“Couldn’t have done it without the Team, sir,” Stalley answered as he looked at his fellow SEALs. Engleston totally understood the comment.
Moshenko spoke softly to Alexandra, trying his best to keep up with the translation. When he finished, she laid her head against his arm, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“When can we see him, doc?” Adler asked, anxiously.
“They’re getting him ready to go to the recovery room. I’d say maybe in a couple of hours after they move him to a bed in the ward. But don’t expect too much from him. The anesthesia will last for awhile, plus he’s on pain medication.”
Adler tried to cheer himself up by thinking, That outta be fun to watch!
It took a little while, but everyone insisted on shaking the doctor’s hand. He gave a short wave, then walked back to the double doors, disappearing behind them.
Torrinson took the SEALs aside. “Gentlemen, this was another remarkable mission. I’m sure you know how much we sincerely appreciate what you did.
“Look, I’ll put in a call to your CO and see if I can extend your stay for a couple extra days. You can get some rest, then come back in a day or so. I’m sure Captain Stevens will want to thank you himself.”
Lieutenant Monroe replied, “Appreciate that, admiral. Guess it’s time for us to get some sack time, sir, so we’ll leave.”
Adler started to go talk to the Moshenkos when a sound of a woman’s heels, clicking on the linoleum floor, made him turn.
A Navy lieutenant, wearing her service dress whites, and carrying her cap, was hurrying down the hallway. She was about 5’7” with brown hair that was twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck. She stopped in front of him. “Excuse me, lieutenant. Are you here for Captain Stevens?” she asked nervously.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, good,” she replied, trying to catch her breath.
Adler noticed her name tag. “Oh! Lieutenant Palmer! I’m Joe Adler.”
“Joe Adler. Grant’s spoken of you. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, ma’am.”
“Please. I don’t have much time. Do you have any news? Can I see him?”
“The last I heard, they were taking him to the recovery room. Doc ran through a list of his injuries but assured us he’d make a full recovery. He’ll probably be here at least another five weeks. And answering your second question, nobody can see him yet, and probably not for another couple of hours.”
“Oh, I see,” she replied with disappointment. She walked in a small circle with her head down.
“Anything I can help with, ma’am?” Adler questioned.
She stood quietly for a moment, then turned to look at him. “I drove here from Rhein-Main. I just found out he was here. I was hoping to see him.”
“Maybe you can come back tomorrow. He’ll probably be in better shape then, anyway.”
She shook her head. “No. I can’t. I have to get back to the base,” she answered, as she looked at her Timex. “I’m leaving for D.C. tonight. I’ve got new orders to Pearl (Pearl Harbor, Hawaii). I didn’t expect I’d have much time to see him, but I was hoping.” She hooked the strap of her purse on her shoulder, then said, “Well, look, Lieutenant Joe Adler… tell him I was here. Would you do that, please?”
“I will, ma’am.”
She held her hand out and he shook it. “Good luck with the new orders, ma’am.”
“Thanks.” With that, she turned and walked away.
Adler watched her briefly, thinking, Thought the skipper ended that one. Maybe he did, but doesn’t sound like she did.
He waved Grigori toward him. “Colonel, sir. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, Joe. Alexandra and I are relieved.” He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear.
She paused, then gave Adler a hug, and said very slowly, trying to pronounce each word carefully, “Tank you, Joe.”
Moshenko smiled at her and then gave Adler a wink before asking, “Do you believe we will see Grant soon?”
Adler glanced at his watch. “Maybe in another couple of hours. I don’t know if they’ll let all of us in, sir. We’ll have to wait and see. And if not today, tomorrow for sure.”
“Do you mind if we wait with you, Joe?”
“Of course not. Look, if you’re hungry I can take you down to the geedunk.”
“Gee-dunk?” Moshenko asked, with his brow wrinkling.
“Oh, I mean the cafeteria, the galley, sir.”
Moshenko translated for Alexandra, then answered, “We would like that.”
As they started for the elevator, Adler stopped near Torrinson. “Sir, we’re going to grab a bite. Would you like to join us, or can I bring you something?”
“Appreciate the offer, Joe, but think I’ll wait here.”
An hour later, a Navy nurse came down the hall and walked up to Torrinson. “Admiral, are you waiting to see Captain Stevens?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to him, sir. They brought him to his room a little while ago,” she said over her shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ll be having any long conversation,” she smiled. “He’s still coming out of the anesthesia.”
“I understand.”
“Oh, you can still talk to him. In fact, we’d like you to do that. It will help him fight off the effects from the anesthesia.” She motioned with her arm. “Right in here, admiral.”
He followed her into a large room with six beds, three of which had curtains drawn around them. The far wall had a bank of windows, with white aluminum blinds. White vinyl tiles covered the floor.
She walked to the second bed. “Here we are.” A green curtain hung by a metal rod from the ceiling, forming a U around the bed. She drew one side of it back. “I’ll check back in a little while.” She left.
Torrinson stood near the foot of the bed, staring at Grant. He never would have imagined seeing him this way. Wires led from his body and arms to monitors that constantly beeped, flashing his heart rate, pulse, temperature, and O2 SAT (oxygen saturation). Oxygen was flowing through tubes into his nostrils. His right arm was bent at the elbow. A wrap held it in place against his body. There was swelling and black and blue marks on his face; small cuts on his nose, and near his mouth and eyes; a bandage was taped above his temple. “Jesus Christ!” Torrinson whispered to himself, as his fingers curled around the cool metal of the bed.
He walked around the side, and laid his cap on the side table. Picking up a chair, he set it close to the bed, then sat down. Leaning close to the side rails, he spoke softly. “Captain. Captain Stevens. Can you hear me? It’s Admiral Torrinson, Grant.” There was a slight movement of Grant’s head. “Grant,” he said louder.
Grant’s eyes remained closed, as he answered in barely a hoarse whisper, with words very slurred. “Yes… sir.”
“Glad to have you back, Grant.” No response. “Joe and Colonel Moshenko are here. They’re outside waiting to see you.”
“Yes… sir.” He tried turning his head in the direction of the voice, but nothing was working as it should. And he couldn’t seem to open his eyes.
Torrinson stood. He leaned over the side rail and gently laid a hand on top of Grant’s head. “Okay, sailor. I’ll let you rest. I’ll be back later.”
“Yes… sir.”
As Torrinson picked up his cap, a duty nurse, wearing a white uniform and nurse’s cap, came in with a tray holding needles and small tubes. “Time for blood work,” she said, placing the tray on the side table.
“How long will it take for the anesthesia to wear off, lieutenant?”
“Everybody’s different, sir, but I would think in a few hours he’ll be much more coherent. Every time one of us comes in to poke and prod him, he’ll come around more,” she smiled, “and we’re here more than you can imagine, admiral.”