War Cry sts-9

by Keith Douglass

"Not a one, sir."

  "Good. One other matter. I've let you slide along without a proper platoon organization for too long. I hear you're promoting one man to lead petty officer. I'll approve. I want you to pick out a senior chief petty officer to help you run the platoon. You have the pick of any man in SEAL Team Seven."

  "Sir, that will take some time."

  "You'll have lots of time before the court-martial. Get a man in there and integrated into your team. No telling when another call will come from the CIA. You know I still despise this arrangement. No chain of command. No Navy control. I hate it." The commander of SEAL Team Seven looked out his window for a moment, then back at Murdock.

  "Soon you'll need to have a chief petty officer to fill out your roster. You've got room now. Think on it. Now, I'd bet you're looking forward to a shower. You sure as hell need one. You're dismissed, sailor."

  Murdock came to attention, did a smart about-face, and marched out of the room.

  Things moved quickly after that. The next day the official papers were filed with the signatures of Jaybird, Murdock, and Commander Masciarelli. The hearing on Douglas was set for a week later. Murdock and Jaybird spent two days at the Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego, talking with Fernandez and with Ed DeWitt. DeWitt was scheduled to come out of the hospital in three more days.

  They dug out every case of conflict between the two SEALs, and after a lot of persuading, Fernandez told Murdock what had started it all at that beach picnic nearly a year ago.

  "You remember it, Commander. A beach party with lots of barbecue and good food and plenty of beer. The volley ball was coed and my wife, Maria, was there playing. Douglas was on our team, and he got rude and kept touching her. making whispered remarks. "I told him to lay off, to keep away from her. He wouldn't. I pulled him out of the game and told him to stop.

  "He called Maria a greaser, a puta, a rotten wetback who should have stayed in Mexico. That's when I hit him. The other guys pulled us apart before any real damage was done. Jaybird made us shake hands, but that didn't change a thing. He's been badmouthing me ever since."

  Murdock smiled. "Okay, Fernandez, now we've got something. This is enough to get a conviction." He watched Fernandez. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? If you really object, we can withdraw the charges, I'll transfer Douglas out of the SEALs, and we'll never see him again."

  Fernandez stared at the ceiling. Then he shifted in the bed. He had just found out today that he would be in the hospital for another two months, but should be patched up well enough to return to duty as a SEAL.

  "Yes, let's continue the process. I owe it to Maria. If he gets away with it with me, he'll just terrorize somebody else who isn't a white man."

  The day before the hearing, Murdock took a phone call from Douglas's hometown. Murdock had called the local sheriff just to check on Douglas's background, and the answer was surprising.

  "Commander, how the hell did Joe Douglas ever get in the Navy? He served a year and a day in county jail for battery, and then had two more arrests for beating up Jews and homosexuals. He got a great lawyer and beat both charges of assault. Damn, I didn't know that the Navy let in felons,"

  Murdock told him it didn't, if the Navy knew about the convictions. Douglas had covered it up somehow. Murdock had the sheriff FAX him the arrest reports, the jail records, fingerprints, and everything else from Douglas's file.

  The healing lasted only an hour and twenty minutes. Fernandez had given a deposition about how the trouble began, and it was read in the hearing. Then Murdock tried to introduce the records of Douglas's civilian skinhead activity and arrests, but the Hearing Officer ruled it could not be entered there, but should be filed with the appropriate office.

  Joe Douglas contended that the trouble at the beach party was petty and not serious and soon forgotten. He denied that he deliberately did not fire to protect Fernandez in Korea, that the charges were trumped up because the lead petty officer did not like him.

  The ruling came after ten minutes of deliberations. Sufficient evidence was presented that Joe Douglas would have a court-martial. The date was set two months away to give counsel on both sides time to prepare their cases. Both would be Navy lawyers.

  Murdock copied the civilian records on Douglas, and turned the originals over to Commander Masciarelli. He said he knew exactly where to take them.

  "If for any reason Douglas is not convicted on these charges, he'll get booted out of the Navy so fast he won't find his ass-end for a month. He never should have been in the Navy in the first place. A goddamned skinhead!"

  Murdock went back to his office and got down to the task of building his platoon back to fighting strength. He had wondered when Masciarelli would demand that he install an SCPO and a CPO the way the other platoons had. At least he could pick his senior chief petty officer. He would have to be a top SEAL and a good administrator. Tough to find. He'd work with the master chief. He'd have some ideas.

  Men, how many did he have left? Fred Washington, who got wounded on the Kuril Islands, was back at Balboa Hospital and recovering, but the doctors said he probably would not be able to take the physical punishment the SEALs experienced.

  How many? Washington out, Doc Ellsworth with the shattered elbow still in Balboa. He wouldn't be coming back. Fernandez was a possibility of making it back. Colt Franklin with his side wound was recovering nicely at Balboa. He'd be back. Ed DeWitt's leg was healing well. He'd been put on a month's medical leave and told to rest and recover at home, or go fishing.

