SEAL of Approval

by Jack Silkstone

  Rick sloshed more rum into his 40 mm casing. “Dude, your partner got shot. It's not like you didn't want to be there. You tried your best, brother.”

  TJ nodded. “Any woman who dates a SEAL needs to know, when you’re on the job, the team comes first. Woman like her… self absorbed ‘n’ all. She’s never going to understand honor, courage and commitment.”

  Mike took a sip and savored the burn as it slid down his throat. “Yeah, you know, she's kind of selfish, right?”

  The other men laughed as they drank.

  “Good looking,” said Rick, “but a total bitch.”

  “Total bitch,” echoed Ernie.

  “You know boys,” TJ added reflectively.

  “Helmets on.” Rick chuckled. “Here comes another war story.”

  “Shut the hell up, Rick. This is important.” The Chief took another swig from his beer. “You know what the problem with women is?”

  “They nag you about everything?” said Ernie.

  TJ scowled. “Your wife's an angel, Ernie. Most men aren't that lucky.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Rick charged their 40 mm casings with rum. “My ex-wife was a goddamn nightmare. Whereas, your wife, Ernie, is patient, dedicated, smart, an awesome mother and she’s beautiful. She’s way too good for you.”

  The men all toasted Ernie’s wife, Maria.

  Mike reached for his beer and chased the rum with a healthy swig. He was starting to feel the effect of the booze. Aches and bruises were forgotten along with Stacey. “TJ, what were you saying?”

  The Chief squinted in thought. “Oh yeah, I was going to explain the difference between SEALs and women.” He finished his beer and cracked a new one. “Rick, why is it that when a newbie joins the squad you know you can trust him?”

  “That's easy, bro. It’s because he's been through BUD and SQT. He's a goddamn frogman.”

  “That's right. He's been selected for the right attributes, trained in the basic skills, put through the wringer and as a result you know he's good to go.”

  Mike snorted beer from his nose. “TJ, are you saying what I think you're saying?”

  “Damn straight. If you want to make sure you've got a good woman, you've got to run her through a selection process, just like BUD.”

  Rick laughed. “I don't wanna date a woman who can pass that shit, bro. Did you see Demi Moore in G.I. Jane? That chick had bigger guns than Mike.”

  “Hey, come on. Mike’s are pretty massive.” Ernie chuckled as he poured another round of tequila.

  “Not BUD, you thick sons of bitches,” TJ continued. “A selection process especially for women. One that reveals who they really are, a woman, no, a girlfriend selection course. That's it, a Girlfriend Selection Course.”

  Rick nodded as he downed another shot. “Golf, Sierra, Charlie. I love it. We test Mike's next girlfriend to make sure she's not a narcissistic, princess, cow.”

  “Hey, what about you?” said Mike.

  “Bud, I love narcissistic, princess, cows. I'm just not about to marry another one. You're the dude who falls for princesses and wears his heart on his sleeve. Hell, you’re a walk over boy. Girls have you eating out of their hands on the second date. You’re a goddamn dream boat.”

  Ernie nodded in agreement. “It's true, essé.”

  “So that's that.” TJ lifted his 40 mm casing. “The next time Mike gets serious, we're gonna run a selection course. Boom!”

  Mike frowned. “Guys, I'm not sure about this.”

  TJ sloshed more rum into his casing. “Brother, this is for your own good.”

  Chapter Three

  Head aching Mike pushed the vet’s door open and strode to the counter. Lifting his sunglasses, he shot the receptionist a weary smile. “Hi, I'm here to see Axe.”

  As she opened her mouth to respond, he heard a loud bark from behind her. “That would be him now,” she managed as the aggressive barking continued.

  Hangover forgotten, Mike pushed open the door to the recovery area, entered the room and stood dead in his tracks at the sight before him. The Army veterinarian was perched on a steel examination table. Axe had made it half way out of his cage, barking with his hind legs dragging behind him.

  Mike approached slowly. “Hey, easy boy, easy.”

  Axe’s demeanor changed instantly. His ears rose and he stopped barking. Instead he tried to scrabble across the floor to Mike.

