“One direct hit on the engine,” Mo said. “It ain’t going nowhere.”
“I want two men rear guard,” Hunter said. “We’ve got wheels, let’s use them. Everybody on board but the rear guard. Close up on the bus and we’ll get you on board as soon as we’re ready to roll. Anybody sprain an ankle or anything?”
There was no response. Foster was first on board the bus and watching Ho. He sat up in the seat now, sweat beading his forehead.
“Forgot duck.” He said and laughed.
The men boarded quickly, some holding weapons out the windows aimed at the small hill. No one ventured away from their protection. Hunter called in the rear guard and the bus backed up, and then drove forward on the road.
A minute later he turned south on the highway and asked Tran to find the spot where they had picked up the bus. It was only two miles down the road. They went two more miles, and then put the bus in a pull out spot.
“Let’s choggie,” Hunter said. Foster you and Jefferson take care of Ho. Walden and Mo, you help Chang if he needs it. Moving out.”
They hiked due west out of the woods, across the rice paddies and into the marshes along the Korea Bay of the Yellow Sea. They found some fringes of trees and brush and called a halt after the six mile hike. Ho was in good spirits and didn’t need help. Three men had taken turns helping Chang who had the leg wound.
“Walden, fire up the SATCOM,” Hunter ordered.
Two minutes later he had raised Quinn on the destroyer.
“Big Daddy. The three buildings are down and dirty and we’re ready to exfiltrate. Send in the choppers. We have two wounded, neither critical. When can we expect you?”
“Give me your GPS coordinates.”
“Walden handed the GPS device to Hunter who read off the numbers to Quinn. Quinn repeated them as a double check.
“Captain says the birds will be in the air in five minutes. What took you so long?”
“We ran into some uncooperative personnel in the other uniforms who contested our right to be in their midst.”
“Captain says he’s off shore about eighteen. That makes it six or seven minutes flying time for the choppers as soon as they lift off. Any hostiles in the area?”
“Not that we know of. We left about thirty twelve miles back, but they lost their transport.”
“See you soon.”
“Send us a nurse on the flight to be on the safe side.”
“Will do. Out.”
Twenty minutes later they were in the choppers and heading for the destroyer. The nurse, a stern faced full lieutenant in a jump suit, checked both wounds and gave Foster a pat on the back.
“Good work, corpsman,” she said. “We’ll have the doctors find that bullet in his leg. He should be back to active duty in a month.”
They landed on the destroyer where the medics met them and rolled Chang into surgery on a gurney. They had a wheel chair for Ho who said he’d rather walk, but they insisted.
Quinn met them and whacked the men on the shoulders.
“Great job, you guys. We’re talking about a week’s leave here.”
“How is Lawrence doing?” Hunter asked.
“They dug out the slug, and he’s recuperating. They have him in Seoul in the hospital. He’ll fly home in another week or so and wind up in Bethesda Naval. We’ll have to get Ho patched up and then arrange for him to get his papers. Be at least a week before he gets cleared by the medics to fly. The embassy here will have his papers ready. His family members are all in the States now and getting used to things I hear.”
“You arranged for the honorarium in the amounts we discussed for all three of the brothers, including Ho?”
“It went through without a whimper. The president is extraordinarily pleased with your work and the help that the Koreans gave to us. Ho’s bank account will be waiting for him Stateside, and I’ll see that he has a few hundred dollars spending money before then.”
“Good. Right now the men would appreciate a good meal, and then showers, and after that about ten hours of sleep.”
“You got it. About the sleep. We’ll be back in port before your ten hours, but you can get up anytime you want to.”
“You took care of Sanborn?”
“Yes. I had the base commander write the letter to his parents. A tragedy, he died in a training accident on base. He’s been shipped home.”
“Anything else I should know?
“Oh, one thing,” Quinn said. He grinned. “Commander Darby has been bugging me daily about what you’re doing and when you’re getting back. I figure she’ll be glad to see you.”
“Thanks, now where is that chow?”
K-16 Republic of Korea Air Base
Songham, Korea
The barracks looked good when the SEALs slipped inside. They were still on a black mission. They had arrived in port just after dark and were choppered to the air base. Most of them had slept some on the ship, but turned in to the bunks and dropped off at once.
The next morning, Hunter had just come awake when he was aware of someone tickling his nose. He snapped open his eyes and lifted his hand in the shape of a gun.
“Bang, you’re dead,” he said. Then his eyes focused. Beth Darby leaned over his bunk and laughed softly.
“I never knew you snored. You don’t do that on a mission.”
“Snoring isn’t allowed on a mission.” He yawned and sat up stretching. “You always barge into the men’s barracks in the morning this way?”
“Only when I’m looking for breakfast. That BOQ mess is a mess. You going to get dressed or go to chow in your shorts?”
“If you get back in your room we’ll all get dressed.”
Beth laughed again and stood and walked to the end of the large barracks to her room. She wore regulation tan skirt and blouse and Hunter enjoyed watching her walk away.
At 1000 the late breakfast chow truck came as per Quinn’s orders. The SEALs were up and waiting. They had breakfast steaks, omelets to order, hotcakes and bacon, and almost anything else they wanted. The men stuffed themselves.
