SEAL out of water

It was a long and seemingly endless 3 hours before getting to the driveway, and with Carmine and Sarah horseplaying between the three of us, it only added to the effect, but I knew they were just trying to have fun with their dad who they haven’t seen in years. Carmine was a good driver, despite the roaming rumor of blondes being bad at basically everything that doesn’t relate to beauty or products...I know Carmine is blonde, but she sure isn’t stupid...or whatever the rumor is about blondes.

“Well, we’re home, dad.” Carmine said, with the distinct sound of joy and happiness in her voice.

Sarah was yelling in joy and happiness as well. The house was exactly how I left it many years ago, a simple 2 story house with a sage and tan painting throughout the outside. We get out of the truck, and pull up the seat for Sarah to get out. She jumps out like a pin needle was in her rear, like in the cartoons. Carmine runs with Sarah all the way to the front door, and holds it closed from the outside. I limped my way to the door, knowing i’m supposed to be in a wheelchair for longer than this...but I don’t like wheelchairs. I walk closer and closer to the front door, where Carmine and Sarah rush in first, there, holding the door closed from the inside. I heard another female voice from the inside, I could make out orders being made to open the door, whereas it slowly opened. I waited patiently for the door to fully open, where Sarah popped her little head out from the corner.

She smiles. “Hi daddy!”

“Hey baby...can you open the door for me?” I ask.

She giggles, but opens the door. There from the door was a hallway leading to the kitchen and family room, and a staircase immediately on the left side of the entrance, leading to the bedrooms. Carmine must have been up in her room, continuing her daily life, talking to friends, texting, that kind of thing. I walk right on in, my boots hitting the polished wood floor and leaving no scuffs or scrapes...or dirt. From there, I walk to the kitchen, where I smell the amazing scent of smoked bacon, blueberry pancakes, and eggs...over-medium to the exact specifications...just how I like it...and I know exactly who was cooking it, because there was only one other person who could do it.

“Helloooo” I call.

I look around the corner to see the wife, Heather, dressed nicely in a skin-tight, one-piece skirt, her black hair all done up and made, and all of the millions of products of her make-up clearly present on her face. (She’s mine!)

“Hey honey!” She greeted. She stepped away from the stove with the brightest smile on her face and hugged me, not dog-piled like the younger ones did. Sarah and Carmine also came in the kitchen and hugged me as well...again.

“How was work, love?” I ask.

“It was great!” Carmine replied, knowing I wasnt talking to her.

“Who asked you?” I joked. Carmine and Sarah replied with loud laughs.

Heather giggled as well. “It was good...I had to work a little later than usual. I just got home only a half an hour ago.”

“Then why don’t you go and get situated, and i’ll finish this for you, okay?” I advise.

“Are you sure? I can finish if you want.” Heather insists.

“Yes, im sure....why dont you go and get settled upstairs. Carmine and Sarah can help you pick out clothes, like they always do.”

The younger ones laugh, and run upstairs. Heather smiles and gives me a long and savory kiss, and walks upstairs with the kids, her heels clacking on the wood like the clack of Military dress shoes on a limestone floor. I reach into my pocket to notice the distinct absence of my phone. I give a big, long sigh as I looked at the threshold of the entrance to the kitchen.

“Sarah…” I announce.

She peeks from around the corner, “Yes daddy?” She says, giggling.

“Phone. I know you have it.”

Sarah skips and prances over to me, and hands me my phone. “You got a text message from someone named Tick!” She announces.

“Paul.” I think to myself. I look at Sarah, and pat her on the head, while retrieving my phone in the process. Sarah ran off upstairs thereafter, with the intent sounds of laughing and giggling eventually bleeding away.

I look at the text from Paul, it said “O’Hara made it back, some of his Rangers didn’t. Meeting 0900 next week.”

“Next week…” I thought to myself. “What’s the meeting about?” I text him back. The message sent, and now i’m waiting for his response. The eggs on the stove were ready to go, and were consumed in minutes.

Paul texted back, “Don’t worry about it. Command is telling us to basically hurry up and wait.”

Typical. I put my phone in my cargo pocket and limp my way upstairs to unpack my things, enough for two weeks of clothing. I walk down the hall to see door to the girls room closed...as I don’t like to have it. I steadily walk up to the door, and knock.

