Chapter 22: Visitors, Welcome and Unwelcome

29 July 2005 – Canal Street, Shirley, Massachusetts

“So where are they sending you again?” Sean Brophy asked.

“Fort Bragg for my SOCM refresher – that’ll take two weeks – then to Fort Polk in Louisiana for another two. I guess I impressed the colonel with my tracking system. The Army’s gonna adopt it and I’m going to train the trainers.” Jeff shrugged. “All I did was write a few spreadsheet macros and layout some databases to interface with those spreadsheets. I used software we already had on the computers. It was nothing special.”

“Evidently that’s an erroneous view of your creation. Why are they sending you to Louisiana and not someplace like the Pentagon for this train the trainer class?”

“A bunch of special operations units are gonna be at Polk doing some joint field training during the second half of August. I’ll be trainup their medics at the same time along with medics from other non-SOF units, but this is just a practice run to see if others pick it up easily. I’m glad it’s not at the Five-sided Foxhole, too. The bright lights glinting off all that brass would hurt my eyes.”

“‘Five-sided Foxhole?’”

“You’ve never heard me call the Pentagon that?”

“I have but I guess it never sank in until now. Are you taking a charter down?”

“Sort of. I’ll be on a military cargo flight out of Pease. They’re sparing every expense.”

“So you have to drive to Portsmouth first?”

“I’m hitching a ride there in an Army Black Hawk. The special operations aviation guys at Moore just got some new pilots and they’re starting their daytime area familiarization this weekend. Another flight for me as cargo.”

“Well, I appreciate you coming over to look at the plans for our new buildings when you’ve got so much on your plate.”

“I wanted to make sure you’ve got the design of my new office right before construction starts.”

Jeff made a show of looking over the plans spread out over the conference table. He clucked in disappointment, placed a piece of tracing paper over some offices, and started drawing changes.

“What are you doing?”

“They put in an extra wall in my office. Here, see? If you take this one out it opens things up nicely. It’ll also allow for a private bathroom which fits my status here. I’m seeing Travertine on the floor, a two-person shower, gold fixtures...”

“You’ll be seeing a tent and a port-o-potty if you don’t watch your mouth, you smart aleck.”

“Dude, I’m active-duty military! Tents and port-o-potties don’t faze me!” Sean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, is the new garage big enough for the ambulances we’ll start with while allowing for future growth?”

“That’s why there’s so much space behind the garage in the plans at the moment. If we grow like I’m hoping we will we can expand in that direction. We’ll also look for satellite bases in other towns if they become necessary.”

“I’m glad Brophy bought all this land when we opened DMD, then. What about our neighbors?”

“The trees around the property, and where we are in relation to those neighbors, will shield them from much of the noise. The town paid to upgrade and widen both Phoenix Street and Shaker Road when the Army opened Donovan. We’ll subsidize some of the maintenance to those two roads because of all the vehicular traffic we’ll introduce to the area.”

“How’s Shawna doing in her new role?”

“That girl still amazes me. She got that division halfway started all on her own without any input from Dad or me. By the way, did she tell you she’s glad she hired your friend last month? They make a pretty good team, those two.”

“She told me. Mish still laughs at the fact she works for an ambulance company that doesn’t operate a single ambulance.”

“They’re coming.”

“Yeah, I know. I hope Shawna won’t be too disappointed because Mish is looking forward to working the road as a civilian EMT, not being cooped up in the office.”

“Little does Mish know what she’s in for. Oh the places she will go.”

“I tried to tell her but, honestly, it’s not like she’ll wind up in Afghanistan again. I doubt anywhere will be as rough as that place was. The folks in AIT at Fort Sam wanted to hear my EMS war stories, so I told them. I guess I didn’t highlight the shitty parts of EMS enough, though, if she’s looking forward to it.”

“Well, not everyone gets to have a partner like me.”

“Thank God.”

“You can be replaced, you know?” Jeff flipped Sean off.

