“By the way,” the admiral continued smoothly, “the Spanish arrived on board the Nassau yesterday.”
So, his destination was the USS Nassau. Talk about one of the older ships in the Navy. But, of course, most of the ships of today’s Navy were old; and tomorrow, they’d be even older. Maybe Colonel Harry Summers was right. In an op-ed he wrote a year before he died, he said that we were witnessing the decline of American influence and military might. That America was following the footsteps of prior world powers, leaving the stage to others such as France, India, and Brazil.
Admiral Hodges motioned Duncan to hide his drink before pressing the intercom on his desk.
The door opened and the young yeoman entered.
“Yes, sir?”
“Petty Officer Gonzales, will you bring in Captain James and Commander Pettigrew’s orders, please.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. Doing a smart about-face, the young sailor left the room and quickly returned with a brown envelope, which she handed to the admiral. She went over and opened the windows slightly. The hot air hit Duncan, sending another flood of perspiration down his neck.
Right below his pecs he felt the T-shirt stick to his chest.
Turning to the two officers she smiled and in a polite, but almost scolding voice said, “Can’t have the admiral’s office smelling like a distillery, now can we?”
They watched the attractive young sailor leave the room and shut the door gently behind her.
“I call her my Moneypenny, Duncan. Can’t pull anything over on her generation. Here are your papers. You’ll find your orders and your plane tickets. At Sigonella, Sicily, a helicopter will be waiting to fly you out to the Nassau. A detachment from SEAL Team Two is on board under the command of Lieutenant Mike Sunney. He’s expecting you.”
Duncan opened the envelope and withdrew the papers.
His eyes widened.
“Admiral, these tickets are for this evening,” he said, standing abruptly.
“Sit down, Duncan. I’m really sorry about the short notice, but this is a very important exercise. Ever since we closed Rota Naval Base, our last military site in Spain, our influence with the Spanish has hovered between zero and nil. Seems every time we need a favor they run to the Germans or the French to see if it’s all right. We need to repair some bridges and you are the engineer to do it.”
Duncan leaned forward and in an angry voice said, “Admiral, I have always done what the Navy has asked. Twenty-eight years I’ve been doing what the Navy asked. The Navy has now asked — no! it’s ordered me — to go home. It’s told me it doesn’t want me in the Navy any longer!”
The admiral raised his hand.
“Captain, this isn’t open for discussion. I know you’ve always done what we’ve asked and if there were another officer in whom I had the confidence to do this mission, as I do with you, I would have tasked him. But this exercise has Duncan James written all over it. It’s an opposed beach reconnaissance followed by a nighttime urban assault rescue. You cannot have a double operation combination like that without us SEALs thinking Duncan James. You wrote the book!”
“Sir, my SERB?” Duncan asked, resigning himself to the fact that he was heading overseas to the Mediterranean.
He chugged the remainder of his Ponche brandy and thought he detected the wax in his ears melting.
“Duncan, don’t worry about the SERB,” Admiral Hodges said with exaggerated reassurance.
“I’ll take care of it. Just go and do this and quit worrying about retirement. Maybe I can change the Navy’s mind. I’ll talk to the chief of Naval Personnel, Vice Admiral Speck, and explain to him the circumstances. The more I think about it, Duncan, the more convinced I am that we can delay or rescind your retirement.
Speck’s a personal friend, a great guy who understands things like this, and a horrible golfer. I’ll lose a couple of games to him and he’ll be so hepped up about bagging a SEAL admiral that he’ll feel obligated to grant me one wish. Okay?”
“Personal friend and a great guy?” Duncan asked, failing to keep the sarcasm out of his question.
“Sorry, Admiral.
You know how much confidence I have in you, but I can’t go.”
The admiral involuntarily stepped back. He knew what Duncan thought of him. Did Captain James think that friends didn’t pass along scuttlebutt on who was loyal and who wasn’t?
“Captain James, I’m sorry, but it’s a direct order. You’re going and that’s it. I’ll work the retirement issue and have someone keep tabs on your house and your personal affairs while you’re gone. At the most you’ll be back in thirty days. It’s an easy mission, so relax and enjoy the trip. Think of it as a vacation.”
Admiral Hodges maneuvered Duncan toward the door.
“I know you’re angry. But what are classmates for if they don’t help each other in times of adversity? And you need to quit worrying about that wife of yours. Good riddance, I always said when they left. Good riddance. And there’s no better way to forget them than a good assault against hard rocks and friendly forces. Rids the soul of anger. Besides, when you return, you can tell me how the combined Spanish-British governing of Gibraltar is working.”
The two entered the reception area. Beau, seeing the admiral, stood to attention. The admiral walked briskly over to the blond lieutenant commander.
“Rod, how the hell are you?” asked the admiral, smiling as they shook hands.
“It’s good to see you.”
Turning to Duncan before Beau could reply, the admiral said, “You two wait a couple of minutes. I won’t keep you much longer because I know you’ve got seabags to pack, passports to grab. And, Duncan, don’t hesitate to call me if you have any problems.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Duncan, ignoring Beau’s questioning look. “
“Rod’?” asked Duncan in a soft voice.
“I thought you were kidding.”
“Seabags and passports?” responded Beau petulantly, cocking his head toward Duncan.
“Tell me Rod first and then I’ll tell you seabags and passports.”
“Okay, deal. When the admiral was at Naval Special Warfare Group Two at Little Creek, Virginia, I was at Surface Forces Atlantic. For some reason, he thought my first name was Rod so whenever we talked he’d call me Rod.”
“You should have told him.”
“Why would I do that? Whenever he called I always knew who was on the other end. It made him feel important.
Besides, I need to be thinking about next year’s Commanders Board so it’s too late to tell him now. Hodges is a screamer, with a memory like an elephant. I hope you don’t think he’s forgotten how you made a fool of him in Alaska years ago. Don’t bet on it. Plus, he can do things like send me out of town. Hint?”
“We leave tonight on United Airlines for Rome for further transfer to Sigonella, where a helicopter will fly us out to the USS Nassau. There, we join a party of Spanish Special Forces for an exercise against the combined defenses of Buffalero beach.”
“Damn, I can’t go, Duncan.” Beau shook his head.
The door from the inner sanctum opened and Admiral Hodges stuck his head out.
“Captain James, Rod, you can go, I won’t need you like I thought I would. Duncan, by the way, I forgot to tell you that a Lieutenant H. J. Mc Daniels is going with you. It’ll be the lieutenant’s first exercise.
The lieutenant is a new accession to the SEAL community, so run interference with the Spanish so they don’t become upset about us sending a new officer along for this bilateral exercise. It’s a great opportunity for a new SEAL to have some hard, near real-life training. I want a positive endorsement on the lieutenant’s performance. You hear? A positive endorsement is what I want, Duncan,” Admiral Hodges emphasized.