Jack Terral - Seals (2005)

Additionally, Chad's face, once long and sort of girlish, was square jawed now, with a masculine maturity that made it hard to realize he was that same sweet boy she had known through their preppy years and into college.

"Oh m'God!" she whispered to herself. "He's so handsome! So Brad Pitt!"

The tent flap opened and her assistant instructor stepped out. "Penny, the video is over. It's time to continue the instruction."

Penny nodded. "All right. I'm ready."

The two women went back inside the tent.

.

1700 HOURS LOCAL

THE day's work had ended for the UN team, and their evening meal would soon be ready, but Penny Brubaker was too excited to eat. The one thing she wanted more than anything else at that moment was to see Chad Murchison again.

When she walked into the SEAL bivouac, she noted that they had situated themselves in a sort of circle arrangement of tents. They sat in front of their canvas shelters in twos and threes, speaking quietly with one another. After a quick glance around, she saw Chad seated on a camp stool with two other men. As she approached them, the oldest noticed her and gave her a smile and a wave.

Chad turned, and stood up when he saw her. He smiled a greeting. "Hello, Penny."

"Hi, Chad," she said. She looked at the others. "Hello." "Penny," Chad said, "these are a couple of my platoon mates. Guys, this is a friend from my hometown. Penny Brubaker. Senior Chief Dawkins here is our fire team leader?' "How're you doing?" the senior chief said politely.

"And I'm Guttorm Olson," the other man said, introducing himself. "It's nice to meet you, Penny."

"Thank you," Penny said. "It's very nice to meet you too. Are you Norwegian?"

"Only by ancestry," Gutsy said. "I'm from Minnesota." "Can we fix you a cup of coffee?" Chad asked. "All we have are MREs, but it'll be hot and invigorating."

"No, thank you," Penny said. "I just dropped by so we could bring each other up to date."

"That's a great idea," Chad said. "How about a stroll? We're actually safer out here than we'd be in a large American city."

"I can believe that:' Penny said. She smiled at the senior chief and Gutsy. "It was nice meeting you."

The two young people walked out of the bivouac and began strolling along a route that would take them around the SEAL bivouac, the UN camp and the area occupied by the troops from the 101st Airborne Division. Everyone seemed tired from the day's activities, except for a half dozen air assault soldiers playing flies and grounders with a bat and softball.

Chad only took short glances at Penny during the impromptu promenade. Even without much makeup and wearing coveralls, she was still alluring. He cleared his throat to speak. "So how're things going with the United Nations?"

"Pretty good," she said. "The people here gave us an enthusiastic welcome. All of our facilities are going at full speed. I teach diet and sanitation, and just started some groups this morning."

"We're not doing a thing but keeping an eye on the warlord in the wooden castle over there," Chad said. "Between standing watch and patrolling, we're starting to get bored."

"I don't quite know what to think of that chief or whatever he is," Penny said. "My interpreter told me she learned that he and his people have slaves."

"I haven't heard anything about that:' Chad said.

"They were evidently conquered by the warlord in some battle or war a long time ago:' Penny said.

"You say they're slaves?"

"Yes," Penny replied. "And they are not allowed to take advantage of our services."

"Can't your boss do anything about that?"

Penny shook her head. "He can't do a thing to ease the situation because of a UN mandate that forbids aid teams to interfere with certain local customs and practices. We try to keep friction between us and the people's leaders to a minimum."

Chad stopped walking, turning to look at her. "I'll bet the Skipper can help out those slaves in the winking of an eye." "Who is the Skipper?"

"My commanding officer:' Chad said. "Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan. He'll go over there and give that warlord an attitude adjustment."

"Oh m'God!" Penny exclaimed. "They told us he was a powerful man! A warlord! He has an army, Chad!"

"He had an army," Chad said. "We just kicked his and his troops' asses but good. If that son of a bitch as much as blinks the wrong way, he'll find his butt right between the rock and a hard place."

Penny was stunned. Here was this tough guy she had once known as an awkward boyfriend, who in reality was now a stranger. That proverbial ninety-eight-pound weakling of those long ago days had disappeared forever. Instead, here he was as muscular as a football player, and talking about defeating entire armies in the company of somebody he called Wild Bill.

Chad took her hand. "Let's go talk with the Skipper. C'mon!"

.

BRANNIGAN'S CP

1720 HOURS LOCAL

LIEUTENANT Wild Bill Brannigan lay on his mattress pad inside the tent he used as his office. With very little paperwork to do, he had no furniture. Frank Lopez had organized a commo center with the newly acquired Shadow-fire radio and the platoon's PRC-112s in another tent.

The Skipper had almost drifted to sleep when he perceived the sound of footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes and waited. A moment later he heard Chad Murchison's voice.

"Sir! I need to have a word with you. It's me, Murchison." "Well, c'mon in then," Brannigan said irritably.

"Are you decent, sir? I have a young lady with me."

Brannigan laughed. "I'm having my way with two of the skankiest whores this side of Baghdad. So maybe I better join you out there if you're with a fucking lady." He got up and went to the flap, stepping outside. He stopped, his eyes opened wide. "Jesus, Murchison! You do have a young lady with you." He grinned as his face reddened with embarrassment. "Excuse me. Please. I thought Petty Officer Murchison was joking with me."

Penny smiled. She had run into all sorts of situations since going to work for the UN. "That's perfectly all right. I just hope those skanky whores can spare you for a moment or two."

Brannigan, liking her right away, laughed. "I truly apologize. And Murchison should have said he was with a charming young lady."

"You're most gallant," Penny said, smiling at the compliment.

"Sir," Murchison said, suppressing a chuckle. "This is Penny Brubaker, who works with the UN relief group. We're old friends from way back. She has some information she'd like to pass on to you."

"I just mentioned a situation to Chad," Penny said. "My boss, Dr. Bouchier, can do nothing about it. Chad said you could help."

"What's going on?"

"We've learned through our interpreters that this warlord, or whatever he is, has slaves," Penny explained. "He is not allowing them the benefits we are giving the other people."

"I'll get my cover," Brannigan said. "Take me to the doctor."

.

DR. B0UCHIER'S TENT

1730 HOURS LOCAL

THE doctor sat in the folding chair across from Brannigan. They sipped brandy from a couple of goblets that Bouchier kept in a special trunk along with other luxury items he allowed himself. He not only had Italian brandy, but could also boast of French champagne, Danish vodka and other expensive liquor. Additionally, he possessed bartending implements and an assortment of glasses in which to mix his favorite libations.

Brannigan had come over expecting an argument when it came to the matter of the slaves owned by the warlord. But he found that Bouchier not only had no objections if the SEAL officer chose to deal with the problem of the captive laborers, but encouraged him to take action.

"I am tightly bound by regulations," Bouchier explained, swirling his brandy around in his glass. "We in the UN must be exceedingly careful that we do not trespass into specific areas that deal with matters that are rather sensitive. Do you understand what I am saying?"