Vance wants to send a message letting command know of their disastrous mission but this was to be a silent op and communications were only to be made in the direst of needs. A rescue effort or any communications would be known. Even if the listening parties couldn’t know the exact content, they would get an idea that a team was in place by the coding. This information could then be given to other parties if they were financing or supporting a certain operation in any way. The thought of leaving the others isn’t sitting well and he feels a tightness in his stomach. Both from leaving comrades in the field and from trying to explain what happened. He doesn’t even know what happened so he’s not sure how his explanation is going to be taken. Fuck it, he thinks. My team and I are still alive and that’s what counts for now. I’ll deal with that other shit later.
He pats his team member on the back and indicates for him to nod off. He’ll take the remainder of the watch. He lies on the warm dirt and contemplates their escape route. He envisions scenario after scenario and how to counter them should the need arise. His mind drifts back to the night prior. Certain images stick in his mind. The sight of a mass of people surrounding and huddled over the bodies of Gold Team. How positive he was that they were biting and clawing at them. In the light of the day, he’s pretty sure he mistook what he saw but the images don’t fade away with the unreality of it. He trusts his eyes and knows that’s what he saw. The sight of the pale faces, glowing in his goggles, scaling the ladder scant feet below him; their eyes seeming to shine in the night like some night animal. That was freaky, he thinks as the image stays locked in his head.
The next hour passes by with these images circulating in his mind. He quietly wakes the others. They take a quick bite and drink; burying their wrappers in the soft jungle soil. They arrange the leaves and twigs leaving no trace of their being there and continue their trek.
They slowly make their way out of the mountains and down to the coast line without sighting a soul; or hearing one for that matter. Vance doesn’t trust much of anything after last night. They eventually come upon the supply cache they left upon arrival and he sends a coded signal. The signal says in effect that they are in position and will head out at night and rendezvous at the appointed time. The tail end of the coded signal tells of an unsuccessful mission. He hates to send that but that is also part of his job. Thoughts of looking into those instructor positions surface. Yep, I’m getting too old for this shit.
They find a concealed place to hole up and rest until the coming night. With the night, they slip on their dry suits, inflate their rubber zodiac, known as a combat rubber raiding craft, and make their way out into the Philippine Sea.
Captain Raymond Leonard, USN, commander of the fast attack submarine USS Santa Fe, sits in the control room. The freshly poured cup of coffee sits unnoticed beside him. His attention is on the flash transmission from the SEAL teams on the beach. They are in position and ready for recovery at the appointed time and place. But that’s not what has made him forget the much-needed caffeine by his side. It’s the second part of the message that clenches his stomach. It’s the ‘mission unsuccessful’ that has his attention. Rarely does he ever see one of those. And to see one on this mission. It was only a recon; more if circumstances allowed. He will send his own message when he recovers the crews. He sets the transmission down and tells the crew to be ready to board the teams.
The time arrives and he brings the sub to periscope depth. The periscope breaks the gently swelling waters of the Philippine Sea and he immediately sees one of the zodiacs. He flashes the infrared light once and sees the rubber craft turn in their direction. Scanning 360 degrees, he looks for the other boat but sees none. Bringing the scope down to minimize their exposure, he waits for the report that the teams, or team, are safely on board. He is definitely interested in the debrief although he also knows that some of the information may be limited. It just depends on whether he is on the need to know list.
“Sir, Blue Team is recovered,” a crew member informs him.
“And Gold Team?” Captain Leonard asks.
“No sign of them, sir,” the sailor answers.
“Very well. Have the team’s leader report.”
He has the crew maintain position and depth until he clarifies the situation. He’s not fond of staying so close to the surface as MAD (Magnetic Anomaly Detectors) can easily pick his boat up here but he can’t leave without knowing where Gold Team is. Captain Leonard looks up as a very tired and disheveled SEAL team leader stands before him.
“Where’s Gold Team?” Leonard asks coming straight to the point. He wants to know if he needs to stay here or they can get to a more comfortable depth.
“We were ambushed and they were overrun, sir,” the Chief Petty Officer reports. He then proceeds to give a synopsis of the events as he saw them.
“You mean to tell me we have a team lying somewhere on that island?” Leonard asks after hearing the story.
In the depths of his mind, he wonders about the authenticity of the story. It’s an outlandish one that’s hard to believe. He looks at the CPO standing before him wondering if perhaps there weren’t a little too many pills taken on this one. The eyes of the team leader seem to be telling the truth but the truth will come out regardless of whether it is now or not. It always does.
“Yes, sir. We couldn’t get to them and if we tried, there would be two teams lying there,” the team leader says.
“And no part of the mission was successful,” Leonard asks.
“No, sir. We didn’t get any verification.”
“Very well. Get cleaned up and get some rest. You’re sure Gold Team isn’t coming?”
The team leader swallows before saying, “I’m sure, sir.”
Leonard nods and the team leader departs. He scribbles a quick message and heads to the communications room.
“Send this to COMSUBPAC,” he says handing the operator on duty the message.
He wouldn’t normally send a message as they were instructed to run silent out of respect for the Philippine government. They were to head to the Strait of Hormuz to monitor shipping, in particular any Iranian Navy activities, and then have a deep, silent run home to Bangor to drop off the team and report in. That part Captain Leonard will still accomplish. He dives the sub and they crawl near the bottom of the sea before hitting the Pacific. They spend their time monitoring the important passageway and then they run slow, deep, and silent for the duration of their crossing.
It takes time but they cross the large stretch of water. Most of it spent in the normal rut and routine of a mission complete; complete if not successful. He briefs each member of the surviving team; individually at first and then as a group. They each tell a similar story; a horde of people attacking out of the blue and not a shot being fired by the other side. They have either rehearsed their story to the nth degree or they’re telling the truth. Both have chilling ramifications and Leonard is hard-pressed to decide which one he believes.
The only anomaly for the passage is the complete lack of communications. They are deep so can only receive communications sent on the ultra-low frequency, which is especially for subs operating at low depths. They don’t get many communications in that manner but there is usually some. For the duration of the passage, they don’t receive even one which confuses Leonard to an extent.