  “Axe, stay!” He knelt and lifted the dog back into the cage. Axe gave a soft whimper and licked his face. Mike did his best to make the dog comfortable, stroking his muzzle as he adjusted the bedding. “Hey, it's OK, buddy. I'm here, everything’s going to be fine.”

  The vet climbed off the table and hid behind Mike. “He wouldn't let me check the wound. Went crazy as soon as I touched him.”

  “I think he's a little stressed from the incident. He should be fine now I'm here.”

  The vet squatted alongside him and reached in to check the bandages around the dog’s hind leg.

  Axe gave a low growl and bared his teeth.

  “Axe, no!”

  The vet backed off, raising his hands in the air. “I give up. I can't get close to him. You’re going to have to change his bandages.”

  “No problem.” Trained in combat first aid, Mike didn't have any difficulties inspecting the wounds. He checked the flesh around the surgical staples for tenderness and infection, there was none. The vet handed him fresh bandages and he changed the pad covering the wound. Then he sat with the dog, ruffling his ears. Axe's eyes never left the vet. “What's the prognosis, doc?”

  The vet leaned against the stainless-steel table watching Axe warily. “The bullet missed the bone but it destroyed a lot of muscle and ligaments. I'm not sure how it’ll heal. Then there's his attitude. If I can't get close to him I can't treat him.”

  “I can come in every day.”

  “That would help.”

  Axe nuzzled Mike’s hand prompting him for another pat. The dog sighed, relaxing, and finally took his eyes off the vet.

  “Do you think he'll work again?”

  The vet shook his head. “No, his days of chasing down bad guys are over.”

  Mike continued to stroke the dog's ears. “You hear that, boy. Looks like it's going to be all ball-chasing and lying in the sun from here on.” In spite of his words, Mike felt empty. The idea of going to work each day, and not having Axe by his side, would take time to come to terms with.

  Remembering work, he checked his watch. Crap, he was going to be late. He gave Axe another pat. “I've got to get going, buddy, be good for the doc.”

  “That would make a nice change,” said the vet.

  Mike closed the dog’s cage. As he rose Axe whined while glancing up at him with sad brown eyes. “Hey, none of that. I'll be back this afternoon.” Mike gave him one last pat through the mesh and followed the vet out into the waiting area.

  “He's a good dog, Mike. But, if we can't turn his temperament around we're going to have problems.”

  Mike shook his hand. “He'll be fine.” Then he ducked out of the door to his pickup. As he drove across town to Coronado, he couldn't help but worry that Axe’s attitude change might be permanent.

  ***

  Mike pulled up to the twenty-five yard shooting range and joined the rest of his squad for training.

  He spotted TJ at the ammunition point, loading magazines from a box of cartridges. The Chief looked fresh despite a heavy night’s drinking.

  “Hey bud, how’s Axe?”

  “He’s OK, the wound looks like it’ll heal.” He found his weapons in the squad trunk and laid them on the ground before joining TJ to fill magazines.

  Already at the firing point, the other squad members were shooting their suppressed carbines at paper targets.

  Mike and TJ worked in silence for a few minutes before TJ spoke again. “You wanna tell me what’s eating at you?”

  Mike dropped a half-filled magazine on the bench. “He won’t let the vet near him. I’ve ne
ver seen him like this, TJ, his entire temperament has changed.”

  “Bud, I’ve seen the same thing in operators. They take a big hit like that and suddenly they’re jumping at shadows and snapping at their closest friends. Sounds like your boy’s got post traumatic stress disorder. When are they going to let you bring him back to work?”

  “They’re not. Vet says he’s done.”

  “Shit bud.” TJ reached out and grasped his shoulder. “I’m sorry, he was a great working dog.”

  “Hey, what’s up?” asked Rick as he and Ernie joined them.

  “Axe is going to be retired,” said Mike.

  “Ah crap. I’m sorry, dude,” said Ernie.

  “That’s shit bro, he’s an amazing dog,” added Rick.

  Mike sighed. “The big problem isn’t his leg. He won’t let anyone near him, except me. TJ thinks he might have PTSD.”

