Placing two steaming cups on the table, she sat down across from him. “Are you ready?”
He took a few sips of the hot brew and then settled his hands on the outside of the blistering mug. The pain was grounding. “Hit it.”
She pushed the button. For a long time, there was nothing, just sounds of their combined breathing. Jack felt frustration start to mount. Then it began… a word here and there.
Don. Blood. Bomb. Helo. Head.
His own mind searched through the cabinets of experiences he’d locked away. When he located it, he tried to open the file, but it was stuck. He wanted that trip down memory lane, but in dossier form, in order of action. Then, as if his subconscious from last night had heard him, his own voice began to speak from the recorder.
South America. Intel. CIA. Don’s pregnant wife. Drop zone. Hike. Rain. Factory was fucking ghost town.
His hand reached for the recorder. He clicked it off as the images rearranged themselves in his head. So many times he had searched his mind for the memory of that last mission… this time he didn’t want to come up empty. He opened his mouth to speak, praying the words he wanted would come out. “I remember…”
Just as suddenly as he started speaking, the memories flowed like a movie to him. He could see it, down to the last detail and tree. Or at least part of it was there. He was thrilled that there was more than he had previously had. “It worked, Laurie. I remember the planning, arriving there, and…”
“Jack—”
He held up a hand to silence her. His first priority was that the pictures come together. He was almost there; then he saw it. He spoke, slowly letting the memories out. “The brass wanted us to go to South America to get some Intel that had been stashed. The CIA had tried and several agents had died, so they had gotten in touch with the Navy. Supposedly, this info would provide details on drug drops and the various relationships between political leadership and the cartels.
“This wasn’t the first Op we’d done with the spooks, but command insisted it be a solo deal. That we go in alone, get the info, and bring it back. SEALs are better trained—yada yada. So, the orders were signed, the details were sent, and then we worked with our Intelligence Officer to develop the best plan.
“Don was distracted. His wife was pregnant. They had a lot to do to get ready for the baby. A bigger house. Her parents would want to stay with them. Listening to his father-in-law talk about being a lawyer, and how stable and steady it is…
“The helicopter was dropping us off pretty far from our destination—fast-roping, of course. This was meant to confuse any pursuers, as there were a number of hot spots in the area. I was itchy and felt in my gut that things weren’t right. I spoke up, but no one listened. They blamed it on nerves. But I wasn’t scared—something felt wrong to me somehow. I just couldn’t put my finger on the problem.
“Well, we headed up and over the mountain, which could have been dicey but was pretty easygoing. Seeley kept stepping on snakes. He hates reptiles in general. Amused the hell out of Don and me, the fact Seeley had to slice their heads off before they bit him. That was his Achilles’ heel, but as a SEAL, you end up facing whatever you fear a lot until you are mightily desensitized to it.
“When we got to the top of the mountain, we saw the factory. Didn’t look like there were any guards, and it was mostly deserted. Obviously, there had been a bad fight there—bodies were strewn about and there were a couple of burned-out jeeps and trucks. I suggested two of us scope it out.
“Everyone wanted to stick with the plan, so we all pushed down the mountainside. Working our way down was tricky—there were IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices)—but we easily entered the factory grounds. The place was a fucking ghost town. Nothing was there! Didn’t even see a rat, which is unusual for a place like this. Usually cats and rats are everywhere.” Jack looked at Laurie and grinned, happy that the memories were flowing.
“I was going to break radio silence and say, ‘Nobody has been here in weeks,’ when we saw lights on in the factory—down in the basement. Methodically, we made our way in. Don and I stayed outside to guard the rear, but Pickens called us in. So, we went in the door—” The memory cut off abruptly, making him physically jerk. Jack started coughing and his throat began to spasm. Standing, he rushed to the sink and turned on the faucet, cupping water in his hand. He scooped the warm water into his mouth and coaxed it down until the spasm stopped.
Bracing his hands on the sink, he reviewed the chain of events. “It’s correct. This is how it all began. I fucking remembered!” He turned to her. His eyes were bright.
