was going to be outside the church in the trunk of that car long before he arrived there. We planned that operation less than two weeks ago and it was known only to a handful of members in the detachment and military intelligence. No one in the RUC or regular army units knew about it . . . So how did RIRA find out?’
The ops officer and second in command went thoughtfully quiet.
Hank caught glimpses of England through the clouds. His first sight of the old world was fascinating but it also increased a feeling of uneasiness that had been slowly growing deep within him. Not that it was unusual for Hank to get nervous about anything that could drastically affect his career. But this was different. He was heading into the complete unknown and, what was truly new for him, doing it on his own.
When his commanding officer first told him six months ago that he was on the shortlist for the job he was jazzed, but when it was made official a couple of months later he began to feel apprehensive. Up until then he had not allowed himself to think of all the things he would have to deal with, but confirmation brought a myriad concerns, not all of them work related. He had four months to get organised and his first problem was what to do with the house for the two years abroad. He considered selling it, but when he suggested that to Kathryn she went nuts, ranting about how much time and money they had spent getting it just right. Hank knew her horrified reaction was not just to do with the house. He pulled back from selling it and placed an advertisement on the Navy website newsletter offering it up for rental. Kathryn tried to fight that option too. She said the thought of complete strangers living in their home revolted her. Hank totally refused to leave the damn thing empty for two years while still paying the mortgage. She gave in but it was only the start of his Kathryn-related problems.
Janet and Helen, their five- and six-year-old girls, were another concern. He wondered how they would find moving to a new country and a foreign school even though, thankfully, their initial reaction was ‘cool’. Marty Whelan, the guy Hank was replacing, turned out to be a great help. Marty, who had a wife and child, had gone through everything Hank was about to and assured him all would be fine and that in no time at all they would be settled in. He reminded Hank that the posting with the Brits was a couple of decades old and that most of those who had gone before him had been married with kids and managed okay. Hank knew he was getting too strung out about the move and blamed Kathryn for much of his stress. She was by far his biggest problem at the moment. He was afraid this trip was going to test just about every aspect of their relationship. The problem was she did not want to go to England and her reason was deep-seated, family and historical. She hated the English and everything about them. Not that she had ever known a single English person or even been to England before. She had been brought up to hate them.
The captain’s voice filled the cabin announcing that there were twenty minutes before landing. Hank pushed his fingers through his short, brown hair. He had not slept a wink on the flight even after four beers and four Jack Daniels chasers. He prided himself on being able to sleep anywhere, anytime, wet or dry, on rocks or feathers, but the combination of the new appointment and family concerns was more than he had ever had to handle at any one time before. He finally decided the best way to deal with Kathryn’s issues was to ignore them. This trip was about his career and not her problems with the English. He was going to spend two years with the Special Boat Service (SBS). If he did well he could look forward to a promotion to E8 on his return. That promotion was the true source of his concerns. Without it, and it was not guaranteed by a long shot, he could look forward to three or four more years max in the Navy and then it was civvy street. The very thought depressed him. His dream was to be a lifer but it all hinged on how he was going to get on with - and impress - this foreign Special Forces outfit that his own American one was originally based on.
He had received several briefings on what to expect and how to comport himself.The two organisations were related, i.e. both were Navy and played in the water, though not exclusively, but they were also quite different. Americans gave the impression of being more laid back than the British, and in most cases that was true, but the SEALs were in fact a much more rigid structure and more traditional than the SBS. The SEALs were also far wealthier. The SBS had seen more action in the past few decades and boasted a greater number of successes, but Hank was not intimidated by that and proud to be a Navy SEAL.
He knew that if he wanted to return home in two years with an outstanding report he was going to have to impress. The issue was not if he could achieve his goals, but how. He had seen action in the Gulf War even though that was an overall disappointment for the SEALs, who were hardly utilised. His team had retaken a small oil platform in the Persian Gulf to prevent the Iraqis from destroying it, but there had been no resistance and it was basically a formality. He had also been part of the team that liberated the US embassy in Kuwait, but that was just a show for the press, roping down from a helicopter on to the roof while journalists, who had been there days before, filmed the event from outside on the street in a somewhat carnival atmosphere. Somalia was a little more hairy for him but he missed out on the bigger engagements. Afghanistan had looked hopeful but ended up another disappointment. As usual, it seemed, he arrived too late to see the best of the action. It was always about being in the right place at the right time and he never was. Two years with the Brits, however, did not necessarily mean a break in those possibilities.There had been rumours of previous exchange officers seeing action with the Brits, and not just in the Gulf or Afghanistan. He would just have to wait and see how true that was.
Hank checked his daughters were belted into their seats beside him and glanced over at Kathryn the other side of the aisle. She always looked pretty to him, even when she was stressed and unhappy. Her auburn shoulder- length hair shone like it had just been washed. It fascinated him the way it always seemed to fall perfectly into place. But her eyes looked tired as they stared ahead at nothing and there was a slight frown across her forehead. She was still annoyed at having to travel economy class. That was tough, he thought. The overseas allowances made this a good money trip and he was not about to squander it on an expensive upgrade. It annoyed him the way she had no respect for money. Hank’s philosophy was that of a Special Forces soldier: economy and planning, but despite his insistence he reckoned he lost as many fights with Kathryn as he won. The two things he regretted giving into most were the house and the car, both more than they could sensibly afford. It irked him every time he thought of the size of the combined monthly payments. Now the damned car was in storage for two years while they continued paying for it.
He went back to the view out of his window, his thoughts gravitating once again to his new posting. He had no idea what he would be doing once he arrived in Poole town. In some ways, coming to England would be like starting over. That was one of the big pluses for him. Making friends was not a problem. He liked to work hard and party harder, which had been as much a part of his problem as it was his charm. The plan for this trip was to hold off in the party department until he was more familiar with the guys. It was a matter of record that Hank could make an ass of himself when drunk, which was why he almost lost out on getting the promotion he needed to qualify for this job. But this trip was as much about public relations as maintaining the good rapport they had with their cousins over the pond. Hank had learned that his boss had based his final decision on the conclusion that Hank might just fit in with the Brits quite well; after all, the Brits liked their beer too.
‘Mommy,’ Helen said, leaning into the aisle.‘Are we nearly in England?’
‘Yeah, sweety. We’re nearly in England,’ Kathryn replied, wishing her little girl wasn’t so excited. The nose of the plane dipped a little to lose height.
‘Pinch your nose and blow into your ears the way we practised it, honey,’ Kathryn advised. ‘You too, Janet.’ The two girls pinched their noses and blew repeatedly, their little cheeks puffing out.
‘I felt a pop, Mommy,’ Janet said.
‘That’s good, honey.’ Kathryn glanced at Hank, who was still staring out of the window, absently rubbing his palms. She wanted to put her hands on his and tell him he was going to do just fine, but she couldn’t. He may be worried about the next two years, but so was she. She resented him for not understanding her needs. While he was doing his job she was looking forward to two years of hell.
Kathryn stood in the arrivals lounge between two trolleys piled high with suitcases, and Helen and Janet parked tiredly on top of them. Hank had gone outside to look for Marty, who was supposed to be meeting them. Kathryn was tired and wondered how long it would take to get to wherever they were headed. She had no interest in looking at a map of the country and knew nothing about where they were going, how far it was, or even in what part of England it was situated.