“Yo, anyone in there?” I ask.

No answer.

I open the door to see clothes and other things a normal girl has strewn all over the floor, which is one thing that drives me absolutely insane. I was about to call for the girls when I felt my phone ring. I took it out of my pocket, surprised that Sarah didn’t pickpocket it, and saw that it was a conference call. Only people I know who give me conference calls are Paul and O’Hara. I limp my way back downstairs and out toward the porch, where I answered the call.

“Yo.” I answer.

“Tick and Hammer here.” Paul said.

“Who’s Hammer?” I asked.

“Me, i’m here.” O’Hara replied. “Hammer is the new callsign command came up with for me.”

“Sounds s****y.” I reply.

“It is.”

“Alright guys, heres what the brass came up with…” Paul began.

We referred command commonly as “the brass”, mainly because of all the brass that they constantly wear on their uniforms to display rank and authority.

“Wait, is this a secure connection?” I ask.

“Only the brass can hear us, but its not like they give a f**k.” He replies.

“Tick, lets get on with it.” O’Hara interrupted.

“Right...so, the brass approved Operation Watermark, without the presence of locksmith due to recent injuries, as a raid. SEALs will enter the compound perimeter, and continue the mission as planned. all recon teams were pulled off and the mission was scrapped. Admiral Dawson will oversee that the mission is a success. Basically, nothing about it has changed, except Locksmith won’t be in it.”

F**k me…

“BUT…” he continued.

“...According to recent reports from local RECCE assets, the enemy is moving large sums of personnel from somewhere else in africa and migrating them across the ocean leading into the Middle East. The brass believes that they’re trying to expand their army into the Iraq / Iran region, as well as Afghanistan. If they overthrow the Afghan forces, as well as the American forces already deployed there, Pakistan will be open season.”

“Oh s**t.” I reply.

“Yeah, it gets worse.” O’Hara counters.

“Listen up, Pakistan can’t fall to the enemy. If Pakistan falls, they’re gonna eventually come across chemical weapons, then we’ll really be fucked.” Paul finishes.

“Why can’t they just cross the ocean directly into Pakistan?” O’Hara asks.

“In the likely event that US and Coalition forces react to their migration into the Middle East, the enemy will want a larger set of soldiers fighting them, which is why they’re moving into the Iraq / Iran region and Afghanistan first.” Paul explains.

“Why do you know more than Hammer? He out-ranks you.” I question.

“He outranks me, but he doesn’t out-position me.” Paul replies.

“Yeah, command appointed him the Intelligence Petty Officer yesterday, but wasn’t official until a few hours ago.” O’Hara explains.

I wonder how long its really been since i’ve been gone. Of course its only been a day, but it felt like a months worth of action flew by.

“Alright then, back to the situation.” I advise.

“Right. President Carson III and SECDEF Lindhart sent more troops into the Middle East in an effort to erect more FOB’s and air bases. The Marine Corps is the main contributor as of now, the Army and Air Force are soon to follow, and the Navy is standing by at the Mediterranean Sea with the 5th and 7th Fleet, and the Chief of Naval Operations is aboard the USS Arcadia, where he will stage an air assault to counter the migration in progress.” Paul adds.

“Where will the SEALs be during this operation?” I ask

“Okay, get ready for this s**t, members of SEAL teams 1, 3, and 7 will be operating in F-15E Strike Eagles with Navy aviators. We operate the guns while the pilots do their jobs as normal. Theres an airstrike set for an enemy forward operating base in the Khost Province in Afghanistan, with an airfield nearby that holds enemy fighters and other aircraft. The airfield was built by iraqi engineers and construction crews, we know they didn’t have a choice. The airfield is now fully operational and is housing enemy aircraft preparing for an assault on Kabul, Afghanistan, where US and Afghan armed forces are in complete control over that territory since December of 2016. The brass also knows that the enemy is also pairing up with the mujahideen, which is a big problem because the muj is f****n huge. With the help of the muj, the enemy won’t have any problems getting through the ocean to the Middle East.” Paul explains.

“The muj are staged in the Khost Province though...how is the enemy making contact with them?” I ask.

