"Yes, sir!"
"Also, keep in mind that any of us will be available if you need to talk — for whatever reason. Your mental state will have an immense outcome on how well you do. Discussions will be kept confidential.
"Okay, that's about it. Any questions?"
A tall young man in the back row slowly raised his hand, and Grant pointed to him, asking, "And you are?"
"Uh, Petty Officer … I mean, Casey Jeffries, Captain Stevens, sir," he answered with a hint of southern accent. Grant nodded. "Sir, will y'all be joining us on our runs and swims?"
Grant's brow furrowed. "Are you implying we look as though we need the exercise, Mr. Jeffries?!"
"Oh, no, sir! Absolutely not … sir!"
Without immediately answering, Grant turned and took a couple of steps, paused by Adler, and gave him a quick wink. "To answer Mr. Jeffries' question," Grant finally said, facing the trainees, "one of us will be with each squad during runs, until the time comes when you elect a team leader. As far as swimming, we'll always be standing by or in the water. It depends on what activity is planned. Anyone else?"
Luke's hand went up. Grant nodded in his direction. "Captain Stevens, what happens if you and your Team are called out on a mission? I mean, what happens to our training, sir?" Heads turned in his direction.
Oh, shit, Luke! Grant locked his eyes with Mitchell's. Other sailors standing before him now may have heard scuttlebutt about the Team. So be it, he thought, before responding, "I see some of you are surprised at the question. Although we're not on active duty, you should know that doesn't mean 'Uncle Sam' can't call us back. If that did happen your training would still continue. There are several former SEALs living in the area who have volunteered to take you through it." Not quite the whole truth, but it was the best Grant could do without revealing Team A.T.'s true role.
"Anything else?" Silence. "Okay. Before you begin your first test of the day, I'll leave you with a quote from Teddy Roosevelt." He emphasized the statement by beating his fist against the air. "'Believe you can, and you're halfway there.' Good luck, gentlemen. Dismissed."
The trainees broke ranks, talking among themselves, until Team A.T. approached them, going from man to man, shaking their hands.
Grant wandered over to Mitchell, who lowered his eyes briefly and said quietly, "I'm real sorry, sir. I wasn't thinking."
"Lesson learned, Luke. Always think." That was all he said, before meeting up with Adler.
An hour later the first five trainees began the 5K run. Garrett and Draper each had stop watches, ready to record times. They were mainly looking for stamina more than times, but everything would be recorded.
Grant stood off to the side, beyond the path, with his arms folded across his chest, waiting for the group to finish. Finally, he spotted the five, running at a good pace, and staying fairly close together. Voices could be heard, as each man encouraged the other. That's the way it was supposed to be, just like in BUD/S. Help your buddy. Teamwork. These kids already know what it's about, he thought, impressed.
The five stopped near Garrett and Draper briefly, as they caught their breath, and patted one another on the back.
Mitchell finally saw Grant, but Grant lowered his head, and started walking away, leaving him with the wrong impression.
"Hey, Mitchell!" Garrett called.
"Sir?!"
"Get your butt in gear!" Garrett said, pointing to the other four men jogging to their next test area.
"Yes, sir!" Mitchell gave a final, quick look over his shoulder, before breaking into a run.
Team A.T. was sitting at the dining room table, with pens or pencils in hand. Each had copies of every trainee's activities and results of the day. They were prepared to discuss and evaluate the men, then review plans for the following day.
Grant glanced at his watch, just as there was a knock at the door. He pushed his chair back. "I'll get it." He looked at the Team. "Go ahead with your evals." With that, he grabbed his windbreaker, then went to the door, as his men watched him. Ever since the previous day, they'd noticed a change, nothing specific, but it wasn't anything new. Whenever they prepared for a mission, Grant would go into a different 'mode' — and this training was a mission of sorts.
Once the door closed, the men turned to Adler. He realized they were hoping for an explanation. "He'll tell you when he's ready." Enough said. The discussions started.
As Grant opened the door, Luke backed up. Grant motioned, "Let's walk." He slung his windbreaker over his shoulder.
Security lights, placed around the 4,000 square foot house, were beginning to flicker on as evening approached. Unseen were security cameras, always recording, constantly displaying images on the monitor above the fireplace.
The two men walked slowly across the driveway, nearing A.T.'s vehicles. Grant draped his jacket over the Vette's roof, then leaned against the car.
Mitchell pointed to it. "Yours, sir?"
"It is."
"Very cool!" Mitchell shuffled a foot on the gravel, before saying quietly, "Sir, I wanted to talk with you to apologize again for this morning. I don't know why I … "
"Maybe it was just enthusiasm. Whatever the reason, it's something that's gonna stick with you. All part of the learning process. Remember — think."
"Yes, sir. I've already filed it away," he indicated by pointing to his head.
"Is that all you wanted to talk about?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Relax a little, okay?"
"Yes, sir. I was up practically all last night, thinking about my interview with you. There were certain things you asked me."
"And those things were?"
"Captain Stevens, can I ask you a personal question?"
"Uh, sure. Whether I answer it is something else."
"Understood, sir."
Mitchell lowered his eyes, wondering if Grant could hear his heart pounding against his chest. It wasn't supposed to be this difficult! Did he have the balls to ask? Was he being way to presumptuous?! Letting out a breath, he finally looked into eyes just as brown as his. "Sir, the questions you asked me yesterday … about my mom? Well, is it … I mean, is there any chance … " The words stuck in his throat. He shook his head, and under his breath, he whispered, "I can't do it."
He must suspect something, Grant thought. "Luke, I think I know where you're going with this conversation, so I'm gonna be straight with you. I called your mom yesterday, right after you and I spoke."
Mitchell backed up with disbelief on his face. "You called my mom?! Why'd you do that, sir?!" As soon as the words spilled out, he regretted having said them. The sound of his voice shocked him more than what he'd just asked. "Jesus Christ! Sir! I'm sorry! That was uncalled for! I apologize, sir!"
"Already forgotten, but I want you to understand that it was something I had to do — for myself, mostly." Grant shoved his hands into his pockets, and lowered his head briefly. "Your mom and I knew each other all through high school."
"You knew …?!"
"Let me finish, Luke."
"Sorry, sir."
"We talked about getting married once I finished college, but then I was accepted into the Academy. I turned down offers from U.C. (University of California) and Stanford because deep inside I knew the Navy was my future. I wanted your mom to move with me to Annapolis. But she refused. She didn't want any part of military life." Grant paused, but his eyes stayed fixed on Mitchell's. "I loved your mom, but it… it just didn't work out." And then Grant said it. "I never knew about you, Luke. I swear to God … I never knew."