“Can you make it?” Doc asked them. Both nodded, but didn’t waste any breath answering.
Ten minutes later, the last five men came to the point of departure, and crawled out of the canal.
“Hey, don’t know what you guys are panting about,” Quinley said.
“I’m fresh as a four-dollar whore and ready to do the swim again.”
Both Ronson and Fernandez slugged Quinley in the shoulder.
“Maybe I should really break your fucking arm,” Ronson bellowed, then collapsed on the side of the canal, still breathing hard.
“Teamwork. Teamwork. It’s all got to be teamwork,” Murdock said, pacing among his men. His cammies still dripped from the canal water.
“What happened back there that shouldn’t have? Anybody?”
There was no reply.
“Two men were called back for special duty, to tow a casualty. Two of you should have at least taken their weapons, made their work a tad bit easier. Teamwork. We work together to stay alive. If this had been a real mission, we might have lost either of the two men towing the casualty, or the wounded man himself, or all three. Think, men. Think about the good of the group. We all depend on each other. Just like carrying the logs down at BUD/S. We think teamwork here, it’ll save our butts on a mission.
“The facts are, we have a mission in the oven. It’s not quite ready yet, but in the near future we’ll be flying out of here and going to the Far East, where we’ll be berthed on an aircraft carrier while the brass monitors a situation about ready to blow. If and when it erupts, we’ll be nearby ready for action.”
He looked around at the tired men. They seemed to perk up a little.
“You get ten minutes to rest. Then we’ll double-time out to the old gunnery range and practice throwing grenades. That means we swing past the bus to take on a couple of cartons of the little hand bombs.”
A half hour later at the grenade range, they took turns throwing the smooth and round M-67 grenades at truck tires positioned at twenty, thirty, and forty yards away. Each man threw until he dropped a grenade in the twenty-yard tire, then had two shots at each of the longer throws.
It took Ron Holt eight throws to get the first grenade inside the twenty-yard tire. They threw from behind a log-and-sandbag barricade.
Murdock used his field glasses from forty yards away to spot the targets.
Doc Ellsworth had the best arm in the platoon. He laid his second fragger in the twenty-yard tire, hit the thirty-yard circle on his second throw, and nailed the forty-yard tire on his first.
“Come on, you dirtbags,” Doc crowed. “Let’s see a little competition around here. Do I have to show you how every fucking time?”
Nobody beat the medic that day at throwing hand grenades.
They closed out the morning with a five-mile forced march, and wound up back at the bus. Everyone slumped in the shade of the bus or sat inside, and broke out his MREf.
“Holt, fire up the SATCOM. Somebody is trying to reach us.”
“Your radar ears again, Commander?”
“Damn right.”
“They should have like E-mail on this thing so it could pick up a message and record it so we could get it anytime.”
“Hard to do without turning it on, Holt. Go.”
The minute Holt had the antenna positioned and snapped on the set, they had a call come in. It was encrypted, but came through the machine in clear voice.
“Murdock, this is Stroh. Give me a call when you can. Things are moving.”
“Not yet,” Murdock growled. “It’s too damn quick. We need more time to get the men ready.”
He nodded at Holt to set for voice transmission encrypted, and picked up the mike.
“Murdock here, looking for Don Stroh. My ears are on.”
There was a pause while the machine encrypted and sent the message.
Another came back a minute later.
“Murdock. Stroh. Things moving faster than we thought. We need you to be out there a week from today.”
Murdock scowled at the set. He was far enough away so the men couldn’t hear.
“Can’t do it, Stroh. I have that new man. We need more time to integrate him into the team. You know how we work closely together.
Can’t you push it another week?”
“I can, but the President can’t. He cut the orders to my boss, and I’m just the messenger. A week tomorrow from North Island, three o’clock P.m. You’ll be going to the USS Monroe. You’ve been on her before.”
“Aye, aye. Can’t argue with the Commander in Chief. We’ll be ready, but we may need a week to recuperate on that Navy pleasure-cruise ship.”
