8
Third Platoon worked its way into the desert four miles from the bus, and Murdock called a halt.
“This is as far as we’re going right now,” Murdock said. “We’re under a simulated attack. Eight of you have been wounded, and can’t walk. Right now I want every man over two hundred pounds up here.
Move.”
Ronson, Bill Bradford, and Jack Mahanani came forward.
“Now I want you to pair up. Ronson and Mahanani are a match, Bradford, I’ll take you as my partner. You one-eighties match up with each other, and then those a hundred and seventy, and the hundred-and-sixty-pounders. Come on, we don’t have all fucking day.”
Four men were in the two hundred class. Five men were in the 180 class, five at 170, and two at 160. Murdock moved one of the lightest 180 men down to the 170 class, and the two 160’s matched up. “Pair up in weight class and let’s get moving.”
“How can I carry this big lug?” Mahanani asked, looking at Horse Ronson.
“Doesn’t matter how, just do it,” Murdock warned. “Remember, two miles back toward the bus, we switch the injured for the carry guy, so be gentle. It could be payback time.”
Murdock took 215-pound Bill Bradford in a fireman’s carry, and began walking back toward the bus. The others yelped and bellowed, but at last everyone got moving. Ed Dewitt, in the 170-pound class, carried his man first.
The over-the-shoulder fireman’s carry was the favorite, but some did it piggyback. Doc Ellsworth tried dragging 160pound Les Quinley by the shoulders, letting his heels dig furrows in the desert. He soon gave up, and did the fireman’s carry.
Murdock stopped at two hundred yards and rested, waiting for the others to catch up.
“Don’t look so pissed off, you SEALS,” Murdock said when everyone had made the first stop. “You know that the only easy day was yesterday. Let’s move out.”
Lugging a combat-ready SEAL with weapon and ammo across the California desert is tougher than it looks, Murdock decided. When he got to the one-mile point, he put Bradford down and rested.
The others straggled up. Jack Mahanani was the last man in, with Horse Ronson bending him nearly double. He dropped into the sand and gasped for five minutes.
“Don’t you ever get wounded so bad we got to carry you, Ronson,” Mahanani said when he could talk.
“We’ll take a breather here,” Murdock said, “Then we switch horses for another mile, and call it good. You riders shouldn’t be tired at all.”
Horse Ronson stood and stretched. “Damn, I’m ready to go now, okay, Commander?”
Murdock nodded.
Ronson picked up the 240-pound Mahanani in a fireman’s carry, adjusted him a moment, then ran for twenty steps and burst out in a roaring laugh. He settled down to a walk, and moved away from the others quickly.
“Hell, might as well get everybody moving,” Murdock said. “Don’t anybody try to catch Horse. Just be sure to get your buddy out of the line of fire. That’s a mile ahead.”
The mile of travel took them forty-five minutes. Horse and Mahanani were sleeping when the rest of them arrived.
Two of the men who had been carrying were so tired they Could barely stand. Murdock gave them all a half hour to get their muscles back in order; then they walked the two miles back to the bus.
“Let’s load up and get out of here,” Murdock said. He had their attention. “Our orders came down. We fly out of North Island in a week. That means some tough training between now and then. We’ll be ready. We’re going to sit down on that carrier somewhere in the Far East and wait for developments in Korea. The top is about to blow over there, some of our experts say. Now, let’s get out of here.”
They arrived back at the SEALs quarterdeck at 1700, and Murdock gave the men the night off.
“Be back here at 0730 tomorrow ready to kick butt. We’ve got a lot to do in the next few days. A good night’s sleep will help. Now get out of here.”
He finished some paperwork, talked with Master Chief Mackenzie at the quarterdeck for a minute, then nosed his Ford Bronco out of the parking lot onto Silver Strand Boulevard and headed north into Coronado.
At his condo, Murdock parked in his slot and went up the steps two at a time. He started to put his key in the door, then paused. It was open a half inch. Instinctively he reached for his .45, but it wasn’t there. Murdock listened. He could hear music. What burglar was going to turn on the stereo while he looted the place? Murdock nudged the door inward an inch, and looked through the slot.
Nothing.
He pushed it in farther, and smelled something cooking. In one swift move, he jolted into the condo and glanced into the kitchen.
Ardith Manchester had just taken a taste of something cooking on the stove. She looked over, grinned, and put down the spoon.
“Heard you were back from Master Chief Mackenzie. I like him.
Dinner isn’t quite ready. Lots of time for you to take a shower.” She paused. “Or for us to take a shower.”
They met halfway across the kitchen, and he kissed her long and deep. She gave a little sigh, and melted firmly against him. “You’ll get filthy from the desert,” he said.
“Good, as long as it’s with you.”
They kissed again, gently, softly, and she spun away from him.
“Dinner is almost burning.” She waved at him, shooing him out.
“You get wet, and I’ll finish dinner.”
Murdock never knew what they had for the meal. He watched Ardith, and couldn’t stop grinning.
“How?” he asked her.
“The CIA has absolutely no secrets from my daddy. He’s been on top of the Korean thing for two months. When the President gave the CIA the word, Daddy knew about it twenty minutes later, and then I did, and I tried to call, but couldn’t get you, so I packed my small bag, grabbed a plane out of Washington National as soon as I could. I picked up three hours coming this way. Fantastic.”
“That’s a good how. You know about our assignment?”
“Not the hour you leave, but I know the day. Next Tuesday.”
They put the dishes in the under-counter washer, and dropped on the sofa. Murdock sat there watching her. He’d seldom seen a prettier woman. Long blonde hair that cascaded around her shoulders, five-nine but seemed taller, slender, sexy, with the softest blue eyes he’d ever seen. High cheekbones so she looked like a model. White teeth almost perfect, but with one small notch to give her a real look. Then there was her smile.
She turned it on now. Glorious. He couldn’t get enough of it.
“What?” she asked.
“Just want to sit here and watch you for a minute. You have the time?”
“I have a week’s worth. I told my boss he could take his job and vote on it.”
They laughed. She could get away from her father’s Senatorial office anytime she wanted to.
“Still turning down those job offers from the agencies that have been trying to hire you?” he asked.
“Only two of them. Nothing really interesting so far. I’d get buried in the mass of people. I like it where I am.”
She stared at him; then a small frown grew on her pretty face.
“What?” he asked.
“You look tired. Are you pushing your men too hard, and yourself right along with them?”
“Probably. The more we sweat in training, the less we bleed in combat.”
Ardith winced.
“Sorry, no more SEAL talk,” he said. “What about you? Did you get that new car?”
“No. I’m saving my money.”