drew out to the sides at least a hand’s width, and powerful hind legs that could make them hop like a kangaroo. He demonstrated it, and drew the laughter of Coop, T.J., Brady, and Fredo. The boy’s dark eyes laughingly followed his every movement.

  Two days went by fast, and the games Danny and young Ali played seemed to provide a relief for Yazen, who showed Kyle the contents of the computers he’d seized. To pass the time, they examined paper maps and other documents Yazen had gathered, and though the Iraqi’s English was sorely lacking, Kyle, with the help of T.J., seemed pleased with some of the information and direction. Danny could tell Kyle’s respect for the former officer was high.

  “You’re coming with us to show them, Yazen,” Kyle said, mimicking a helo coming in and taking them away. “You know that, don’t you?” Yazen watched T.J. stumble through a crude translation, nod, and then point to his son, pointing back at Kyle and then pointing to his son again with the number one sign. Kyle agreed, yes, Ali would be put on the bird first, along with their precious cargo, the computers and maps.

  The more time Danny spent with Ali, the more the little boy seemed to appreciate the sand drawing of animal shapes. Danny was touched when he saw the boy trying to teach his father that night, pointing to the stars, showing the older man the animal shape he’d found in the clusters overhead. The man’s eyes watered as he allowed his son to show him the miracle he’d just learned from the American soldier who had come all this way to rescue him and perhaps give him a better life.

  Danny could also tell the man was haunted. That’s when he began to hear whispers from his ancestors and wondered if they were urging him to help the man find his way or sending a warning for Danny. The distant repeat of gunfire and occasional bleating of sheep and goats from the bombed out town nearby made it impossible for him to sleep. So when the chanting began again, he actually welcomed it as something familiar and found that it calmed him.

  Morning of the third day came with news they’d be extracted that night at zero one hundred hours. Fredo relayed the message to Kyle who appeared to be overjoyed. T.J. and Coop readied their medic kits, double-checking to make sure everything was packed the way it was supposed to be for quick use in an emergency. Armando cleaned and cared for his equipment and ammo, as well as checking on several of the team’s weapons. The sand wreaked havoc with their pieces. Tonight they could not afford a malfunction.

  Around midnight, Danny was awakened when Fredo received word the choppers were inbound. The skilled SEAL quietly double-checked everyone’s mics. He and Rory also moved some small IEDs to their extra-deep Velcro pockets they’d customized on the outsides of their standard-issue jacket pockets. Scopes were cleaned and checked. Weapons. Danny and Armando checked to make sure weapons were loaded and hot, and free from the incessant sand.

  Danny shared a cool water bottle with Ali and his father, who was nervous, looking around in every direction for the sound of the bird, as if not knowing it would come from the North. Somewhere in the night they heard the sounds of a jeep-like vehicle, which didn’t make anybody happy.

  As soon as the dust began to disperse as the first of two Blackhawks began to land, they heard the sound of automatic gunfire and some answering rounds from what Danny knew to be an accompanying Cobra, which temporarily silenced the opposition. The area on the other side of the soccer stadium wall lit up like a mall from an insurgent’s grenade as T.J. and Danny bundled the computers, tossing them on board the birds as members of the team covered their backside. Others prepared to mount, or stood in the doorway ready to lay down a firestorm if needed. Yazen used his own AK-47 and sprayed one of the breached tunnels, and breached tunnels, staying back against the wall for cover while the SEALs made it to the Blackhawk.

  Yazen then tossed a grenade toward the three men he’d just leveled. Fredo and Rory lobbed IEDs over the wall, which exploded, sending body parts and bits of metal raining down on all of them. Ali had been left alone temporarily. Danny first watched Yazen’s horrified face, then saw two large enemy combatants in black run to snatch the Iraqi up. Armando knelt and took out the first with a single shot, exploding the assailant’s head, but missed the second. Ali was screaming while running toward his father as the dark fighter nearly caught up to him.

  Armando swore, having no clear way to get to the guy without hitting Ali, and Danny’s was not much better. In heartbreaking slow motion, little Ali tripped and fell, tumbling on the dusty ground. Yazen caught the fighter with rounds exploding his chest. Two more slipped over the wall and were rapidly advancing on the little boy, but were leveled as well by Yazen’s automatic.

