Ten minutes later the three regrouped, said good-bye to Major Alcontira, and then followed Lieutenant Mike Sunney to a small office in the bowels of the ship.
“This is it, Captain. Sorry about the cramped space. XO said it’s where they always put the SEAL officer in charge.”
“They must really like you, Mike,” Beau snorted, reaching up and peeling a small chip of paint off the flaking bulkhead.
“Mike, what resources do we have on board?” Duncan asked.
“Three full combat teams. Captain. All attached to Commander Task Force Sixtyone. With you three we can build four full teams.”
“Okay, here is what I want. I am assuming command of the detachment. Lieutenant Commander Pettigrew will be my second and you will continue with your duties as the OIC of the teams. How many officers are there, other than yourself?”
“We have one more, sir. Ensign John Helliwell — we call him “Bud.” Mr. Helliwell is a limited duty officer, a former senior chief gunner’s mate who was commissioned in January. Has a Purple Heart from action in Liberia when he was a second class and another during that Iraqi episode a couple years ago.”
“Good. A mustang with combat experience is always handy. Lieutenant McDaniels will serve as your assistant officer in charge,” Duncan said.
Mike Sunney’s forehead wrinkled as his eyes narrowed.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
The door opened and a stocky ensign, wearing camouflage utilities, entered. Duncan could see where the high and tight haircut would make it easy to mistake the combat veteran as a Marine.
“Captain, this is Ensign Bud Helliwell.”
Following introductions the ensign leaned against the bulkhead, the room being too small for another chair. Duncan noticed flakes of paint falling on the deck from where Bud’s shoulder rubbed the bulkhead. It was not like a United States Navy ship to tolerate a poor paint job.
“Let’s review our tasking. I want to ensure we understand our mission. When we finish. Beau, I want you and Bud to work up the kits for the teams. Mike, you work on a straw man concept of operations with H. J. “H. J.,” he continued, “hand me the chart you nicked from the ops table.” Duncan held his hand out.
“How did you …” she started to ask.
“I’ve been doing this too long to start letting little things escape my attention. In this case, we needed a chart and you procured one for us. If I presume correctly, it is of Algiers and, hopefully, not some MWR holiday map of Italian beaches.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. H. J. unbuttoned the bottom button of her khaki shirt, revealing a glimpse of a pink silk Tshirt.
She pulled out the folded chart. “That’s another thing, Mike. We’ll need desert cammies.
H. J.” ditch that silk and put on cotton. This isn’t a dance we’re going to. Silk will rub when you start running and sweating. Cotton soaks it up.”
Beau winked at H. J. and, seeing no one looking, unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a red silk undershirt.
H. J. rolled her eyes and smiled slightly.
Duncan unfolded the city map of Algiers and spread it on the metal table. The small-scale map covered the table with the top and bottom hanging off the edges.
“Okay, perimeter support is the easier of our tasks. Boring most of the time. Let’s hope it’s boring this time. If a NEO is executed we will go on the third helo, a CH-46.
Marine fire teams will be on the two 53s. I want two teams, eight of us, prepared for insertion. I want a third team on board Nassau on thirty-minute alert. Our primary mission will be to back up the Marines. That means we’ll need at least one communicator and one sniper in each team. Beau, have our guys alternate choice of close-in weapons. Our strategy is to pin down any attacking force sufficiently so that no hand-to-hand combat situation occurs. That’ll be the snipers’ primary duties. The rest of us will maintain and reinforce perimeter security where needed. If necessary, we must be prepared to fight; otherwise, a nice, boring mission is the goal. Understood?”
They agreed.
“Beau, you, Mike, and H. J. work out a backup plan for moving the evacuees to the port area. I know it wasn’t a subject during the operations brief, but with anarchy comes chaos and to rely only on a helo-borne evacuation invites catastrophe. So, work out a backup plan. Meanwhile, I’m going to hunt down Colonel Stewart so we can coordinate our actions. He’ll be Commander Amphibious Landing Force, the CALF, if we have to go in force.”
“You mean an amphibious assault?” Beau asked.
“Let’s hope not; just a boring, simple NEO of American citizens.”
“Well, that should be something new and different.”
“Let’s keep our minds on the mission,” Duncan said.
“Beau, get rid of your silk, too.”
“Aye, Captain,” Beau responded with a mock salute.
“Sir, how soon until we’re in position to conduct the NEO?” Bud asked, raising his hand.
Mike Sunney answered.
“We’re waiting word from Sixth Fleet and EUCOM. Meanwhile, the ship is slowly steaming westward, but it is also tasked with air support for the USS Gearing, operating in the Gulf of Sidra. Until they cancel the FONOPs and divert her, the Nassau is limited as to how far west she can sail. We have to keep a continuous combat air patrol of two Harriers while the Gearing skirts the territorial waters of Libya.”
“Libya been giving us any problems since Qaddafi’s death ten months ago?” Duncan asked.
“Not really. No one seems to know who is running the country since he died. Navy Intelligence believes that a junta has taken over the government, but Libya is Libya and it’s still hard to figure out what it’ll do. I think with Qaddafi dead, there’ll be a lot of cowboys loose in that country.”
“I have never trusted the Libyans. Only the North Koreans are more unpredictable,” Duncan added.
Bud stood up.
“Lieutenant Sunney, with your permission, sir, I’ll go break out the weapons and start outfitting the men. Who’s going?”
“The four of us will be,” Duncan answered.
“Bud, I’ll want a weapons outfit list from you as well as a quick skills breakdown on the teams. I want at least one MG-60 in each team.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll have that for you in an hour. As for the teams, you three”—Ensign Helliwell pointed at Duncan, Beau, and Mike Sunney—“and me?”
“No, you and the three of us,” Duncan corrected, pointing at himself. Beau, and H. J. “Lieutenant Sunney will command the reserve team.”
Duncan caught the quick glance between Mike Sunney and Bud Helliwell. Enough to understand their unspoken disagreement with his order.
“No offense, Captain, but it is my understanding that this is Lieutenant McDaniels’s first SEAL operation. Are we sure we want to endanger our teams — or her — on her first time out of the chute?” Bud asked, ignoring H. J.” who visibly straightened.
“News travels fast, I see,” Duncan said, directing the comment to Mike Sunney.
“Ensign, this may be a surprise,” Beau interjected.
“In the Navy are many surprises. Some pleasant. Some not so pleasant. In this case. Lieutenant Heather J. McDaniels is the surprise and we’re still debating if it is a pleasant one or not. But, she is a member of our team—”
“She is a Navy SEAL and will be going as a member of my team,” Duncan said sharply.
“Any problems with that. Ensign?” His head snapped to the right.
“Lieutenant?”
“No, sir,” the two answered together. Bud Helliwell’s expression did little to mask his disagreement. Duncan bit his lip to keep from saying more. The two would have to get used to H. J. being a woman just as he and Beau did.