Now Jazz saw Keating grit his teeth and drop his head.
“Listen, sir,” Denke continued. “It is decision time. You wanna be one of the boys? You wanna be in the club? You wanna earn my respect, our respect. Then you gotta decide, are you a dog or a Tech?”
“Huh?” Jazz and Keating said together.
“I said ‘Are you a dog or a Tech?’ There are two types of guys in EOD, bomb dogs and bomb techs. The ‘dogs’ are guys that are no better than a real bomb dog. They can find a bomb but they can’t render shit safe. ‘There it is.,’ they say. ‘Yep, it’s a bomb!’ Their only answer is to blow in place or to function it. Well, any volunteer fireman can do that.”
Keating was getting red. Denke challenged his legitimacy as a Master EOD Technician.
“The second kind is your true EOD Techs, real bomb surgeons who analyze the problem and render shit safe. So what’s it gonna be, Lieutenant?”
“I’m a bomb tech.”
“Fine. You got the balls, now prove ya got the brains and the hands to go with’em. Maybe we can train the 1140 outta ya.”
Keating said nothing. He turned and headed back to the CP.
Denke stepped closer to Jazz and leaned toward him whispering, “I’m your LCPO now, Lieutenant. Stick with me and we’ll be okay.”
“I do trust your ability, Senior Chief, but let’s not cut our guys down. If we are to be a team, everyone needs to contribute. This is not my det, it is not your det, it is our det,” Jazz said motioning to the others standing next to the dually.
Denke briefed the plan to the rest of the team. Jazz could not tell if the senior chief’s voice registered defeat or disdain when he reported that Jazz would remain the P1.
He finished unmercifully with, “LT is going back downrange, so, Quinn, standby. We may need you to recover his pieces parts.”
As Jazz drove the short distance from the CP to the IED problem he kept hearing the two chiefs arguing in his head.
“...you never conduct a hand entry.”
“Are you a bomb dog or a bomb tech?”
They both had valid points. Jazz knew that this was one of the moments that OICs earn their money. In the end he had to make the best decision because he bore the responsibility.
It was not enough that Jazz needed to prove his mettle with Denke and the rest of the det, now he was at the center of conflict between two of his Master Techs. Whatever his decision, one of them would feel betrayed. Jazz wanted to earn Denke’s approval, but he did not want to alienate Keating.
“Go with the dearmer. Insurance will pay for any damage.”
“Why do you think we have wire cutters, LT?”
Jazz stopped forty feet from the “politician’s vehicle” and got out. Petty Officer Yurwitz was still there. The instructor had rolled his sleeves up to tan his arms. As Jazz moved toward the vehicle Yurwitz moved to observe him.
“Whater ya gonna do, LT?”
“I’m going to conduct a wire attack.”
Yurwitz looked surprised. Jazz wondered if Denke was wrong. Should I have followed Keating’s advice? he thought. The chief had never steered him wrong yet. Had he cowed to Denke in an effort to gain his respect? Right now in the CP were the others thinking the same thing? Was Denke doing this just to embarrass him?
“What are you going to cut?” Yurwitz asked.
“I’m not sure yet.”
Jazz was sweating now. He could feel Yurwitz staring at him. Jazz could not focus on the problem. He drank from his Camelbak, trying to gather his thoughts.
“Time on target, LT. Don’t just stand here... do something.”
Suddenly, Jazz remembered what the Admiral said after his graduation.
“Don’t worry as much about being a good EOD Tech because you’ll never measure up. Be a good officer, a good 1140, a good OIC.”
Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He was going about this all wrong.
“CP, P1. I’m coming back.”
“Uh, CP, roger. What is wrong?”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
As he drove back Jazz got his thoughts together. He realized that he was so worried about impressing his chiefs that he lost sight of the problem at hand.
Solve the problem, not the conflict, he told himself, Be a good OIC, and the bomb tech stuff will follow.
When he pulled into the CP his two chiefs stepped up to the open door. They had confused looks on thief faces.
