Proximity: A Novel of the Navy's Elite Bomb Squad

by Stephen Phillips

“Oscar, this is Echo One. Unknown military destruct charge located with Five Aces. Net explosive weight precluded need for precise placement.”

  “Copy, Echo One. How did you romeo sierra over?”

  “Oscar, Echo One. Little black box.”

  “Copy, Echo One. We’ll send over a CMC, a closed metal container, soonest so that you can safely store and transport. Standby for further instructions. Let Kermit know that prize crew from Lone Star and trees from Rebel are standing by.”

  “Echo One.”

  T-Ball saw San Jacinto now. She was less than a thousand yards off the Leon’s port side. He could make out the ship’s boarding team preparing to launch their boat. One of the helos that brought the takedown team from George Washington was on San Jac’s deck, probably refueling. The other was circling around overhead.

  “Echo One, Oscar. I almost forgot, your orders came in last night. You got Ingleside.”

  “Roger that, Oscar. Anything else?”

  “Negative, Echo One. Keep up the good work.”

  He handed the radio back to Holt.

  “Sir, Lieutenant Guterson said that a boarding team from San Jacinto and Marines from GW are standing by to secure the ship.”

  “Right. Well, they will have to wait. We need to complete our own initial search first. For now, I want you to remain on the bridge as I directed before.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  T-Ball found Hooke and Pops inspecting his handiwork.

  “Hooya, brother,” Pops said.

  “I always said you were a solid motherfucker,” agreed Hooke.

  “What’d you do, T-Ball?” asked Pops.

  Now I’m ‘T-Ball,’ the Tech thought to himself, Save the day and suddenly I’m one of the boys. He pointed to the device he put into the circuit. “See that little black box connected with alligator clips?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I evaluated the circuit and determined where the signal was going out to the explosive train. The electrical impulse to the detonator will only work if there is sufficient current. I put that black box in, which is basically a large resistor, to increase the electrical resistance in the circuit so that the signal could not travel through to the detonator.”

  “Huh?” Pops looked confused.

  “Basically, Pops, that thing puts a large load on the battery so that it doesn’t work right.”

  “Fucking-A man. Now you gonna cut the blue wire, just like in the movies right?”

  “Yeah sure.”

  “Tell you what, T-Ball, you must have a ten inch dick. That there is some good shit. You guys are no joke.”

  Pops turned and strolled away shaking his head.

  In a hushed tone Hooke asked, “How did you know which one to use?”

  “Simple, I pulled out the biggest one I had.”

  “Go large or go home?”

  “Exactly.”

  “All in Kilo, all in Lima, this is Kermit. Victor bravo sierra sierra. We’ve done visit, and board, we need to finish search and prepare for seizure by Lone Star.”

  “Kilo Five.”

  “Fozzy.”

  “Gotta go,” Hooke said to T-Ball.

  One of the helos went back to George Washington to re-fuel. Guterson gave the aircrew a CMC for T-Ball to store the explosive charge in. George Washington’s EOD detachment would place it in a magazine in case the FBI, the EOD Technology Division, or some other government entity wanted it for evidence of intelligence. Otherwise, they would dispose of it at the next possible chance. T-Ball placed the charge in the CMC and set it on the bridge wing opposite of George Washington. He stretched some duct tape over the hatch so nobody would go near it.

  “Kermit, I recommend informing San Jacinto that I have placed the charge on the bridge wing there, that they may want to back off some.”

  “Okay,” said Holt. “Did you receive that last call from Echo Two?”

  “Uh, no, sir.”

  Just then T-Ball heard Hooke’s voice.

  “...this is Echo Two. Request assistance in main hold from Echo One. Meet Fozzy on main deck over.”

  T-Ball looked at Holt who nodded and answered Hooke’s request.

  “Roger, Two. This is Kermit, One is on his way down.”

  T-Ball met Lieutenant Junior Grade Barnes on the main deck. Then he followed the young officer three decks down into Leon’s innards. They reached a long passageway that looked as if it ran about half of the ship’s length. T-Ball saw Hooke and two of the SEALs from Lima forty feet ahead of him in the passageway. Just beyond them was a door. As T-Ball got closer he saw that it was a hatch constructed of heavy steel. Its hinges looked like they would hold a lot of weight.

