“She has hatches on both sides, manually or electrically operated. Most every system on board has a backup. Two power shafts to the twin screws. If one goes out, all the power is automatically switched to the one operating.” He looked back. “Ready to move?”
Without waiting for an answer, he pushed a starter and the diesel engine growled into life. He let it warm up for thirty seconds, then pushed the gearshift lever into forward and the Turtle rolled down the slight incline, across the soft sand, and into the receding froth and salt water of the Pacific Ocean.
“We take the breakers head-on,” the engineer said. “We’ve got enough weight to smash through most of them without much of a surge. This baby has never tipped over, and never filled with water, but we might get some splash through the turret. Here we go.”
Murdock bent over and looked out the view slots. They were three inches wide and twice that long and made of inch-thick Plexiglas. He could see a breaker just cresting and crashing down as the Turtle took it head-to-head, breaking through and coming out on the other side.
“I never felt it switch from wheels to screw,” Murdock said. He was amazed how quiet it was inside.
The driver bobbed his head. “No way you should know when it switches coming out. More obvious going into land. There’s a lurch when the wheels hit and dig in to move you up the beach.”
By then they were through the breakers and into the calmer ocean beyond them. The driver touched another control on the panel and the left hatch swung up.
“Hey! It could get wet in here,” Luke Howard yelped.
“Usually it won’t,” the bearded one said. “You can lift the hatches on both sides if you need to for putting firepower on an enemy.” He hit the switch again and the other hatch went up.
“Hey, this is living,” Jaybird sang out. “Can I check it out for a date I have Saturday night?”
“If you want to pick up the tab,” the engineer said. “Cost of this first prototype was a little over three hundred and twenty thousand dollars.”
“No sweat, put it on my Visa Card,” Jaybird said.
“Cut the speed to five knots and I could do some good trolling out the side here for yellowtail,” Senior Chief Sadler said. “I could catch dinner for us on the way home.”
After that it was just a boat ride. Murdock signaled for the driver to take them back to shore.
When the Turtle came back, DeWitt took his squad out on a run while Murdock talked with the engineer.
“How long do we get to keep it and who do we send our design changes and suggestions to?”
“That would be me,” the shorter man with the cap said. He handed Murdock a card. “Bill Spencer. E-mail me any suggestions that you might have. About how long you get to keep it, all we have to do is have your CO sign off on some papers I have and it’s yours. We have another prototype at the factory we’ll work with. We want you to give this some field evaluation. The specs say no enemy-fire missions, but who is going to know? We want you to check out everything within two months so we can move ahead. We have a contract to build ten of them. They are designed to work in pairs, with transport for a full platoon.”
Murdock grinned. “Sounds good. You have an operator’s manual?”
“Two of them in my bag back by the gate.”
“Good. We’ll also want you to train two of our men in each squad to be the drivers. Eventually we’ll want every man in the platoon able to drive the rigs.”
“We can give your men all the training they need in two hours. From then on, it’s your baby.”
A Humvee boiled up and stopped abruptly ten feet from the two men. Commander Dean Masciareli steamed out of the passenger’s seat and marched over to Murdock.
“Why in hell wasn’t I informed that this vehicle was on base?”
“Just came, Commander. This is Engineer Bill Spencer from the factory. He’s about ready to take you on a private demonstration drive.”
The Turtle came sliding through a breaker, coasted up to the sand, and the wheels dug in and it half-floated, half-rolled on in with the surge of sandy water; then the wheels took over and without a pause or hesitation, it rolled up the dry sand to the top of the slope and stopped. SEALs popped out both sides of the craft.
Masciareli seemed to cool down as he watched the Turtle come in. “Damn, that was smooth, Spencer. It ever been stuck?”
“Yes, sir, once in some thick mud holes where we pushed it, the wheels couldn’t dig us out. That was a manufactured hazard, and it won’t find them often.”
“Mr. Spencer, why don’t you take the commander for a ride?” said Murdock.
“Do you have time, Commander?” Spencer asked.
“Well, I had an appointment. Think I can squeeze this in. I hear we have this as a permanent part of our operation here on base.”
Spencer said that was true as the two walked away and stepped into the Turtle.
Murdock motioned to DeWitt, who came up. “When they come back, get Victor and one volunteer and have them checked out on driving the Turtle. Keep them on land for a while, then work out to sea. The rest of us will go on a little hike. Make your pick.”
DeWitt looked at his squad and picked Franklin. He sent the rest of Bravo Squad over to Murdock.
“Time we get back to work, SEALs,” Murdock said. “We’ll do six miles down the sand and back. I want a seven-minute-mile pace. Bradford, lead us out in a column of ducks. Let’s move it.”
Five minutes later, well down the beach, Murdock ran to the head of the line.
“We’re not out to break the four-minute mile, Bradford. Slow it down and maybe the guys won’t kill you.”
“Aye, aye, Commander. I’m slowing down.”
They used the wet sand for easier footing, and made it to the far end of the Navy Communication Station antennas where it met the Imperial Beach city border. When they came to the turnaround, Murdock took the con and led the way back up the beach. He moved the pace up faster.
Halfway back to the O course they met DeWitt and the two Turtle drivers slogging through the sand toward them. Murdock waved at the trio and kept moving.
Back at the platoon area, Murdock had the men fall out and clean and oil their weapons. “We’ll cancel the rubber duck drills, Senior Chief. We’re as good as we’re going to get on them, and we might just not have so much use for them in the future. I need to talk to the commander about where we house the Turtle and what kind of security we need on it. I should be back in a half hour.”
Twenty minutes later, Jaybird had his H & K MP-5 bright, clean, and oiled. He put his gear in his locker and found Sadler in the platoon office.
“Senior Chief, remember I told you about that community service work I’m doing, coaching Little League?”
Sadler looked up with a frown.
“This is Thursday and it’s practice day,” Jaybird said. “The team has a practice at 1630. I sure would like to get over to the field, if there isn’t anything pressing here.”
“Did you beat me on the O course today?”
“I didn’t see the times, Senior Chief.”
Sadler grunted. He remembered the time when a SEAL ate, drank, and pissed SEAL life twenty-four hours a day. “Yeah, the old man said we should encourage this sort of thing. Take off now, but be back here for 0800 tomorrow.”
“Right, Senior Chief. I’ll be here. Thanks.”
Sadler watched him leave. Jaybird was one of the best men in the platoon, and had been around the longest. He had avoided getting shot up too bad to get discharged and too little to die. The senior chief shrugged. Jaybird would be on the line when they needed him. He looked at the training chart for tomorrow. Yeah, that workout would be no problem. What about tonight? If Sylvia didn’t have anything planned, he was going to polish up the trumpet and sit in with the Dixie Five. They were playing at some dive in Chula Vista. Sadler grinned just thinking about it.