1325 Local, July 10, Mailman 55, FL 210

                "We're about 15 minutes out people. You all need to secure the cabin and get cinched up for the recovery," the aircraft commander told his three passengers. As the COD started its final decent Capt. Harmon Rabb finished waking up. It had been a long flight from the West Coast, and being cooped up in the COD for the last four hours on the flight up from The Rock had left him sore, stiff, and tired. 'Outpost of freedom, my ass…if Napoleon were around it would look a lot more like Elba.'

                The lengthy conversation, make that a series of conversations with Mr. Rivers and some other selected SEALS had opened Harm's mind to a world of capabilities he knew very little about. 'It's amazing. I worked for a former SEAL for years; I was involved with a couple of operations with the SEALs, but I really didn't know shit about what was possible with these people. We're got to get their capabilities moved up the food chain in more planning…and we've got to find more money for them.'

                The ungainly Greyhound slammed onto the deck of the Big John (Stennis), caught the number three wire, and was dragged to a halt. Harm's welcome to the Persian Gulf was to be hammered backward into his seat.

                Salutes were exchanged, permission to come aboard was requested and granted, and when the formalities were complete Capt. Harmon Rabb was officially at sea with the carrier battle group that was responsible for the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Unit. His escort led the way to the CAG's office where the air group commander Capt. Richard L. Smith (USNA Class of 1979) was sitting. 'Dead Eye' Smith offered coffee and a chair after the introductions were complete.

                "The second DFC…didn't you get that in the Balkans for some wild ass stunt pushing some other guy as crazy as you over the hill on the tail hook back before you picked up the extra stripe?" "Yes sir. Guilty as charged…. I really haven't always been a paper shuffler from the puzzle palace," Harm smiled in reply.

                "Okay captain, how can the 3rd Airwing offer assistance? About all I know is that I got this hotshot message from Adm. Boone that you were heading into the Gulf wanting to talk to our ops people and get with the Marines."

                "CAG, I am involved with a project that includes an assessment…" "Harm, I'm very familiar with what you and Adm. Boone are up to these days. In fact, in some circles, it's talked about incessantly…and most of the time in a very loud voice. One of the harsh realities here in The Gulf is the idea that, to a large degree we're at war, and I think you will find the thinking at this end of the spear is a little different that the thinking closer to the puzzle palace or even at MacDill.

                "I'm going to get a little out of school here Captain, but most of the implementers and operators in the field just want clear ROE, a minimum of interference from on high, and plenty of logistical and intelligence support. We can, by God, take it from there. Now that my part of this little passion play is complete, I'm going to turn you over to Maj. Gordon…the acting exec of VMF-151…our Marine component for the balance of your time with us. I've also laid on a 1745 helo so you can get with the 3rd MEU troops." On that note Dead Eye Smith yelled for the yeoman to get Flashy (Flashy? I didn't hear that right) Gordon ASAP.

                Maj. Marjorie 'Flashy' Gordon walked into the wardroom, and held out a well manicured hand in welcome. "Flashy, this is the Pentagon hotshot that has been getting all of the bad scuttlebutt. Captain Rabb may I present Maj. Marjorie Gordon, one of the hottest Hornet drivers in the wing?"

                Completion of the introductory formalities was automatic for all concerned, so Harm had an ample opportunity to consider the major. "Flashy" Gordon was all that, Harm thought. The 5-9 red head was the complete package, even in the baggy flight suit. 'She flies the hottest new bird in the fleet; she's the squadron exec, so she's on the ball; she's a Marine, ergo sum she's for real.'

                Four fast hours on the Big John with the people at the pointed end of the spear convinced Harm that the air wing could support anything the war planners came up with as long as Dead Eye Smith's four-point needs list was met. Meeting and greeting the Navy and Marine aviators and key support people made Harm more that a little envious. These people were ready, and Harm wished with everything he had that he was with them.

                "Captain, we're need to get you geared up for the helo ride if we're going to stay with the program," Flashy Gordon interrupted. 'The helo ride is nothing,' Harm thought. 'The big problem will be swimming back to the bird farm after Mac throws me over the side. I'm not sure she even knows I'm the visitor…surely someone the passed the word about who was on the visitors list. Jesus, I wish I had taken two minutes to drop her a message, or call…or something. Well, that's water under the bridge.'

                The helo ride was quick…too quick, and a lieutenant with a big smile met the courier flight and escorted Harm to Gen. Blackwater Buckner. "General, it's a pleasure. Thank you for taking the time to see me," Harm started only to waived to a stop. "Captain, when you get a message from a man like Tom Boone you do what's asked. But, he didn't add a lot of detail about what you were looking for here. So, I really don't have a program planned for you.

