A SEA STORY: THE UNTOLD STORY OF THE U.S. NAVY RESPONSE TO 9/11.

by Joseph Pignataro

  "Fine," he finally came back in frustration. "Keep transmitting over bridge-to-bridge while I get a boarding party ready to go. Keep me updated."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  Thompson hung up the phone and looked to his XO.

  "Whaddaya think, Vinnie?"

  The bespectacled younger officer gazed back at his captain with a piercing eye.

  "You know what I think," he answered robotically. "Blow 'em outta the water right now. Ask questions later." The captain chuckled.

  "Yes," he murmured in response as he peered out the window toward the pursued vessel. "The good ole' days." His XO looked out over the sea as well.

  "These guys are as dirty as they come."

  The captain looked over at Graft with something like surprise.

  "You think they're hiding something?"

  "I know they are, sir," he answered without pause. "As they say in the south…'there ain't no two ways about it.'"

  Captain Thompson swiveled his head back toward the Samra. In his mind, he agreed one hundred percent.

  Master Chief MacLeod was sitting down to a small lunch in his cabin when the phone rang. Tearing himself away from his tuna fish hoagie melt, he answered the call.

  The message was clear: he was to assemble a boarding team for the Samra in thirty minutes. That was not a great feat, but it was a difficult choice. Typically, these boarding events went off without a hitch. There was hardly ever any need for an experienced lower echelon crew for the process because the situations were always cut and dried. Yet, MacLeod's gut told him something different this time. Perhaps it was his old age starting to make him paranoid, or maybe it was the fact that he was so close to retirement. It may even have been the fact that his sandwich was calling his name and he knew that he wouldn't be able to enjoy it for another half-hour. Whatever the reason, the Master Chief had a nasty feeling about this board and he decided then that the lower enlisted had to be somewhat mature and trusted not to fly off the handle. These situations were delicate and required patience, diligence, vigilance, and above all, wisdom.

  This would not be an easy choice after all.

  Joe had just finished his lunch when he headed back to his duty station. As he entered the room, the female officer there was deeply involved in a hailing attempt. He sidled up next to her and picked up his headset.

  "What's going on?" he asked easily.

  Without looking at him, the officer answered.

  "Iraqi commercial vessel's not answering repeated hails," she replied. "She's listing and heavy in the water."

  "No shit?" he said as he donned his headset quickly. "How long?"

  "About forty minutes."

  Joe removed his headset and gazed intently at the young officer.

  "Forty minutes?" he repeated with incredulity, to which she nodded.

  Noncompliant for forty minutes straight," she verified with a smirk.

  "What'd the captain say?"

  "They're sending in a boarding party in thirty minutes," she responded.

  "Did they pick the team members yet?" he asked as he suddenly felt ill-at-ease.

  "I think so," she said. "Not a hundred percent, but I think I remember them saying that they got everybody. Why? Did you wanna go?"

  Joe suddenly looked into her face and his ears got warm with excitement. She could see in his face that he wanted in, but that he was currently going through a personal conflict of some sort that was causing him to back down from the mission.

  "Well…" he said half-heartedly as he tapered off into nothingness. He was going to merely leave the conversation there, but she pressed him. "Yeah, I guess I did want to be considered for the team. I mean, what good is being here if I'm just going to be hanging around, watching blips on the screen, and hoping that the mess hall is not serving mystery meat?" She nodded in understanding and returned to the headset. Joe fleetly grasped the telephone receiver in front of him and dialed the Armory.

  Hahn sat at a small table covered in loose change and bills, potato chips, soda, and playing cards. Gazing at his fellow players, he smacked down his hand on the table.

  "Yo, yo, yo! Slap that ho!" he yelled as he revealed his full house.

  Dominic leaned over the table, guarding his cards, and peered at the shingled cards on the tabletop.

  "Aw, dammit!" he bellowed in anguish as he threw his cards down in disgust. The two of them looked over at a smirking Sexton. "There is no way you beat that, worm!"

  "Oh, yeah?" he said as his grin continued to spread. "Read 'em and –"

  "No, no, no!" Hahn yelped as he shook his head.

