James Moore - SNAFU - Hunters

“Well if you’re looking for a hunter,” Simon said, “Nathan’s your man.”

“You know, it’s funny.” Nathan set down his beer. “I never was a big fan of hunting.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Simon said with a laugh.

“It’s true,” Nathan said, leaning back in his chair. “I remember the first time I took down a deer. My dad was there, congratulating me, patting me on the back. I knew how I was supposed to feel, but it’s not how I felt.”

“Sad you took out Bambi or something?” Leon asked, and the rest of the SEALs laughed. “You got a soft spot we don’t know about?”

“Nah,” Nathan lied, because that was part of it. “That deer was too easy to track, too easy to shoot. I never liked hunting animals. It just felt like cheating.”

Leon laughed. “That’s one way to brag. You should teach classes in that shit.”

The SEALs looked back at the marine, who stood silent and unblinking beside their table.

“You want somethin’?” Leon asked.

“The name’s Chris Donaldson,” he said, and the others introduced themselves. “I never wanted to come to Nam, but I signed up when my little brother got drafted. Thought maybe I could keep him safe. His name was Bradley.”

Bradley Donaldson. Nathan remembered the name. A young kid, 18-year-old marine. Two weeks ago they’d found his body by the river. What was left of it anyway.

Before Nathan could speak, they were interrupted by barking and yelling outside the tent. The SEALs leapt from their table and ran outside.

The chained guard dog, Rex, had got himself a piece of the pant-leg of a uniformed army officer. The man was sprawled on the ground, struggling to pull the fabric from the growling dog’s teeth.

“Get this thing off me,” he shouted.

“Down, Rex.” Buck pulled the dog by the collar then offered the man a hand up.

“Sorry about that, Chief,” Nathan shouted to the officer across the dirt clearing. “You wanna come inside for a drink?”

The man glared.

“What’re you doin’, Nathan?” Professor whispered from behind. “That’s General Cain.”

“General? But he’s got one star.”

“Those are army ranks, you dumb fuck.”

Shit.

“You—” the General pointed at Nathan, “come with me.” The man turned on his heel and marched towards the center of base camp.

The army was in charge of this region. The Navy SEALs were guests here, and it didn’t seem like their presence was much appreciated by some of the higher-ups. Rex’s attack on General Cain was probably not helping things – their makeshift bar was against regs, and Nathan’s disrespect might’ve just solidified their reputation with the brass.

Nathan ducked into the General’s office.

“I’ve heard all about you SEALs,” General Cain said, sitting at his desk. “You’re assassins.”

“We’re here to serve,” Nathan said.

“We’ve got this area under control,” the general said, his nostrils flaring. “We don’t need any outsiders sneaking around at night, killing from the shadows. I want you all to sit tight and let us work.”

“Understood.” Nathan nodded, but with the casualties mounting from an unseen VC squad, Nathan doubted whether Cain really did have control over the area. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“By all means,” the general said but Nathan doubted the man meant it.

“All the guys on the team will tell you they joined to serve their country, and it’s true. But there’s a lot of ways to serve your country, and they chose to join the SEALs. The real truth is they signed up for the action, and if you tell ‘em they can’t operate, there’s gonna be a lot of pent-up energy they’re gonna have to release somehow.”

Nathan pretended he was talking about his men, but he was really talking about himself – he didn’t come here for a vacation.

“Is that some kind of a threat?”

“Absolutely not. But these men have pushed themselves to the limit to come here. They’ve gone through hell, and more training than most people can imagine. It would be a shame to waste that talent.”

Nathan could tell he wasn’t going to change the general’s mind. On the way out, the general added, “Get rid of that fucking dog.”

Nathan brought the bad news back to the SEALs.

“What did you say to him?” Buck asked.

“Nothing,” Nathan said. “He’d already made up his mind about us.”

“So we’re supposed to just sit around and jack off all day?” Leon asked. “What is this bullshit? And what about the VC? People are getting killed out there.”

“I’m as pissed about it as you are,” Nathan said, “but it’s politics.”

They were supposed to sit on their asses, so they did for the next few days. A few more bodies were found, mangled like all the rest, a look of terror frozen in the eyes of those who still had them.

It was midday when the Professor came running to Nathan.

“Nathan,” he shouted, “we need you at the docks.”

“What’s up?” he asked, automatically reaching for his sidearm.

“It’s Deacon.”

Deacon worked on a special program with the SEALs, training freshwater river dolphins for underwater ops. Getting them to detect explosives, maybe even place them. The dolphins had better noses than any machine for detecting explosives, and they seemed to love the work.

Buck and Nathan ran to the docks and saw Deacon on his knees. In front of him lay the body of one of the dolphins, a former dolphin now, fileted just like the human victims.

“They killed Glenn,” Deacon shouted, rage pulsing from the man. “Nathan, you hear me? They killed Glenn.”

“How’d this happen?” Nathan asked gently, knowing he needed a calm Deacon if he was going to get to the bottom of this.

“I sent the three of ‘em on a training run down the river. They’ve done it plenty of times before. But this time they didn’t come back. When I went to find ‘em—” Deacon stopped and looked at the dolphin pieces.

“And the others?”

“I only found Glenn.” Deacon shook his head. “Rob and Billy are missing. Their trackers are offline.”

“They could still be alive,” Nathan said. “Maybe the trackers are out of range.”

“What’re we gonna do?” the Professor asked. “We gotta do something about this, right?”

“We’re running an op,” Nathan said. “Tonight.”

Leon wrinkled his brow. “To look for a couple of fuckin’ dolphins?”

Deacon’s face flashed with anger, and he swung a hard right. Leon brought his arm up just in time, and the fist struck with a dulled slapping sound. Then punches were flying from both men.

Nathan held back Deacon, and the Professor stood between him and Leon.

“Cool it,” the Professor said.

“Jesus,” Leon shouted at Deacon. “The fuck’s your problem?”

“You’re an asshole,” Deacon said.

Leon had a habit of pushing people’s buttons, seeing what he could get away with, but now was not the time.

“We consider those dolphins part of the team,” Nathan said.

“An expensive part,” the Professor added. “Dollar for dollar, those dolphins are about four times as valuable as us.”

“Besides,” Nathan said, “I think it’s time we secured the river.”

“But what about the general?”

“Fuck ‘im. We’ve got a job to do.”

The team made their way back to the operations tent, cleared the table then laid out their intel, plotting the previous attacks and looking for patterns.

“How’re we gonna find these guys?” the Professor asked. “The marines sweep the area constantly and they haven’t found jack.”

“That’s just the problem,” Nathan said. “They do these big daylight sweeps with forty-plus men. Anyone could hear ‘em coming a mile away. But at night, with a smaller team-”