“That sounds better, fishing buddy. I’ll meet you on the carrier.
I’m out of here.”
Murdock signaled to Holt to turn off the set. “Not a word of this to the men. I’ll tell them tonight. Go eat your chow.” Murdock found Ed Dewitt in the back of the bus, and told him what he’d just found out.
“We’re pushing it to get ready,” Ed said. “Remember, we’ve got a new man in my squad.”
Murdock worried it. “Yeah, that’s what’s been bugging me. He has good individual skills. It’s the teamwork I’m thinking about. We’ll do some basic teamwork back at the Grinder. Get a little down and dirty.
We’ll make sure that Jack Mahanani will be totally integrated into the team.”
“A pair of men roping down a thousand-foot cliff is a good way to imprint cooperation.”
“Yea, Ed, and a good way to lose a man if something goes wrong.
Let’s use a little more subtle method.”
Ed finished his peanut butter and crackers. “What’s for this afternoon?”
“Not sure. We need the rest of the day here, then five days of intensive water training, then we should be ready.”
“How about the injured-buddy drill?” Ed asked.
“Each one carry one?”
“Sounds good.”
“How are Ronson and Ching getting along?”
Murdock grinned. “Hell, like twins. Ching blasting that rattlesnake about ready to plant his fangs in Ronson’s ankle turned Ronson into Ching’s buddy for life.”
“Damned good thing. Ronson was hot. We use a diamond formation?”
“Right. We go out four miles, then get hit by a whole division so we pull back with our wounded.”
“Who carries who?”
“Next man in line in the diamond. Or if it’s a mismatch, switch it around so it works. You designate your wounded and who carries who.
We’ll move back halfway, then switch, and the one carried then totes his buddy.”
“Sounds good to me. Hope you don’t have to pack out Ronson and his two hundred and fifty pounds.”
Murdock grinned. “Easy, who’s going to get Mahanani and his two-forty? Better make it Ronson. They deserve each other. Let’s get these noodle-knockers into the field.”
8
Tuesday, 13 February
Chocolate Mountain Gunnery Range
Niland, California
Third Platoon worked its way into the desert four miles from the bus, and Murdock called a halt.
“This is as far as we’re going right now,” Murdock said. “We’re under a simulated attack. Eight of you have been wounded, and can’t walk. Right now I want every man over two hundred pounds up here.
Move.”
Ronson, Bill Bradford, and Jack Mahanani came forward.
“Now I want you to pair up. Ronson and Mahanani are a match, Bradford, I’ll take you as my partner. You one-eighties match up with each other, and then those a hundred and seventy, and the hundred-and-sixty-pounders. Come on, we don’t have all fucking day.”
Four men were in the two hundred class. Five men were in the 180 class, five at 170, and two at 160. Murdock moved one of the lightest 180 men down to the 170 class, and the two 160’s matched up. “Pair up in weight class and let’s get moving.”
“How can I carry this big lug?�
� Mahanani asked, looking at Horse Ronson.
“Doesn’t matter how, just do it,” Murdock warned. “Remember, two miles back toward the bus, we switch the injured for the carry guy, so be gentle. It could be payback time.”
Murdock took 215-pound Bill Bradford in a fireman’s carry, and began walking back toward the bus. The others yelped and bellowed, but at last everyone got moving. Ed Dewitt, in the 170-pound class, carried his man first.
The over-the-shoulder fireman’s carry was the favorite, but some did it piggyback. Doc Ellsworth tried dragging 160pound Les Quinley by the shoulders, letting his heels dig furrows in the desert. He soon gave up, and did the fireman’s carry.
Murdock stopped at two hundred yards and rested, waiting for the others to catch up.
“Don’t look so pissed off, you SEALS,” Murdock said when everyone had made the first stop. “You know that the only easy day was yesterday. Let’s move out.”