After chow, Hunter called them around.
“Okay, you walking wounded report to the hospital to have your scratches taken care of. I don’t have any idea when we might be on the list to fly out of here. I don’t want to see Rattigan, McNally, and Walden until you bring me a note from your doctor. Chang and Lawrence are is in the hospital and I’ll check on them later. The rest of your get your equipment cleaned and in order, but don’t load your combat vests. We should be getting a break before we need them again.”
Quinn came in with a huge grin. Hunter pointed at him.
“Just had some words from home I thought you should hear. The President is delighted with your good work. With Dr. Sung out of Korea and their plant shattered, and the rest of their bombs destroyed, he figures you’ve set the North Korean nuke program back at least ten years. He’s giving you all a two week leave as soon as you hit the States. Now, for the rest of the news. Lawrence is improving well, and should be out of here in two weeks and sent to Bethesda. Chang had his operation on the destroyer. They found the slug and removed it with minimum damage. He needs a week here and then will go to Bethesda for a week before recuperating at the Farm.”
“You get a battle star on your badge for this one, Quinn?” Tran called out.
“I don’t rate battle stars, but you guys sure should, that is if this actually happened, which it didn’t so you don’t get any stars. And no damn after action report which could really kill us. Oh, Commander Darby. The President asked me what happened to you. He said he had a small job for you when you return. He was just curious. I told him you were tied up here for another day or two. Did I lie good or what?”
“Thanks, Quinn. I owe you a pint next time we meet in London,”
Beth said.
“I never go to London.”
“That’s what I mean, Mr. Quinn.” Everyone hooted and laughed at the CIA contact’s put down.
�
�So when do we fly out of this back woods country?” Senior Chief Chapman asked.
“Your bird was here on reserve for several days, but then had an emergency flight. He should be back tomorrow. I’ll schedule him for a flight homebound for day after tomorrow at oh eight hundred.”
“Hoo-rah!” the SEALs and Beth shouted in unison.
Quinn waved and left the barracks.
Beth looked over at Hunter. “You going to the hospital?” He nodded. “Mind if I tag along?”
“That would be good.” On the walk to the hospital, Hunter finally found his voice. “Hey, I owe you a dinner. How about the Officer’s Mess tonight about six?”
“Why, Lieutenant Hunter. Are you actually asking me out on a date?”
“Not a date exactly.”
“Sounded like it to me. Yes, I’ll be delighted to have dinner with you. As long as there’s a bottle of wine involved. Oh, damn. No wine at the mess. I’ll make do.”
After a good dinner at the mess, they walked back toward the barracks. Beth stopped him under some trees where it was dark and she looked up at him. He bent and kissed her gently, then again with more abandon. She came away and smiled.
“Yes, that was good. Now may I kiss you back?” She did.
When it ended they both were grinning.
“Nice,” he said. “Extremely nice. Hey, once we get back to the States, I want to see you. I’m not exactly ready to go look up your father, but you and I work well together, in and out of combat.”
“Lieutenant, that’s exactly what I was thinking except the part about my father. You live on the Farm, I’m in Arlington, so it won’t be that far. You have wheels?”
“When it runs. Yes. Wheels. Give me your home phone number. I’m good at memorizing phone numbers.”
She told him the number as they walked back to the barracks. At the door she asked him what her home number was and he clicked it off to her without a miss.
“Good, now get back with the troops. See you tomorrow.”
To Hunter’s surprise there were no whistles or cat calls when he walked in the door with Beth. She went on to her room and he dropped on his bunk.
“What we going to do tomorrow?” Lieutenant (j.g.) Bancroft asked after he walked up.
“We’ll get in a good day of training with the fit. We have two in the hospital and three on light duty. So there will only be eleven of us for our training. We can handle that. Not sure what else, but we’ll do a ten mile hike to get warmed up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The CIA Farm, Virginia
Hunter thought he’d been dragged through a dozen knotholes when they finally landed at Andrews Air Force Base outside of Washington DC in Maryland. He’d been through so many time zones that his body and mind were a mishmash of hours and minutes and meals and sleep periods. Nothing made much sense. Quinn was with them and had radioed ahead for one of the closed black vans to meet them. A presidential staff sedan was also on hand. Beth watched as the fourteen SEALs crowded into the extended van. She went to the door. The jabbering quieted little by little as they saw her.
“Well, looks like this is good bye. I’ve enjoyed working with you men sometimes. Other times it was pure hell. But that’s show business. You guys take it easy and try to stay out of trouble.”
“Hoo-yah!” the SEALs roared.
“Commander,” Hans Dengler said. Beth looked into the van and found who was speaking.
“Ma’am, I never did thank you for saving my life back there. You had my back and the NK’s would have blasted me into hell if you hadn’t been there. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Dengler, get yourself out here,” Beth said.
He worked his way out of the van and stepped to the ground.
“Young man, you cost me a lot back there. That’s the first and probably the last man I’ll ever kill. But it was in a good cause. It was him or you as you SEALs say. I’m glad I reacted to the danger and I’m glad that you’re still alive.”
