His methods were not always pretty or conventional, nor did they necessarily follow protocol, but somehow he nearly always found a way to succeed. As one field officer and instructor wrote in Wade’s course review, “He finds ways to win or neutralize his opponent in situations where the odds suggest he should not prevail.”
Now only five intelligence classes were left before Wade was scheduled to graduate. Two of those classes were field classes, and the remaining three were classroom instruction. It was important to Wade to do well and graduate high in his class.
One of the more difficult field classes he faced was yet to be scheduled: the Sniper and Navigation Special Forces class at Fort Benning, Georgia. He and Megan had discussed the class for more than two months.
The class was always full and had an incredibly long waiting list. Megan was determined to get him in before the graduation deadline, however. She wasn’t going to have her record tarnished because any recruit of hers missed a class she was supposed to have scheduled. To accomplish this, Megan was not opposed to going over a base training coordinator’s head. A call to the assistant base commander at Fort Benning at the suggestion of the Assistant Director of the CIA got her the audience she needed to do the convincing.
Over the last three years, Wade and Megan had become constant telephone companions but had never met in person. Long personal talks lasting into the early hours of the morning were not uncommon as their personal relationship grew. There was more than a hint of a much stronger relationship to come. Each was sensitive to their professional positions, though, and cautious about how they approached the topic.
Their next big step was meeting for dinner the next time Wade was in D.C. Megan made sure an important event in the near future would make that trip happen. Secretly, their relationship was already much closer, but always expressed in playful banter. After all, both worked for the same employer — an intelligence agency. Who knew what calls were being monitored?
“I’ve got a tentative commitment for you at Fort Benning. I hope you can appreciate that it took an act of Congress to get you in.”
“I’m not looking forward to that class. I heard it’s a bear. Can I get it waived to graduate?”
“Not a chance. Besides, after all I had to go through to get you in, you’re not going to bail on that class now.”
“You’re so damn determined! You would make an impossible wife.”
“Try me.”
Chapter 6
It was 4:30 on a Friday morning when the phone rang.
“Time to rise and shine.” It was Megan’s mellow voice at a most unpleasant hour of the morning. “Are you awake?”
“I am now.” A groggy response was all Wade could muster.
“You need to be at Fort Rucker in an hour for your flight to Fort Benning. I was able to get you in the Sniper-Navigation Course with Special Forces because of a last minute cancellation. You’re supposed to be in the course with three other intelligence agency members from other groups.”
Wade’s sleepy mind tried to recall whether the Sniper Course was three or four days long and what problems it might create with his class schedule. Megan anticipated Wade’s next questions, already knowing his school schedule better than he did.
“Before you ask, Monday is a school holiday, and you’ll be returning Monday evening for your Tuesday Econ class. This training should be right up your alley — there’s a swamp at the base. In fact, one session is a “No Weapons” cache exercise that will test your mettle. Good luck. I’ll give you a call next week to see how it went.”
Responding while still half asleep, Wade tried to ask what he thought was an important question, but it came out as a dumb observation. “Do I need to take anything other than my normal backpack?”
“Just yourself and your backpack. Anything else they’ll provide — or not provide, as the case may be. I went through the course a year ago. It’s a real challenge.”
A military transport plane was waiting on the tarmac when Wade arrived at Fort Rucker. Several military passengers in fatigues were already seated on board. After the short flight to Fort Benning, an Army bus delivered them to a staging area on base.
The bus unloaded next to a dock below a sign marked with the course name and number. Everyone was arriving on different buses from locations all across the country. Other individuals had already assembled under the sign.
Most participants were dressed in traditional camouflage fatigues. Intelligence training personnel were not required to wear uniforms and stood out as civilians among the sea of drab military fatigues. Wade had dressed in his usual jeans and plain t-shirt, carrying a dark green Navy sea bag.
Wade quickly spotted another individual in jeans and walked over to him. The gentleman seemed lost, mingling among the unfamiliar military crowd. Wade approached and introduced himself. They shook hands. The man said his name was Harold Yankovich, but quickly followed his name with, “Everyone just calls me Yari.”
“When did you arrive?”
“About a half hour ago. I just came in from D.C.”
Quickly Wade surmised that Yari might be NSA or Army computer intelligence from his dress and the studious-looking round metal-rimmed glasses he wore.
“Are you originally from D.C.?”
Yari answered, “I’ve been living in D.C. for two years now, but I’m originally from Indiana.”
“Are you in intelligence?”
Yari responded with an affirmative nod, turning back to Wade with a question. “How about you?”
“Yep.”
Both men scanned the crowd, trying to find anyone else in civilian clothes. There was no other non-military clothing in the camouflage crowd. Yari responded to the observation.
“It looks like it’s going to be all military except you and me.”
“It’s still early. I heard there might be other intelligence folks joining us. We’ll see.”
In the middle of the gathered fatigues, one Army Special Forces guy spoke up loud enough for Wade, Yari, and the assembled crowd to hear.
“Someone said we’re going to have spooks in our class?”
No one replied, but smiles came over many faces that confirmed an obvious shared displeasure.
Wade turned to Yari. “Here we go again.”
“What’s going on?”
Wade didn’t want to respond to the already fragile recruit. He had faced the same attitude in other training sessions. Some military personnel saw intelligence services people as a class below real soldiers, and many were not shy about sharing that sentiment.
Some soldiers took unkindly to sharing training facilities with “spooks.” Wade had found in other instances the negative attitude abated as the group started working together, but this particular guy seemed to be starting with a head of steam.
A surprised look came on Yari’s face when Wade decided to confront the soldier right away. Wade knew from past experience it was best to try to defuse the situation early. He left Yari standing with an “Oh, my God” expression on his face.
Walking directly over to the boisterous soldier, Wade politely introduced himself and extended his hand for a handshake. The soldier turned his head away, leaving Wade’s hand suspended in space.
The patch over the boisterous soldier’s chest pocket read “Lockhart,” and his arm patch insignia indicated Special Forces Recon. Bulging muscles stretched his fatigues, giving him the look of an NFL linebacker covered in camouflage. Lockhart’s massive figure towered over Wade. He turned his head back toward Wade with an aggressive, confrontational glare. Wade casually let his hand drop to his side. It was obvious that Lockhart had something to say.