  Rick nodded. “Yeah that makes sense. Getting shot messes with the best of us. But he’ll be OK in the long run. You’ll keep him, right?”

  “How can I? We’re out on jobs every second day and I can’t leave him with just anyone.”

  “I’d take him,” added Ernie. “But with the kids…”

  “I understand,” said Mike.

  “Look, if you need to take some time off I can talk to the Skipper,” said TJ.

  “Yeah, I might have to.” Mike picked up his magazine and went back to loading it. The others did likewise.

  “Ernie, that little rat dog your mother has,” said Rick. “I remember it being a total shit head. Who sorted it out, when her neighbor’s mutt tried to eat it?”

  Ernie scowled. “That ‘rat’ was a pedigree Chihuahua, you idiot. Yeah, someone did help her. My brother found a vet out near Iron Canyon who specializes in traumatized dogs.”

  “And she fixed your Mom’s Chihuahua?” asked Mike.

  Ernie nodded. “Allegedly, she’s Dr. Doolittle or something.”

  Mike managed a laugh. “I think Axe needs something a little heavier duty than a Chihuahua whisperer.”

  Ernie shrugged. “Maybe, my brother said she’s real pretty.”

  It was Rick’s turn to frown. “What the hell, bro? You never told me about a pretty vet.”

  “She’s not your type.”

  “Not hot enough?”

  “Too smart.”

  Laughing, the team moved down to the firing point. For the first time today, Mike managed a smile. It felt good to be surrounded by friends. Finding a spare target, he racked the action on his carbine and readied himself. Then, as he was about to squeeze off a round, his phone rang. Fearing the worst, he pulled it from his pocket and answered.

  “So, you’re finally going to answer my calls, Michael,” snapped an angry voice.

  Stacey, he mouthed to TJ. “Hey, look I’m–”

  “I don’t care!” she screamed.

  Wincing, Mike held the phone at arm’s length as she continued to rant. Suddenly, a gloved hand plucked it from his grasp.

  “Standby!” TJ held it in the air. Stacey’s voice still screeched from the speaker.

  “Ready!” echoed Rick and Ernie, their weapons held tight.

  “Up!”

  The phone arced high in the air. Rick and Ernie’s weapons spat suppressed rounds as they tracked it. Mike flinched as his smartphone disintegrated in a hail of lead.

  “Nice shooting boys,” said TJ. He turned to Mike and winked. “You need to change your number.”

  ***

  A few hours later Mike and the others were back in the team room when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” bellowed TJ.

  One of the headquarters’ administration staff stuck his head inside.

  “Hey Mack, what’s up?”

  The Sailor gave TJ a nod. “The old man wants to see Mike in his office.”

  Mike frowned. “Just me?” It was rare for the Commander to request the presence of an individual SEAL without their Platoon Chief.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll get into a clean uniform.”

  “No need, boss just wants a chat,” said the sailor. “I tried to call you but your number’s disconnected.”

  Mike scowled at TJ. “Yeah, my phone’s shot. I’ve got to get a new one.”

  Five minutes later, Mike waited outside Commander Conner’s office. As he waited, he wondered why the ‘old man’ wanted to talk to him. The last time he’d spoken face-to-face with Team Five’s C.O. was when he’d marched into the unit three years earlier. The thirty-five-year-old Commander was a busy man, who rarely had the opportunity to spend individual time with the hundred-odd operators in his SEAL Team.

  The door opened and the C.O. appeared. “Mike, come in and take a seat.”

  He stepped into the spacious office and sat in the chair opposite the commander. In the few seconds it took Conner to return to his desk Mike scanned the room. The walls were adorned with a handful of framed photos and plaques, but there were fewer than he expected for a ranking officer. In the corner, on a wooden stand, hung the commander’s combat vest and helmet.

  “Mike, I wanted to personally break this news to you. I know how important Axe is to you and your squad.” He frowned as he pushed a piece of paper across his desk. “The veterinarian has submitted his report. The Navy has chosen to discharge Axe.”

  Mike nodded as he scanned the document. The information wasn’t surprising. Axe was incapable of working and the Navy had no use for a Military Working Dog that couldn’t work.