  The vital intel had been loaded onto both choppers, divided evenly as they’d been instructed in case only
one made it back. Time was of the essence to get out of dodge. Smoke had obscured everyone’s lines of fire. They heard the sounds of several more vehicles and gunfire as a group of fighters scaled the wall and several fell over the fence, heading for Yazen. One caught him in the right leg, stopping his attempt to rescue his son. Ali emerged from the cloud of smoke, and, seeing his father fallen, hesitated until Danny called his name. Ali looked up and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him in Danny’s direction. Attackers descended upon Yazen, taking him temporarily alive, when a rain of hell descended upon them all. T.J. was going to try a rescue of Yazen, but Kyle grabbed his arm.

  “Can’t save him now.”

  Danny ran for Ali, desperately trying to get to the boy. A tall enemy combatant was chasing the boy. He heard Armando swear at his back, realizing too late he was cutting off his sniper’s angle. But he had to get to the boy first. The dark warrior was nearly upon Ali, and pulled out a sabre, intending to use it to halve the child, but, miraculously, little Ali turned, whipped out his slingshot, and hit the attacker in the eye with a perfect shot as coolly delivered as any practiced military man. The attacker screamed in pain and fell to his knees, his eye a bloody mess. Armando’s rounds finished him off, as well as several others running to the still screaming Yazen. Cheers erupted from the chopper crew and the SEALs giving assistance to several of their injured.

  Danny reached Ali, turning his face so he wouldn’t see what he knew was coming next. Armando stood tall, seemingly unafraid of the explosions around him, very calmly aimed and delivered a kill shot to Yazen’s chest, ending his suffering. He looked down, and then nodded as Danny tucked Ali under his jacket and ran for the bird. Armando and Brady hopped on behind after covering the scene with rounds. Armando threw a grenade into the middle of the pileup on Yazen, exploding so bright they could see the deep red soil stained with darker red.

  Everyone was loaded and safe on the two birds with only two men having taken rounds. T.J. was tending to one, which didn’t appear to be severe. Coop was caring for the teammate in the other bird, who had a head injury they were worried about. As they lifted quickly and headed north, a couple of rocket-propelled grenades barely missed them and fell back, exploding far below. The yellow bursts of weapon fire coming from the ground fell short as well, and looked more like a sparse Fourth of July fireworks display.

  Little Ali was shaking. Danny could hear his teeth chattering. He recognized the signs of shock, very dangerous for a child. Danny knew well how it felt because he’d fallen into shock at his first kill—a bear that had been tracking him and his grandfather a mile through the woods. His training and reflexes served him well, but he remembered he couldn’t sleep for a week afterward.

  And little Ali had just lost his dad, the only living relative he had.

  As he held the trembling youngster, his head popped out of Danny’s jacket, frantically searching for his father amongst the faces in the chopper. When the boy looked him in the eyes, Danny shook his head slowly. The boy’s lower lip quivered, and Danny could see he understood he was now all alone.

  The voices chanted again. Danny heard a greeting to Yazen, welcoming him to the land of the People, reassuring him that a man of the People would look after his son. That this frogman was a true warrior who would protect young Ali.

  Danny hoped he could live up to the challenge. Even if it was a fight that took all his savings and all his spare time, he’d work very hard to make sure Ali somehow got to come home with him. He could not leave a little warrior like Ali behind, and he asked his ancestors for the pollen and hair of his woman and child to extend its protection to Ali as well.

  Chapter 18

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  Luci hadn’t heard from Danny in over four days and began to worry. On top of that, her Uncle Corwin’s trial had started at the district building. Scores of strangers had descended upon the res, and although they were told it was for their own protection, the population, including Luci, resented the outside intrusion.

  Making matters worse, another young Navajo girl went missing, and since Luci’s uncle was incarcerated, he couldn’t be blamed for it. This time, the fifteen-year-old was stolen at night from her own bedroom in an unlocked house, as was the custom. The FBI task force was interviewing anyone who knew the girl, which was just about everyone. Her parents were frantic, and whispers and rumors traveled like a high desert fire amongst the People. Nothing except for a pair of tennis shoes were missing from her room. It didn’t appear she’d had time to change her clothes, leaving the speculation she’d been taken against her will. The longer it remained a case without suspects, as the other missing or murdered girls’ cases were, the longer everyone was on edge. One thing was certain, though, there was a tribal connection somehow.