  Just as T-Ball got up to where the SEALs were, Hooke called out, “Stop.”

  “What?”

  “Look closely.”

  “Unfuckingbelievable,” one of the SEALs remarked.

  “I’d have never seen it,” said the other.

  T-Ball studied the door. He started at the large knob on the right side and circled around the top, past the hinges. Then he saw it. On the bottom edge there were two small, gray boxes, each the size of an AA battery. One was on the door and one was below it on the bulkhead.

  “A sensor.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Damn, Hooke, that was a good eye. I’m not sure I’d have seen it either.”

  “Well shipwreck, that’s why I’m a Master Tech and you’re a Senior Tech. So what is it?”

  “Actually it’s stupid whatever it is. I mean, we’ve seen it. If you wanna hide it, why not put it inside?”

  “Good point, but what is it?”

  “Could be a booby trap. Open the door, it sets something off. Boom.”

  “Or?”

  “Or it could just be an alarm. Heck, it might just be a status sensor. If this is the main hold, maybe it lights a light somewhere telling someone the door is open.”

  “Good point. So what do we do next?”

  “Bring one of those A-rabs down here and have them open it,” quipped one of SEALs. T-Ball smiled. The frogs were getting bored now.

  T-Ball took a drag from his Camelbak and thought.

  “It’s an alarm or an indicator, not a booby trap.”

  “How do you know?”

  “If it was a booby trap, they wouldn’t want us to see it.”

  “Maybe they want us to see it so we don’t go in, a proverbial explosive fence.”

  “Nah, that ain’t it. These guys have been boarded before. They put a destruct charge on the bridge that definitely would have zapped us. They want to take a couple of us out if they can.”

  “Okay, I’m sure you’re right. So go ahead.”

  “What?”

  Hooke smirked. “Open the door.”

  T-Ball reached for the door handle. One of the SEALs said, “Shiiit!” as they scrambled down the passageway.

  They stopped when they heard Hooke and T-Ball laughing together.

  “Fuck you guys,” Barnes said with a smile on his face.

  Hooke caught his breath first. “Listen, sir, we can ‘what if’ this thing all day. The long and short is... T-Ball is probably right, but we’re gonna bypass this sensor anyway.”

  “How ya gonna do that?”

  “With two very precise and highly calibrated EOD instruments, the K-bar knife and a roll of duct tape.”

  T-Ball slipped off his pack and dropped it to the deck again. He got some duct tape from the outer pouch on his response pack. Then he knelt down and taped the top sensor to the bottom one. Next he pulled his K-bar from its sheath. He stuck the point under the sensor on the door and started to pry it off. It snapped off easily.

  Now he taped around the two sensors, cocooning them together. He folded the unit below the door so that it now could open freely. The sensors taped together would continue to act as if the door were shut.

  T-Ball opened the door. The five men looked through the hatch into the hold.

  “Holy shit,” said Bar
nes. The SEAL officer keyed his radio. “Kermit, this is Fozzy. Do not let the trees or Lone Star’s crew onboard yet. We’ve got a hold full of Thoroughbreds.”

  SEVEN

  Shore Detachment

  The slightly bitter taste of cold beer always seemed better after an afternoon mowing the lawn and trimming the hedges. Johnny Ashland sat back on the chaise lounge by his backyard pool and relaxed his 210 ten pound frame. He took another swig and lathered some more sunscreen on. An even greater reward for completing the day’s work emerged through the sliding glass door—his wife, Judy. The bombshell was wearing her fluorescent green bikini.

  I’ll be mowing that lawn later, he thought.

  Judy came out with a beer in one hand and a portable phone in the other.

  “Johnny, hon, your beeper was going off. It was Tony’s cell number.”

  Ashland raised an eyebrow. He wondered if his Leading Chief Petty Officer, Senior Chief Antonio De Napoli, was reviewing his ammunition and explosive inventory logs prior to their Explosive Safety Inspection on Monday. De Napoli was a perfectionist. Ash had visions of drinking coffee in the shop until midnight with De Napoli, reviewing their books for correctness. Then he remembered that his boss was in the shop this weekend.

