1655 Hrs Local, July 26, Departure Terminal, Andrews Air Force Base,
Washington, DC
The bleating cell phone finally interrupted Harm's daydreaming.
"Rabb," he opened, "this line is encrypted."
"Damn Harm, 'bout time you answered the phone." Adm. Boone's voice boomed over the phone when it was flipped open. "I was starting to wonder if I'd missed you. Are you still at Andrews?"
Before an answer could be formulated then delivered the volatile Admiral charged ahead. "There's a change of plans from this end. We've got a command performance with Chegwidden tomorrow at 0745 and your presence is required.
"I know you've been planning the Indian Ocean trip, and we need to have someone down there for the conference. But you're not the guy on this trip. I caught Bud on his way back to Falls Church, and he's headed for Andrews right now. The fucking Air Force has been ordered to wait for him. You need to get your gear back from the loadmaster and go to the operations office and check in. As soon as you are cleared off the flight head back over here." With that the phone went dead.
While an unhappy operations clerk cleared Harm's paperwork with an equally irritated Air Force colonel leaning over his shoulder, Bud rushed in the door. "Sir, I got here as quickly as I could, but traffic on the bridge was a bitch. While Adm. Boone was yelling at me to 'get my ass to Andrews and get you off the Gulf milk run' he said you had a package for NAVCENT?"
Popping his briefcase open Harm pulled a sealed envelope out and sat it on the operations counter. "Bud, this needs to be handed to the CDO (classified documents officer) on Diego Garcia. As soon as he's signed for the package call our office and tell the duty officer 'mission accomplished' and FAX a copy of the hand receipt."
Harm and Bud completed the handoff paperwork; the operations clerk countersigned the documents, and Bud headed for the C-17 prodded along by the loadmaster. Before Harm had pulled out of the base long-term parking area the Globemaster II was making a climbing turn to the northeast heading for the Gulf, and by the time he pulled into the Pentagon's parking area Bud's flight was level at FL410 cruising easily at just under .78 mach.
2025 Hrs Local, July 26, The Pentagon
"Okay, I think that's it for the night," Adm. Boone concluded. "We're just pushing the same things around the table. We'll run this past Adm. Chegwidden in the morning, and, if we're close to the mark he will set a briefing for the CNO and the SECNAV.
"Harm, I want you to handle the briefing tomorrow, but if things get rough around the edges I'll step in to take any heat from your old boss. We're going to have to be sure we are all on the same page once we've got his briefing out of the way, because the little chat with the CNO and SECNAV will be entertaining I am sure."
Once the last of the paperwork was secure and Harm was headed home he thought 'I need to shoot Mac a message about the change of plans,' but the idea was submerged under his fatigue and very much lost at sea be the time he made it home and crashed fully clothed on the bed.
1030 Hrs Local, July 27, The Pentagon
"Gentlemen, well done," Adm. Chegwidden concluded the briefing. "The Chief and the Secretary are both convinced you are disloyal bastards and have thrown your cards in with the enemy. That's a good thing. The SECDEF is looking for a 'new eyes' program, and of all of the services you have done the best job of trying to mold the existing infrastructure into a new force.
"Tom, the way you handled moving special operations into a more cohesive operation working under one of the unified commands is the right way to go, although the Chief will be mightily pissed for weeks with the loss of operational control of any deployed SEAL teams."
"A. J.," Adm. Boone interjected, "I am glad to hear a former SEAL take that position. It's been Harm's contention from the jump that if we're going to do more, more quickly, with less mass we're moving to a spec ops world."
Final notes and revisions were examined one more time before the tall three-star dismissed Boone's team to head back into the dungeon to make FINAL alterations before briefing the Secretary of Defense.
'Damn,' Harm thought on the elevator ride back to the basement. 'The CAG should not have sent Bud to the fucking Gulf. We're going to get run through the wringer on some of these points, and he's the ranking JAG officer assigned to this project. Shit! I really don't want to sign off on the ROE review, because there are all kinds of potential conflicts of interest.'
Reading his deputy like an open book, Adm. Boone interrupted Harm's musings. "Don't worry about the ROE and policy review. All of Chegwidden's changes are in presentation. We can retain the ROE provisions, since all we are really worried about will be Cranberry Cove. With any luck the SECDEF won't want to get into the nuts and bolts."
