piling rocks and digging shallow ditches in the floor.
“XO, Boss, you need to hear this,” Fazel called, then briefed Ramey and Jerry in a soft voice. Jerry was surprised to learn Shirin’s identity, and dismayed at her condition. It was a complication they could have done without. The lieutenant’s reaction was more extreme, almost hostile.
“And the fun just keeps coming.” Ramey had been digging out a fighting position near the cave mouth. “Maybe I should just make this a little deeper and crawl in. Save us a lot of trouble.”
Jerry said, “Matt, you can’t blame yourself — ”
“Shut up!” The SEAL’s vehemence shocked Jerry. Ramey had put one hand on his weapon, and Jerry wasn’t sure if it was just habit or deliberate intent. “It’s your fault Higgs is dead, and then you made us leave him behind. I should have left you and taken him instead. We don’t even know if he was really dead.”
“He was dead, Lieutenant.”
“So you say.”
“I feel as bad about it as you do. I was responsible for him.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t work and train with him for a year and a half. How many deployments had he been on? How well could he shoot? Do you even know if he was married?”
The outburst had drawn everyone’s attention, although to Phillips’s credit, he continued to keep watch from just outside the cave mouth. Shirin was awake now, too, watching Ramey’s angry rant with a confused expression. Yousef sat next to her, looking concerned. He knew Jerry was the senior officer. He also knew the Americans had lost a man.
Lapointe was the senior petty officer. Slowly easing himself over to Jerry, he said quietly, “Sir, let’s go outside. Doc, can you help the Boss with his position?”
Gratefully, Jerry followed the petty officer outside. They found a spot a short distance from the cave, Lapointe sat down with his rifle across his knees.
Jerry stood, leaning against the hillside. Thoughts flew though his mind. Ramey was clearly upset, grieving, under great stress. But that was no excuse for his outburst; naval discipline had just been shattered. Admittedly this wasn’t the usual senior-junior relationship. And weren’t they all under stress?
Lapointe kept his eyes on the landscape. “Sir, I’m sorry about the lieutenant. We all feel like he does, but he’s the guy in charge, so Higgs’s loss hit him harder.”
Jerry wasn’t buying it. “I’ve lost people, too. It always sucks, but you don’t fall apart. And you’re SEALs. This may be a little harsh, but aren’t you prepared to lose a man when you go on a mission?”
“Not like that, sir. From a freak accident? And when I said
He saw Jerry start to speak, but interrupted. “I’m not kidding, sir. We’ve never left anyone behind before. At all. Ever. This would be the first time.”
Jerry shrugged helplessly. “I’ve thought about almost nothing else since we came ashore. I sent him back to open the breaker. I’m not as familiar with the ASDS as Higgs and Carlson. Was there something else I could have done? Was there some sign that Higgs and I both missed? You can damn well believe an investigating board will be asking those same questions when we get back.
“But Higgs wasn’t severely wounded, he was gone. Doc checked him before we left; he was dead. I’ve been trying to imagine how we could have gotten him out and ashore if he’d only been injured.”
“We would have found a way,” Lapointe answered flatly.
Mitchell nodded as Lapointe continued. “We would have tried our damnedest. Higgs might have died anyway, but the point is we would have tried.
“Maybe it’s the lack of trying that the boss is mad about,” the petty officer reasoned. “You didn’t even try.”
“We couldn’t help him. He was dead, and trying to recover his remains would have risked more lives, and the mission. The batteries had already started exploding. I made the call to preserve as many lives as possible.” Jerry was thinking like an XO now, his thoughts clearing.
“My brain agrees with you, sir, but other parts still need convincing. We just haven’t had a chance to think about it much. There’s something else, too.”
“What? There’s more?” Jerry tried not to sound too dismayed.
“The lieutenant is mission-oriented. Shoot, we all are. But he really takes a job on board, and we’re on ‘Plan C’ at this point. It doesn’t matter what the reason is. A mission failure is a personal failure for him. And he’s never failed.”
“He’s worried about us making it back.” It was a question, but Jerry made it a flat statement.
“He won’t say so, but hell, yes, XO. We planned the bejesus out of this job, but if the pickup tomorrow doesn’t go down, we start winging it. There is no ‘Plan D.
Lapointe paused, and Jerry sensed that he was waiting for something from him. “So what do you want me to do?”
“We need Matt’s, I mean, Mr. Ramey’s head in the game until it’s over. He’s been shaken, and badly, and right now he isn’t firing on all cylinders. He’s starting to make mistakes.”
Jerry’s perplexed expression amused Lapointe. “You haven’t been trained as a SEAL, so you don’t know what to look for. The mistakes are little ones, but they’re mistakes all the same. That has got to change. And the only way I can see that happening is you’ve got to stop being nice. You can’t be oozing with sympathy, no matter how much he may be hurting inside.”
“Are you serious?” Jerry exclaimed.
“Deadly serious, XO. Sympathy is between shit and syphilis in the dictionary, and it’s about as useful. A SEAL doesn’t respond to sympathy. When one of us is down the rest of us don’t tell him everything will be all right, or that he did his best; we kick ‘em in the balls and yell at him to get his ass in gear. Right now Mr. Ramey feels like a loser, and that kind of mentality is fatal. It’s beaten into us from the very first day at BUDS that it pays to be a winner.”
“Yeah, Vernon mentioned that,” admitted Jerry.
“Well, he wasn’t lying. I need — no, correction — we need Mr. Ramey to recalibrate his attitude and start wanting to win again. If the only way that happens is for you to be a flaming asshole, then, oh well. You’re a big boy, you’ll get over it.”
Jerry stepped away from Lapointe as he considered the SEAL’s assessment of the platoon leader’s damaged psyche. It seemed to make sense, when viewed through the contorted lens of a SEAL mind-set. But Jerry knew he wasn’t a “screamer,” he just wasn’t wired that way, and on those rare occasions when he did try, the results were pretty pathetic.
“I hear you, Petty Officer Lapointe,” Jerry said as he turned to face him. “But I have to warn you, I make a lousy flaming asshole. However, I can be a demanding SOB if the situation warrants it.”
Lapointe grinned. “If all you do, sir, is nag his ass, and don’t cut him any slack, I think I can live with that.”
When the two returned to the cave, they found Lieutenant Ramey waiting outside. Ostensibly, he was on lookout, but he motioned to Lapointe and the petty officer went inside,
“XO, sir. I was way out of line.” Ramey’s voice held little emotion, but Jerry could tell by the tightness in his jaw that he was fighting to keep it in check. “There was no excuse for what I said. Please accept my apology.” He was almost at attention, maybe unnecessary for the circumstance but necessary for control.
“It’s accepted, Lieutenant.” Jerry could have said more, but his recent crash course on SEAL psychology told him to keep it short. “Are you able to lead the team?”
“Absolutely,” Ramey answered, but the lieutenant’s voice was strained.
Jerry wasn’t convinced, but really had no alternative but to accept Ramey’s answer. He searched for something else to say or ask, but again decided that less was more. “Let’s get inside, then.”
“Yes, sir.”
Phillips came out to take lookout duty. Inside, the cave seemed bright, and warm, and then Jerry saw that the SEALs had set up a small stove. They were heating water and MREs, and Fazel was cooking. Phillips had finished first, but the others were still eating.
