It was going to be a long night for the citizens of Norfolk's east side.
Saturday, 14 May
0900 hours (Zulu -5)
Headquarters, SEAL Team Seven
Little Creek, Virginia
"Lieutenant Murdock reporting for duty, sir."
"At ease, Lieutenant. Hand 'em over."
Murdock handed his sheaf of transfer and travel orders and his personnel record folder across the desk to the lean, bronzed captain sitting there.
"Okay... Murdock," the captain said, leafing through the first few pages. "I'm Captain Coburn, commanding officer of SEAL Seven. Welcome aboard."
"Thank you, sir."
He indicated a battered gray-painted metal chair nearby. "Grab a seat. Drop anchor."
"Thank you, sir."
"Coffee?"
"No, thank you, sir."
Coburn leaned back in his chair, studying Murdock with a critical eye. "So, Lieutenant. How much do you know about SEAL Seven?"
"Not all that much, sir. I tried to look up its history before I left Coronado, but there's not much to be found."
"Figures. Some of that is the usual SEAL secrecy, of course. SEALs don't say nothing to nobody when they don't have to, and they say even less to people who aren't in the Teams. But SEAL Seven is new, and it's a new idea. A lot of the people you'll be meeting around here are plank owners, including myself."
Plank owners personnel aboard for the first cruise of a new ship, or who'd been in on the mustering of a new command. It was a special distinction, one worn with quite a bit of pride. Of course, the SEALs had expanded a lot during the eighties, from two Teams to seven, and with new Special Warfare bases appearing from Japan to Puerto Rico to Scotland, so there were plenty of plank owners still about. But from what Murdock had gathered so far, SEAL Seven was brand-new, only recently brought on-line.
"SEAL Seven has been operational now for about six months," Coburn said, confirming Murdock's thoughts. "It was created as our first rapid-deployment SEAL combat team."
"I thought all SEAL Teams were expected to be rapid-deployment, sir."
Coburn's mouth twisted in a wry grin. "They're supposed to be, and they are. Still, the logistical tail tends to slow things down quite a bit. That's where the Army's Delta Force has been running into trouble, as I'm sure you know. All the super-sophisticated sci-fi hardware in the world won't help you when you can't deploy to a trouble spot halfway around the globe in less than forty-eight hours. Tell me what you know about SEAL Six."
Murdock blinked at the sudden shift in the topic. "Um, organized in 1980 as the Navy's response to the hostage crisis in Iran. Put together by a guy named Marcinko. Something of a nonconformist, if what I've read is true."
"That doesn't say the half of it. Go on."
"He conceived of SEAL Six as a special anti-terrorist unit. Go anywhere, do anything. Dress as civilians and blend in with the local population. Hit the terrs on their own home turf. They took part in the Achille Lauro incident, didn't they?"
"That's affirmative. One of the men in your platoon used to be with SEAL Six, and he was at Sigonella when it all went down. MacKenzie, a master chief. He'll be able to tell you some stories."
"I should imagine."
"Okay, you know the basic layout of the SEALS, the Teams' TO as it was developed in the eighties. Two Navy Special Warfare Groups, Group One on the West Coast, Group Two headquartered here at Little Creek. Teams One, Three, and Five at Coronado. Teams Two, Four, and Eight here. And SEAL Six is still located across the way at Dam Neck, but they answer directly to the Joint Chiefs.
"While we've tried to keep the SEALs flexible overall, a certain amount of specialization has crept in over the years. Units grow larger, acquire more equipment. They become more difficult to move on short notice. SEAL Two, for instance, runs Navy Special Warfare Unit Number Two out of an advance SEAL deployment base at Machrihanish, in Scotland. They do a lot of training with people like the SAS and GSG-9, and if something goes down in northern Europe or the North Sea, they're the ones who'll go. SEAL Four works with Special Warfare Unit Three, down at Roosey Roads, in Puerto Rico. They handle things that come up in the Caribbean.
"SEAL Seven is basically an experimental concept, like the Army's light infantry, a Team that can be deployed anywhere in the world on a few hours' notice. We can draw on equipment stashed at other SEAL prepositioning sites, of course, but the key to making the notion work is mobility. In fact, we're not even tied down to the traditional Group One and Group Two theaters of responsibility. Seven was originally slated to set up shop in Coronado, which is why we got the odd number. The Pentagon decided they wanted us closer at hand, at least to begin with, especially with things so bad in Europe and the Middle East right now."
"So the idea is we could be sent anywhere in the world."
"Right. If a crisis goes down in Iraq, let's say... some UN weapons site inspectors are being held hostage, for example... a SEAL platoon from Seven can be on-site within twenty-four hours to act as forward controllers for air strikes, gather intelligence for a major military operation to follow, or if the opportunity presents itself, grab the hostages and beat it for home."
Murdock had looked up sharply at the mention of Iraq. Now he smiled slowly. "Are you saying, sir, that that 'Special Forces' op in Basra the other day was us?"
"More than that, Lieutenant. It was your new platoon."
The news stunned Murdock. He'd not seen that one coming. "I'll be God damned."
"Hours after Iraqi ground troops blocked the takeoff of the UN transport, fourteen men under the command of Lieutenant Vincent Cotter inserted by parasail into Hawr al-Hammar, crossed several kilometers of salt marsh and swamp, assaulted Republican Guard elements guarding the aircraft and Basra airport, and extracted all of the UN personnel by helicopter. A textbook operation, well planned, well executed. The platoon suffered one KIA: Lieutenant Cotter."
"Damn." Murdock closed his eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir."
"Cotter was a good officer. One of the best. You're going to have to hit the deck running just to keep up with his shadow."
"You know, I had the impression that my transfer was something of a hurry-up affair," Murdock said. "They tagged me smack in the middle of a BUD/S class in Phase One."
"Our replacement pools have been run down with the personnel cutbacks recently," Coburn explained. "And the established Teams have priority for replacements and material. You'll find Seven is still in the process of learning how to fit into the scheme of things out here."
"I understand, sir."
"You know, back in the eighties, SEAL Six was notorious with the rest of the SEALs because they always got the best and hottest of everything. The hot new toys, the nifty James Bond gadgets, unlimited funding. Not to mention the sexy, covert missions. There was a lot of jealousy among the Teams over that." Coburn grinned suddenly. "Well, at Seven it runs the other way. We're like the Marines here, Murdock. We make do with what we have, travel light, and count on the men instead of the gadgets.
"And speaking of men, you've got some of the best in Third Platoon. Your two senior CPOs are Ben Kosciuszko and George MacKenzie. I told you about MacKenzie. He's the guy who was with Six for a couple of years. Kos came in with the UDT, so you know he's been kicking around for a while."
Murdock nodded. The SEALs had been an outgrowth of the old Underwater Demolition Teams, which had formally been swallowed up by the SEALs in 1983.
"You can rely on them," Coburn continued. "I suppose you'll want to meet the rest of your people yourself. You want me to walk you over?"
"Mat's okay, sir. I think I'd just as soon drop in on them unannounced and see just what I have to deal with."
"Well, they know you're getting in sometime today. God knows what you'll find waiting for you. They're a high-spirited bunch."