“So when are the ambulances being delivered again?”

“Next week. We’ll get them lettered, stocked, and have the radios installed during the two weeks after that. I’m guessing the state will sign off on them by mid-September and we can get started.”

“Sounds good. I’m looking forward to getting started myself.”

“You’ll have a good team waiting for you here when you do.”

“Is Joe working out as acting ops manager?”

“No worries there, either, other than the occasional back spasm.”

Another back injury forced Joe Ernst off the road for good in April. Brophy wasn’t in the habit of abandoning good employees and Joe was the top internal candidate for DMD’s ops manager vacancy. They even bought him a computer desk which could be raised to standing height, or lowered so he could sit behind it, depending on Joe’s needs.

“Good deal. Any word from Haussmann?”

“His attorney is making some noise,” Sean shrugged. “He’s claiming breach of contract.”

“But you didn’t fire him.”

“Nope, we sure didn’t. He’s still listed as an active employee so legally he hasn’t been terminated. Sure, we’ve restricted his access to the building to normal business hours, and then only to the front door, but he still has access. He won’t be officially terminated unless we can secure a ruling in our favor. We stopped his direct deposit after one month of him not showing up for work under the job abandonment section of the employee handbook. We’re putting that money into an escrow account until his status is finalized.”

“How long’s that gonna take?”

“We’ll probably be grandparents by the time the civil process runs its course.”

“Naturally,” Jeff responded, shaking his head. “I should have known you and your dad wouldn’t screw me over, Sean. Sorry.” He stood and stretched. “I’m going to cut out. I want to spend some time with Keiko and the kids before I leave tomorrow.”

’At least these seats are more comfortable than the old nylon webbing seats in the 130s,’ Jeff thought to himself two weeks later as he settled into a fold-down seat of another C-17.

Twenty-seven such seats lined each wall of the cargo area. Numerous wrapped pallets occupied the space in between. This flight would take him from Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina to Polk Army Air Field in northwest Louisiana. He pulled out his cell phone before the folks from the Air Force told everyone to turn them off.

“Hey, Barry. Did you get those forms I faxed you an hour ago?”

“Sure did, Sir. The AAFEMS database has already been updated to show your certification is valid until June 30, 2009. You’ll have your new card next week.”

“Barry Silverman, you are the best.”

“Ain’t I though? And, as an extra bonus, your ‘Certified Paramedic – Tactical’ wallet card will be in the mail in two weeks. The Paramedic Specialty Certification Board finally agrees with our vision for military medics who are also SOCM ATPs.”

“I’m gonna owe you a case of beer if you keep this up! Thanks, man.”

“Take it out of what we owe you. Do you know how much AAFEMS’ bottom line has improved since you started your little crusade for your fellow military medics? Hell, just the revenue coming in for the OCP camouflage versions of our certification patches has the CEO tickled pink! More money means we can do more training.”

“Well, I’m glad everything’s worked out. Hey, they’re starting to tell people to power down their phones. I’ll touch base with you when I get back from Louisiana.”

“Sounds good. Take care, Jeff.”

“Are you still in 3d Batt?” the soldier beside him asked while gesturing at the combat patch on Jeff’s right shoulder.

“No, I’m with 10th Special Forces now. You?”

“Third Group. You heading down to Polk for this computer software dog and pony show?”

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad. Work smarter, not harder, right?” The other soldier harrumphed.

“I’ll reserve judgement until see what this bean counter has to say.”

“‘Bean counter?’”

“Whoever came up with this has to be some accountant from a windowless, basement Pentagon office. Probably hasn’t held a rifle since Basic, if they’ve ever held one at all. I’d rather be out in the field training with my team than sitting in some classroom.”

“When are you doing your classroom training?” Jeff asked, avoiding the comments about the bean counter.

“Supposed to be at the end of next week. I’m guessing the whole thing will be a waste of time. I can see myself fighting to stay awake.”

