The bulk of Fort Story, the forest, belonged to the Navy and Marine Corps’ operators, though they sometimes could be seen on other parts of the base.
Dependants using the beach would sometimes see men in exotic diving gear suddenly emerging from the water. Base residents often witnessed high-speed watercraft disgorging a line of swimmers laden with weapons and tools of their trade into tepid waters. The base police force reminded its rookies not to be alarmed if they encountered soaking wet, heavily armed men working their way along the road.
Marines struggled through the last days of the Amphibious Recon Course here, patrolling for days across the base unobserved. SEALs practiced CQB, close quarters battle, inside a labyrinth of underground concrete bunkers that connected four shore gun emplacements. Now rendered defunct by radar and other technologies, the weapons were removed long ago.
The bunkers once housed Explosive Ordnance Disposal Mobile Unit Two and Training and Evaluation Unit Two. EODMU TWO moved to the Naval Amphibious Base at Little Creek Virginia. EODTEU TWO obtained a more modern facility at Fort Story, but retained possession of the ancient bunkers.
Every two years each EOD detachment in the Navy rotated through TEU TWO on the East coast or TEU ONE on the West coast to complete six weeks of refresher training called Readiness Improvement Training or READIMPT. The training was in preparation for re-certifying the detachment as a deployable asset. Now it was Det Four’s turn.
While in training the detachment would learn the newest information regarding each of their mission areas. The training routine was one or two days of classroom time followed by two or three days of drills imposed upon the det by the TEU TWO instructors. It was a great time for the det to hone their skills and to develop teamwork. It was also a great time for the junior EOD Techs, the Basic Techs, to work on their Personal Qualification System. Jazz intended to get his PQS book signed off in order to pursue Senior Technician.
When he told Melanie about READIMPT she was not happy. She could not fathom that he had to go to Virginia for six weeks while she was alone in Texas.
“This is feeling like the ship again,” Melanie said as her shoulders slumped.
“How?” Jazz asked though he already knew.
“You’re gone even when you’re home.”
Jazz could see that Melanie was defeated. He put his arms around her. “Maybe we’ll fly you guys up while I am there. You could stay with Mom and Dad.”
Jazz ran on an asphalt road now, he passed the demolition range and the helicopter landing zone. He continued on the access road winding through the forest until he arrived at the “Hill of Woe,” a long steep incline of sand and turned ankles. He could see Dee and T-Ball already at the top gasping for breath.
As he ascended he felt the pain, mostly in his hips. Several times Jazz fell forward digging his hands in the sand in front of him as minor avalanches of sand slipped away from under his feet. He was nearly walking when he reached the top.
“Hooya,” he croaked, trying to show spirit to his teammates.
“Bitch ain’t it, LT?” remarked Delgado.
“Mmmhmm.”
When the last det member, Keating, reached the top, they formed up and ran their last half-mile back to TEU TWO together.
In the parking lot T-Ball spoke up.
“Ash, recognize that truck?”
“Yep, looks like Denke’s here.”
Keating patted Jazz on the back.
Det Four was in the classroom phase of IEDs. Their instructor was a chief petty officer named Potter. Like all instructors at the training unit, Potter kept abreast of the latest intelligence and technology in his mission area by interfacing with the FBI, ATF, and the EOD Technology Division in Indian Head, Maryland. His first lecture covered bombings in the recent past carried out by known terrorists, followed by those that had no claimants. After that they took a coffee break and he gave a lesson on the newest techniques used by terrorists. The afternoon class was scheduled to be a review of tools and methods used in the IED mission area by U.S. forces and their allies given by Hull Technician First Class Yurwitz.
Through Potter’s class, Jazz sat in the back of the room eyeing Denke sitting up front. Grover Denke was skinnier than Jazz imagined. He expected the senior chief to be built like a mythical superman, tall, blonde, and with an atlas-like figure. Instead, Denke was built like a triathlete. The senior chief was of average height, thin, and bald. Jazz surmised Denke would run like a gazelle and swim like a fish.
He approached him during a coffee break in the Potter’s class.
“Hey, Senior Chief, welcome to the det.”
“Why thank you, sir, and welcome to EOD. I look forward to working with you.”
“How ‘bout we get together over lunch and talk things out.”
“Ah, the ‘OIC–LCPO coffee klatch.’”
“Exactly.”
“You got it, sir. I’ll be here.”
Denke and Jazz decided to meet in an empty classroom. Jazz poured himself a cup of black coffee and entered the room. Denke was already there.
“Senior Chief.”
“Sir, how are you doing?”
“Fine thanks. Again, welcome to Det Four. I look forward to working with you.”
“Same here.”
“Good. Let me tell you a little bit about myself,” said Jazz. Jazz sat down across from the senior chief. “I started as a SWO, so I have a few years of fleet experience. I served two tours before lateral transferring to EOD. Obviously, this is my first assignment in Special Operations.”
“Obviously. Well how do you like it so far, sir?”
“I like it a lot. Coming into EOD has been a goal of mine for a long time. How ‘bout you? Have you always been an EOD Tech? I mean, since you entered the Navy.”
“No, sir. I also came from the fleet,” Denke took a sip of his coffee. “Look, LT, this is about the OIC–LCPO thing right?”
“Uh, correct. I think we need to get things straight before we can work together.”
“Well, sir, you need to get this straight, I did come from the fleet and I do understand the ‘lieutenant to senior chief relationship,’” Denke said curtly, “I want to make sure that you understand the ‘Master Technician to Slick Bomb relationship.’”
“I think I understand, Senior.”
“I would suspect that you don’t. If you did you would not have gone on that IED call in Texas without a Master Technician with you…”
Jazz tensed. “Whoa… you are outta line, Senior… the command knew what I was doing, besides I had Ball with me…”
“Well, sir, Ball is as good as they come… but the end result was still two of our brethren are dead. If I was on that job, I would have rendered that shit safe before I turned it over.”
“Senior Chief, you do not know what you are talking about.”
“Oh, don’t I?”
“No.”
Jazz did not know what to say now. He was losing ground in the conversation already. He did not want to leave it this way. Denke spoke again.
“No offense, sir, but I’ve worked with a bunch of 1140s over the years. None of them figured it out on their own, some never got it…”
“Got what?”
“That you need to trust your senior enlisted people, your Master Technicians. You need to listen to them, to me. If ya follow my advice and do as I say, you will get through this tour fine and grow up to be Commodore someday. If not, we’ll bump heads, the det will go to shit, and you’ll be lucky to have my recommendation for a Senior Technician Board.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Senior Chief. But I want you to remember this… I do not give a damn about being Commodore. What I do care about is this det and about growing into a Senior EOD Tech. I crawled and scratched my way into this community against the wishes and efforts of some pretty potent people in this Navy. I am not going to let anything get in my way of my responsibility to the det first and to my professional development second.”