The SEAL and Penny Brubaker were destined to meet again sooner than either expected. It was in Afghanistan during Brannigan's Brigands' first operation as a unit, and she was a UN sanitation and hygiene instructor on the staff of a relief team. The reunion was an emotional whirlwind for them both. Penny happily told him she had broken her engagement with Armbrewster, and returned to Boston to find Chad, only to be told he had enlisted in the Navy.
In the heady days following this unexpected get-together, they became an item once again. But this time, with more maturity and experience, the young couple had sex out in the desert on Chad's poncho. It was primitive and exhilarating for the two sophisticated city kids, and their passion was intense and feral.
Afterward, instead of being thrilled with getting back the girl of his dreams, Chad felt his passion for her begin to wane. It was something that he couldn't understand no matter how much he turned it over in his mind. His experiences in training and combat had turned him into a completely different person, with a life that had no room for conventional romance. The SEALs were everything to him.
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1500 HOURS
A blur appeared in the haze on the desert horizon, and Chad Murchison stood up in his position aboard the DPV, steadying himself on the roll bars. He took his binoculars from their case, putting them to his eyes. After a few moments, he could see the white tents with the blue letters un stenciled on them. Somewhere among those canvas structures was Penny Brubaker. Chad sat back down, wondering how he was going to handle the coming reunion.
Command Two sat at the edge of the camp with several people standing around it. The other two vehicles of the Command Section pulled up to a stop. CPO Matt Gunnarson, driving Green Two with Chad Murchison, slowed down to let Green One go around him. He followed him up to the other vehicles with Green Three just behind his DPV. The Red Assault Section followed, pulling up to the left side of the impromptu vehicle park.
Lieutenant Bill Brannigan and his 2IC Jim Cruiser approached the group of people waiting at the edge of the camp. Dr. Pierre Bouchier stepped forward with his hand extended. Bonjour, Monsieur le Lieutenant Brannigan. Je suis charme de vous revoir encore I am pleased to see you again.
Likewise, Dr. Bouchier, Brannigan said. How have you been?
Quite well, thank you, Bouchier replied. We finished our work with the Warlord Khamami's people. At least, we accomplished all that was possible under the conditions here in Afghanistan. I have heard he is deep into the farming of opium poppies and smuggling of same.
No surprise there, Brannigan said. He reintroduced Jim Cruiser, then noticed the attractive young lady standing slightly to the rear. Hello! he called over to her. I remember you quite well.
I'm pleased that you do, Penny Brubaker replied. Is Chad Murchison with you, by any chance?
He sure is, Brannigan said. He turned toward the Green Assault Section. Petty Officer Murchison! Front and center!
Chad slowly dismounted the DPV and walked toward the assembled people, slipping his HK-416 carbine over his shoulder. Penny rushed toward him, her face lit with a smile of pure delight. He felt guilty as he took her in his arms. He responded when she held her face up to be kissed. The SEAL pressed his lips against hers, aware of the growing tightness of her embrace.
Jim Cruiser, suppressing a laugh, called over, Murchison, you're excused from duty until further notice. Take a break.
Aye, sir, Chad replied.
The couple walked away with Penny holding onto his arm. She led him over to where three of her girlfriends waited. Chad, I want you to meet Erika Maanchen, Irena Poczinska, and Josefina Vargas. The four of us work together giving classes to the Pashtun ladies.
Josefina glanced over at the SEALs who were sizing up the UN women. The Spanish nurse smiled and gazed boldly back at the sailors. We hope to meet all your friends while you are here, Chad.
Chad grinned. Believe me, they hope they can meet you too.
We'll worry about that later, Penny said. She pulled on him, taking him into the formation of tents until reaching hers. This is where I live. She gave him what she hoped was a seductive look. Would you like to see it?
Sure, Chad replied.
Penny opened the flap and followed him inside. She embraced him again. Oh, Chaddie, darling! We won't be bothered in here. My roomies will stay away until we come out.
He was confused. How did they know I was coming?
Those two guys you call the Odd Couple told me you were on your way when they got here earlier, Penny said. Why didn't you write me and tell me you were in Afghanistan?
I didn't find out about this operation until four days ago, Chad said. I've been out on a ship.
Chad, Penny said impatiently. We don't have all day.
He stood there awkwardly, not really happy with a girl who was now an intrusion in his life. But he was a young male with a young willing female. And he was a SEAL.
Duty of a sort had called.
DR. Pierre Bouchier acted as the host as Lieutenant Bill Brannigan, Lieutenant Junior Grade Jim Cruiser, and Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins sat around the table in his large tent. Cold bottles of beer had been served, and the doctor also offered snacks of peanuts and pretzels.
We appreciate your hospitality, Doctor, Brannigan said.
I wish we could reciprocate, but all we have are MRE field rations.
Bien! Our food here is plain but much better than that, Bouchier said. However, I have you here for another reason. Yesterday, three armored cars visited us. The men in them wore British-style uniforms with Arab keffiyehs.
SCPO Dawkins took a swallow of beer. What the hell are keffiyehs? he asked, reaching for a handful of peanuts.
Do you remember pictures of Yasser Arafat? Cruiser asked. What he had on his head was a keffiyeh.
The device around it that holds it in place is called an akal, Bouchier said. At any rate, the leader identified himself by an Arabic first name and a last that I think was English or possibly German. And he claimed the rank of capitaine. He had a marked European appearance and spoke in an English accent. The fellow told me he was a member of an army called Jihad something-or-other.
SCPO Dawkins showed a crooked grin. Jesus! A fucking Lawrence of Arabia, huh?
I wouldn't say that, Brannigan remarked. This is a terrorist for sure. He shifted his gaze back to Bouchier. Did he give you any reason for his visit?
Tres explicitement! Bouchier exclaimed. He ordered us out of this area, giving us three days to leave. That time is up day after tomorrow at noon. He sent some men into the Pashtun village and warned them not to have any contact with us. They are obeying him explicitly.
I take it you've contacted your superiors, Brannigan said. What were their instructions?
I have received none as of yet, but I am certain I will be ordered to go to Kandahar or perhaps Kabul within twenty-four hours, Bouchier surmised.
I have a better idea, Brannigan said. I suggest that you and all your people load aboard some of your vehicles. I'll dispatch one of my DPVs to lead you to Shelor Field, and you can bunk in our hangar. My guy can turn around and come back here, and we'll be ready and waiting for this mysterious Brit with an Arab name.
But what is going to happen to the tents and all our equipment?
Leave everything here except the trucks you'll need to haul your people and necessary personal affects, Brannigan said.
But les terroristes will destroy everything they cannot steal, Bouchier protested. And if they don't, then those wretched Pashtuns will.