                "So, here's what I'm thinking: You can meet the staff this evening at chow; make a few informal remarks detailing how we can help you, then I will get with my ops people later to lay things out for tomorrow."

                "Sir, that will be fine," Harm responded. "I'm sorry that you didn't get more detail, but the project Adm. Boone is working on has been on a really fast track and, to a large degree, we've been making it up on the fly." 'Speaking of making it up on the fly, how the hell am I going to talk with Mac? This should be fun to watch. I just wish I was watching, not participating.'

                Harm's escort took him to his quarters, briefed him on the staff, and said that the MEU staff dined in the general's conference room when guests were embarked. Then the lieutenant prepared to leave him with 45 minutes to kill before dinner.

                'Shit. In for a penny…in for a pound,' Harm thought. "Lieutenant, hang on for a second. Where's the intel section? The colonel is an old friend." "Col. Mackenzie? Yes sir. Please follow me."

                A short walk…about the same distance, Harm thought, as the condemned guy in The Green Mile walked…ended at a secured hatch marked Authorized Personnel Only, Armed Security In Place. When Harm saw the red Room Secure sign displayed he turned to walk back to his quarters, but his escort held up one hand while holding the phone in the other. "Yes Gunny, the Washington visitor is here and he wants to see the boss.  Okay I'll send him in. Sir, you're up. Please have your ID and security card for the guard to log when you walk into the sally port. I will see you at dinner."

                Harm stepped over the knee knocker into the sally port and passed his ID through the scuttle to the guard. A minute or so later the hatch dogs were pulled and Harm was invited into the intelligence section bullpen. "Please standby for a minute Sir, and I will tell the colonel you are here." Before the well turned out Marine could step away, Harm stopped him. "Gunny, the colonel and I are old friends, and I would like to surprise her." "Yes sir. I will tell the colonel she has a visitor. She'll be right with you."

                "Colonel, excuse me. You have a visitor from on high in the bull pen." Lost in concentration, it took Mac a second to realize the Gunny was standing at her desk. "I'm sorry Gunny. You were saying…?" "Ma'am, we have a naval visitor sporting a lot of gold braid that would like a few moments of your time." A puzzled frown crossed Mac's face. "Who's the visitor? The general said we have a hot shot coming, but he didn't have a name." "Col. Mac I didn't see his name tag. All I saw was a high level security clearance, a batch of fruit salad and an eagle."

                "Well, I guess we better not keep the Navy waiting." Mac shoved her chair back, stood, turned around, and took two steps toward the bull pen hatch before seeing a tall, familiar figure standing with his back to her. 'Jesus Christ. Now what?'

                Harm heard the footsteps on the deck and turned to look directly into Mac's dark eyes. For a moment the world just went away.  Four or five lifetimes worth of sins, omissions, oversights, and outright blunders just vanished into thin air over three or four nanoseconds. Clayton Webb's words, oddly enough, echoed through both minds, '… you need to fix this relationship. No matter what the fix may be.'

                "Captain, this is Colonel…" the Gunny started the formalities. "That's not necessary, Gunny. The Captain and I go back a long way," Mac muttered. "A long goddamn way in fact. That will be all." "Aye aye!"

                As hard as it may be to imagine, two lawyers stared at each other for at least 90 seconds each waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Harm started to chuckle; Mac giggled, then both officers broke down and laughed at the idiocy of the moment. "God it's good to see you again Marine." "You too Sailor, you too."

                You don't rise to the rank of gunnery sergeant in the United States Marine Corps without seeing a lot, but nothing in his 16 years in uniform prepared Max O'Grady for the laughing, the big hug, or the more than friendly kiss his boss had for the Washington hotshot. "Goddamn, Mac. It's good to see you. You're not going to throw me over the side are you?" Mac was still laughing too hard to do more than shake her head at least until she snapped on her 'you are lying' face.

                "No. I'm not going to throw you over the side. The environmental impact statement would take more time than it would be worth not to mention the balance of the paperwork. Now that I've had a couple of minutes to think, I believe I will just have the Gunny shoot you. O'Grady is your side arm loaded?" When a confused O'Grady nodded, Mac looked Harm squarely in the eyes and coldly, "Then shoot the son-of-a-bitch and put him in the meat locker. I'll square it with the general later."

                For a long moment Mac held her ground and her bearing while Harm was whipsawed from one emotional extreme to another. Then Mac lost it laughing. "Jesus Harm, you should have seen your expression…expressions. I always wondered what the 'fight or flight' response looked like from the outside. Now I know."