“Thats the fucked up part, we dont know how. RECCE assets are working day in and day out trying to find out how. Some of them think theres a bunker system we didnt see, others think they know our patrol paths and avoid them, and another few think they blend in with big crowds and goat herds. RECCE guys are all over the place, and we have drones everywhere, yet we still dont know how they manage to meet up. We’re getting to the point where we’re gonna have to pull out DEVGRU recon teams and the guys from GROM to find out how they’re doing all of this.” Paul finishes.

“We’ll brief you on it more when you get back, brother. You’ve had your fill, get some rest.” O’Hara finishes.

And with that, the call ended.

“Who was that, hon?” Heather called from behind.

I turned around to look at her, all dressed in comfortable-looking jeans and a white T-shirt with the eiffel tower on the center. Her black hair was straightened and shiny looking, it looked like it could match that of silk. “It was Paul.” I replied to her.

“What did he want?”

“Just telling me some things for work is all.”

“You’re still here for the week, right?”

“Yes, im still gonna be here.” I replied.

“Okay, the girls want to go out to eat tonight at the Silver Oak.”

“What’s the Silver Oak?” I questioned. I had never heard of such a place before.

“Its the new restaurant that opened last week, for the families of Military members.” She replies.

I heard of the Silver Oak before. Its a formal restaurant that was named after the rank of an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel (signified as a silver oak leaf) who opened the restaurant to all military members and their families. From what I heard, there was no tax and everything tasted amazing, made by seasoned military chefs and food distributors who had easily 10 years of service...maybe even more. I also heard that wounded military personnel get a big discount, but I wasn’t about to ask if I qualified for something like that.

“Oh, right. When are we going?” I ask.

“In a few hours. The girls still have to get ready.” Heather replies.

“You do too.”

“I know, I know, haha.” She said back, smiling.

Heather hugged me for a little and walked back upstairs. I heard giggling and laughing coming from the girls room, it sounded like Carmine was fooling around with Sarah. Something like that happens all the time, I had gotten used to it, even though I was gone for the longest time...alongside occasional banging and screaming out of pure joy and amusement. They never seemed to fight, something I took pride in. I limped back upstairs, eventually regaining my walking stride, and unpacked all of my things from my war bag. In it, enough clothes to spare for a week, and everything that went with my blues. I was still in my Crye Precision combat uniform. I didn’t know why, but it was starting to get a little uncomfortable. I took about 5 minutes getting everything off while still keeping the pain in my bruised bone at bay, and threw myself in the shower.

“I wonder how the teams are doing without me…” I think to myself.

Even though Paul told me that O’Hara made it back safely, I couldn’t help but think of everyone else who didn’t. I was thinking of the other recon teams that night, as I held my head against the wall, with the warm shower smacking against my back and head. I had spent close to 10 minutes in the shower, just thinking about what had been done by O’Hara and the other Rangers just to get me out of there. Was it worth the other Rangers lives just to get me? Maybe…

I hear someone knocking on the door, then opening it slightly. “David?” I hear. Sounded like Heather.

“Yeah?”

“The girls want to spend a while at the restaurant, we should be leaving shortly...is that okay?”

“Yeah thats fine, just give me a minute to get set up, okay?”

“Okay, i’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

I heard the door shut, indicating that she left. I heard her heels clacking against the floor, sounds like shes already ready. I turn off the shower and try to get some mental music going, to clear out the thoughts. Calming, classic, soft…

“Violin symphony, volume 3, wind of the west. Perfect.” I think to myself.

I keep the music playing in my head, trying to block out the bad thoughts that want to creep into my mind. I walk out and throw on a pair of workout shorts for the moment, as I retrieved the set of Dress Blues folded neatly and perfectly in the top of my war bag. Only my PO1 stitched ranks were on the sleeves. I displayed the jacket and its separate counterparts (white shirt, pants, cover, etc.) on the bed and retrieved my ribbons and other awards and uniform devices.

“Slow is precise.” I whisper to myself.

