The Sixth Fleet tsf-1 Read online

  Watching the admiral swish the brandy around his mouth, Duncan seized the opportunity to steer the subject back to his situation.

  “Admiral, there’s legal complications also. I received a letter from her lawyer yesterday—” Admiral Hodges held up his hand.

  “Enough, Duncan,” he said, as he recapped the bottle and slid it under some papers in his lower desk drawer.

  “I know all about those lawyers and their letters. Don’t worry about them. They’ve got a computer program that spits that stuff out and, besides, you’ll be protected under the Soldiers and Sailors Civil Relief Act while you’re overseas. They can’t touch you until you return to the States. I don’t mind telling you that that Relief Act helped me a couple of times.” The admiral took another sip and slammed his desk drawer shut.

  “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.

  “We need people with the lieutenant’s capabilities and skills. It’s good for the SEALs and it’s good for the Navy.” Hodges knew ordering Duncan to produce a positive endorsement would have just the opposite effect.

  “A lieutenant? Kind of late in a career to be switching over to the SEALs,” Duncan observed.

  “Yes, it is, but like I said, the lieutenant brings along special skills and meets our high standards.” He looked at his watch.

  “Duncan, look, I hate to hold you up, but why don’t you and Rod wait a few minutes more. The lieutenant has a twelve thirty appointment with me. Let me see if I can locate … Wait here. Sit back down. I’ll contact Lieutenant McDaniels.” He stepped back into his office.

  He wanted to see Duncan’s face when he met Lieutenant McDaniels.

  Petty Officer Gonzales stood and shut the door again for the admiral. Smiling at the two officers, she sat back down and returned her attention to her computer.

  “We’re never going to get out of here,” Beau whispered.

  “At this rate, we’ll miss lunch, too.”

  “Read a magazine.”

  “Already have. The ones I haven’t read don’t have pictures.

  How come they don’t have Smithsonian or National Geographic or Rolling Stoned Look here, we’ve got Surface Warfare, Navy Times, Jane’s Weekly updates, and the Navy Safety Bulletin. Takes about five minutes to go through all of them and the Navy Safety Bulletin is the most entertaining.

  Read the article on motorcycle seat belts. I like the coed part the best.” Beau pulled the settee closer to Duncan, earning a quick look of disapproval from Gonzales over the top of her glasses.

  “You going to tell me more or what?”

  Duncan relayed what the admiral had said about their mission and showed Beau the tickets and orders.

  Beau crossed and uncrossed his legs while his fingers drummed a tattoo on the chair arms. Eliciting no response from Duncan, he said, “I told you I can’t go.” He put his feet down and leaned forward.

  “What do you mean, you can’t go? Lieutenant commanders don’t decide when they can go and when they can’t, or even where,” Duncan replied. Neither could Navy captains, apparently.

  “Duncan, remember Alisha?” he pleaded.

  “It’s taken us three months to arrange tonight. She traded with another stewardess for the New York to Washington run. She’s staying for three days! Three days at my apartment!”

  “Beau, you’ll have to arrange another time with her.

  Tonight at six, you and I and this lieutenant are going to be at Dulles International.”

  Admiral Hodges opened his door and stepped into the room. Duncan and Rod stood.

  The door leading from corridor H burst open and a tall female officer with dark wavy brown hair that nearly touched her shoulders strolled, possessively, into the reception area. The door clicked shut behind her. Her snub nose seemed too small for her face and her eyes too far apart, but when she spotted Captain Duncan James and Lieutenant Commander Beau Pettigrew, she smiled. The smile brightened her face, apple green eyes sparkled, and the features of her face melded together to radiate a pixy cuteness. The metamorphosis gave her the feminine look that was missing when she entered. She straightened and ran her hands lightly down her khaki blouse and skirt to smooth any wrinkles. Duncan thought the feet seemed too big, but Navy shoes had that effect. His stomach churned, but he didn’t think it was the brandy doing it. He shut his eyes for a second as a feeling that this week was going to get worse, if that were possible, rushed over him.

  Hodges saw what he wanted to see and stepped back into his office, shutting the door behind him. Inside, he chuckled and did a quick two-step as he crossed to his desk to pick up the phone. He had to tell the others. Hodges had no doubt that Duncan would shit can the female for them. And Pettigrew was his ace in the hole. The man’s brains were in his pants. Even if James failed to come through, Pettigrew would do something dumb to settle the issue.

  In the outer office, the woman crossed the room to where the two warriors stood.

  “Captain James, Lieutenant Commander Pettigrew, Admiral Hodges called and told me I had a chance to meet you before we left tonight,” she said as she shook hands with Duncan and then with Beau.

  “I was afraid I was going to miss you.”