“Gents,” Jazz said. “I have a suggestion.”
TWENTY
Teammates
It did not take long for Jazz to convince his chiefs, though their reactions were different. Keating immediately expressed enthusiasm for the idea. Denke conceded with silence at first.
“What do you think, Senior Chief?” Keating said.
Denke rubbed the top of his head.
“Senior?”
“I think it is a good idea, let’s try it.”
Jazz thought he could convince them, but he was surprised at how impressed they both seemed with his idea.
Denke quickly briefed it to the team as Jazz drove back downrange to finally complete the task.
“Amazing,” Ash asked with a grin.
“Yeah,” said T-Ball. “Pretty smart really.”
Yurwitz noted that on his third trip downrange, Jazz appeared to have it together. His work was very methodical.
The instructor watched as the young slick bomb made quick measurements of the package using the x-ray he had taken earlier. Then he extracted a very strong magnet and held it next to the device, affixing it with ordnance tape. Finally he tied a line to the bag, opened the car door, and ran the line to the center of the road.
Once there Jazz returned to the truck extracting a six foot metal stake and a sledge hammer. In a minute he drove the stake into the middle of the road. He attached a pulley to the top of the stake, and then he led the line through the pulley.
The instructor still had not figured out what the lieutenant was doing. He called Potter on the radio while he watched Jazz driving slowly toward the CP, spooling the line out behind him as he went.
Back in the CP, Jazz heard Chief Potter stopping the drill as he tied the line to the hitch on the back of the HUMMVEE.
“Okay numbskulls, explain to me what the fuck is going on.”
Jazz felt everyone turn their heads toward him. He looked at his det for a second. Their looks did not make him feel like a culprit. He felt like their leader.
“Well, Chief, I had a talk over there earlier with Senior Chief and Chief K. We mulled over how to go about this. We thought of using a dearmer, accepting the risk of sympathetic detonation. Then we thought of a wire attack increasing the chance of success, but accepting the risk of an 1140 becoming a big pink mist.”
“Okay.”
“Well, now we are in the middle of the road. As you know the device had a mercury switch designed to detonate when the package is tilted. The mercury is very sensitive, but I felt I could work on it gently as long as I did not tilt the package.”
“Understood... go on.”
“Mercury can be held by a magnet. I used the x-ray picture to determine where the mercury switch was located. Then I taped a strong magnet next to it, and just under to hold the mercury in place. The idea being that it will not flow and make contact to complete the circuit as long as the magnet is there.”
Now the other members of the det were grinning. They were impressed by the lieutenant’s enthusiasm and there was a small bit of pride.
“Interesting, Lieutenant,” Potter said rubbing his chin.
“Next I rigged for remote pull.”
Now it was fully hitting Potter. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah, Chief. Excuse my pun, but I’m trying to satisfy two Masters. I’m not gonna apply heat, shock or friction, but I’m also taking my action remotely. Worse case it detonates while I’m here in the CP.”
“LT, this is a first. Well, go ahead and let’er rip.”
Jazz got behind the driv
er’s seat and nodded to Denke.
Denke keyed his radio. “All stations this is the CP. FIRE IN THE HOLE! FIRE IN THE HOLE! FIRE IN THE HOLE!”
He nodded back to Jazz who stepped on the gas.
It went as planned. Downrange, Yurwitz shook his head in disbelief and spoke to himself. “Hooya, Lieutenant.”
Then he spoke into the comm box. “CP, downrange. This is Petty Officer Yurwitz. I want all hands to come down range and see this.”
Jazz stripped off the bomb suit. He dumped it into the back of the HUMMVEE. Quinn jumped in beside him. They followed the dually and were followed by the instructors in the other HUMMVEE.
All the men hopped out and headed for Yurwitz standing in the middle of the road next to the bag. The “politician’s” car was a few feet away with the passenger door opened. It was clear that they were successful.
Keating clapped Jazz on the back. He had a huge grin.
“Good work, LT.”