Lifting her out of the chair, he held her tightly in his arms. “I did it. I have more information. Thank you!” The emotion was clear in his voice, but he didn’t mind her knowing how much he valued her. He trusted her, and for the first time in a long time, he trusted himself.
***
Walking into the Team ONE Quarterdeck with high energy—or at least an energized hop in his step—felt great! Jack realized how he had been going through the motions of daily living without connecting to anything positive until now. For so long, he’d lost his joy. Now, with the help of Laurie, a part of his memory was finally falling into place, and he could hardly wait to talk to his CO (Commanding Officer), XO (Executive Officer), and Teammates.
As he walked through the corridor where portraits of heroic brethren, fallen in battle, or acts of heroism and achievement had been documented, he couldn’t help feeling humbled. Whatever he had done in his life, these men had done more. They had willingly gone the extra mile, though he could honestly say his passion and desire to be in the fight was as great as their own.
The first time he walked in here, he had spent a great deal of time staring at the photographs, considering these men and their lives. Only the exceptional knew what it meant to be chosen for the Teams; the ones who made it through Hell Week and deployments were eager for an ever-increasing challenge. He was a SEAL Team ONE guy, and short of retiring, he wanted to serve for as long as his body held out.
The offices on the second floor of the Quarterdeck were unusually quiet. The daily bustle of activity was lacking. Crap! Is there some kind of event I don’t know about?
A couple of Intel Officers entered the hall. They nodded at him.
He nodded back, but neither of these guys was the one he sought. He actually wanted to talk to the XO, and seeing his empty office did nothing to help Jack’s cause.
Screw this! I’m not waiting around.
He walked down the hall. Fresh ocean air flowed in from the open back door. At least it didn’t smell as bad as the ST1 (SEAL Team ONE) Platoon Area. Where the cages were, that place usually smelled like feet and sweat, and the stairwell was worse.
Checking his watch, he read 0639 and was relieved to see that he was on time to meet a few buddies. They should be strolling in here any minute now. C’mon guys! The email that shot into his phone at midnight had made him feel like heaven was smiling on him when he read it. With a few more pieces of the puzzle courtesy of his buddies, he might be able to put this whole damn puzzle together.
Turning around, he double-timed down the hallway and exited down the front stairwell and through the front door of the Team ONE Quarterdeck building. He headed for the ST1 Platoon Area.
Entering the building, he climbed the stairs two at a time, going straight for the third floor. Briefly, he considered stopping on the second floor to pull some gear from the cages. The discomfort of keeping someone waiting kept him moving. As he hit the top of the landing he saw a familiar soul enter the Platoon 1-Alfa room.
Jack pulled the door wide and jogged down the hall, hitting the room at a dead run. He considered tackling Gerry, who was now seated on a couch with his nose buried in a manual. But that man was built like a steamroller, and Jack didn’t need his nose rearranged, so he stopped short a few feet.
Towering over the human “man-wall,” he shouted, “Hey Knotts!” Jack knew his smile must be at least a mile wide.
God, it felt good to see a brother!
A corpsman from Bravo shut the door between the rooms, shaking his head at them before he laid the barrier in place. To hell with him!
“Red Jack, you slacker, what the hell are you up to?” Laughing, Gerry Knotts said, “If I were on medical leave, I’d be in Hawaii on Oahu, surfing along the North Shore, instead of hanging here.” Knotts dropped the manual on the couch, got up, and closed the gap between them. The guy was wide like a linebacker but all lean, hard muscle as he grabbed Jack and hugged him, giving him a painful backslapping embrace. “You missed the rest of the guys by an hour. We got back at 0530.”
“Shit! You lily-livered fish, I thought I’d made it here on time,” Jack said, mirroring his buddy’s gestures and then taking a step back. Man, seeing Knotts was like manna for the soul.