“Well, good luck,” he commented before putting his iPod’s headphones on.

“When are you taking yours?” the other man asked.

“Oh, pretty much right away.”

“So, as you can see, while I originally developed this to track skills and training needed by my Group’s 18-Deltas, these macros and databases can be used to track all sorts of things across a range of needs. Any further questions? No? Then I thank you for your attention.”

Jeff packed up his laptop while the group of medics filed out of the classroom. The ease with which his ‘students’ grasped the concept, utility, and flexibility of his little creation surprised him. He was ahead of schedule three days into his presentations.

“Excuse me, Sergeant?”

Jeff looked up to see a soldier wearing a 3d Ranger Battalion unit patch on his left shoulder.

“Yes? May I help you, Specialist?”

“When were you with 3d Battalion, Sergeant?”

“Technically until this March when I was RFS’d. Functionally? Until last October when I was wounded. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity at first, but now I think I’m your replacement. Were you with 2d Platoon, Bravo Company?”

“Yes, I was. You’re 2d Platoon, Bravo Company?”

“Since last November, yes.”

Jeff smiled broadly.

“Which barracks are you in?”

Rick Mendoza looked up when his platoon medic appeared in his doorway.

“Hey, Fozzy. How was the class?”

“Total waste of time,” answered Specialist Eric Braun.

“What? How come?”

“Guy was a big-time poser. Didn’t know shit from shinola.”

“Who was this loser, then?”

Another head poked around the door frame.

“I was the best damn squad leader you ever served under, that’s who.”

“Holy shit! Bones!”

Rick sprang from his chair and bounded over to Jeff. The laughter and back-slapping drew the attention of Sal Pellegrino and others Jeff served with. They came over to join the reunion.

“You’re still in?” Sal asked. “Even with your prosthetics?”

“‘Prosthetics?’” Jeff cocked his head. “What ‘prosthetics?’”

“Your legs got blown off. Didn’t they?” Rick and Sal looked at each other.

“Um, no. That was the captain of the Special Forces team I was with, guys. My right leg got crushed by a building collapse after he was wounded. It was just broken, not blown off. You guys have been playing ‘Operator, Operator’ haven’t you?”

“I guess so,” Sal admitted.

“Did everyone else make it out of there okay?”

Rick nodded, smiling ruefully.

“Congratulations, Bones, you were the last member of 2d Platoon to be wounded and sent home during our deployment.” Jeff grunted.

“Not the lottery I wanted to win, guys.”

“I can imagine,” Rick agreed.

“Where’s everyone else? Josh and Enos?”

“Josh got out, Enos transferred to the 502d Infantry in Berlin. A lot of the guys transferred to other units, too. So, wait, you’re the guy who dreamed up this new computer thing?”

“Once a geek, always a geek, Rick. My position in 10th Group is a make-work kinda one. I took over some of the low-level, day-to-day admin stuff for the medics there, but it’s paying dividends. I mean where else can I work and be sent to beautiful Fort Polk? All expenses paid, too!”

“You got hit in the head when you were wounded, didn’t you?” Sal chuckled. “I think you’re crazier than when we were over there!”

“We were already nuttier than a bunch of squirrels when we got sent over there, Sal.” His friends laughed.

“Yeah, good point,” Rick answered. “You’ve been home a while. Any word on DJ or the rest of the guys?”

“After I got RFS’d I went down to Walter Reed to visit DJ. We wound up flying out to Colorado together to bury a friend of his. He’s doing okay. They finished shaping his stump two months ago and he’s about done with rehab, at least at Walter Reed. He’s expecting to be discharged in about a week.”

“Any issues with his girl?” Sal asked.

“His old one? No, he hasn’t heard from her since before his last mission with us in Kandahar. He’s looking forward to getting back to Penny when he goes home.”

“Penny?”