The pair breezed into the office and past Jennifer Coates like a cold wind, but the admiral's voice echoed out of his office, "Coates! In here on the double." She had barely come to attention before a sharp "at ease, take a seat" signaled the start another hyperactive meeting.
1645 Hrs Local, July 28, Diego Garcia, Indian Ocean
Mac watched the C-17 make the long term to final approach from the transient aircraft-parking ramp near the Navy's Patrol Squadron 4 (VP4) operations area. As the big transport made the lengthy taxi from runway to ramp she was awash with conflicting thoughts and emotions. 'If someone slips behind me and says BOO I'll fucking well jump over the plane,' Mac mused. 'I can't remember being wrapped this tight waiting for the shooting to start, much less waiting for a freaking airplane to get to the ramp. God, I hope I don't make a fool or myself right here, right now.'
Once the cargo ramp was lowered and the forward door was opened the few passengers started filing off while the cargo handlers moved their equipment in position to hump the pallets off the bird. Since there were only 12 authorized passengers on the flight Mac started hiking across the ramp as soon as the first stiff, sleepy, sore serviceman made it down the ramp.
Heat and the bright sun assaulted Bud's senses when he walked down the ramp lugging his briefcase and travel bag, and he made a turn to the right to head follow his fellow passengers to the operations office so he could report in and look for a field grade classified document control officer.
Mac's focus on looking for Harm among the passengers caused her to almost bump into the back of a medium height Naval officer who was walking toward the building. The next scene looked and sounded a little like a bad Candid Camera bit.
Startled, Mac quickly spoke to the unidentified officer she collided with. "Oops. I am so sorry. Are you okay?"
The jostled officer quickly caught his balance and made a quick turn toward the familiar voice.
"Colonel? Mac? Are you okay?"
Stupefied Mac just gaped at Bud. "You're not Harm. He's supposed to be in this flight. Where is he?"
"He didn't make the flight. Adm. Boone headed him off at Andrews for some briefing or something. We met at Andrews and he gave me a bunch of stuff to bring along to the conference. Then he blasted off for the Pentagon like his tail was on fire."
"He's not coming?"
From time to time Bud had flashes of insight into the complex relationship between his mentor and his long-time friend, and this was one of those occasions. "All he had time to say after he passed the document package was, 'Tell Mac I was kidnapped by the Admiral and I'll call her as soon as I can.' "
That spur-of-the-moment truth adjustment was probably all that stood between Bud and a homicidal Marine officer. "Kidnapped? Fucking kidnapped! How did that happen?" Before Bud had an opportunity to say or do anything she made a grab for her composure and was successful.
"Bud, I'm so sorry you got trapped into this scenic excursion. Are you going to take Harm's place at the conference?"
0715 Hrs Local, July 30, The Pentagon, Washington, DC
Anyone who believes senior officers can't look a little spooked has never sat waiting for the start of a briefing of the current Secretary of Defense. The dignified older gentleman in the subtle pin stripe suit at the head of the table paused for a moment to clean his glasses before nodding his head toward Adm. Boone.
"Tom, it's good to see you again. I'm glad you were able to tear yourself away from the Trout stream to get back in harness for this little project." Working his way around the table he nodded toward Adm. Chegwidden.
"A. J. are you okay with what these guys have come up with?" The SECDEF speared the three-star flag officer with a laser stare. "You know the Vice President has got to be on board with what we come up with."
A former SEAL who had stared death in the face on more than one occasion over the years had to work very hard not to squirm under the stare. "Absolutely Mr. Secretary. Absolutely."
Finally the SECDEF turned his attention to his briefer. "Capt. Rabb, you may proceed when ready." Harm licked his lips once the jumped in with booth feet.
"Mr. Secretary, if we are to accomplish the Navy's traditional missions in the coming years we are going to have to turn the 'old' navy on its head." The Secretary nodded agreement and the dog and pony show was on.
1145 Hrs Local, July 30, The Pentagon, Washington, DC
After more than four intense hours of briefings; pointed questions; even more pointed follow up questions, and more than one or two sharp exchanges the SECDEF closed his notepad. Pushed back from the table and stood ending the meeting.
"Good job gentlemen. Admirals, I suppose I should expect a parade from the establishment explaining in great detail about how your program has run off the rails, because you have certainly marked a course that's unusual and innovative. I'll discuss things with the Vice President, and I am sure he'll want to hear it from you."