  “Damn it. LT’s got the duty today. Think he’d call us in?”

  She shrugged and handed him the phone and stretched on the lounge next to him and closed her eyes. Still admiring his wife, Johnny hit the speed dial for De Napoli’s cell phone. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Senior Chief.”

  “It’s Ash, what’s up? Called to tell me you finally caught something?”

  “Nope, this is a recall.”

  Johnny sat up and scratched his head.

  “Really? What for?”

  “Helo with a weapon onboard crashed into its mother ship at sea. I don’t know the details.”

  “No shit? Okay, I’m on my way in.”

  “See you there.”

  Ashland hung up the phone and stood up.

  “I’ve been recalled, hon.”

  Judy looked surprised. “It’s not a drill is it?”

  “No.”

  She was already used to this.

  “Be careful.”

  He leaned down to kiss her. “I will.”

  Twenty minutes later Ash was driving through the delivery gate near the airfield at Norfolk Naval Air Station. It was just one small part of the world’s largest naval base.

  Ash zipped through the recreation area, turned his International Scout left and parked next to the old fire station that housed the base’s EOD team. A sign in front, decorated with manila line read:

  EXPLOSIVE ORDNANCE DISPOSAL MOBILE UNIT TWO DETACHMENT NORFOLK

  The Mobile Unit Two and EOD Group Two logos were displayed prominently on either side.

  As Ash got out of his International Scout he noted by the cars already there that he was the last det member to arrive. He chuckled to himself as he mounted the stairs. Every single vehicle in the parking lot was a 4X4.

  He recalled once hearing a diver groupie remark to her girlfriend, “Pilots drive sports cars, divers drive trucks.”

  Det Norfolk assembled in the conference room on the second deck of the station. The rooms that the firefighters used to bunk in transformed into offices. The high bay garage downstairs now housed the detachment’s equipment, boats, and an ambulance-like response vehicle.

  Ash donned a flight suit as the OIC, the officer in charge, began his brief. Tim January was just promoted from lieutenant to lieutenant commander. The shore detachment would probably be his last operational tour. He already received orders to join an Amphibious Squadron as the Staff Special Operations Officer.

  “Okay fellas, here’s what’s up. About forty minutes ago I got a call that an SH-60 Seahawk helicopter crashed aboard the USS Normandy. The helo carried an experimental air to surface missile onboard. To make matters worse the helo did not make it to the flight deck. She squished into the aft vertical launch system right above sixty-some SM-2 and Tomahawk missiles”

  January paused. Nobody was interrupting him, they knew by his demeanor that it this was not a drill.

  “The Normandy is so far out to sea that she can not be reached by helo. Obviously, all ordnance has to be rendered safe before she can come back in. This means we are going to insert by parachute.”

  This statement led to catcalls of joy by the Techs.

  “WHOOHOO!”

  “Right on!”

  “Water jumpin’ baby!”

  January raised his voice. “Okay, okay guys. Yes it will be fun. I’ve already got a C-2 lined up. Here is what I recommend... Chief Billings,”

  “Sir?”

  “I want you to be the jumpmaster. Make sure all of our gear is ready, prepare the aircrew, etcetera. You know the deal.”

  “Roger, sir.”

  “Willy, I need you to gather pubs. Check the classified fax and the computer for new info on this missile. The EOD Technical Division called and said they had some stuff to add to what they gave us in anticipation for the first firing next month.”

  “Got it.”

  “Senior Chief, assign the rest of the crew as you see fit to conduct the load-out. Any questions or suggestions?”

  The Techs looked around at each other; they had trained so well together that there was no need for questions.

  De Napoli assigned Ash the F470 inflatable boat. Ash opened the high bay door to let the sun in and prepped it for the jump. Secured inside would be much of the detachment’s support gear including a hardened laptop and waterproof cases containing tool sets with everything from titanium pulleys to surgical clamps. He secured the MARS engine in the back and lashed everything in.