  Douglas would never wear the SEAL trident again.

  So he needed three new men. Take away one for an SCPO, and he still needed two new SEALs. At least they didn't get anyone killed on the last two excursions. That was a plus.

  Murdock reached for his coffee cup and took a gulp. When he looked up again, a familiar figure stood in the doorway.

  "Hi there, hero."

  "Dad. What are you doing down here?"

  Congressman Charles Fitzhugh Murdock smiled at his only son, and came into the room and sat down.

  "Coffee?" Blake asked.

  His father shook his head. "Just had a cup with your Master Chief MacKenzie. Quite a lad. I just happened to be in San Francisco, so I had them fly down here to see if you were home."

  Blake Murdock laughed. "Dad, you knew I was here. I'd bet you knew when we left Seoul and on what flight and when we landed. Good to see you again. How's Mom?"

  "She's better all the time. Has a hundred charities she works on. She gets in more hours of work than I do, I think. Saw Ardith last week. She asked about you. She knew where you were and was worried."

  "She probably knows I'm home as well. Our nation's security is in total disarray."

  "But we're the people who should know where you are. I hear you might just have won the peace over there with your small little band of SEALs."

  "We did our part, Dad. I also got two men shot up badly. But when boys play with guns, somebody is bound to be hurt. You have time for dinner, Dad?"

  "Wish I did. Duty calls. We landed at North Island. We can talk on the way back over there. I didn't know it was so close to you."

  In the Navy staff car usually reserved for admirals, Blake and his fa ther rode back to Coronado, through the small town, and to the closely connected North Island Naval Air Station.

  "Had a chat with the Vice President the other day," the Congressman said. "He had many nice things to say about you. You saved his life, you know, and probably prevented a full-scale U.S. involvement. He told me he wants to adopt you."

  Murdock laughed. "Sounds like him. He seems like a down-to-earth kind of guy. He cooperated with us well on our brief trip back to the South Korean side."

  The big car drove onto the taxi strip and to the far end of the field, where an Air Force business-type jet waited.

  "Your mother is looking forward to another leave for you. When will you be coming to Washington?"

  "We have a court-martial coming up. Maybe in three mon
ths. Maybe next month. I'll have to work it out. First I have to get my platoon pasted back together and into training. Then I'll figure it out."

  The Congressman left Blake at the door of the car, told the driver to take the commander back to the Special Warfare base, and hurried out to the jet. As soon as he went up the steps, they were pulled in after him and the sleek jet revved its engines and rolled down the runway.

  Murdock grinned as he leaned back in the leather seat and enjoyed feeling like an admiral for three and a half miles. Then he went back to work, laying out his platoon, deciding what specialists he needed to complete his team. Wondering about an SCPO.

  His phone rang.

  "Third Platoon, Murdock."

  "Hi, will you be home on time? I want to know when to start the baby-back ribs I have ready to broil. I know how you like them and I found this new barbecue sauce you'll love and…"

  "Ardith?"

  "You expected maybe your first wife in your apartment?"

  "I've never had a first wife. How in the world?"

  "I know just about everything you do, Commander. Has your father left yet?"

  "You are a magician, a Merlin, a wonder. No, I won't be home on time. I'm leaving in about a minute. Start the ribs anytime you want to — no, maybe you better wait to start the ribs."

  "I like the sound of that. Hey, hurry home. I'm sorry about Fernandez and Doc Ellsworth. At least you didn't get anybody killed these two times. We can talk when you get here."

  "Yeah, we will. How did you know about…" He shook his head. "Never mind, I'm on my way."

  He stopped at the Quarter Deck for just a minute to talk to Master Chief MacKenzie.

  "Commander, I have a list of three men you might want to look over one of these days for your SCPO. All good men, all with the rate. I like one of them better than the other two, but I won't tell you which one that is. We'll see you tomorrow, Commander?"

  "Not sure. I may take a day of sick leave."

  "Thought you might, lad. And be saying hello to Ardith for me."

  Murdock took a step back. "How did you know…" He shook his head. "I have too many mysterious people of magical powers around me. I think I better leave before I really get myself into trouble. I'll see you when I come over the Quarter Deck, Master Chief. Good night."

  It was less than a mile to his apartment. He drove with a nervous excitement he hadn't felt in weeks. Twice he made himself go slower. When he turned into his parking spot in the condo lot, he saw a flash of white at his window on the second floor. He parked and ran up the steps,

  "Hi, sailor," Ardith Manchester said as he pushed open the door. He sucked in a breath just looking at her. Tall, long blonde hair halfway to her waist, maybe 120 pounds soaking wet. So svelte and beautiful it made him ache.

  "Hi there, pretty lady."