  “There’s more.”

  Mike glanced up. The commander continued, “Mike, the Navy is going to have him put down.”

  The words hit like a punch to the chest. “What? Boss, they can’t do that. He saved my life. Axe is a goddamn hero.”

  Conner exhaled. “I know Mike, but it’s out of my control. The Navy can’t risk retiring a dog that may attack someone. The vet submitted his report and the decision was made well above my pay grade. I tried to convince them otherwise, but they won’t be swayed.”

  Mike swallowed hard. He wasn’t about to shed a tear in front of his commanding officer. If the Navy had decided his dog’s fate, there was nothing the C.O. could do.

  “If you need any time off, Chief Lines will look after it. I’ve already spoken to him.”

  Mike nodded grimly.

  “Son, as far as I am concerned that dog and you are both heroes. I wish there was more I could do.”

  Mike left the commander’s office fighting the urge to punch the walls and scream with rage. Instead, he decided to confront the vet who had condemned his best friend to death. If he could convince him he wasn’t dangerous, then maybe he could have the order revoked.

  “Where you going, bud?” TJ’s gravelly voice caught him by surprise.

  Glancing left he spotted the Chief, Rick and Ernie waiting for him.

  “They’re going to kill Axe,” said Mike.

  TJ nodded. “We know.”

  Mike noticed the men were carrying black equipment bags. “What’s going on?”

  Ernie gave his bag a pat. “We grabbed some gear for tonight’s job.”

  “What job?”

  TJ wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Operation Lumberjack. We’re going to recover the Axe.”

  “We never leave a man behind, brother,” added Rick. “Compared to hunting cartel douche bags this’ll be a walk in the park.”

  “You do know he’s being held on a Marine base?”

  TJ chuckled. “Goddamn Taliban, Al-Qaida, Sinaloa, and Libyan bastards couldn’t stop me. What makes you think a pack of Jarheads are gonna do any better?”

  Chapter Four

  Car headlights swept the parking lot of the veterinary facility. A vehicle pulled into a driveway on the opposite side of the street. It was three in the morning; late for a serviceman to be out on a Tuesday night.

  Drunken singing carried on the night air. The driver helped her rather intoxicated Marine from the car up to the front door and they disappeared inside
. A moment later the first-floor lights came on.

  Mike’s radio crackled as Ernie reported in. “Drunk leatherneck is home. We’re all clear.”

  “OK Rick, let’s do this,” whispered Mike from where they hid in the trees at the edge of the parking lot. A dozen feet away Ernie lay in a thicket, where he kept watch on the road to the clinic. TJ waited in a minivan, parked up the road ready to make the pickup.

  Rick led as they strolled casually from the trees, across the parking lot to the front door of the facility. Mike removed a lock-pick kit from his backpack. After inspecting the door, he chose the appropriate tool. Then, as he made to insert it, Rick slid a key into the lock.

  “Where the hell did you get that?”

  Rick flashed one of his signature smiles. “From Veronica.” He pushed open the door and they slipped inside.

  “Who the hell’s Veronica?” asked Mike as an alarm gave a warning beep. He spotted the panel and made his way toward it.

  “You know. The receptionist.”

  Mike stopped in his tracks. “You’ve been seeing the vet nurse? Bud, you talked to her for like three minutes.”

  He strolled nonchalantly across to the security panel and punched in a code. “Hey, what can I say? Ladies love the Rick.”

  The beeping stopped.

  “She gave you the code?”

  “Yeah, once I let her know how heartbroken you are about Axe. Told her you were weeping like a little girl. You should have seen it. Heart melted in about five seconds flat.”

  “Does TJ know about this?”

  “Of course he does. Gramps knows everything. Now let’s find that crazy mutt of yours and get the hell out of here.”

  Mike held up his hand. “Wait, so what happens when Axe is discovered missing and there’s no sign of a break in?”

  Rick winked. “I’ve got a plan for that.”

  They crept through the foyer, down a short corridor into the recovery room. Mike eased the door open. “Axe, it’s me buddy.” Using a flashlight he located the cage and opened it. The dog gave a single excited bark.