Jazz moved to the OIC office and called home. As the phone rang he looked at his watch; it was still early afternoon in Portland.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mel, it’s me.”
“Oh, thank God,” Melanie said as she began crying. “Damn it, Jazz! Why didn’t you call earlier?” she said through tears and anger. “All of the other wives got phone calls. I thought something happened to you and they weren’t telling me. I’ve been waiting for the base chaplain to drive up all day.”
“I’m sorry, hon.”
“Answer my question! Why! We have been over this before! Why didn’t you call!”
“I’m the OIC, Mel. The others were able to call when I was talking to the FBI. Afterward I had no time. I had to practically run from my hotel room to the plane.”
“So where are you now?”
“I’m back in Sigonella.”
“Oh, thank God.”
Jazz listened to his wife sob for a moment. He understood why she was upset, but his own frame of reference was different. This was now the second time in a few months that he was close to death. Slowly, Melanie regained some of her composure.
“James J. Jascinski, next time you call.”
“Mel, I couldn’t…”
“Call. I do not care if you miss your plane. I do not ever want to feel this way again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were dead, Jazz.”
“I’m sorry, really. Next time I’ll call.”
“I’m serious, Jazz. I’m not going through this again.”
“I love you, hon.”
“I love you too, but I can’t talk right now. I’m just too upset. I just needed to hear your voice… I need to try to calm down. I’ll send you an email later, okay?”
“Um, okay.”
Jazz held the phone for a moment after his wife hung up. He realized that the life he has chosen was slowly killing their marriage. He wondered how long Melanie could take the stress of being a bomb-tech’s wife.
Within one hour of returning, Det Four was on the porch drinking and barbecuing again. Denke noticed that Johnny Ashland was very sullen and that Jazz had disappeared. He went in search of his young OIC.
The senior chief found the lieutenant lying on his cot in their makeshift bunkroom.
“Hey, LT. What’s up?”
“Senior.”
Denke walked over to his cot and sat down on it.
“Lieutenant, I’ve got something to say to you and I’m only going to say this once, so listen. I know how you feel about this whole thing. I know because I’ve been there, I’ve lost lives on my watch.”
Jazz swung his feet over and sat up on his cot. He looked Denke in the eye, ready to take in every word.
“You don’t need to know all the details. Basically I had a dive buddy die on me. We were diving Mark –16 and he suffered an electronics system failure. The rig stopped giving him O2. I didn’t notice he had a problem until it was too late. To make matters worse, I did the pre-dive maintenance on his rig.”
“Wow, Senior Chief, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well so was I. I was his dive buddy; I set up his rig. For a long time I figured no two ways about it, I’d killed him. But the JAGMAN investigation determined that it was not my fault and deep in my heart I knew that I hadn’t fucked up. My setup of the rig was sound and my emergency procedures to get him to the surface were correct.
“Still, I felt guilty. It ate at me for a long time, but eventually I got past it. In the meantime I developed a drinking problem and got a divorce.
“Lieutenant, this was not on you. And if it were, I would be the first to tell you. Despite the fact that you are an 1140, nobody has any doubt in your ability. SECSTATE knew the risks and she took them. You performed your duties as the Secret Service asked you to, and in the same manner that any other EOD Tech would have.”
“Sure, Senior Chief…”
“I’m not done… you still have a responsibility to this team. If you are going to continue to lead these men you need to put this shit behind you and move on. I’m not saying forget it, just learn from it and move on. I can see the funk you are in already. If you don’t come out of it right now, you will not be able to lead these men… if you cannot do it quickly then you need to turn in that crab and go home. Period. End of lecture.”
Denke stood up.
“Don’t disappoint us, LT. Don’t disappoint me.”
With that, Denke set a can of beer at Jazz’s feet and headed back to the porch. The OIC sat for a long time staring at it. He realized now why Denke was such a relentless taskmaster.
The ops boss required Jazz to check in with him each morning. Lou set up a guest account in MU EIGHT’s vault so that he could read message traffic. The COMSHIFT message that he sent before leaving Inchon ensured each of the communications centers throughout the world knew all messages for EODMU SIX DET FOUR went to Sigonella. He read in the daily traffic that the other detachments were participating in an exercise with the Spanish Navy. Jazz now wished he was with them. It was not enough that the fun of being off the ship, beers, steaks, and cappuccinos disappeared after the attack on SECSTATE. Now he knew his brethren were having more fun than the men from Ingleside. He tried to erase visions of his fellow EOD Techs diving in warm clear waters, laughing together in the boats at the end of a long day.
As he emerged from the unit’s compound he ran into the Command Master Diver.
“Hey, LT, your boys are over at the Bee Bar. They said for you to meet them over there.”
“Where?”
“The Bee Bar, the coffee shop over by the gym.”
“Oh, thanks, Master Diver.”
Jazz found Denke and Keating sitting at the Bee Bar having cappuccinos.
“Senior Chief, are we ready for training?”
“Yes, sir. I put Ashland and Sinclair in charge. They have already set up the minefield on the far side of the runway where there is a training area. We’re ready when you are, sir.”
“Let’s go then.”
Ashland began with a training lecture about how to operate in a minefield. He reviewed all the proper safety lectures and use of the Mark–29 Ordnance Locator. The –29 was an effective version of a civilian metal detector. It could be used to find ferrous material on land or in shallow water.
Sinclair then gave a lecture on the various mines that were common in the Med, especially in the Balkans. The Italians produced and exported a wide variety of anti-personnel and anti-tank mines. They incorporated non-ferrous materials like plastic to make them near impossible to detect. Sinclair also had mines from Russia and the former Yugoslavia in his repertoire.
After the lecture each man was given a problem. They exercised as individuals rather than as a full detachment. The Techs were each assigned an area to search with the others watching. Ashland and Sinclair cleverly designed learning points into each man’s “game.”
Jazz was determined to do well. He knew that Denke was right; he needed to regain confidence in himself and his teammates.
Jazz listened intently to the -29. Each time he got an audible return he set it behind him and squatted. Then, pulling out the Admiral’s knife, he would gently probe the earth, feeling for a solid object with the blade. When the tip hit something, he then sifted through the hot, loose soil with his hands. If his fingers found a mine, he would prosecute it, rendering it safe.
After countless attempts that uncovered rocks or old soda cans, Jazz sensed that he finally found an ordnance item. He stopped and sipped from his Camelbak considering the situation.
Don’t rush, he told himself. Calm down. Remember this thing does not have a timer.
Gently slipping the knife in again, he felt and heard a soft, “click.”