The Eagle and the Snake by W. Craig Reed

Author:W. Craig Reed
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION/Thrillers
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2012-04-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

A high wind buffeted the waves and chopped them into white-capped demons, flung them hard against the wet sand and the backs of a dozen dark blue shirts. Seagulls danced across the peaks and troughs of the wind-whipped ocean on motionless wings. Occasionally, the birds dipped their beaks into the salty spray as dozens of onlookers in the distance snapped pictures and sipped drinks filled with tiny umbrellas. Nearby, sunburned flowered-shirt tourists sprawled across lounge chairs and pointed at the dozen blue shirts near the water.

“Either you push that log up higher, Donatelli,” Bulldog snapped at one of the blue-shirted men, “or I’m going to push my boot up your ass!” The sailor grumbled as he strained to force his arms higher. Next to the man, a dozen arms also reached for the sky as hands gripped a massive telephone pole and pushed the log into the air.

“You want to be a candy-ass and ring the bell?” Bulldog yelled. “Go right ahead. Ain’t nobody going to stop you. Just ring that bell and all the pain goes away. Anybody want to quit?”

A dozen voices replied in unison. “Sir, no, sir!”

The tourists snapped more pictures as they relaxed in front of the Hotel del Coronado. Behind them, the red spires of Coronado Island’s oldest hotel contrasted against a light blue sky painted with occasional wisps of white. A flock of sandpipers raced across a carpet of beach on skinny legs, rising in unison, soaring a few yards, and then resuming their pecks for food.

Bulldog had always loved the Del. He loved its ambiance and history. The fact that Marilyn Monroe had stayed there often, perhaps even had an affair with John F. Kennedy in one of those opulent rooms, left him with a feeling of nostalgia – the same nostalgia he got from watching old movies, like The Maltese Falcon or Moby Dick.

As the blue shirts struggled to keep the pole in the air, another sailor came from the direction of the hotel. “Ch . . .Ch . . . Chief Sandoval?”

Bulldog recognized the stuttering voice of one of his trainees. Seaman Charlie Pepper. Charlie might make a good SEAL someday, thought Bulldog, if he could ever make it all the way through training, and maybe get past that occasional stuttering. On his first run through BUD/S, through no fault of his own, he’d wound up breaking an arm when a rope snapped and he fell twenty feet from a hovering helicopter. He’d been forced to drop out of training while his arm healed. His brother, Tommy Pepper, had opted to drop out with him. Said he wasn’t going to finish without his brother. They’d wait their time out together and try again later. Then Tommy had his turn. The two brothers made it most of the way through again, passing every test with flying colors. Then Tommy broke his jaw when a rubber boat slammed into some rocks near the shore during a training exercise. Set the brothers back again.

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