“I’m sorry. I didn’t want it this way either.”
“I know that,” Melanie paused for a moment. “I disagree with the Admiral on something else though.”
“What’s that?”
“Unlike him, I’m glad you did this thing. I think it is crazy, the diving and blowing stuff up and all, but I can tell it makes you happy. I would have liked to see you put on admiral’s stars, but it took courage to defy your father, to be your own man.”
Melanie put her hand on his knee.
“I know what you’re doing is difficult. I guess what I am trying to say is I think in many different ways you are very brave, and I think that’s very sexy.”
Jazz smiled. “Well, hooya, baby.”
“Stop right there, sailor — I was not implying anything,” Melanie giggled.
“Too bad.”
The Jascinskis fell quiet again and remained so for the rest of the trip.
The Jascinski estate was on the Chesapeake Bay. The Admiral was a competent financial manager. He invested wisely and now owned most of the houses that the family lived in over the years. There were two in Norfolk, Virginia, one in San Diego, and one in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, in addition to the one in Annapolis. Each one was rented only to fellow naval officers who the Admiral deemed reliable and likely to maintain the properties in good condition.
Jazz’s mother came to the door as he pulled the 4Runner into the circular driveway. She smiled and waved enthusiastically. His mother knew that coming home, wherever that was, held mixed emotions for her son.
Eleanor Jascinski began her marriage as a Navy wife of the old school. She was a junior officer’s wife in the days when you had to be ready to entertain the commanding officer and his wife at a moment’s notice. If you wanted to help further your husband’s career, upon joining a new wardroom you inquired as to what the CO and his wife liked to drink, and kept your bar stocked accordingly. It was not uncommon for a junior wife to receive a phone call from the CO’s wife at two in the morning.
“I need diapers. Do you have some? Or could you please go out and get some for me?”
In the late sixties and early seventies a Navy wife rarely had a career unless it allowed her to move with her husband. Those women who worked were likely nurses or teachers. Eleanor chose not to work, but when her husband finally realized positions of command she also rejected the culture of their early Navy life. Still, she exuded a loyalty to the Admiral and his career that Jazz never understood. It was almost as if through her suffering and sacrifice it had become their career.
“Melanie, you are simply glowing!” Eleanor said as she hugged Melanie.
“Thanks Mom. Could you help me get Tyler out of the car? I’m having trouble bending over.”
“Of course, dear.”
Jazz was unbuckling Nicholas from the other side.
“Hey, Ma, how ya doing?”
“I’m fine, dear. The Admiral’s down on the pier if you want to speak to him about something.”
Jazz stopped at his mother’s words. He shot a look past her to his wife standing behind her on the driveway. Melanie was flushed. Jazz realized that she already told Eleanor about the assignment in Ingleside. He frowned at both of them.
From the back of the house, Jazz could see the Admiral on the pier. He was polishing the teak on his 50-foot sailboat, Grace. Jazz walked down the stairs they built together that ran from the bluff that the house sat on to the deck at the foot of the pier. There was a fair amount of boat activity on the bay. He wished he could go out there today, but even if there were time, his father would never allow it.
The Admiral looked very Annapolitan dressed in an oxford shirt, khakis, and boat shoes. Jazz noticed that the skin on his head was starting to darken with the spring. He was thankful that male pattern baldness passed through the female side of the family.
He caught his father’s eye as he walked down the pier.
“Junior, good to see you.”
“Good to see you, sir.”
“How is school going?”
“Fine, sir, I’m almost done.”
“That’s what I understand. Do you have orders yet?”
“I do… to Ingleside, Texas.”
“The HELL you say!”
“Yes, sir. Officer in Charge, Explosive Ordnance Disposal Mobile Unit Six, Detachment Ingleside.”
“What the heck is that?”
“Well, sir, Mobile Unit Six is in Charleston but they have two detachments in Ingleside, Texas to support of all the minesweepers and minehunters there.”
“So your CO will be in Charleston?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hundreds of miles and a full time zone away.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bad enough you guys never deploy with your CO’s, now you won’t even be in the same damn state.”
A silence passed between them.
Finally the Admiral said, “Ingleside, near Corpus Christi right? Isn’t that where Inchon is now?”
“Yes, sir. She has been reconfigured from an Amphibious Assault Ship to a Mine Warfare Command Ship.”
The Admiral looked at Jazz a minute with a frown on his face. He looked as if he was going to say something important.
“Unfuckingbelievable,” the Admiral cursed suddenly.
Jazz felt sick to his stomach as the Admiral stepped over the lifeline on Grace into her cockpit, and through the hatch into the cabin below.
Jazz was not invited on board so he turned and headed back toward the house. He looked up as he began ascending the stairs and saw his wife and mother looking down at him from the porch off the kitchen. They knew without being there what transpired between their husbands.
Their early supper was at least cordial. Nothing more was said of the future. Jazz and Melanie packed the boys in the car with the Admiral and Eleanor watching from the front porch. Jazz imagined that to an outsider, the scene could be on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post with “ROCKWELL” written in the corner. He knew better.
Eleanor continued to wave as the 4Runner headed down the street. She spoke through her smile to her husband.
“If you don’t fix this soon he’ll never come back.”
“He’s already gone. I suppose being a Navy brat did it to him. Junior has been rebelling against me all along. That boy is as different from me as they come.”
“You’re wrong, Admiral,” she said. “He is exactly like you.”
“Echo One, Echo Two, Bravo Zulu. Good job, hooya, and Merry Christmas.”
“And don’t forget Happy Anniversary.”
There was a pause on the circuit.
“Are you shitting me?”
“Eight years and two kids to date.”
T-Ball re-packed all the tools in his pack and vest with the exception of his crimpers. He thought of the crimpers as the most basic tool of the EOD Tech; like a scalpel for a surgeon or a pipe wrench for a plumber. T-Ball’s crimpers looked like a pair of pliers but the jaws had two openings. The first had no edge to it and was slightly smaller that the M-7 non-electric blasting cap used to initiate military and many commercial high explosives. The second was a cutter with an edge designed for slicing detonating cord at an angle that would not crush the explosive crystals inside or create enough friction to set it off.
T-Ball used the cutter to snip the detonating cord that connected each of the blocks of explosive.
How did the signal get from the electronics to the det cord? he wondered.
He had to study the box closer.
From the backside of the box two wires emerged. They appeared to run into the closest block of explosives. There was undoubtedly an electrically initiated detonator inside.