                "Mac," Harm breathed  "I don't know about all that. Right now I'm just glad I'm not back in the water or leaking through a 9mm hole."

                Mac finally took sympathy on her really bewildered Gunny. "Max, meet Capt. Harmon Rabb, fighter pilot, lawyer, dog robber to the stars…. And the defending champion of the Georgetown Dirty Dance Festival. He's here to let us tell him all about how the 3rd MEU is going to conquer the world. We're going to also listen while he brings us up to speed on what's happening in Sodom on the Potomac over dinner."

                Then Harm shook O'Grady's hand he shook his head saying, "It's a long story Gunny. A really long story."

                Mac headed for the hatch throwing over her shoulder, "I'm wrapped up here…at least for the moment…let's take a walk. You'll love the view from the fantail."

                The walk aft was done in silence, and when the Colonel and the Captain were both looking across the hazy waters of the Persian Gulf a familiar hush settled over the scene until Harm turned to Mac. "I'm sorry…." "No, Harm, don't be sorry…about anything. Isn't that what you said months ago at the Admiral's party? I'm sorry. You're sorry. In fact we're both pretty sorry when it comes to each other aren't we? Clay is right, you know. We've got to fix whatever it is between us.  Our expectations, fears, needs, and more fears drive both of us these days, and we can't seem to get back to where we were."

                "Mac, despite Adm. Boone's effort to work me to death, I've had a lot of time to think about 'us' over the last few weeks while the autopilot drives the bird from place to place. The executive summary of all that thinking is pretty simple: I don't know where we are going and I really don't like this ride.

                "I really can't tell anymore if we're gaining ground, getting closer, standing still, or drifting…which means further apart. From the expression on your face I am guessing that you don't want to talk this over right now, but, since I have you cornered for the moment, please listen to this:

                "Mac, I wasn't kidding when I told you that I love you when we were at Andrews. Hell, I think I have loved you since you hauled me back into the colonel's Huey out in Arizona. I mean, who wouldn't love the woman who just saved his sorry ass? Just kidding, Mac, but I really have a hard time remembering a time when I didn't love you on one level or another…"

                "Okay, Harm," Mac interrupted, "assuming for the moment that's true, how the hell did you make it look so easy to let me walk into Mic's arms? How did you manage the 'happy camper' act for all those months? Why didn't you say something…do something…anything. You just stood there with that 'I'm happy for Mac' bullshit flowing for everyone to hear. Then, out of the blue BOOM!

                "I'm getting whiplash here, Harm. The next thing out of your mouth will be, 'Mac, I didn't want to pressure you,' or 'Mac, I don't want to hurt you if something bad happens…' That's crap and you know it. In all of the years we worked together professionally you never made a decision for me or failed to consider my opinion, feelings, or thoughts. Never. Not once. But, here you made a conscious, very personal decision about what was best for me then took unilateral action on that decision leaving me wondering in the dark about what was really going on in your head…or my head.

                "Harm I have had my last sleepless night over this bullshit. The last one."

                As Mac savaged Harm he knew that the figurative ship had sailed and he wasn't on it. Once Mac wound down she would probably tell him to pound salt in his ass and walk away. He was sure of that, if she really didn't get wound up and drop kick him over the side and into the screws.

                "We've got six minutes to get back to the general's conference room for dinner, so this conversation is recessed. It's not over. Not by a long shot, Squid. Let's get moving before O'Grady gets a chance to tell his side of the story to the assembled multitude." With that Mac marched off leaving Harm scrambling to get moving.

1915 Local, July 10, At sea with the 3rd MEU

                After being introduced by Gen. Buckner Harm paused to look over the room full of Marines. "General, Col. White, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for the hospitality. I want to take a couple of minutes to talk about a critical project in progress that will chart the course of the American military in the coming years, and I want to assure each of you that your experiences, views, and opinions are vital to this work.

                "Today's world is arguably a more dangerous place than it has been at any time in modern history. The demise of the Soviet Union, coupled with the rise of dictators in Iraq, tyrants in Afghanistan, and religious radicals in many states has radically adjusted the balance of power. Our nation is at a pivotal spot in history. A military establishment fine-tuned to deflect a Soviet thrust is not the right mix of manpower, equipment, and plans for today's environment. Changes are demanded by the times, and the President has directed the Department of Defense to produce new war plans more in line with today's geopolitical realities. That's, at least in part, why I am here.

                "The Navy and Marine Corps have been tasked with preparing and presenting a drastically new force structure and material needs as part of the overall DOD effort. It has been the proud duty of the Naval establishment, the Navy and the Corps, to be the point of the sword in American diplomacy since the late 1700s, and that tradition must be kept vital, alive, and strong more than 200 years later.

