There was no cheering among Brannigan's Brigands, only a quiet acceptance of the outcome of Operation Battleline. Now they needed some time and space to catch their breath, and work themselves back to their premission way of life. The grinding of a few administrative wheels brought about some transfers of the newer men, since there was no longer a lot for them to do aboard the Daly. James Duncan, Lamar Smith, Tom Greene, J. T. Snooker, Chuck Betnarik, Tiny Burke, and Hump Dobbs said their good-byes and were carried away via a U. S. Navy Seahawk chopper to the nearby CVBG for further transportation to other duty stations. That left twenty-four total members of the detachment; five more than they had before the onset of Operation Battleline. Some of the other new men--Ensign Taylor, Matsuno, Benson, Sturgis, and MacTavish--were now permanently assigned to the detachment.
These unexpected reinforcements made the Brigands slightly suspicious. Perhaps the powers-that-be had some future heavy-duty plans for them. Anything could happen in that part of the world.
.
8 SEPTEMBER 1400 HOURS
ONE sign that the SEALs were ready to get on with things as before was that the BVBL--Brigand Volleyball League--was back in business, reorganized and ready to play its particular brand of the sport. That meant outrageous bad-mouthing, charging under the net and tackling opposition players, refusal to give up the ball when a side's service was ended, and other irregularities that added so much charm to the contests. The two permanently organized teams had no names other than those given them by their opponents, such as the Dickheads, Candy Asses, Ass Faces, and a colorful one from the mind of Chad Murchison who christened the other team as the Ignoble Flaneurs. Bruno Puglisi like the sound of the name until he learned it meant Despicable Loafers. Even then he wasn't quite sure if it was really an insult.
Now, in the second game of the new season, a particularly competitive contest was under way, with a nothing-to-nothing tie score that had held for quite a while. This impasse had occurred because of things such as taped rolls of gasket material being thrown at the servers while they tried to hit the balls over the net. The gaskets were stolen from the engine and maintenance compartments on the vehicle decks forward of the launching dock, and rolled into projectiles that weren't heavy, but stung sharply when they struck anybody. With a little creative effort, the duct tape used in the construction could be fashioned into sharp edges.
Ensign Orlando Taylor thoroughly enjoyed the rough-and-tumble version of volleyball. He found this disregard of any sort of rules or discipline refreshing and stimulating after the strict upbringing in his father's house, where obedience to decorum was paramount. This included forbidding participation in sports because Mr. Taylor considered them detrimental to getting a good education.
The scoreless game that day followed the usual procedures, but things went even more awry when Bruno Puglisi punched Monty Sturgis through the net after he spiked the ball. Sturgis went ape, charging through the stringed barrier so hard that he ripped it in two. He and Puglisi went at it, swinging hard punches and counterpunches viciously as the melee developed. They eventually began kicking at each other amid bellows of encouragement from the other players. The two-man riot could have gone on for a lot longer until a bawling voice drowned out the noise of the ruckus.
"What the fuck is going on?"
The sound of the Skipper's bellowing brought instant peace over the scene. Everyone turned his way, seeing that SCPO Buford Dawkins was with him. The senior chief walked up to the damaged net. "You heard the commanding officer. Answer the question."
Taylor felt it was his responsibility, since he was the senior ranking man present. He stepped forward with a salute, saying, "Sir! We are playing volleyball."
"Ah, yes," Brannigan said. "The BVBL, hey? And there seems to be a league violation of some sort here. At least a somewhat serious disagreement as to whether an infraction has occurred."
"Yes, sir!" piped up a few voices.
"Well, well," Brannigan mused. "Something must be done about this, as in any other sport." He was thoughtful for a few moments, then made an announcement. "As of this moment I am appointing Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins as the Commissioner of the Brigand Volleyball League." He turned to Dawkins. "I expect you to hold a hearing on this incident, Commissioner, and see that proper justice is dispensed to all concerned. And remember that good sportsmanship must be encouraged. As the old saying goes, 'It isn't whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.'
"Aye, sir!" Dawkins said. He glared at the players. "Alright! Assemble in the shade at the aft side of the island. Do it now!"
Brannigan walked off as the players headed for the meeting place, with the senior chief following. When they arrived at the spot, each team split off to keep separate from their opponents, and Dawkins gave them yet another scowling glare.
"As officially appointed Commissioner of the Brigand Volleyball League I do hereby call this hearing to order, and that means ever'body shut the fuck up." He paused to make sure his authority was recognized. "Alright! This team on my left. You, Miskoski. What started this ruckus?"
"Well, Senior Chief, my good buddy Petty Officer Second Class Bruno Puglisi of the United States Navy was playing volleyball," Joe announced.
"Was he playing in an officially sanctioned game of the Brigand Volleyball League?" the Senior Chief asked.
"Yes, Senior Chief, and Petty Officer Puglisi was playing a straight-up game when all of a sudden one of them hooligans by the name of Sturgis hauled off and pasted him in his snot locker. For no reason! Then, o' course, Petty Officer Puglisi had to pertect hisself to keep from getting the shit beat out of him."
"Okay," the Senior Chief said. "That's enough. Now I need a spokesguy from the other team. Murchison, you"--he stopped speaking--"on the other hand, nobody can understand what you say. So Assad, you testify."
"Right, Senior Chief. And I'd like to say straight off that Miskoski is a goddamn rotten liar and I wouldn't trust him any further than that snake that bit the raghead. And I mean that in all respect."
"So noted," the Senior Chief said. "Proceed with your testimony."
"Well, my teammate and gentleman Petty Officer First Class Montgomery Sturgis, who I would like to remind you outranks his assassin, was attacked and nearly killed during the game by Petty Officer Second Class Bruno 'the Brute' Puglisi right after making a legal, authorized spike of the ball. And I ain't sure, but I thought Puglisi pulled a knife on Monty. Anyhow, he attacked poor Monty out of pure meanness."
"Okay, that's enough," the Senior Chief said. He appeared to lapse into deep thought for a few moments, then said, "I've reached a verdict. Both Puglisi and Sturgis are guilty of poor sportsmanship, cheating, and assault and battery, along with conduct unbecoming a human being. I therefore fine them four cases of beer each. They are to have said brew purchased no later than two bells in the evening watch, and see that it is placed iced-down and cold in the ready room. At that time the beer will be consumed by all members of the SEAL detachment commanded by Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan. I have rendered my decision in this matter, and it is final! Dismissed!"