“Someone he knew from high school. She was a year behind him and had a major crush on him then. I hope it works out for them. She’s a really nice girl.”

“What about the others? Any word on them?” Sal asked. “We went on leave after we got back to Benning. Weren’t able to get ahold of them before leaving there or coming here.”

“Ruben’s shoulder blade healed fine but, like me, he had issues with the muscles around the area of the break. That slowed down his rehab and he got RFS’d, too. He’s out at Lewis in the 2d Stryker Brigade. Trace got medically retired. The bleeding around his heart caused some damage and he can’t run any more. Ivan’s doing okay, and he’s probably the most positive of the three who were seriously wounded. He says he’ll be rock climbing with his prosthetic arms in no time. Stan got out and moved back home. He’s had no issues with the ankle other than it getting stiff if it snows where he is.”

“I doubt Destin, Florida sees much annual snowfall, if that’s where he went back to,” Emilio Reyes, now a corporal, commented.

“So how much longer are you here for?” Rick asked.

“I’m supposed to be here through next Friday, but the classes are going so well we’re going to accelerate the schedule. I’m not sure when I’ll actually leave. How about you guys? When are you heading back to Benning?”

“At the end of the week. We’re heading back out into the field in the morning. You think you’ll be around Friday night after we get back here, before we leave the next morning? Trading lies and stomping brain cells will take more than just this one night.”

Jeff sat at the front row of tables as his last scheduled class filed into the classroom. He reviewed his notes though he knew the presentation by heart after giving it so often. The fact that it was only Tuesday made him shake his head.

“Hey, how you doing?” Staff Sergeant Eckart, the soldier who questioned him on the flight from Pope, asked. “I thought you said you were taking this class first thing after you got here?” he asked while taking the chair next to Jeff.

“I did.”

“Then what are you doing back here?”

“I want to see how others are understanding the material,” Jeff replied. “I might get a research paper out of this.”

Jeff didn’t mean to be disingenuous but part of him wanted to have a little fun with the sergeant. Eckart raised an eyebrow. Jeff shrugged. He rose from his seat after everyone scheduled to take the class arrived.

“Where are you going?” Eckart asked.

Jeff held up a finger and walked to the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone. I’m Staff Sergeant Jeff Knox, 10th Special Forces. I’ll be presenting a simple way to track existing skills for your medics, as well as the medical supplies and additional skills they need, using a method I developed at my CO’s request using software already on Army computers.”

Jeff spent a half-hour presenting, and another fifteen minutes answering questions before having the medics set up the databases themselves as a learning exercise. The skeptics in the room including SSG Eckart saw the utility of the program immediately, as well as the ease with which one could set it up and maintain it. Jeff wrapped up his final class in less than ninety minutes.

“Any last questions? No? A step-by-step guide will be posted to Army Knowledge Online by the end of September. TRADOC needs to review it before it’s uploaded. With that, I thank you all for your attention.”

Many of the medics came up to thank him for the class and to ask questions. Eckart waited at the back of the group.

“Sorry for what I said on the plane,” he offered. “You’re clearly not some bean counter who’s spent his time in the rear with the gear.”

“No worries. There are plenty of good, non-operational people in the military, Sergeant,” Jeff pointed out. “Don’t forget that the pointy end of the spear is pretty useless without the handle it’s mounted on.”

“Yeah, I should keep that in mind, shouldn’t I? I guess I’ve gotten too caught up in swaggering around forcing people to look at my long tab.”

“‘Sic transit gloria mundi,’” Jeff reminded him. “‘Thus passes the glory of the world.’”

“‘This too shall pass?’”

“Exactly.”

“I learned more than one thing this week. Thank you for the reminder.”

“‘And knowing is half the battle,’” he chuckled before holding out his hand. “Take care, Sarge.”

“Dave. Dave Eckart. You as well.”

“I hear you’re finished teaching those training classes already, Knox,” CSM Edwards said an hour later. “Three whole days early, too.”