John O'Brien - Takedown

“Up the middle? Are you insane?” Speer says upon hearing the plan. “We might as well toot horns now.”

The ship’s foghorn reverberates through the hull. For a moment, the team stands silent and then all break into fits of laughter. Well, all but Speer. He just stands staring at the hatch above.

“I was only fucking kidding,” he says.

Gaining enough breath to speak, Krandle tells the team that the captain wanted to sound the horn to see if anyone responded.

“It’s not like they wouldn’t see us coming anyway,” Krandle ends.

“Why didn’t we stay with the captain guy in Bangor? I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have launched us at the middle of an unknown town,” Speer says, readying his gear for the climb up.

“This was my call for the landing zone and you know it,” Krandle states.

“Yeah, sure… whatever.”

Krandle is used to this from Speer and takes it in stride. Speer’s sarcasm is usually directed at Blanchard so Krandle is happy it’s just Speer bitching. He knows once they are underway, this attitude will vanish and it will be all business. This is just Speer’s way of dispelling anxiety. Everyone has their own. Some teams joke around, tease, tell lies about their own sexual prowess and/or their teammates lack thereof. With this team, it’s everyone listening to Speer complain about one thing or another.

Speer isn’t too picky about his grumbling. One time he went on and on about how sea crabs were going to give them all away. Apparently, Speer believed the beach they were going in on was a breeding ground for a particular type of crab. He swore that command knew this and was out to get them because they picked that spot for landing. He came up with all sorts of facts and figures putting the number of crabs there at enough to completely cover the beach. Speer was certain that them having to walk over the crabs was going to make enough noise to give them away. Upon landing, not a crab was seen.

In an absolute episode of chattiness during a break, Miller commented, “Crabs damn near ate me alive. We were lucky to get off that beach.”

“Fuck you, Miller. They don’t come out at night,” Speer replied. It was unknown to any of them whether Speer actually realized he defeated his own previous argument that the beach was going to be full of them upon their landing.

“The only crabs you know about are in your pants,” Ortiz said, chuckling.

“Got ‘em from your sister,” Speer said.

“Hope you had fun with that, amigo. She weighs almost three hundred pounds.”

Krandle smiles at the memory. They finish getting their gear ready — waterproofing their radios, mags, and sealing plastic bags over the suppressors and barrels. Making their way topside, the team opens the storage locker on deck, removing the zodiac and readying it. They are soon in the water zipping their way toward shore.

Crouched low on the gunwales, they ride the ocean swells. The rubber craft, with its silent engine propelling it, rides up the back of each wave, crests, and then angles downward to the valley, sending small sprays of salt water outward. Krandle sees the shore ahead as they rise up on top, losing sight of it as they descend the slopes. The tall structure of the hotel in the middle of a stretch of houses appears in the center of his vision each time. And, at the summit of each ridge of water, it grows larger.

Feeling his M-4 against his chest with each bounce and smelling the tang of the sea, Krandle sees the small breakers loom ahead. He feels his heartbeat as his body is keyed up on adrenaline.

No matter how many times I’ve done this, it never gets any easier, he thinks as they approach the breaking waves.

In some ways it does get easier but in others, more difficult. Each and every time, he knows he is bucking the odds. He also knows that he would be keyed up even if it was only training.

Hell, who wouldn’t, it’s just fun zipping through the water like this , he thinks, listening to the hiss of the boat riding the open water before focusing back on the upcoming landing.

Each time the town comes into view, Krandle looks for movement or winking lights that would indicate someone doesn’t want their company. They reach the first of the cresting waves. The rubber craft slews side to side as they enter the rougher water. Krandle feels a lurch as the propeller has a hard time gaining purchase in the turmoil of a wave, but they are soon through it and riding up the next one.

The motor is cut and raised just prior to hitting the sandy beach and the craft glides up on the sand. The team instantly slides to the sides. Speer and Ortiz rush to the front to provide cover. Blanchard and Miller grab the front handles and, with him and Franklin providing cover to the sides, they rush up the beach with the zodiac in tow.

They rush past sand volleyball courts set up in front of the large hotel and make for a concrete wall with steps on either side leading upward. Krandle hears only the sound of the team’s boots digging into the soft sand, the hiss of the zodiac as it is dragged across the expanse of beach, and his own heavy breathing. Reaching the tall wall, they drop the rubber craft and stack against the retaining wall.

There’s little sound as the team removes the wrappers from their weapons and mags. In an instant, they are ready. It’s all quiet except for the soft rush of small waves rolling up on the wet sand and an occasional cry of a gull as it soars lazily, riding the light breeze. Paper rustles at his feet as wind blows through debris piled against the retaining wall. Feeling the heat radiate from the wall with his shoulder pressed against it, he crouches in the silence, listening. There aren’t any shouts of discovery, footsteps pounding on the hard surface over their heads, and better yet, there aren’t any gunshots aimed in their general vicinity.

“You know, chief, we could just leave. Grab a vehicle and head inland to look for our families,” Speer suggests.

“That’ll be enough of that kind of talk, Speer,” Krandle replies.

“I’m just saying, the longer we wait to go look, the less chance we have of finding them.”

“We may get that chance later, but for now, we’re staying, so stow it,” Krandle says.

“Okay. I gotcha. Know that I’m with you regardless. We’re all thinking it and it had to be said,” Speer comments.

“Well, it’s said and now you can drop it,” Krandle responds.

The very same thought has passed through Krandle’s mind a time or two. Thoughts of his family have surfaced several times and he hopes they are okay. That’s one of the major reasons he is now crouched on this forlorn beach — the desire to see firsthand just how bad things are. Even though he and his dad haven’t seen eye-to-eye on occasion, and haven’t really talked in some time, he would like to know that the old man is okay. His mom passed away some time ago from cancer; so it’s just the old man and him. He knows he won’t set off to look for him, though, as he feels a responsibility toward his men and those of the sub. He’s never shirked his duty and won’t now.

“What now?” Franklin asks after they wait several minutes to see if there is any response to their landing.

It isn’t like anyone with a view of the beach doesn’t know that they are there. Anyone in town would know the sub is here after the captain blew the foghorn. This isn’t like their other missions where they would hole up in hiding to see if they had been discovered during their infiltration. In those times, they would fold into the densest growth they could find and wait twenty minutes to see if they had been discovered. When the normal sounds of the area began again, they would relax, release the aerial support, and continue.