“Cell service sucks on base. We got pulled into an impromptu meeting. You know how it is…”
“Yeah.” Nodding his head, Jack didn’t know what to say or where to start with his next comment. His brain was a jumble of opinions, thoughts, and questions. “I need to… I wanted to…”
“Talk about what happened. Yeah, that’d be good. Fuck, you were a freaking Hercules, the way you tossed bodies into the helicopter.” Moving past Jack, Knotts went to the top of the landing and looked down. Confirming all was clear, he came back over. “Did you just see anyone on your way in—like the XO?”
Jack shook his head.
Pushing one of his hands into the other one Gerry kneaded them together, a leftover nervous gesture from their boot camp days. He spoke softly. “Dammit, you need to know this, Jack—we’ve been ordered not to talk to you about the Op, until you remember something yourself.”
“I get it,” said Jack, disappointed. “They’re covering their asses.”
Gerry’s cell phone beeped. He withdrew it, smiled, and then pocketed it.
Patting Jack on the arm, he said, “Listen, I gotta go. That’s the third page from the wife. If I’m not home in five minutes, she’ll come here armed to shoot bear, or just me.”
“Yeah, uh, Gerry. Could we, uh, get a beer later?” Jack couldn’t let go of this golden opportunity to fill in the blanks. He needed Knotts to help him. His swim buddy was dead, two more were still in the ICU and had been put into comas “for their own protection,” and the others had been routed from San Diego to Virginia for debriefing and other stuff no one would talk about.
Being in the military meant operating in the dark to some degree, though Teammates had always found a way to help each other and watch each other’s back. He had to know what had happened and what was truly going on.
Gerry Knotts nodded. “Let me meet-and-greet and then I’ll hit the pond. Say… two hours. Wait, better make it three.”
“That works,” said Jack. They shook hands, and then Gerry disappeared down the stairs.
Congregating covertly in the ocean was significantly less conspicuous than aiming for a chat downtown. The only creatures that would be able to overhear them would have either feathers or fins.
Looking around the room, he contemplated what he could do for three hours. Going down to the cages to organize his gear would only make him long for deployment. So would target practice. There was no one he really wanted to talk to, and going back to his apartment to stare at four empty walls just plain sucked.
Setting his sights on the couch tucked against the far wall where Gerry’s manual lay, he strode over and sat down. Picking up the book, he looked at the title. It was the latest updated manual on their grenade launchers. “I bet you still shot them off-target, Gerry.”
Tossing the manual aside, he lay down. Pain spiked the back of his skull, and he dug a pain pill out of his pocket. He hated the stuff, but if he could go horizontal for a short time, it might be worth it.
He closed his eyes, forcing his body to relax. The pump of adrenaline that had been surging through his body eased off an inch at a time.
Stretching his legs out so they balanced over the far armrest, he laid his forearm over his eyes and told his body to go to sleep—a SEAL trick that usually worked, though as of late…
His training had taught him how to conquer a lot. He could do it all, except fill those memory holes… so far.
***
The images were hazy. He squinted at them, the SEALs that had passed from this earth were gathered on the beach before him. Chills raced up his spine.
The day was stormy and the ocean was tumultuous. Waves crashed hard on the shore, sending up massive amounts of foam to bathe his legs and feet. He stood on the curling cusp until his toes were icy and gooseflesh climbed his legs. But he’d endured worse on this spot—Hell Week—and he was capable of doing it again. Lightning arced overhead like a fireworks display, showing the faces of men suddenly standing before him. There were gaping wounds on some of the bodies and frozen expressions on faces. These cracked dolls were otherwise perfect, and yet not uniform. A couple of guys were dressed in whites, their ice cream suits bedazzled with medals, and on top of all that glory was a shiny trident. It practically glowed on their chests.
Others were wearing black BDUs. He preferred those… so he could fade into the nighttime shadows. A few wore the old blue Navy digital fatigues with the horrible nickname of blueberries. They’d get slammed for being out of uniform, since the SEALs now had their own Special Ops digi design and everyone was supposed to have switched over.
But blood seeped through the fabric, spreading like some ghastly nightmare. He rushed toward them, to aid these men somehow.