  They walked toward each other, and he reached out and kissed her lips without touching the rest of her. She whimpered and caught him with her arms and held him tightly. Her chin went on his shoulder, and she let out a long-held in breath

  "I pray for this day never to end," she whispered, not really knowing if she had said it out loud or only thought it. He picked her up, carried her to the living room couch, and let her down gently and sat beside her.

  "Hey," she said.

  "Hey."

  "I'm so glad that you're back, so… so glad." She brushed her hand over her eyes. "I'm not saying things right. Not doing…" She clung to him then, her face hard against his chest.

  "Just want to sit here and hold you, and hold you… Oh, God, you're home. I… I died a hundred times. Every time I heard about you going in to the Islands or going into North Korea. Five or six times. I yelled at them, I screamed, and my secretary came rushing in twice. I told her what I was doing and we cried together. Girl stuff. Oh, damn."

  They sat there, neither saying a word.

  "I know, I know, I know. I shouldn't have found out where you were and what you were doing, but I couldn't stop myself. My dad knew and got reports, sometimes daily. What he knew, I soon knew. I'm not sure if I got much work done for him those days."

  She pushed back from him and stared hard at his face. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm doing this. Is it worth all the agony, the worry, the pressure? Then I look at your picture, and remember all the marvelous days and nights we've spent together, and I'm sure that it's worth it."

  She snuggled down close to him again and felt his arms come around her.

  "Oh, yes," she said, and purred. "I may never leave this couch. Just stay here forever." Murdock caught his breath and tried to say something, but he couldn't. His mouth wouldn't work and his throat felt funny and all at once he wanted to be quiet and simply hold her.

  It was ten minutes before the silent mutual admiration broke and Ardith eased back from him.

  "Well, now that I've spilled my guts all over your couch and made an utter ass of myself, and puked up all of my worries and agonies and dreams and private-place emotions, I think it's time that you say something."

  He reached over and kissed her lips gently, then harder, until he had pushed her down on the couch and lay on top of her. The kiss lasted and lasted.

  She eased away from him and smiled. "I guess that's exactly what I hoped that you were going to say. I hope you can get the next three days off. I want to drive up to Moro Bay, above Santa Barbara a ways, and watch the ocean and eat clam strips, and walk along the water, and go in every one of the tourist-trap shell shops on the bay drive."

  "Yes, we'll do it," he said, his voice husky. "I've got months of leave time coming. We'll head out first thing in the morning. Now, you want your ribs before or afterwards?"

  She grinned. "Afterwards."

  The ribs were amazingly good too.

  Moro Bay was a delight. Murdock couldn't remember being there before.

  "There used to be lots of sea otters in the bay," she said, looking out a restaurant window as they munched their way through heaping baskets of clam strips. "There were so many they decided they were hurting the fishing, so they trapped them and moved them all down the coast. Turned out almost all of them died that they moved. Now it's a rarity to see a sea otter up here."

  That afternoon they found an art colony up the road toward the Hearst Castle. A little town called Cambria. She bought an oil painting of the sea and two tall trees framing a foaming wave.

  The third day they slept in at the motel and the phone rang. Nobody was supposed to know where they were. "Don't answer it," she said.

  "I better." He picked it up. "Yes." He listened a minute and grinned. "How the hell did you find us, Stroh?"

  He listened again. "So you've got a bug on my car? Yeah, probably. You want to talk to Ardith? Sure." He handed her the phone.

  "Don?"

  She listened. "Dad asked you to find me? I don't believe it. Why?" She listened again, then laughed. "Yes, I can understand that. Tell him I'll be back tomorrow night. Yes, Don, and how did you find us?" She listened again, laughed, and said goodbye.

  "How did he find us?" Murdock asked.

  "He just said he was CIA. Dad has lost some files and he says I'm the only one who knows where they are. It's a bill he's been working on for months. I have to fly back in the morning."

  "Ah-hah! Duty calls, only it's your duty."

  "Yeah, some even-up time maybe. We still have tonight."

  Murdock grinned. "Oh, yes, tonight's the night."

  All the way on the drive home the next morning, he kept wondering who he could get to fill out the platoon. Then what would the next hot spot be? Where would they go? Maybe the Near East was heating up. Old Saddam Hussein might get frisky again, or somebody in Iran, or Libya. Oil would blow up the world again one of these days. When it did, he wanted to have Third Platoon of SEAL Team Seven ready to answer the call.

  Yeah, they would be ready. They were SEALs!

  Примечания

  1

  Third Platoon assigned exclusively to the Central Intelligence
Agency to perform any needed tasks on a covert basis anywhere in the world. All are top-secret assignments.

  (<< back)

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 9fccb242-5264-4539-8249-964121c780d5

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 24.5.2013

  Created using: calibre 0.9.32, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software

  Document authors :

  Document history:

  1.0 — создание файла fb2

  About

  This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.

  (This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)

  Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.

  (Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)

  http://www.fb2epub.net

  https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/