Lugging a combat-ready SEAL with weapon and ammo across the California desert is tougher than it looks, Murdock decided. When he got to the one-mile point, he put Bradford down and rested.
The others straggled up. Jack Mahanani was the last man in, with Horse Ronson bending him nearly double. He dropped into the sand and gasped for five minutes.
“Don’t you ever get wounded so bad we got to carry you, Ronson,” Mahanani said when he could talk.
“We’ll take a breather here,” Murdock said, “Then we switch horses for another mile, and call it good. You riders shouldn’t be tired at all.”
Horse Ronson stood and stretched. “Damn, I’m ready to go now, okay, Commander?”
Murdock nodded.
Ronson picked up the 240-pound Mahanani in a fireman’s carry, adjusted him a moment, then ran for twenty steps and burst out in a roaring laugh. He settled down to a walk, and moved away from the others quickly.
“Hell, might as well get everybody moving,” Murdock said. “Don’t anybody try to catch Horse. Just be sure to get your buddy out of the line of fire. That’s a mile ahead.”
The mile of travel took them forty-five minutes. Horse and Mahanani were sleeping when the rest of them arrived.
Two of the men who had been carrying were so tired they Could barely stand. Murdock gave them all a half hour to get their muscles back in order; then they walked the two miles back to the bus.
“Let’s load up and get out of here,” Murdock said. He had their attention. “Our orders came down. We fly out of North Island in a week. That means some tough training between now and then. We’ll be ready. We’re going to sit down on that carrier somewhere in the Far East and wait for developments in Korea. The top is about to blow over there, some of our experts say. Now, let’s get out of here.”
They arrived back at the SEALs quarterdeck at 1700, and Murdock gave the men the night off.
“Be back here at 0730 tomorrow ready to kick butt. We’ve got a lot to do in the next few days. A good night’s sleep will help. Now get out of here.”
He finished some paperwork, talked with Master Chief Mackenzie at the quarterdeck for a minute, then nosed his Ford Bronco out of the parking lot onto Silver Strand Boulevard and headed north into Coronado.
At his condo, Murdock parked in his slot and went up the steps two at a time. He started to put his key in the door, then paused. It was open a half inch. Instinctively he reached for his .45, but it wasn’t there. Murdock listened. He could hear music. What burglar was going to turn on the stereo while he looted the place? Murdock nudged the door inward an inch, and looked through the slot.
Nothing.
He pushed it in farther, and smelled something cooking. In one swift move, he jolted into the condo and glanced into the kitchen.
Ardith Manchester had just taken a taste of something cooking on the stove. She looked over, grinned, and put down the spoon.
“Heard you were back from Master Chief Mackenzie. I like him.
Dinner isn’t quite ready. Lots of time for you to take a shower.” She paused. “Or for us to take a shower.”
They met halfway across the kitchen, and he kissed her long and deep. She gave a little sigh, and melted firmly against him. “You’ll get filthy from the desert,” he said.
“Good, as long as it’s with you.”
They kissed again, gently, softly, and she spun away from him.
“Dinner is almost burning.” She waved at him, shooing him out.
“You get wet, and I’ll finish dinner.”
Murdock never knew what they had for the meal. He watched Ardith, and couldn’t stop grinning.
“How?” he asked her.
“The CIA has absolutely no secrets from my daddy. He’s been on top of the Korean thing for two months. When the President gave the CIA the word, Daddy knew about it twenty minutes later, and then I did, and I tried to call, but couldn’t get you, so I packed my small bag, grabbed a plane out of Washington National as soon as I could. I picked up three hours coming this way. Fantastic.”
“That’s a good how. You know about our assignment?”
“Not the hour you leave, but I know the day. Next Tuesday.”
They put the dishes in the under-counter washer, and dropped on the sofa. Murdock sat there watching her. He’d seldom seen a prettier woman. Long blonde hair that cascaded around her shoulders, five-nine but seemed taller, slender, sexy, with the softest blue eyes he’d ever seen. High cheekbones so she looked like a model. White teeth almost perfect, but with one small notch to give her a real look. Then there was her smile.
