J. Curtis: Calexit: The Anthology

January 14 th, 2023 dawned clear and reasonably warm, all of 58 degrees. Mikey was already up and out the door for school, riding his bike and promising not to mess up his clothes before Trish picked him up at ten for the change of command. Mike sat in the kitchen of their little blue house on I street, sipping coffee and pondering life and its meaning. Today should have been the happiest day of his life, getting a major command, but it was tinged with sadness. Lee Holt had lost over twenty pounds, and looked like he was 70 years old, but he’d come in most days, filling Mike in on the changes that had been going on for the last two years. Budgets, deployments, manpower, equipment, and the myriad of other issues at the group level had consumed them day in and day out. Regretfully, Mike knew this was the end of his ability to get in the field with his sailors and earn his trident every day. Now the earning would be done a different, less satisfying way, by protecting his sailors from the vagaries of the elephants in major commands.

The saving grace, if there was one, was Master Chief Operator Jimmy Cameron. He’d taken over as the command master chief a few months earlier, and he and Mike went back almost twenty years. They’d been in the same platoon, then the same team when Mike had been CO of Team One, and master chief had been his team chief. He knew he’d get the straight skinny from him, and the master chief was not a yes man, so he’d keep Mike in check. Finishing his coffee, he got up, “Hon, I’m going to get dressed and go on in. You’re going to pick Mikey up at ten, then come straight to the base, right?”

Trish stuck her head around the door, exasperated, “Yes, dear. Just like we have already discussed three times this morning. Honestly Mike, you don’t really sound like you want this.”

“Oh, I want it. I just wish… Well, I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Beth and I talked last night, she said you being here has helped Lee, given him a second wind. She said he’s going to check into Balboa on Monday and start another round of chemo. Oh, have you heard anything about any protests at the gate?”

Mike gave her a quick hug, “No. There are some protests up north at the bases, but I haven’t heard of anything down here. We upped the security patrols, both for the compound and for SURFOR, [1] SURface FORces but it’s been quiet. We had a courtesy call with Admiral Clayborn last week, and we’re still at Bravo, with random Charlie days at least once a week. I made sure today was going to be Bravo, with all the visitors we have coming.”

Captain Holt stood tall in his dress blues at the podium, and read his orders for his retirement, then turned to Mike, “I am ready to be relieved, sir.”

Mike, moved his sword out of the way, and stepped up in his place, “I will now read my orders. From Chief of Naval Operations to Captain Michael James, change duty orders 113022. When directed by a reporting senior, detach from standing Navy command element, U.S. 7 thFleet. Report to Rear Admiral Hector Garcia, Naval Special Warfare Command for duty as commander, Naval Special Warfare Group One.” Mike stepped back, turned and saluted Captain Lee Holt, “I relieve you, sir.” He turned to the senior SEAL in the Navy, Rear Admiral Garcia, and said, “I am reporting for duty, sir.”

RADM Garcia saluted and replied, “Very well.”

Master Chief Cameron and his flag team took down the command pennant streamer, and it was presented to Captain Holt, as Mike’s new command pennant streamer was run up the flag pole. After everyone was seated, Mike gave a few words about continuation of orders, his happiness to be back home as he wished Lee the best in his retirement. After the colors were retired, there was the usual glad handing, congratulations, and a cake and punch for all hands.

Due to Lee’s condition, they had decided not to do a formal reception, and Mike was actually thankful for that, as Lee sat under a corner of the sun shade, Beth at his side. Getting Master Chief Cameron’s attention, he motioned off to the side, and they walked over to the smoke pit. Jimmy Cameron immediately fired up one of his noxious stogies, and Mike said quietly, “Lee’s hurting, but he’ll stay here till the last SEAL leaves. I don’t want to unnecessarily rush things…”

“I’ll handle it. You make the admiral go away, I got the rest. Good on ya for the short speech. I hate long winded assho… officers,” he said with a smile.

Mike shook his head, “Dammit, Jimmy…”

Cameron laughed, “Gotcha. I’ve known you for your entire career. I’m actually proud of you, but don’t let that shit go to your head.”

“Thank you.” Mike turned and walked back to the sun shade and the folks gathered there. RADM Garcia motioned him over, “Captain, we need to have a short meeting. Can we use your secure conference room?”

“Certainly, sir. Who do you want there?”

“You, Captain Ackerman, and Commander Simmons.”

Mike looked around and saw the master chief coming, “Master Chief, we need to use the secure conference room.”

“On it, sir.”

Mike walked over to Trish and Mikey, “Sorry, looks like I have to go to work.” Hugging Trish he said, “I’ll see you at home later, okay?”

Trish kissed him on the cheek, “Okay. I’ll pick up something for dinner.”

Mikey said, “Congrats, Dad. I guess I’m proud of you too.”

Mike put his hand over his heart, “Be still my heart, my boy actually complimented me!” He smiled and said softly, “Thank you, son. That means a lot. Now y’all get out of here.”

RADM Garcia sat at the head of the conference table in the SCIF, watching quietly as Mike came in, “We’re good to go, sir.”

Leaning forward, the admiral said, “This is… TS… I’m not coming back here, Special Warfare Command will remain in McDill for the foreseeable future, due to the Calexit nonsense. Captain Ackerman, I want you to relocate to Hawaii with Group Three, as soon as possible, and as quietly as possible.” Turning to face Mike, he continued, “Captain, I know this is your first day, and I’m dumping a helluva load on you, but I need you to take up the slack for us being gone. You’re also not getting Team Five back, they are going to stay in Bremerton.”

Mike rocked back in his chair, “So I’ll be down to one and seven?”

“And the reserves. We’re going to increase Team Seventeen’s drill cycle, along with HSC [2] Helicopter Sea Control Eighty-Five, since those two drill together all the time.”

“Yes, sir.”

The admiral looked at Commander Simmons, “Commander, status on your SEAL support boats?”

CDR Simmons cleared his throat, “Ah, ‘bout eighty-six percent avail on a given day, sir. Mostly awaiting parts, no real major issues.”

The admiral leaned back in his chair, “Have your supply officer give me a list of your needs before I leave today. I want you one hundred percent up, or as close as you can get. If you’ve got a boat that is hard down, not repairable in a timely fashion, I want it out at San Clemente, I don’t care if you have to tow it out there. And if you do, do it in the middle of the night.”

CDR Simmons started to answer, but the admiral cut him off, “Not negotiable.”

“Yes, sir.”

The admiral sat up, “There’s intel that the whole Calexit thing is going left. Apparently Brown is getting ready to open the borders with Mexico, and no immigration policy will be put in place. It will be a totally open border. I don’t think that is going to end well. I’ve also talked with General Ericson at Pendleton, he’s going to loan you eight up armored Hummers to augment the four you already have. I saw where you’ve increased the security patrols, but I want you to take it a step further. I want one squad on four hour alert, and one platoon on twelve hour alert, and enough SWCCs and boats to support operations, including Mark Fives. I also want cadre to have armed cover when they are running BUDS classes.”