With that he was gone.
The bleating cell phone finally interrupted Harm's daydreaming.
"Rabb," he opened, "this line is encrypted."
"Damn Harm, 'bout time you answered the phone." Adm. Boone's voice boomed over the phone when it was flipped open. "I was starting to wonder if I'd missed you. Are you still at Andrews?"
Before an answer could be formulated then delivered the volatile Admiral charged ahead. "There's a change of plans from this end. We've got a command performance with Chegwidden tomorrow at 0745 and your presence is required.
"I know you've been planning the Indian Ocean trip, and we need to have someone down there for the conference. But you're not the guy on this trip. I caught Bud on his way back to Falls Church, and he's headed for Andrews right now. The fucking Air Force has been ordered to wait for him. You need to get your gear back from the loadmaster and go to the operations office and check in. As soon as you are cleared off the flight head back over here." With that the phone went dead.
While an unhappy operations clerk cleared Harm's paperwork with an equally irritated Air Force colonel leaning over his shoulder, Bud rushed in the door. "Sir, I got here as quickly as I could, but traffic on the bridge was a bitch. While Adm. Boone was yelling at me to 'get my ass to Andrews and get you off the Gulf milk run' he said you had a package for NAVCENT?"
Popping his briefcase open Harm pulled a sealed envelope out and sat it on the operations counter. "Bud, this needs to be handed to the CDO (classified documents officer) on Diego Garcia. As soon as he's signed for the package call our office and tell the duty officer 'mission accomplished' and FAX a copy of the hand receipt."
Harm and Bud completed the handoff paperwork; the operations clerk countersigned the documents, and Bud headed for the C-17 prodded along by the loadmaster. Before Harm had pulled out of the base long-term parking area the Globemaster II was making a climbing turn to the northeast heading for the Gulf, and by the time he pulled into the Pentagon's parking area Bud's flight was level at FL410 cruising easily at just under .78 mach.
2025 Hrs Local, July 26, The Pentagon
"Okay, I think that's it for the night," Adm. Boone concluded. "We're just pushing the same things around the table. We'll run this past Adm. Chegwidden in the morning, and, if we're close to the mark he will set a briefing for the CNO and the SECNAV.
"Harm, I want you to handle the briefing tomorrow, but if things get rough around the edges I'll step in to take any heat from your old boss. We're going to have to be sure we are all on the same page once we've got his briefing out of the way, because the little chat with the CNO and SECNAV will be entertaining I am sure."
Once the last of the paperwork was secure and Harm was headed home he thought 'I need to shoot Mac a message about the change of plans,' but the idea was submerged under his fatigue and very much lost at sea be the time he made it home and crashed fully clothed on the bed.
1030 Hrs Local, July 27, The Pentagon
"Gentlemen, well done," Adm. Chegwidden concluded the briefing. "The Chief and the Secretary are both convinced you are disloyal bastards and have thrown your cards in with the enemy. That's a good thing. The SECDEF is looking for a 'new eyes' program, and of all of the services you have done the best job of trying to mold the existing infrastructure into a new force.
"Tom, the way you handled moving special operations into a more cohesive operation working under one of the unified commands is the right way to go, although the Chief will be mightily pissed for weeks with the loss of operational control of any deployed SEAL teams."
"A. J.," Adm. Boone interjected, "I am glad to hear a former SEAL take that position. It's been Harm's contention from the jump that if we're going to do more, more quickly, with less mass we're moving to a spec ops world."
Final notes and revisions were examined one more time before the tall three-star dismissed Boone's team to head back into the dungeon to make FINAL alterations before briefing the Secretary of Defense.
'Damn,' Harm thought on the elevator ride back to the basement. 'The CAG should not have sent Bud to the fucking Gulf. We're going to get run through the wringer on some of these points, and he's the ranking JAG officer assigned to this project. Shit! I really don't want to sign off on the ROE review, because there are all kinds of potential conflicts of interest.'
Reading his deputy like an open book, Adm. Boone interrupted Harm's musings. "Don't worry about the ROE and policy review. All of Chegwidden's changes are in presentation. We can retain the ROE provisions, since all we are really worried about will be Cranberry Cove. With any luck the SECDEF won't want to get into the nuts and bolts."