  "Yeah, asshole," Dominic agreed. "We told you at the beginning of the game: no clichés!"

  Sexton pulled the cards up to his face and hid his mouth and nose like a Geisha girl with an unfurled fan, batting his eyelashes.

  "Weep!" he finished in a soprano voice.

  Throwing down the cards, he heard the other two moan with displeasure at his completion of the phrase. Dominic and Hahn stared at the cards on the table and blinked.

  "Flush!" Sexton said with a grin.

  Dominic's eyes flicked from the cards to Sexton's face and back again. Hahn's unbelieving eyes turned upon the younger player.

  "You are a colossally stupid individual, Sexton," he said as he began to frown.

  Sexton's smile faded somewhat and he looked down at the cards.

  "What's your problem? I got a flush!"

  The phone began ringing and Dominic pushed out his chair angrily and stood. Shoving a hand toward the cards, he unloaded.

  "You got all the same color, you imbecile!"

  Hahn jumped in to finish the insult.

  "But you still have to have the same suit!"

  "You got four clubs and a spade!" Dominic uttered as he reached for the telephone. "Gee-Emm-Three Seputa…how may I help you, sir or ma'am?"

  "I don't think that's in the rulebook!" Sexton protested.

  "You don't think!" Hahn came back as he reached forward to haul in all the cash on the table. "That's your problem."

  "Dom, it's me," Joe's voice came through the telephone receiver.

  "Hey, Pigz!" Dominic answered. "Where the fuck are you? Sexton is trying to pass off a spade for a club!"

  "I said I think you guys are wrong!" Sexton crowed.

  "Dom, there's an Iraqi tanker we've been tailing and they're refusing to answer the hails," Joe explained insistently. Dominic pressed the phone closer to his ear and plugged his other one with his finger for good measure.

  "Seriously?"

  "They're listing and they're low in the tub," he continued.

  "Are they…" Dominic began hopefully.

  "Looks like we get to play 'cowboys and Talibans.'" Joe supplied the answer that he knew would be the most entertaining for Dominic.

  "Come on, Hahn!" whined Sexton. "Deal the cards!"

  "We're not playing with only two," Hahn fired back as he pulled the deck out of Sexton's reach. "What are you, a fag?"

  Dominic knitted his brow and scowled in their direction.

  "Cool it, guys!" Dominic warned them with a hoarse whisper and a pointed finger. "Did you already get the word from command?"

  "Captain's already issued the –"

  Suddenly, the ship's speakers came to life with a whistle and a hiss.

  "Muster the boarding team on the fantail with the Command Master Chief," MacLeod's voice crackled over the equipment. "Muster the boarding team…"

  "There's the boarding call now, Pigz," Dominic said into the phone with a nod.

  "Let's do this," Joe answered.

  "Wait, wait, wait!" sputtered Dominic. "You're coming, too?"

  "Someone has to represent for Calen, right?"

  "Dude, Toni is gonna fuckin' flip her shit," his friend replied with a chuckle.

  "Hey, Toni doesn't need to know every time I take a crap," was Joe's quick reply. However, the worry suddenly entered his voice again.

  "What's goin' on?" Sexton yelled to Dominic. "W
as that a boarding call?"

  "Pigz, this ain't dropping the kids off at the pool, man," Dominic assured him. "There's no way you're goin'. Are you kidding? Your wife'd rip my sack off if something happened to you."

  "Yeah, she would," he answered with a laugh, just imagining her reaction to his announcement that he was boarding a most likely hostile vessel.

  "Sooo," Dominic baited quickly, unable to resist. "You're saying you're okay with Toni touching my junk?

  "What?" Joe snapped. "What the fuck – keep dreaming, dickhead!"

  "Are you boarding someone?" Sexton reiterated more loudly this time.

  "Why, Sexton?" Hahn said with a laugh. "You wanna be boarded? I'm sure Tarot-Boy in sick bay will board you, if you know what I mean. Sexton flipped him off with an angry look.

  "Fuck off, Hahn!"

  "Is that Sexton?" Joe asked.