  Everyone would breathe a sigh of relief when Fall arrived and the kids could be watched more closely. Summers were dangerous times on the res, and there were still many hot days left this year.

  The community was looking forward to building a new casino on Navajo lands, which might bring jobs and much-needed income for the People. The suited consultants from Washington, D.C. and Las Vegas were not resented nearly as much as the government men who trumped the tribal police and pushed their weight around.

  Some of the tribal police were involved with a notorious local Assistant Sheriff, Payette Fisher, a mixed Apache dirty cop who was always making a pest of himself with the Navajo women. It was rumored he’d exchanged favors for sex, but none of the women were brave enough to come forward.

  A famous Navajo artist, Jenny Younghorse, came for the summer to work on the res as an artist in residence. Sarah auditioned and won a spot to be one of the dozen promising students Younghorse would mentor. In the rented warehouse building, which doubled as her temporary studio and teaching facility, Jenny opened Sarah’s eyes to the world of graphics. Sarah excelled and was more excited during her first week at the makeshift school than Luci had ever seen her. Each day, arriving at the warehouse to pick Sarah up, Luci was afraid Sarah would never want to leave.

  “Your little sister has way more talent and focus than I had at her age, Luci. You should be proud.”

  “Yes, we are.” Luci watched Jenny gather up palettes and brushes they’d used in an acrylic class that day while the baby stirred in her arms, waking up from a short nap. Sarah was outside taking trash to the dumpster. “She’s always got a pencil and sketchpad in her hands. It has been this way since she was six.”

  Younghorse was thoughtful, watching her gently rock Griffin. “You know, there are special programs I can put you in touch with that take talented high school students, sort of an intensive institution—like a performing arts high school, but set up for print and media artists—where she can finish the credits needed for graduation, but study her art.”

  “I’ve heard of them. She brought home a brochure last night.” Luci had looked at the costs of tuition and had silently tucked the brochure under their phone book, hoping to lead attention away from it. She didn’t bring it up at dinner with either Sarah or her mother.

  “She really should be going to a place like that. She’s that good,” the older woman added.

  “I understand. I’m afraid the cost of her education would be prohibitive. I don’t think it’s even fair to get her hopes up at this point.”

  Younghorse smiled. “Let me work on that,” she said with a wink.

  Luci’s heart leapt at the thought that perhaps she’d be free to move closer to Danny. If Sarah found some place safe to live and finish high school—but, no. The money she’d save would barely cover the cost of one year at the special high school, and Sarah would need three full years including an expensive summer trip to Europe as a junior.

  “With your mother’s permission, I’d like to help her fill out the scholarship applications for the fall.”

  Jenny had long grey hair and a gentle, Navajo way about her. She was a patient teacher, and Luci understood the skill it took to guide young hands and minds to g
reater things. To inspire them. It was one thing that Luci enjoyed about her job teaching. She found herself fascinated by the older woman.

  “Can I ask you how you got off the res, how you came to this, all this fame and, I hope, great fortune?”

  Younghorse smiled again, showing her straight bright white teeth. “My father was killed in World War II. He died a war hero. One of the original Code Talkers, although he didn’t come home to be able to tell us, and we didn’t learn until years later.” Her prematurely gnarled hands clasped together as she looked out the windows to the rose colored hills beyond, as if seeing the spirit of her father there. “I never met him.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We discovered the military didn’t allow the Navajo boys life insurance policies, like they do now, like they did for the white boys. But my father knew that, so he managed to get a policy on his own. It wasn’t much, but my mom saved and wisely invested, and eventually she saved enough so we could move to L.A. after I finished high school.” She sighed. “And there I fell in love.”

  Luci leaned in, rocking the fussing baby. “Do tell!”

  Younghorse looked fondly upon the baby in her arms. “Not like that, although I suppose I would have liked to have had one of these,” she nodded toward Griffin. “But that was not what the singing woman had in store for me. I can’t have children. So art became my family, my first and last love. And what a love it’s been.”

  The two women shared a silent moment staring into each other’s eyes.

  “I wouldn’t trade a day of my life for anything else,” she added.