  “And you are …?” Beau asked as he shook hands with her, his voice trailing off as his eyes roved down to an ample bosom and then quickly back to her face to discover the apple green eyes had turned into apple green daggers.

  Thirty-eight D, he guessed, but he kept his eyes up and his guess to himself.

  Duncan realized his mouth was open and shut it.

  “Sorry, I thought you knew. I’m Lieutenant Heather J. McDaniels. Everyone calls me H. J.” after my first two initials.

  I kind of prefer H. J. to Heather. Thanks for taking me along on this exercise. Captain. It’ll be my first since Coronado, but I think you’ll find me up to it, sir.” Duncan recalled where he had heard her name. H. J. was the first woman to successfully complete SEAL training. Navy Times had a big article about her nearly a month ago. He was right, his week had just gotten worse.

  “You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

  “And I’m having to give up Alisha,” Beau said softly to himself as he compared the Amazon in front of him with the petite stewardess he was leaving behind.

  “Sorry, Commander. What was that?” H. J. asked.

  * * *

  “There is one good thing, Duncan,” Beau said as he eased his Triumph TR2 onto the George Washington Parkway.

  The wind whipped through Beau’s blond mane, giving it an even more windswept appearance than normal as the small convertible weaved through the traffic toward Reston.

  Clouds moved across the sun.

  “What’s that?” Duncan asked. The problems with his wife and the Navy intermingled in his thoughts while he half-listened to Beau.

  “I remember. It’s Spanish women. Have you ever noticed how Spanish women can look at you with those liquid brown eyes? It’s phenomenal. They can undress you, ravish you, do vile things in your fantasies, throw your clothes haphazardly back on, and by the time they’ve walked past, you’ve been mentally patted on the butt, your knees are watery, and your underwear’s soaked.”

  “Don’t you ever think about anything else?”

  “Sometimes, like why are they sticking a woman on a Navy SEAL team?” Beau asked, his eyebrows raised.

  “I bet that’s a question you’re asking, right?”

  “I’m not sure. Beau. It is a training exercise and Admiral Hodges wants her to get her feet wet as soon as possible. You heard him. The Navy wants a positive endorsement on her performance.”

  “Well, I’m kind of thick at times, so explain to me why they are sending a full Navy captain on a routine training exercise that any lieutenant could handle. Why are they sending a Navy captain who has been told to go home-no offense, Duncan — overseas when he should be preparing for civilian life? And, what is so damn important that they send me along with you — not that I mind going with you or anything, but I find it hard to add all this up.”

  “I don’t know. Beau,” Duncan replied, “but when I have the answers I’ll tell you.” What was the hidden agenda?

  Admiral Hodges had bucked the idea of a woman SEAL until Congress and the Department of Defense had steam rolled over him. Yet, he h
ad ordered Duncan to bring back a positive endorsement on her performance. Why would he send her with an angry Navy captain who was being SERBed? Maybe Hodges had burned more bridges than Duncan knew with his strong opposition and now thought that a positive endorsement would rebuild them and further his Navy career. If that’s what Hodges thought, then he was full of it. Duncan had no intention of rubber stamping women into Naval Special Warfare. Admiral Hodges must be stupid or really have a low opinion of him. Duncan shut his eyes. Hodges’s hidden agendas and political wiliness were too much right now for him to try to figure out. He’d think about it later. He ran his hand over his stomach, trying to soothe the fight going on inside it. His thoughts turned to other, more important, problems, like did he have enough clean underwear for the trip?

  “Come on, don’t give me that captain crap. Tell me the truth.”

  Duncan ignored Beau’s question, reached over, and turned on the radio. He squeezed his small, but growing love handles. Maybe an inch. The news interrupted his thoughts.

  “… during the night. The American ambassador to Algeria has asked all U.S. citizens to remain calm and stay inside until events are clear. Many units of the Algerian Army, thought loyal to the government, remained in their garrisons and there are questions on whether they would respond to calls to oppose the rebels. France has issued a warning to its citizens to remain indoors and has cautioned the Algerian government and the Algerian Liberation Front — the FLA — that it would hold them responsible for the safety of its citizens. Mers El Kebir, the major Algerian Navy base west of Algiers, appears to have fallen to the rebels. Unnamed sources at the State Department speculate that Algiers may also fall sometime today. CNN will keep you up to date as events occur. This is Mortimer Shell for CNN, Algiers.”

  “Well,” said Beau, reaching over and turning the radio down.

  “That takes the cake. Just when a great liberty site like Gibraltar appears to be unfolding away from the eyes of do-gooders, along comes a crisis to throw a rock into it.”

  Duncan tuned Beau out as the lieutenant commander commenced his familiar diatribe against liberal fifth columnists ripping the fabric of American society apart.