She reached up and gave him a hug, then stopped back. “Now, get out there and be the best damn SEAL who ever wore the trident.”
“Hoo-rah!” the SEALs bellowed.
Commander Beth Darby wiped a tear from her eye, did a smart about face and bumped into Hunter.
She grinned. “What was that magic number again, Lieutenant?” she asked softly.
Hunter repeated her phone number. “I’ll call you in a couple of days. Count on it.” His reply was low so the men couldn’t hear it.
She touched his shoulder, smiled her best and marched over to the presidential sedan. At the door she turned and waved, then stepped inside and the driver closed the door.
Hunter crawled into the van. “Everyone present or accounted for?”
“Aye, Cap,” Senior Chief Chapman said.
“Then, driver, let’s get the hell out of here.”
The van eased out of Andrews Air Base, then roared across the highways to the Farm in Virginia. When they got out of the van, Hunter asked the driver an important question.
“Do you know what the actual time is?”
“Yes sir, it’s oh ten forty six. Seems you had some delays on the trip.”
Hunter and the rest of the men headed for their barracks and were surprised to see Admiral Marshal Harding get out of his staff limousine that had been parked near the building.
“Ten hut!” Senior Chief Chapman bellowed and the SEALs dropped their drag bags and snapped to attention.
“As you were men,” the admiral said. “At ease and gather around.” He waited a moment while the SEALs moved up to within six feet of the admiral.
“The President wanted me to be on hand to meet you men and welcome you home and congratulate you on an extremely important task that was carried out with exceptional skill and bravery. Usually there would be medals to be awarded, but since this never happened we can’t give out medals. This mission is precisely why we developed the President’s Platoon, and this is exactly how we hoped that it would function. All of you except the officers will receive a Presidential advancement in rank of one grade. After you get settled here you all are granted two week leaves. Tomorrow Hunter and Bancroft will report to my office at thirteen hundred so we can have a meeting with the President. There will be no after action report since there was no action and you men were not even away from your normal duties here at the Farm. Again, congratulations and thank you for your good work. We are saddened by the loss of Quartermaster Sanborn. Unfortunately things like that can happen in this line of work. He will be missed. Again, the President and I give you our thanks for a job well done.”
The Admiral stepped back and a sailor held open his limo door.
“Teen-hut,” Chapman bellowed and the SEALs snapped to attention until the Admiral entered the car and it pulled away.
“As you were,” Hunter said. “A presidential promotion. Congratulations men. That is one helpful thing the President can do for you. Of course it won’t go on your records that it came from the President, but we know. Anybody hungry?”
“Hoo-rah!”
“I’ll arrange for special chow in half an hour. You can shower after that. Let’s move.”
The next morning Corpsman Nelson Foster checked Rattigan, McNally, and Walden to treat and rebandage their wounds, then he took off in his car and headed for the clinic in Arlington where he spent most of his free time. He found Shirley Shannon on the front desk.
“Looking for some help?” he asked.
“Hey, you’re here.” She looked up and her face broke into a wonderful smile that he remembered so well. “Hey this isn’t even Saturday. How come?”
“I’m on a two week leave. I’ll be bothering you for the next fourteen days.”
“Wonderful.” Her beautiful smile faded and she frowned. “There may be one problem?”
“You mean the feds are after me?”
“No, silly. You remember Long John Garrison.”
“The dude you shot at? I remember him.�
�
“He’s been hanging around. I think he’s looking for you. He usually has three or four home boys with him.”
“How did he get out of jail?”
“His lawyer did the magic. I think he gave up the guy who shot his small friend, Somestuff.”
“That would do it. Why is he hanging around here? Then Foster’s brows went up and he nodded. “Oh, boy. We shamed him in the eyes of his home boys, so he has to get even to get back his position as a down-standing gang member.”
“That’s what we think. Maybe he won’t come back anymore.”
“Oh, he’ll be here. But until then there’s work to do. Let me take over the desk and you can do your nursey things.”
She watched him, her face open, vulnerable, with just a touch of curiosity. “You still going to try for med school?”
He wanted to say if he lived long enough, but he didn’t. She wouldn’t understand. In the Teams you took your chances, and he’d had enough chances along the way. Two more years and then maybe, just maybe he could take a run at college.
“You bet, but I’ve got two years left on my enlistment. That gives me time to save my money for tuition.”
“Student loans can be a lifesaver. I had some, but don’t take one out until you desperately need it.” She waved. “Take care of the desk and the triage. We’re up to twenty three on the number list.”
He settled in behind the desk, checked any announcements that were on the board and watched the waiting room. There were only eight people there ready to see the doctor or the nurse. Each had a colored slip of paper with a number on it. Blue for the doctor, and green for the nurse. A man with dirty, raggedy clothes came in holding his arm. He walked up to the desk with pain drilling onto his face.
“Doc, I think I broke it,” the man said.
Foster could see white bones sticking out of tanned and dirty skin. He stood.
“Come this way, you need to get that looked at right away.” He took the man through the doors into the hall and spotted Shirley.
“Looks like a compound fracture of the arm. He’s really in pain. We have an open room?”
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