                "Our task, more accurately, my task over the next couple of days will be to draw up an overall view of how the 3rd MEU, or any MEU for that matter, can serve to advance American interests around the world. Thank you again for your hospitality, and I am looking forward to working with you." With that Harm returned to his seat and Gen. Buckner rose to speak.

                "Ladies and gentlemen Col. White will have specific assignments for you in connection with the Captain's visit at staff call in the morning. Have a good evening." As the MEU's senior leadership started to file out of the room the general motioned for his XO to stay. "Bill, yet this evening grab everyone you need to pull an in-depth presentation of our capabilities and associated needs into order. Also, we need to be sure that (a) we're not bullshitting this guy, (b) we cover our potential needs and capabilities in control of guerrilla warfare, and (c) how we would see putting the screws to the assholes in Afghanistan.

                "The guy Rabb is a lot more than Tom Boone's caddy here. I don't know what the connection is, but when I was in Naples for the command conference three weeks ago a couple of guys from the Puzzle Palace were there and there was a lot of scuttlebutt about Boone, Rabb, and some three-star former SEAL running around stirring up shit under the direction of the SECDEF. Bill, I will bet your eagle that some serious deep kimchee is fermenting somewhere. Also, tell Mac that I want her to represent us at Comedy Central during the next intelligence assessment and review. There is a gathering of intelligence buzzards and some old crows on The Rock, so there should be some interesting tidbits floating around in the cheap scotch."

                As Blackwater Buckner was getting the 3rd MEU kicked into gear another meeting was being called to order in a safe house in Sudan. Orders were issued there also; The Sheik's bearded emissary was communicating his leader's wishes that the long-planned operations against The Great Satan would be started. The winds of change were picking up as the shadowy forces put their plans into progress.

2200 Local, July 10, At Sea with the 3rd MEU

                A familiar, comfortable quiet settled over the wardroom after the watch change, and in many ways Harm felt most at home with the rhythm of a warship underway. Several officers were glued to a taped baseball game on this ship's closed circuit TV as Mac stepped into the wardroom behind Harm as he filled his coffee cup.

                "Hey sailor, what brings you to the coffee pot at this hour? I figured with all of the travel you would have crashed while the staff meeting dragged on," Mac asked as Harm turned to face her. "To tell the truth I am just about wasted," Harm said, "but with all of the time zone changes in the last 36 hours my body doesn't have a clue about what to do, and when I tried to drift off a little bit ago I just stared at the overhead so here I am.

                "Mac, about earlier, I…" "No Harm," Mac jumped in, "there's nothing more to add about earlier. We have talked at each other for months…hell years…but not with each other. Who's to blame? Doesn't make any difference. I'm wrong…you're wrong…. no matter. The net effect is…. the net effect is…." Then the tears came. "Damn. I'm not going to stand here in the wardroom and blubber." And with that Mac about faced her way out of the compartment and down the companionway leaving a troubled, confused Harmon Rabb in her wake. 'Shit!'

0715 Local, July 11, At Sea with the 3rd MEU

                Watching the ocean fall away from the bow of a ship underway is an almost magical sight, and Harm stood staring out over the Persian Gulf following a very restless night. His briefings would start at 0815 running through the balance of the day, and he was heading back for the carrier en route to Washington the following morning.

                To this point his trip around the world had been professionally thought provoking and illuminating, but, personally, it was the disaster he feared most. Just as he started to head for the Marine's ops center Mac stepped through a hatch onto the weather deck with something of a bemused smile touching her face.

                "Penny for your thoughts sailor," she opened spinning Harm around to face her. "How are you feeling this morning?" "All in all, Mac I have had better mornings. I'm still about jet lagged out. I have more facts and figures running through my head that allowed by law. I feel all of my 40 plus years. To top it off… .The hell with it, Mac I surrender. I love you. Period. It's just that simple. Either that's a place to start picking up the pieces or it's not. I can't do any better than that. More than anything else I can think of I want you to be happy.

                "The 'I'm happy for Mac act' you ripped me about yesterday wasn't an act. It was killing me, but if you were happy with Mic that's what I wanted for you. If hacking into me this fine morning will make you feel better, chop away. You were right and I was wrong about how things have been. I did make a decision about what I thought was best for you and then acted on that decision unilaterally. That was more than wrong. It was stupid. I'm sorry. But, damn it Sarah that's all I can say. I can't change history, no matter how much I would…."

                A soft finger pressed against Harm's lips to quiet him. "Shut up. Now listen to me for a minute…."