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Sinclair. “I’ve never seen this done before. You ever seen anything like this, Dee?”
“Nah,” responded Delgado. “LT, you must gotta ten inch dick.”
“No kidding...” chimed in Ash, “and a monster set of jimmies.”
“Okay! Circle up here guys!” called Potter.
The men formed a circle around the bag.
Potter spoke again. “HT1, your assessment.”
“I’ve never seen it done this way. This problem by the way gentlemen is designed to create exactly the conflict that Chief Potter told me on the radio that you had in the CP. Dearmer versus hand opening. One philosophy says never, never, never hand open, unless the device is ticking and is strapped to your grandma’s girdle. This thought process leads one to try to remote dearmer. The downside is that detonation often occurs, and while nobody gets hurt... you have not really helped much have you?
“The other philosophy says, render fucking shit safe, right?” Yurwitz continued. “It is not ticking, we have all day... cut the blue wire. The problem naturally is, ‘Who has the steady hands to defeat a merc switch?’
“Well... leave it to an 1140... too dumb to know better or too arrogant to listen to anyone. LT, you outwitted a merc switch. Frankly, I’m impressed. The device did not function, it is out of the car. Now we can drive the vehicle away and blow in place. I call this day a success, one for the books. Hooya, LT. You have once again demonstrated the value of having a slick bomb on the team. Basic Techs gents, do not have bad habits, they think out of the box.”
“Hooya, LT,” said Keating. “Well done.”
“Okay guys. Clean up, it is beer thirty,” said Chief Potter.
Jazz started to help the others put equipment away until Denke called him.
“LT.”
“Yes, Senior Chief.”
“Bring your book here.”
Jazz ran like an excited schoolboy to the dually and grabbed his PQS book. As he handed it to Denke he noticed him putting a wad of dip in his mouth. He worked it into his cheek as Jazz handed his book over. He sensed approval from Denke.
The senior chief sent fresh tobacco spittle into the sand. He looked at Jazz a moment studying him as if he were seeing something new. Then he handed the officer his book back.
“Lieutenant, I think you’ll do,” he said.
Jazz looked to his PQS book. Denke had signed all four line items.
Long after sundown Det Four was in a bar on Shore Drive frequented by EOD Techs. Most of the patrons had either a crab tattoo, an EOD hat cocked back on his head, or both. Many of the women were second wives. One even had a shirt that read “EOD, EveryOne Drinks, EveryOne’s Divorced.”
Det Four consumed pitchers of beer and platters of chicken wings. Throughout the evening they were approached by several old shipmates, classmates, and teammates. Ashland, T-Ball, and Denke were especially well received; Denke, because he was about to leave Mobile Unit Two for good, Ash and Ball since they had recently left. Some even complimented Jazz when introduced. Apparently, word of his performance a few hours before had traveled fast. Jazz even received accolades from Lieutenant Commander Massie, the executive officer while he was at NAVSCOLEOD.
“Good work, Jazz,” he said. “Show ‘em how 1140s do it.”
Jazz noted as Det Four piled in the truck that nobody strayed. Once or twice someone in the group got up to talk to an old shipmate, but they always returned. He expected one of the guys to hook up with a chick or stay out drinking with an old dive buddy. None did. They came as a det, they drank as a det, they left as a det.
He listened to the banter of his teammates on the drive back to the base. They were definitely coming together. Still, Jazz knew that he needed to close ranks with Denke and Keating.
Jeannie decided to like Melanie Jascinski. They had a lot in common. They were the same age, had children of the same age, and their husbands both defused bombs underwater.
Their friendship was sealed with a simple act of kindness. Jeannie felt a little strange asking her husband’s boss’ wife to baby-sit, but Mel had offered several times. She even considered hanging up while Mel’s phone was ringing.
“Mel, can I ask a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can you watch my kids for an hour or so while I get the brakes repaired on my mini-van?”
“I’ll go one better, why don’t I drive you there? We’ll drop off your car, go to the pool, have lunch, and pick up the van later. This way you don’t have to wait around watching a black and white television while your car is fixed.”