She turned it on now. Glorious. He couldn’t get enough of it.
“What?” she asked.
“Just want to sit here and watch you for a minute. You have the time?”
“I have a week’s worth. I told my boss he could take his job and vote on it.”
They laughed. She could get away from her father’s Senatorial office anytime she wanted to.
“Still turning down those job offers from the agencies that have been trying to hire you?” he asked.
“Only two of them. Nothing really interesting so far. I’d get buried in the mass of people. I like it where I am.”
She stared at him; then a small frown grew on her pretty face.
“What?” he asked.
“You look tired. Are you pushing your men too hard, and yourself right along with them?”
“Probably. The more we sweat in training, the less we bleed in combat.”
Ardith winced.
“Sorry, no more SEAL talk,” he said. “What about you? Did you get that new car?”
“No. I’m saving my money.”
He frowned. She was usually never short on cash. “Why?”
“Girl stuff. What about that new camera you were going to buy?”
“Haven’t yet. Waiting for the new technology.”
Ardith laughed, and he loved the sound of it. “Like me waiting for the new technology on computers, right? It changes every month, so I’m still waiting for the ideal setup.”
“You have a computer at home.”
“Yes, it’s two years old and already a dinosaur. I can’t even read the JPG files.”
“Way ahead of me. I don’t know what a JPG file is.”
“With pictures and graphics and things.”
He slid over beside her. “No more talk,” she said.
He nodded and kissed her. His hand found her breast and she sighed, and pushed back against his hand.
She came away from his kiss. “Right here on the couch?” she asked.
“It would save time.”
“It would be a first.”
It was.
Later, they sat in front of the fireplace on the floor, and watched the wood burn.
“Real wood, logs and sticks,” Ardith said. “I like that. You haven’t been to our cabin up near Rhododendron, have you?”
“That’s some kind of a flowering shrub. It’s a town too?”
“Yes, just a little place up on Mt. Hood. Beautiful in
summer, fantastic in the winter when the heavy snows come. We’ll have to spend some time up there.”
“Yeah, I’d like to. Only not for a while.”
Ardith watched him, her face still flushed, her eyes pleading.
“You really have to go?”
“Yes. But we have nearly a week. During that time I have to finish training. A new guy in the platoon is always a worry. Men who have been in combat form a bond, a loyalty that imprints us so hard that it makes for lifelong friendships. When we can stay alive together, with teamwork and support, it makes the relationships so tremendously powerful. The new guy hasn’t had any of that. He knows the routines, where to go, what to do, but he doesn’t have the emotional bonding yet.”
She snuggled against him. “I can’t feel the power, the bonding, but I can understand it. No more whining from me. Just hold me tight, and I’ll pretend that you’ll never let me go.”
“I won’t let go of you. I’ll have to be gone sometimes, but I’ll never let go of you. Hey, this is the Navy. A good Navy woman knows about separation. Most of the men have a six-or-nine-month blue-water deployment, bobbing around on an ocean somewhere.”
“No more whining,” Ardith said. “Korea. I don’t think the North is going to invade the South. Their economy is nearly bankrupt. They have thousands of people starving. How can they launch a military offensive?”
“War takes the people’s minds off their problems and the shortage of food. Gives them somebody to hate out of country. Great strategy for a failing government.”
“Will it work?”
“Usually it doesn’t. The army runs out of food or guns, and the enemy overwhelms the military, then takes over the country, and almost always it’s worse off than before.”
“Except World War Two and the Marshall Plan.”
“True.”
They were both quiet then, watching the fire. He stood, and put more wood on the blaze, then settled back beside her.
“Oh, yes, I like this,” Murdock said. “So much better than sand fleas in your ears and sand crabs crawling up your leg.”
“Is it true you turned down a chance to be an aide to the CNO?”
Ardith asked.
“True. I don’t polish boots well.”
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