“We are gathered here to weigh the crimes of our brother, Red Jack. What say you?” His CO’s voice, the one who was killed by a drunk driver a few years back, boomed over the area. The man had been an extra dad to them all, and had been known as Jiffy, because no matter what, he arrived quickly.
What did he say? Oh Fuck! Were they here for him? He stopped in his tracks.
“Roaker, I’m sad for you, son,” said Jiffy. Then his voiced boomed out, “Attention!”
Jack’s back went arrow straight as his whole body responded to the command.
Thunder boomed as lightning cracked again, showing all the great and decorated men before them multiplying into an even larger force. So many faces, and yet he knew in his heart that these were the heroes of the Teams.
A fine mist fell from the sky, making it surreal. This had to be a joke! No one did this. Yet the intensity was almost blinding as his SEAL brothers pulsated with color. Their faces contorted into masks of ferocity. Bolts of lightning sliced across the sky as they stepped toward him.
Jack did not move—though he knew he’d been singled out.
Standing parallel was the CO, who was reading from a sheet of paper. The edges fluttered in the wind and seemed to stretch on for at least a mile. The drone of Jiffy’s voice went on forever. Words such as unworthy, traitor, failed your Teammates, dishonor, and coward made Jack’s neck move with whiplash speed.
Had he heard the words correctly?
“In all our years as a Team, we have had only rare occasion to do what we’re doing today. You will be stripped from our ranks. Petty Officer John Matthew Roaker—Red Jack—today is the day you died in our eyes. We are disappointed in you and your dishonor.”
The CO ripped the trident from Jack’s uniform, and then he opened Jack’s shirt and plunged his hand into his chest, dislodging the symbol branded on his heart.
The gaping hole spilled life from his chest and there was no way to close it.
“Say good-bye to the civilian,” ordered Jiffy.
Jack’s mouth was open, the horror holding him in shocked silence.
As one, his brothers turned away and began to fade.
God, he would rather be dead then this… dishonor. His spirit was draining out of his body. He was losing himself one chunk at a time. “I’m disappointed in you son. Good-bye, John. Matthew. Roaker.” And then Jiffy was gone, too.
Tears streamed down Jack’s face, falling unhindered i
nto the sand. They disappeared in the hundreds of grains below him as his world lost cohesion. The SEALs, they were his entire world—
The final warrior, standing tall and strong, was Don. He knelt beside him and grabbed his shoulder. “I love you, my brother. I know it’s not your fault. It’s up to you to fix this. Solve it before it’s too late.”
***
Waking abruptly, Jack sat bolt upright and then stood. His body was covered in sweat and his heart raced. He scanned the area, looking for threats. What had awakened him? No one else was inside the room. He checked his watch. It was almost time to meet Gerry.
“Shit!” he said to himself, remembering the nightmare. He rubbed his hands over his face and eyes, and then over his stubbly head. “Screw the pain pills.”
Fingers found the healing injury at the back of his skull. Like an optimist rubbing a lamp, he silently prayed he would find the rest of the answers to his memory block, and that it wouldn’t show dishonor. “Tell me it’s not fucking true!” But doubt was a ravenous creature and ready to devour his sanity. He couldn’t allow it to take a foothold.
The room suddenly felt incredibly stuffy and smelly; he craved fresh air and sunlight.
He kicked at a pair of shoes near the couch. “Damn foot odor.” Yet it was oddly reassuring, too. The smell was his and everyone’s in Alfa. This was home, and it was hard to escape that fact. The best thing he could do was concentrate on the tangible.
Undoubtedly, everyone was out on the O course, in the gym, or home reuniting with his family post Op. It was time for him to leave the nest, too. This was just an empty room with the memorabilia on the walls marking memories of men like him who walked the journey and lived their best for the Teams. They had courage, fortitude, and never gave up. Neither would he.
In a minute he was out the door, down the hall, and to the stairwell, where he took the stairs two at a time. Then he was through the front door and outside.
A SEAL at Heart Page 10