“Not in the cellars,” Mike admitted. “The first two levels are okay. The lower one isn’t lit and looks a little shaky in places. If you go exploring out of boredom, take a buddy and tell somebody.”
“Will do,” the guy said. “Doubt I’ll be bored, though, I’m your engineer and general electronics mate. Don Meller.”
“In that case, you’re going to be busy as all get out,” Mike said. “We have to build everything, ranges, barracks, warehouses, storerooms, ammo bunkers.”
“Don’s the electric expert,” the other heavyset trainer said. “I’m the rest of it guy. Charles Prael.”
“Roads, bridges,” Mike said, smiling. “You’re going to be busy. And the rest of you guys are mostly shooters, I’d guess.’
“Shooters, MPs, a couple of shooters with mortar experience,” Adams said. “One intel and commo specialist.”
“Here,” one of the trainers said, his hand shooting up. He was a short, stocky guy with blond hair from a bad dye job. His natural shade looked to be brown. “Sergeant Vanner reporting for duty, Kildar!”
“You’re going to be spending some time with the women,” Mike said, smiling faintly. “I’m figuring they’re going to be doing the fixed commo. Teaching them will be… interesting. Don’t ever spend significant time alone with one of them. Not unless you want a shotgun wedding.”
“Got it,” the guy said, nodding.
“I don’t suppose you speak and read Russian?” Mike asked.
“You’d suppose wrong,” the guy answered in Russian. “And Arabic and Farsi and French and German. Oh, and Spanish. And Latin. And a little Greek. Archaic. Smattering of ancient Egyptian, some Chinese… two dialects Fusian and Mandarin… enough Thai to get laid…”
“Most of the team is polylingual,” Colonel Nielson said in Russian. “It indicates that they can learn other languages easily. It was one of the criteria I used. Most of them are single other languages, however,” he added, smiling.
“It might help with Keldara,” Mike said. “It’s not exactly Georgian although you can get along in it.”
“I noticed that the drivers were using a very strong dialect,” the intel guy said. “Very odd one, too. Lots of loan words from Russian with some words that sounded suspiciously like Greek. I’m going to have fun sorting it out.”
“Vanner started as a translator,” Adams said, shrugging. “Then intercept. Spent some time with No Such Agency. Marine. Go figure.”
“Well, until the militia training starts in earnest, I’m going to expect everybody to pitch in,” Mike said. “With setting up ranges, if nothing else. Who’s a real shooter expert?”
“Here.” The trainer was medium height and build with brown hair and a very sharp face.
“Praz Ebowsky,” Adams said. “Sniper instructor, Army rifle team, President’s One Hundred rifle, took second… how many years? At Perry.”
“Three,” Praz said, frowning. “Damned Marine I swear could will his rounds to the target beat me out each time.”
“Got a guy named Lasko you’re going to love to meet,” Mike said. “But your first job is to walk over the area I’ve figured will be the main firing range and stake it out. Can do?”
“Can do,” Praz said, nodding. “Been there, done that. KD, pop-ups, what?” KD referred to Known Distance whereas pop-ups were automatic targets that “popped up” when the shooter was ready to fire then fell down if hit.
“Both,” Mike said. “I want them to be able to shoot for target and engage for combat. Can do?”
“Can do,” Praz agreed. “I’m not sure about pits for the KD, but I can do work-arounds. And I can do pop-ups as long as we’ve got the targets.”
“We’ll probably have to go with manual initially,” Mike said. “We don’t have the juice for electric until… Don works his magic.”
“I dunno about magic,” Meller said. “But it’s amazing what you can do with a bulldozer…”
“Pain in the butt,” Praz said. “But I can do it.”
“Tonight we party,” Mike said, lifting his beer. “Tomorrow, bright and early, we PT. The rest of the day you guys get a look around while Adams, Nielson and I figure out what you’re going to be doing. Now, let us drink!”
Chapter Twelve
“I’m a fucking engineer,” Meller said, bending over and ralphing by the side of the road. “I ride bulldozers. I run AutoCAD programs. I quit running when I got out of SF!”
“Easy run,” Vanner said, trotting by. “Easy.”
“Fuck I hate this shit,” Prael said, pulling up to bend over by Meller, breathing hard. “Fucking SEALs.”
“Don’t mind us,” Sandy said as the three females trotted by. “Just headed home to wash up and put on our makeup. Told you you shouldn’t have had all that beer!” she added as they headed up the path to the caravanserai.
“Fuck,” Meller said, walking painfully up the path.
He had to admit, though, that he’d only been the first to fall out. Half the trainers were straggled along the side as he climbed up the switchbacks. Most of them, including Prael and, to his disgust, the three women, made it in before him.
“Very nice,” Mike said as the group straggled in. He was hardly sweating. “I think we’re going to have to break this down into groups. Vanner, you weren’t supposed to hang with the big dogs. You’re an intel puke.”
“Love to run, sir!” Vanner shouted enthusiastically to groans from the fallouts.
“Praz, Praz, Praz,” Mike said, sadly, shaking his head at the marksman. “You did so well up until the hill!”
“I sit in my hole and shoot people,” Praz said, gasping. “I move very slowly. Running only makes you die tired.”
Mike glanced at the back of the sweatshirt of one of the shooters who had fallen out on the hill.
“Killjoy?” he asked.
“Sorry, sir,” the trainer said, gasping. “No excuse, sir. Quit running when I got out of Recon. I’ll get in shape.”
“You don’t look very tired,” Mike said to the Brit. His sweatshirt said “Scotty.”
“Girlie run,” the man said, shrugging. “Bit of a warm-up but when are we going to do some real running?”
“We’d been running in Tbilisi,” Adams said. “But nothing like this.” He’d broken a solid sweat but wasn’t dead on his feet like most of them. Given that he had most of them by a decade, he’d done well.
“Ah, weeell,” Mike intoned. “We will get the shooters into shape. And even Vanner. Tomorrow, engineers and Praz run with the ladies. That’s not a dig, you’ve got a point. You guys don’t run that much in your jobs and won’t have to with the troops. I expect Praz to do some ruckmarching, though.”
“On it,” Praz said, nodding. “Where are the rucks?”
“Currently in the cellar,” Mike said. “We’ll do issue tomorrow. Fall out for shit, shower and shave. See you later.”
“Okay, Colonel,” Mike said when he, Adams and the colonel met at nine. They were in his office drinking coffee as he slid a file folder over to the officer. “This is lists of all the potential recruits, what I’ve ordered for TOE, general sketches of where I think ranges and barracks can go in and what Genadi, my farm manager, thinks are times people will be the most free to train and build. At that point, I’m stuck. I can write a SEAL training schedule. I can do SEAL training in my sleep. I don’t know how to set up a base for nothing or how to set up the force structure. I’m not even sure what I don’t know.”