Boomer smiled to himself. He couldn’t tell her that he’d been in Iraq on the ground long before those Apaches from the 1st Battalion of the 101st Airborne let loose their Hellfire missiles, officially beginning the war. One thing he had learned about the military: the need to feel like an important piece of the overall machine. Boomer recognized the reality that the military, by being the largest “corporation” in America, had so many pieces that almost everyone was a minor and relatively insignificant cog. And now that organization was facing major restructuring.
“How does everyone feel about the MRA?” Boomer asked.
Vasquez barked a short laugh.
“Sir, you want to get in a fight, you mention those three letters around anyone in uniform. When it was the gays in the military thing a couple of years ago there were still a lot people who actually didn’t give a shit. Live and let live they thought. But there’s enough bullshit in the MRA that everyone’s got something to be ragged off about, including the total drop of the gay un acceptability thing.
“You got the Marines about ready to bust a gut’cause of the part that wants to integrate the Corps into the Army.
Same with all the pilots being pissed about being made into one branch.
You name the person and the act affects them somehow. We been downsizing and cutting back for years now, and now they hit us with this! Those fucking civilians in Washington don’t understand.”
Boomer settled back in the bucket seat and watched the countryside as Vasquez bitched on about the act, her language quite worthy of any infantry sergeant. He hadn’t been too worried about the act himself, but now he wondered if he ought to be. Even with all the cuts coming in the Army he was pretty confident that Delta and Special Operations overall would not be cut. No matter what the world situation or level of “peace,” Special Operations always had a real world job to do, as evidenced by his most recent missions in the Ukraine.
He had heard some rumbles that the Joint Chiefs of Staff were not keen on keeping Special Operations forces up to strength while having to cut their own prized Army divisions, aircraft carrier groups, and Air Force squadrons.
Boomer had been exposed to the regular Army’s distaste for Special Forces from the moment his infantry battalion commander had told him his Army career was over when Boomer filed a 4187 form requesting Special Forces training in 1983.
In those days Special Forces was truly a bastard stepchild.
There was no Special Forces branch and any officer taking an assignment in the Green Berets threw his “career track” off the beaten path. In 1987, when Special Forces had finally been recognized as a separate branch by the Army, after great pressure from Congress, Boomer had been proud to pin on the crossed arrows that adorned the right collar of his battle dress uniform. In fact, nearly every major reform in favor of Special Operations Forces had required the passage of a law by Congress, which in turn had to be crammed down the throats of the reluctant conventional military leaders.
The other issue in the MRA that was causing a great amount of consternation was the proposal to basically eliminate the three service academies by converting them into one-year officer basic schools for all officers upon commissioning from ROTC or OCS programs. Boomer could well imagine the ulcers that was causing among most of his fellow graduates of West Point. He himself wasn’t too sure it was a bad idea, considering the discrepancy in cost between a West Point graduate and an ROTC officer, and the small, if any, difference between the two once they were in the Army.
The Academy had been founded when there was no other way to produce quality regular Army officers. Today that wasn’t the case. Of course.
Boomer also had to admit that he would have had a most difficult time getting a college education if he had not been able to attend the Academy.
In the years since graduation, though. Boomer realized more and more that he had paid for his four-year education in a currency more valuable than coin. He had paid with some of his heart and soul. He could see that most clearly when he looked at others his own age who had attended a “regular” college.
Vasquez took an exit off the highway and was waved through the gate to Fort Shafter by an MP. A sign just inside warned all visitors that they were subject to search and that they had basically surrendered most of the basic rights guaranteed by the Constitution simply by crossing the invisible line separating the state of Hawaii from federal land.
A military post is a world unto itself and basically selfcontained.
Boomer had once been on temporary duty (TDY) at a remote base in Korea and had met people who had never been outside the gate into the Korean community other than passing through on a military transport bus. They lived for an entire year within the fence surrounding the compound.
Military people were a curious combination of world-traveler — even the lowest ranking person usually having lived overseas — and xenophobic isolationist. It was not unusual for the highest-ranking general to have no idea what it meant to live in a community with people of different beliefs and occupations or have to deal with such civilian matters as having to pay health insurance.
Boomer took in Fort Shafter, correlating it to the map he had casually studied on the plane coming in. The major populated area of Oahu ‘stretched from Diamond Head on the southeast corner of the Island, west along Waikiki and downtown Honolulu, to the International Airport and Hickam Field, Pearl Harbor, to finally Barbers Point Naval Air Station at the southwest corner of the Island. Fort Shafter was on the north side of Highway 111 which ran along all those points. The fort overlooked the airport and Pearl Harbor, with an excellent view of downtown Honolulu to the left. Shafter was one of dozens of military posts scattered about the Island and housed the Army’s Western Command.
“I’ll take you to the guest house, sir. You can throw on a uniform and then we can head to the tunnel,” she added as she glanced at Boomer’s hair.
They drove up to the motel-like guest house, and Boomer quickly stored his gear and changed into a set of starched BDUS. It felt funny every time he put on U.S. uniform after the civilian clothes and foreign uniforms he was used to in Delta. It was like changing part of his personality. He’d worn a uniform full-time from West Point in 1977 through joining Delta. He pulled a faded green beret from his bags and settled it on his head, checking himself in the mirror.
The beret was the original one he’d been issued on graduating the Special Forces Qualification Course in 1984.
He’d been told several times in the course of his career to replace the worn hat with a new one, but he’d grown attached to this one. It had gone many places with him. The green cloth had that beaten, faded look that soldiers in Special Force secretly prized.
Vasquez’s demeanor changed when she spotted Boomer walking out of the lobby. She noted the Special Forces Combat patch on the Major’s right shoulder, and the Combat Infantry badge. Master Parachutist badge and scuba badge on his left chest. Beneath the Special Forces and Ranger tabs on Boomer’s left shoulder, he wore the unit patch of the Special Operations Command (Airborne).
“You were in 5th Group during Desert Storm, sir?” she asked as they got back in the car.
“No. First of the 10th out of Tolz,” he lied, automatically giving her the cover story that he’d been briefed on right after the Gulf War.
Boomer waited for the inevitable “What did you do?” but it didn’t come, for which he was relieved. They were at the entrance to the tunnel in less than five minutes.
Boomer looked at it with interest. A heavily vegetated lava ridge line was directly in front of them with a covered walkway leading up the side to a large vault door. Looking to his left he could see the ocean, with Honolulu off to the far left. To the right, the road ended in a housing area, behind which the mountains loomed, forming the interior of Oahu. It was a spectacular location, but it didn’t appear that there were any windows in the office to enjoy the view.