  Torpedoman Second Class “Willy” Wosniak brought the det’s portable hardened laptop computer into the high bay from the rear workshop. Zeke Donovan, a first class boatswain’s mate like Ash, pulled the detachment’s response “bread truck” out of the high bay and connected one of the det’s pickups to the trailer for the F470. Bailey and Martin also emerged from the workshop bringing the toolsets they expected to use on this operation. Ash checked and re-checked the equipment to ensure it would remain secure in the inflatable after they kicked it out the back of the airplane and as it dropped through the atmosphere.

  Forty minutes later Detachment Norfolk drove onto the flight line at Norfolk Naval Air Station. All other flights were re-routed to Oceana NAS in Virginia Beach to clear the way for the C-2 cargo plane that waited for the EOD team.

  The C-2 was a small twin-engine prop plane that was used to ferry cargo aboard aircraft carriers. The standby flight crew was called in on Lieutenant Commander January’s request. They spent the last hour configuring the aircraft for the para-drop. The pilot and co-pilot were in their seats, and the engines were already turning, drowning out all other sound. The two aircrewmen wordlessly helped the EOD Techs lift the raft from the trailer and walk it up the ramp to the rear of the aircraft. Ash recognized the tall one. They had trained with Det Norfolk and knew what to expect.

  An officer drove out toward them in a staff car. January seemed to recognize him and walked over to greet him.

  Probably the command duty officer from the DESRON, Ash surmised.

  Chief Billings set about checking everything for the jump. In the aircraft, as the jumpmaster, he was God. He controlled this aspect of the mission and even had authority over the OIC.

  January climbed up the ramp and sat in the canvas seat next to Ash. Willy was already leaning over to his left, sleeping on a flight bag. The tall aircrewman pushed a button to close the ramp as the C-2 taxied down the runway. Then, one by one, each of the members of Det Norfolk went to sleep.

  Suddenly, Ash woke up. He was hot. He opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by the sun coming through the window of the C-2. It was setting lower in the sky but had not yet touched the horizon.

  He shifted to the other side of the aircraft.

  Judy
was probably cooking dinner for one. By now she would know that he was not coming back tonight. He did not have time to call her before the Techs left NAS Norfolk.

  Ash looked at the other det members, all sleeping. It was a way to deal with the stress, a few moments of meditation to relax the body and mind. That way they were more prepared to handle the physical and mental tasks ahead.

  He closed his eyes and tried to sleep some more. As he dozed, Ash wondered how many times he had flown in military aircraft. He knew his takeoffs far outnumbered his landings.

  Heck, he figured I’ve probably jumped out of this very bird twenty times.

  All of the Explosive Ordnance Disposal recruiting media touted dive and jump pay as an incentive, though it was not necessary. Most Techs love to dive, hate to jump, and want to do both whenever possible. It’s not about the pay, it’s about the rush. Besides, diving and jumping are both easy, but they only get the Techs to the problem. That’s when the real fun begins.

  Ash recalled something that a crusty old EOD Tech said when Ash was still a Basic Tech at EOD Mobile Unit Three in San Diego. There was a massive beach party where SEALs, EOD Techs, Seabees, and all manner of unwanted sailors were present. A harem of beautiful, nearly naked women graced the frogs’ presence as always. SEAL groupies. The senior chief on Ash’s detachment was wooing one of them. He captivated her with his underwater exploits.

  “So is it dangerous?” she asked, oozing awe.

  “Sure babe, I mean being a Navy EOD Tech is a lot like being a brain surgeon except if you fuck up, the patient explodes.... oh, and we do it underwater.”

  The senior chief got laid that night.

  Ash woke again when Willy kicked him in the foot. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He watched Willy going around waking the rest of the det up. For a moment he forgot what they were doing in the C2. He remembered when he looked forward and saw the lieutenant and Billings in the front of the aircraft talking; probably reviewing the plan for the jump.

  Everything started to go like clockwork. Wordlessly, each man donned a wetsuit, his parachute, and any other gear they were jumping with. Each strapped flexible swim fins to his shins to be used after entering the water. Ash looked out the window beside his seat and noticed the ship on the horizon. Fortunately the seas appeared relatively calm.