The pair breezed into the office and past Jennifer Coates like a cold wind, but the admiral's voice echoed out of his office, "Coates! In here on the double." She had barely come to attention before a sharp "at ease, take a seat" signaled the start another hyperactive meeting.
1645 Hrs Local, July 28, Diego Garcia, Indian Ocean
Mac watched the C-17 make the long term to final approach from the transient aircraft-parking ramp near the Navy's Patrol Squadron 4 (VP4) operations area. As the big transport made the lengthy taxi from runway to ramp she was awash with conflicting thoughts and emotions. 'If someone slips behind me and says BOO I'll fucking well jump over the plane,' Mac mused. 'I can't remember being wrapped this tight waiting for the shooting to start, much less waiting for a freaking airplane to get to the ramp. God, I hope I don't make a fool or myself right here, right now.'
Once the cargo ramp was lowered and the forward door was opened the few passengers started filing off while the cargo handlers moved their equipment in position to hump the pallets off the bird. Since there were only 12 authorized passengers on the flight Mac started hiking across the ramp as soon as the first stiff, sleepy, sore serviceman made it down the ramp.
Heat and the bright sun assaulted Bud's senses when he walked down the ramp lugging his briefcase and travel bag, and he made a turn to the right to head follow his fellow passengers to the operations office so he could report in and look for a field grade classified document control officer.
Mac's focus on looking for Harm among the passengers caused her to almost bump into the back of a medium height Naval officer who was walking toward the building. The next scene looked and sounded a little like a bad Candid Camera bit.
Startled, Mac quickly spoke to the unidentified officer she collided with. "Oops. I am so sorry. Are you okay?"
The jostled officer quickly caught his balance and made a quick turn toward the familiar voice.
"Colonel? Mac? Are you okay?"
Stupefied Mac just gaped at Bud. "You're not Harm. He's supposed to be in this flight. Where is he?"
"He didn't make the flight. Adm. Boone headed him off at Andrews for some briefing or something. We met at Andrews and he gave me a bunch of stuff to bring along to the conference. Then he blasted off for the Pentagon like his tail was on fire."
"He's not coming?"
From time to time Bud had flashes of insight into the complex relationship between his mentor and his long-time friend, and this was one of those occasions. "All he had time to say after he passed the document package was, 'Tell Mac I was kidnapped by the Admiral and I'll call her as soon as I can.' "
That spur-of-the-moment truth adjustment was probably all that stood between Bud and a homicidal Marine officer. "Kidnapped? Fucking kidnapped! How did that happen?" Before Bud had an opportunity to say or do anything she made a grab for her composure and was successful.
"Bud, I'm so sorry you got trapped into this scenic excursion. Are you going to take Harm's place at the conference?"
0715 Hrs Local, July 30, The Pentagon, Washington, DC
Anyone who believes senior officers can't look a little spooked has never sat waiting for the start of a briefing of the current Secretary of Defense. The dignified older gentleman in the subtle pin stripe suit at the head of the table paused for a moment to clean his glasses before nodding his head toward Adm. Boone.
"Tom, it's good to see you again. I'm glad you were able to tear yourself away from the Trout stream to get back in harness for this little project." Working his way around the table he nodded toward Adm. Chegwidden.
"A. J. are you okay with what these guys have come up with?" The SECDEF speared the three-star flag officer with a laser stare. "You know the Vice President has got to be on board with what we come up with."
A former SEAL who had stared death in the face on more than one occasion over the years had to work very hard not to squirm under the stare. "Absolutely Mr. Secretary. Absolutely."
Finally the SECDEF turned his attention to his briefer. "Capt. Rabb, you may proceed when ready." Harm licked his lips once the jumped in with booth feet.
"Mr. Secretary, if we are to accomplish the Navy's traditional missions in the coming years we are going to have to turn the 'old' navy on its head." The Secretary nodded agreement and the dog and pony show was on.
1145 Hrs Local, July 30, The Pentagon, Washington, DC
After more than four intense hours of briefings; pointed questions; even more pointed follow up questions, and more than one or two sharp exchanges the SECDEF closed his notepad. Pushed back from the table and stood ending the meeting.
"Good job gentlemen. Admirals, I suppose I should expect a parade from the establishment explaining in great detail about how your program has run off the rails, because you have certainly marked a course that's unusual and innovative. I'll discuss things with the Vice President, and I am sure he'll want to hear it from you."
With that he was gone.