  "Yeah, he's trying to change the subject about his deplorable poker skills," Dominic answered loudly. Hahn chortled as he continued to use the Hindu method to shuffle the deck in his hands. Sexton gazed intently over at Dominic, and the armorer thought not because he was upset, but more because he did not know the meaning of the word "deplorable."

  "Gotta go, Dom," Joe said quickly. I'll talk to you in a few."

  "Okay, man."

  Hanging up the phone, Dominic approached his locker and began shuffling through his gear.

  "Hey, Dom, how come you're not answering me?" Sexton went on about the announcement.

  Dominic pulled out his desert cammies, pontoon hat, and a black vest with the words, "U.S. Navy" on the breast.

  "Dom, I'm talking to you!" Sexton cried out loudly as he stood from his seat.

  The phone began to ring and Dominic raised his head to the ceiling and growled a bellow of discontent.

  "What now?" Throwing his clothes down on the table, he answered the phone. "Armory, Gee-Emm-Three Seputa –"

  "Seputa, it's Master Chief," came MacLeod's voice over the phone. "Did you fill that last spot on the team yet?"

  "Yeah, Chief," Dominic replied as he snapped his fingers at the two others who were arguing. "Eff-See-Two Pignataro is going to fill Wakefield's spot. I just got off the phone with him."

  "Pigz?"

  "Yeah, Chief," Dominic verified. "He's got the experience."

  After a moment's pause and what sounded like mad scribbling on a notepad on MacLeod's end of the phone, he answered.

  "That's fine, Seputa," he said, "but I still need the other boarding party member that you promised to get to me three days ago."

  "Chief, the armory needed a thorough scrubbing," he lied in reply as Hahn smiled and rolled his eyes.

  "A three-day scrubbing?"

  "I promise to get you another name for the board in the next fifteen minutes," he said quickly.

  Sexton's eyes opened wide and he walked around the table toward Dominic.

  "I can do it!" he called out. "Who's that? Is that the Chief?"

  Dominic sneered and gritted his teeth, shaking his head in Sexton's direction.

  "Who's that?" MacLeod asked into the phone.

  "One moment, Chief," Dominic came back as he covered the phone. "Shut the fuck up, Sexton! You're not coming! I need someone with experience! Hahn, hand me that list."

  "I can do it, Dom," Sexton pled as he folded his hands in a mock-prayer stance. "Please!"

  "Hand me the damn list!" Speaking into the phone, his tone was less urgent now. "Wait one, Master Chief."

  Dominic put down the phone and walked briskly to the table to retrieve the list. Sexton immediately bolted for the phone and Dominic saw him make his move. Quickly, he stepped in his path and shook his head.

  "Don't even think about it," he warned with a finger in his face.

  "I wanna be on the team!" Sexton reiterated.

  "Let it go," Dominic said in a low voice.

  Feinting a move to the left, Sexton darted to the right, attempting to grab the telephone receiver. Dominic grasped at Sexton's shoulders, but the younger sailor deftly turned and grabbed a hold of his senior's wrists. Dominic was caught off guard. He had heard about Sexton's wrestling skills from his high school days, but whenever they spoke with him, it was always hard to believe that this young kid, fresh out of school, was coordinated enough to fend off a much larger opponent.

  Yet here he was, taking a grip on Dominic's flailing arms and holding him as tightly as a pit bull's jaw. Dominic was temporarily stunned.

  "Let me go with you!" grunted Sexton as he continued to grapple with Dominic.

  "You stubborn…Kentucky-fried…son-of-a-motherless whore!" groaned Dominic with effort. "I'll be dead before I let you fuck up this boarding mission!"

  Sexton's mouth opened in surprise. He was so offended by this statement that he clenched his jaw and hunkered down into a wrestling stance.

  "That's not very nice!" he managed before he suddenly lifted Dominic up and over, slamming him down upon the surface of the poker table, breaking two of its shaky legs and raining money and playing cards down on the floor.

  "What the hell?" yelped Hahn as he pulled himself out from under the table only a second before the entire table collapsed onto the floor, along with the two wrestlers.

