Sea Fighter by Cobb James H

Author:Cobb, James H. [Cobb, James H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, War
ISBN: 9780515129823
Amazon: 0515129828
Goodreads: 728208
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2000-02-28T08:00:00+00:00

Conakry Base, Guinea 1525 Hours, Zone Time;

July 9, 2007

“You men are going to have to learn that while you might be stationed on the coast of Africa, you are still members of the United States Navy!”

The young ensign paced righteously in front of his field desk, his shoulders square and the creases of his tropic whites crisp. It was his first watch as duty officer of the day for the Conakry Shore Patrol detachment, and, as young ensigns have done since time immemorial, he was taking his job most seriously.

“There is a reason we set uniform standards,” he expounded, “and a reason we expect them to be maintained!”

Danno and the Fryguy stood at an uneasy parade rest. The only “standard” to their own state of dress was that they were clad alike. Their sleeveless and buttonless dungaree shirts bore no ratings badges, only a “Three Little Pigs” squadron patch over the left breast. Both gunners also wore the black beret of the seafighter task force, sweat-stained and bleached dull by the sun.

“In fact, you men should be setting an exceptional standard out here. You are serving under the command of one of the most capable, most respected, and most honored officers in the fleet. I have no doubt that Captain Amanda Garrett expects her personnel to comport themselves like real man-of-wars-men and not like a bunch of cheap Rambo clones!”

At that moment, just as the ensign’s tirade peaked, there came a knock at the office door.

“Enter!”

“Excuse me, Ensign. I understand you have a couple of my people here. Is there a problem?”

Amanda Garrett stood in the doorway. The eagles on the collar of her khaki shirt were sea-tarnished, and the shirt itself was oil-stained, sleeveless, and sun-faded to near white. Her slacks had been slashed short at midthigh, and a webbing belt, cut down from the quick-release strap of a MOLLE harness, rode low on her hips, supporting a Navy Mark IV survival knife and an obsolete and salt-cracked leather pistol holster. Her bare feet were slipped into a pair of native-made tire tread sandals and a frayed Cunningham baseball cap was tugged low over her mildly inquiring eyes.

There was a moment of profound silence in the little office.

“No, ma’am,” the ensign sighed. “No problem. It was all just … a misunderstanding. Your men are free to go at any time.”

Amanda gave a friendly nod. “I thought that might be the case. Danno and the Fryguy here are a couple of my best hands. I couldn’t imagine what they could have done to get crosswise with the Shore Patrol. Thank you for taking care of things, Ensign. Gentlemen, let’s be on our way.”

Maintaining an appropriately sober and stoic demeanor, Danno and the Fryguy followed their captain out of the hall way. The explosion of hysterical laughter didn’t occur until the door had almost closed behind them.

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