26.

Gordon

We were in one of the many meeting rooms which held desks and chairs and tables of all shapes and sizes, stolen from countless places on base. The entire team was scattered in chairs and desks, I had my ass seated on a table. A can of coke at my side and the latest issue of "Newsweek" in my lap.

The room was not quiet.

The room was full to capacity and there were a couple guys standing, a few empty chairs and desks.

There was even a golden retriever asleep on the floor beneath Jack's chair despite the rule about having animals in the building. After all, we were allowed in the building and the dog was far better behaved then all of us combined. But that was just my opinion.

Someone hopped up on the table beside me.

I glanced over at Randy.

Unlike Hoot, who could blend in anywhere with ease. Or Sanderson, who could work a room like a skilled politician. Randy was not one or work a room or even blend in and observe. He could do both without question. But, he just didn't seem to be in the mood.

"One of the guys said we're going somewhere," was all he said to me.

I nodded, "Training of some sort."

Randy nodded and that was that.

Rarely was an entire team shipped out somewhere. Not that it never happened, but we weren't trained to work like that. We worked better in smaller numbers, even alone. We weren't Seals.

Randy glanced down at the magazine in my lap.

He then asked, "Any idea where?"

I closed the magazine.

Randy was in a chatty mood.

"Rumor has it there is a winter training facility over in Germany somewhere. It's near identical to terrain in Russia, North China, and other scenic places."

Randy chewed on that.

Behind his eyes the wheels were turning. He swung his legs and pondered a question he didn't ask, a question he knew I was unable to answer. I liked that about him. He didn't waste his breath.

The door opened and in came the colonel who was greeted with waves and a few salutes from the new Operators. Randy included.

I stayed seated and watched our CO stroll to the front of the room. He was not a happy man. Someone had obviously been chewing on his ass.

He looked us over, "All of you who captured our resident prowler…do you have alibi's? CID is poking around here and I don't want to give them any reason to think we're lying to them."

The small roar or voices was acceptable to him.

Without a raised hand or any formality, one of our Master Sergeants asked, "What did they find out about that prowler?"

One could always tell new Operators from the old ones. It was truly amazing and amusing. There was something almost sacrilegious about addressing a colonel while slouched in a chair with your feet upon a table, a mug of coffee resting precariously upon your crotch. But Jack could pull it off. All while he messed around with his corn rowed hair.

My boot camp DI would not have been a happy man.

With a long breath the colonel gave a shrug. "They don't know yet."

Oh so helpfully, Jack added, "You know, Sir. If they are having problems with him we could go down and conduct an interview. We've gotten information from various people who were unwilling at first, but then they saw the light."

That sounded like a super idea to me.

The colonel ignored the suggestion for some reason. He then held up a yellow flyer. One we had all seen posted around the base. "Gentleman. It is the Commanders Birthday and the event is Formal. Dress Blues."

Silence fell over our room.

The yellow flyer fell on a table.

No one touched it.

"Make an appearance and do not bring any groupies, escorts, and no borrowing Gordon's wife. Everyone gets their own date. If I have to find a date and go, you boys do to."

Well that didn't sound fair.

Randy looked to me, "Can I bring my boys?"

"I don't see why not," I told him with a shrug.

"Also, Jack, the dog does not count as a date. I don't want to tell you again," the colonel added. He then walked to the dry erase board and picked a marker up. With some quick motions he wrote down some numbers.

Longitude and Latitutude.

The newbie's took notes. The rest of us knew the numbers well. It was a few miles S.W. of the hospital in Germany. I could never remember the name.

He folded his arms and informed us, "Germany, in some sort of a hope to bring pride or something to their military, has created a winter training center. The Aussies, British, and the U.S. were invited to train there. We're one of the lucky dog's picked from the hat. Think of it as a war game."

War Games were always fun.

"Pack for cold weather. Clothing and weapons. Also, bring civvies and camos for time off. This should be no longer then three weeks, but, these are the German's so remember that."

I made a mental to get flower for Angela, a lot of flowers.

Sanderson raised his hand.

The colonel pointed, "What?"

"Are any other teams going?"

The colonel nodded, "Yeah, a Frog team. Team two I believe…I'll have to check my notes. But I believe that is the artic warfare team. Boys…do behave around the frogs. I don't want another Myrtle Beach incident."

Hoot's head whipped over to the closest guy who whispered I'll explain later.

"All right my little sponges…any questions yet?"

Sponges indeed.

I voiced a question that had been brewing. "Are we going over there for recreational purposes. Or should we be paying attention or working on something that may come in handy for some obscure reason?"

He gave me a look that all but accused me of being a smartass. Then he answered my question, "When I am given more information, you will be briefed. Keep a travel bag handy."

Once translated the colonels words came out at; You'll be briefed sometime during your flight which will leave at any possible minute.