Since then they spent a lot of time together. They got along with the other wives, but they all worked or had older children. Jeannie and Melanie became each other’s support system while their husbands were gone. They formed a bond that would last through their husbands’ deployment.
Jeannie and Melanie developed a daily routine. The day started dropping the eldest kids off at kindergarten. They alternated spending the day at the Jascinski or Ball residence. They spent their mornings sipping tea while the younger children played. After lunch the toddlers were put down for a nap. The “hostess” tended the children while the “guest” performed tasks easier accomplished without children, like negotiating the cereal aisle at the grocery store.
One morning Melanie said, “I think I’m going to fly up to see Jazz.”
“Really? Are you going to surprise him?”
“No, we’ve already talked about it... after the new baby, the new assignment... we seem to be going in different directions. I think we both realized that we need some time together before the upcoming deployment.”
“Sure, but with the training, will he have time to see you?”
“Well, in the evenings. I’ll take the kids to visit friends during the day and we’ll go to his parents over the weekend. Afterward he plans on staying and taking a week of leave.”
“Oh, so how long are you going?”
“Two weeks total.”
“Wow, I’m jealous. Do you need a ride to the airport?”
Melanie put down her tea and smiled. “That would be nice.”
TWENTY-ONE
Master Chief
After the IED curriculum Det Four moved on to the surface division, followed by small unit tactics (SMUT). The SMUT instructors provided lessons on land navigation, patrolling, and small arms employment. They also trained on insertion techniques via small boat, fastrope, and rappel.
The det was told that the class would culminate in an exercise where the detachment was inserted onto Fort Story at night by boat. They would be expected to patrol across the base to their objective, a weapons cache found by “Marines” that was booby-trapped. To make the scenario more challenging, there was an opposing force composed of TEU TWO instructors acting as the enemy.
During the practical training, Jazz contemplated the chaos and confusion that would ensue during a firefight. He also came to realize the importance of being able to navigate unknown terrain, especially at night. The ability to
shoot straight and true would be wasted if he was unable to get his detachment to the objective. It was another reminder that it was imperative that the det be a cohesive unit.
Keating and Denke were cordial but it was clear that they were not getting along. Keating was still smarting from Denke’s attack on his abilities, plus Denke continually asserted himself as the only competent authority on the det especially regarding SMUT and IEDs.
While Jazz was considering what to do he even heard the other men of the det making comments. They struggled with their admiration for Denke and their loyalty to Keating.
Jazz knew that the key was Denke. He hoped that he had established a new rapport with his senior chief that would carry him through. Again, Jazz remembered his father’s advice.
“Don’t worry as much about being a good EOD Tech because you’ll never measure up. Be a good officer, a good 1140, a good OIC.”
He realized that the same rule applied to Denke. He was on this det not to be a Master Tech, but a senior chief.
Solve the problem, not the conflict.
Foregoing formality, Jazz approached him in the hallway during a lunch break.
“Senior Chief, do you have a minute?”
“Sure, LT. What’s up?”
“I want to talk about how we are doing things in the det, specifically between you and Chief Keating.”
Denke visibly stiffened.
“Hear me out, Senior Chief. Here’s the deal. You guys are obviously of two minds and come from two different schools of thought.”
“He’s just a diver, sir,” Denke said with condescension.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s a diver, sir. There are two kinds of people in EOD, operators and divers. The divers never quite get the EOD thing. They don’t know how to do the other stuff. Patrolling, shooting, moving, communicating, it’s all foreign to ‘em.”
“Senior, I have heard this discussion before. I agree that we seem to have two flavors. But here’s the thing—we are on an MCM det. Mine Countermeasures. We are all about diving, diving in minefields mind you, but diving. Now the other stuff is equally important. I would submit that while Chief K may be too close to the Fleet Divers on the EOD spectrum, you may be too close to the Frogs.”
Proximity: A Novel of the Navy's Elite Bomb Squad Page 16