  As they grappled on the floor, rolling over the money, the playing cards and the various other paraphernalia, Sexton spotted Dominic's patrol helmet near the lockers and managed to get a hand free. Grabbing the helmet by the brim, he began to slam Dominic in the head with the gear. Dominic grunted loudly in pain and grabbed his wrist and forced him over onto the floor. As he sat astride the helmet-wielding junior sailor, Dominic looked past the hand that was gripping his face and spotted a clipboard.

  Reaching forward in a desperate move, he took a hold of the clipboard and slammed Sexton in the face, breaking the board.

  "You pansy Yankee bastard!" screamed out Sexton as his voice cracked and sounded like a kid going through puberty.

  Through the phone could now be heard the Master Chief's bellows as he demanded to know what was going on in the Armory.

  Suddenly, Dominic and Sexton ceased their struggling and realized that they had been ignoring the Chief. Extricating themselves from their death-grips, they both stood, Sexton bleeding from his eyebrow and Dominic sporting a puffy lower lip and jaw. They stared at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily with their clothes disheveled.

  "Dominic…" began Sexton apologetically. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what just happened."

  Hahn looked up from his chair and chuckled with a smile.

  "Did I just hear Country Boy's testicles drop?"

  Dominic gazed over at Hahn.

  "They definitely dropped," he answered as he touched his sore jaw. Looking over at a very sorry-looking Sexton, he grinned. "Nice move with the helmet."

  "Dom…I'm so –"

  "Shut up," Dominic cut him off. He walked toward the phone and picked it up.

  "Chief?"

  "What the hell's going on over there?" bellowed MacLeod.

  "Sorry about the delay," he said as he breathed a deep breath. "Just had the Tee-Vee volume up too high."

  "Listen," began MacLeod, who was not stupid enough to fall for that lie. "I don't have the time for this bullshit. We got a major engagement coming up and I need a boarding party. Do you have a man or not?"

  Gazing over at Sexton, who remained obediently in apology-mode, he spoke softly into the phone.

  "I found a man."

  Sexton's face turned to genuine shock as he grinned broadly at the armorer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Samra

  Toni walked the cereal aisle, the car seat bearing Liam, securely in place in the grocery carriage. As she saw the Coco Puffs on sale, she involuntarily reached for them, imagining for a nanosecond the pleasant look on Joe's face when he saw them in the cabinet. Her hand stopped in mid-reach and her heart fell.

  It had been so long since he had shipped out and the frequency of their phone calls had gone from once a night t
o once a week. Most recently, they had seemed to come only twice a month.

  Looking down at Liam's face, she could see Joe's eyes in their baby and it made her smile, despite his prolonged absence. Her best friend, Emily, had also experienced a dramatic decrease in the frequency of her calls with Dominic. Her belly had become ever more pronounced as the weeks expired and a large part of her time was taken up reassuring her pregnant friend that everything was fine overseas and that their men were safe and sound. Although she was telling Emily all these tales about Joe and Dominic, she couldn't help thinking that her words were hollow and devoid of truth. She was sure in her heart that Joe had lots more time to himself than he was letting on in his telephone calls. She was also not happy about the fact that the modern Navy allowed females on board during deployment. Even though she had heard Joe complain about this same thing, she often wondered in private about the relationships of men and women on board ships where the quarters were so cramped and many people were tempted to break their vows. So many of these sailors were single anyway, so it wasn't that far a stretch to believe that people in the Navy were forming close relationships on board the ships.

  She shook her head as she realized that her mind was again wandering in the "negative realm." Joe had often said to her that her thoughts were her brain's own worst enemy. As she browsed farther down the cereal aisle, an old woman approached in the opposite direction, a red plastic basket draped over her arm filled with soup. When she got close enough, the woman obligatorily (as old people will invariably do) leaned over the car seat to peer in at the child.

  "Oh, what a beautiful little baby," she cooed in her old lady voice.

  "Thank you," Toni replied with a smile.

  "Is that your only one?"

  "Yeah," she answered softly.

  "Planning on anymore?" the woman asked. "The world needs more beautiful children."

  "His father's in the Navy," she said, not really knowing why. "He's deployed in the Persian Gult. I'm not even sure where right now."