He shuffled the papers again. Teamwork. That was the hallmark of the SEALS. In the field they had to operate as a team. Every man had to know what the SEAL beside him and behind could do and would do under any combat situation. There could be no guesswork, no lost time hoping somebody would do his job.
Those kind of glitches killed SEALS. He wanted no more dead men on his watch.
He dug into the paperwork again, working out specific exercises and problems to help the new men function smoothly with the experienced ones. He also had to see that the men in new positions, such as his radio operator, would know what to do and when to do it in every possible situation.
He worked over the papers again and when he looked up, Jaybird stood in the doorway with his red life vest on.
"The troops are ready for training, sir," Jaybird said.
Murdock hesitated. When he was here as a senior training officer he used to take out his training boat team wearing clean, perfectly pressed khakis in contrast to their sweat-, mud-, and sand-lathered cammies. No time for that today.
He stood, and couldn't suppress a groan. The damn shrapnel.
Jaybird frowned a moment. "L-T, Doc will be with us and he has his full kit with lots of Motrin and morphine."
"You didn't hear a thing, Jaybird. Let's get out there with the troops."
The platoon double-timed into the sand of the Pacific Ocean and directly to the pile of much-used telephone poles. The men were lined up in two squads, and Murdock halted them and grinned.
"Ladies, we'll have a meeting of the sewing society today. Each squad grab a pole and sit down and put it on your laps. It's review time."
The SEALS knew what was coming. They lined up, picked up a three-hundred-pound butt end of a former telephone pole, and sat down with it on their thighs.
"Move your friend the log up to your chests, ladies." The logs moved and Murdock nodded. "Ready? It's sit-up time. Hold the log in place and do sit-ups. Ten will be enough. Move!"
These seasoned veterans had been through the log PT dozens of times during and since their BUD/S training, but it still took the ultimate in teamwork and guts. If just one SEAL didn't lift his share, the log wouldn't come up and the whole squad would fail.
The logs came up, slowly at first, then quicker as the men counted off the ten sit-ups.
"Fair, fair," Murdock barked. "I've had raw recruits do it better. Some of you are getting old and sloppy. Okay, drop your friend the pole in the sand and on your feet."
He waited for them to stand beside their logs. "We'll play a little pickup, men. Lift that little toothpick to your knees." He waited as fourteen backs strained and lifted. "Now take it to your waist." They did.
"Up to your shoulders. Move it!"
Murdock waited until the logs were lifted quickly to shoulder height. Then he bent to the ground and worked on the laces on his boots. The SEALS held the log in position. Murdock stood and grinned at them. "Not bad, not bad. Now let's push it over your heads, arms straight. Move!" The logs pressed upward, wavered, then were up clean for both squads. Murdock nodded. "Yes, fair. Drop your toothpick to your shoulders and we'll do that again, fifteen times. Count them off." He waited as the men pushed the heavy poles upward the fifteen times barking off the number with each completion.
Murdock shook his head. "Slow, you ladies are slow as my grandmother. Enough of that. Let's take a little hike. In case you've forgotten, we start out on the left foot. Works best if you all try to stay in step."
Lieutenant Dewitt marched along with his squad. With his broken left arm, there wasn't a thing he could do to help them. "How far today, L-T?" a voice shouted from one of the men.
"Was going to be only five miles," Murdock said. "Now I think we'll do seven instead." He looked at the troops. "Any more questions?"
There were none.
"Let's move out," Murdock called, and the sixteen SEALS marched ahead in the soft sand along the Coronado Strand. They had done it before, but not for a long time. The log was unforgiving and a quick way to whip the SEALS back into fighting shape. Murdock knew it and the men knew it.
Somebody sang out with the ages-old cadence count chant. It was permitted. "You had a good home and you left."
"Damn right!"
"You had a good home and you left."
"Damn right!"
"Sound off."
"One, two."
"Sound off."
"Three, four."
"Cadence count."
"One two three four… three four!"
A new verse came out. "Love those girls all dressed in red."
"Love those girls all dressed in red."
"They don't mind giving us head."
"They don't mind giving us head."
Dewitt moved up beside Murdock, who led the march. "Seven miles?"
"Damn right. We don't have time to fuck around. We could get a mission anytime now that the saintly CIA is twisting our tails. Those Damn Christians In Action are always coming up with some world crisis. We might only have a week to get these puppies back in shape. Now that Don Stroh has pegged us as the CIA's pet tiger, they can unleash whenever they feel the need. We've got to be ready."
Dewitt didn't respond.
Murdock looked over at him. "Broken Wing, I like that. The down-side is that if we get a call while that wing is still in the cast, we leave you high and dry here on the grinder."
Dewitt scowled and spat into the sand. "The thought had occurred to me. Not that I like it. I'm sticking pins in my CNO doll every night telling him not to call us for another six weeks."
"Yeah, hope it works. If we do leave you behind, I'll put Jaybird into your slot. Only thing I can do."
"Damn well better not come to that," Dewitt said. He looked behind and saw that his squad was functioning according to the book. Log on shoulders, held with both hands, feet in position lock-step, marching to the same drummer.
A little over forty-five minutes later they hit the three-and-a-half mile turnaround point and headed back. Murdock took them down to the wet sand, which was easier to march on.
"You get soft?" Dewitt asked Murdock as he pulled up beside him.
"Hell, no, the men are getting tired walking in that damn loose sand."
Dewitt nodded, then frowned and stumbled. He caught himself, looking sheepishly at Murdock.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just stubbed my toe."
A moment later he stumbled again and went down to his knees. Before Murdock could yell, Doc Ellsworth had pulled out of ranks and run up to where Dewitt had dropped forward to rest on his good right hand and his knees.
17
Doc Ellsworth dropped to both knees beside Lieutenant Dewitt. He looked at his face, then gently eased the SEAL sideways until he sat on the hard sand.
Dewitt shook his head and rubbed his face with his right hand.
"So damn dizzy. Can't figure it out. Where the hell am I?"
"Sir! Lieutenant Dewitt." Doc shook his shoulder gently. "You stumbled and went down. Complained of being dizzy. Sir, do you know where you are?"
"Damned grinder somewhere." He shook his head again, blinked, and stared at Doc. "Hi, Ellsworth, what's happening?"
"You stumbled, sir, and fell. How are you feeling?"
"Stumbled? Damn. Feeling? Oh, a little woozy, like a cheap drunk. What have I been drinking?"
"Only coffee, sir. It could be the pain pills they gave you at sick call. What meds are you taking?"
Dewitt blinked. "Pills?"
"Yes, sir, we'll figure that out later. Just sit still." Doc turned to Murdock. "A jeep would come in handy, sir."