I carefully take mental measure of the ribbons placement on the jacket before punching the prongs through the breast of the jacket. After doing so, I stepped back to get a good look at it from a little ways away. Usually it takes me a few tries to get the ribbons in the correct position, but today was one of the days where I got it on the first try. I had about 8 ribbons, each row is arranged with 3 ribbons. So the whole rack was 2 on the top, followed by 3 more ribbons on the rows below it. It was pretty much a whole rainbow of colors and shiny silver and gold from the subsequent ribbon awards. No name plate...I found that the name plates didnt go very well with the Dress Blues, so I never really used them. after everything was pretty much set, with the golden anchor on my wheel cap, ribbons and their subsequent devices in perfect positioning, and the gold wings below the ribbons, it was finally time to place the final device.

“To the trident.” I whisper to myself.

I remove a small black box from a pocket on my war bag. Locking this box was a small keypad with an even smaller screen above it, displaying the numbers that were pressed. I enter the numbers, and the locking mechanism was disengaged with a “click”, and the box popped open a little. Within this box was the gold SEAL trident, sitting peacefully undisturbed on a black styrofoam cushion, perfectly displaying my reflection from the surface. I carefully remove it from the box, taking great care not to drop it, and calculate the measurements to place it on my Dress Blues jacket. The trident is placed above the ribbon rack, set perfectly to center to practically mirror the placement of the golden wings, mounted below the ribbons. After expert calculations were taken, I press the trident against the jacket, forcing the prongs through the fabric. I put on the prong holders after doing so and backed up a little to look at the jacket from afar. It was the perfect jacket...as it should be.

I heard a few knocks on the door. “You’re good!” I confirm.

The door opened and Carmine came in. She was dressed in a black, skin-tight tube dress, makeup applied on her face, and her hair all done up and curly. Her heels made her look taller, elevating her by about 3 inches.

“Youre not dressed, dad.” Carmine says. Her voice and eyes indicated disappointment and concern.

“Do you see the Blues on the bed?”

She looks towards the bed, her look of concern and disappointment instantly vanishes with delight. “Oh, I see it! I was just making sure, see you downstairs!” She says, skipping out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“Now that THATS done…” I think to myself.

I slip out of my workout clothing and begin bringing the Dress Blues to life, first came the underwear. OD green boxers with the  on the edges, thereafter came the socks, long and black stretching up to the middle of the calf. Then the pants, they were also long, and blue...the kind of blue that looks black. It takes me about 3 minutes to put on the pants and equip its belt, black belt body with silver shined buckle. The white shirt came next, that one was a plain, bright white, long sleeve dress shirt, and with it, came the tie, all black and smooth like silk. The shirt is tucked into the pants, no wrinkles or folds in the tuck. I tied the tie and tightened it into the collar of the shirt, and carefully picked up the jacket and slipped it on, sliding my arms through the comfortable sleeves, and tugging it a little to set it perfectly on my body. Thereafter, I buttoned up the jacket and stepped back a little from the mirror placed on the ground in the room. The ribbons and trident stood out the most, a multitude of different colors and gold inhabited the right breast of the jacket. I nod to myself in delight and slipped on my shoes.

“You look nice!” I heard Sarah from the threshold of my room.

“Thank you, you do too.” I reply

Sarah was dressed in a dress very similar to Carmines dress, but this was a formal dress with one strap on her left shoulder, coursing across her chest and into the dress. Her hair was done up as well, mimicking Carmine with the hair and makeup. She was wearing black flats with gold buckles on the toe, and a sparkly rim on the side of the ankle. The dress had excess fabric that reached down to her calf, intentionally made to make it flow with the wind or movement, thereby making the dress itself look better.

“I’ll be downstairs in a second, I will meet you down there.” I confirm to Sarah.

She giggles and hops and skips down the stairs. Grabbing my wheel cap and wallet, because I know damn well i’m gonna end up paying, I head downstairs. At the foot of the stairs, I see the girls and Heather, dressed in a white, skin-tight tube dress with swirls of lavender coursing around the waist of the dress. Her heels elevated her about 3 inches, same as Carmine.

“You guys ready to go?” I ask, reaching the floor.

Everybody nods their heads, and gives an indication of uncontested happiness.

I grab the keys to the truck, and watch as everybody races out the door, laughing and giggling on their way out.

Man, its great to be back home.

Author's Note

what do you guys think of this chapter? anything you have on your mind, be sure to leave a review on it! many thanks and much appreciated!