wet sand, where footing was sure and easier. The SEALs fell in behind him in a column of ducks, and Sadler brought up the rear.
By the time they hit the sand in back of the O course, they were puffing. Sadler knew that a seven-minute mile with their combat vests, packs, and combat weapons was astrain. He figured most of the men had about forty pounds on their backs.
The men stopped and blew hard. Some of them had hands on knees, bent double. Some sat on the sand. Others kept walking in tight circles to keep their hearts pumping as they oxygenated their spent blood.
âOh, shit,â Senior Chief Sadler said. âWe were supposed to swim back. Now weâll have to swim out four miles and back four miles.â
All twelve of the SEALs threw their floppy hats at Sadler, who grinned at them and threw the hats back.
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At 1100, Lieutenant (j.g.) Christopher Gardner knocked on the door and was invited into the Third Platoon office.
âIâm Chris Gardner from First Platoon of SEAL Team One.â
âChris, come in,â Murdock said. The man was six-four, maybe 240 pounds, and grinned like a big teddy bear. He had a whiteside haircut with brown hair almost long enough to comb. His face was square-cut, and heâd have a five oâclock shadow by noon. His clear green eyes took in the office in a glance. âTake the hot seat there and weâll have a talk,â Murdock said. âHow are things over at the First Platoon? That would be Charlie Brashears as the CO?â
âRight. He said to say hello. You two go way back, he said.â
âKnown Charlie a long time. Chris, Iâm Murdock and this is Ed DeWitt, recently promoted and moving up to a platoon of his own. His feet arenât too big, but when it comes to filling his shoes, itâs going to take a damned good man.â
âLieutenant,â Chris said, nodding at Ed. âIâve heard about what you guys do over here and Iâm amazed. Your platoon gets twenty missions to our one. And then we usually dig out some harbor mines or maybe help train some recruits in Africa. Truth is, nobody has shot at me since BUD/S. Not that Iâm anxious to get some lead in my hide. Just a fact you need to know.â
âSo, why do you want to be in the Third?â
âI figure I trained to do certain things, and Iâm not doingthem. No fire missions, no rescues, no work like you guys did on the Chinese invasion and on the Philippine kidnappings. Those two we know about. Thatâs what I trained to do, and I feel like a slacker when Iâm not in the mix on them.â
Murdock looked at Ed and nodded. âChris, weâve been over your file, and frankly, we like what we see there. Youâre Annapolis. But you must know that SEALs is not an outfit that will give you a good career path to admiral.â
âYep, I know that.â
âDid your father tell you that?â Ed asked.
âThe admiral has strong feelings about almost everything. He loves the SEALs. Actually they pulled his ass out of the fire once. But he didnât want me involved because it isnât blue-water sailing, and as you said, not a fast track to admiral.â
âIs your father still on active duty?â
âYes, sir. He was Navy air, and now heâs captain of a carrier.â
âI understand that youâre married, Chris.â
âRight. Been married now for almost three years.â
âSEAL scheduling and sea tours havenât hurt your marriage?â Ed asked.
âSure, some, but Wanda is an understanding woman with a career of her own. No kids yet. Waiting a few more years.â
âWhat does she do?â Murdock asked.
âShe has her own small sport clothes design and manufacturing firm here in town. Fabricates the clothes in Tijuana, part of that new across-the-border deal with Mexico.â
âSuccessful?â Ed asked.
Chris laughed. âOh, yes, sir. Last year her
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