Chapter 38

05:15 Saturday, October 18^th, 1991

Guadalcanal Jetty, Coronado NAB

San Diego, CA 92155

Almost the whole platoon waited for them this morning. Lenore and the Chief exchanged glances, while she started dumping plastic half-liter bottles of water into the coolers with the ice. Gatorade was too expensive, they'd decided, and would try a miracle powder supposedly full of electrolytes that was for sale in the NEX (Navy Exchange) last night. Lenore, of course, left the two cases of Miller's in the car.

There were a few looks at the floppy Aussie camouflage hat she'd gotten, too, but no one said anything as she slathered on the sunblock and then donned the hat. The day was rosy pink, but the sun was still blocked by the high mountains to the East. Moments later, j.g. Manasares pulled up in another tan pickup, and the platoon swarmed into action unloading what looked to be plastic milk crates painted drab, full of some kind of gear, loading it all on the boat.

Lenore gave j.g. Manasares a pointed look, but the man ignored her. The Chief watched her with a smile, and she nodded. Test me, huh?

Lenore stepped over the gunwale and almost had her foot squashed under a heavy crate set down at just that moment. Picking her way to the pilot station with distaste, she stood by her chair and turned. A moment later, her piercing whistle split the morning air, and all faces turned to her in shock.

Removing her fingers from her lips, she projected in her best Gunny-taught Command Voice, "Men, anchored in the deck you will find dee-rings meant to lash down objects. I will have three-foot wide aisles by the gunwales and at least two feet between the two piles of gear you will make. You will find line in those lockers, if it hasn't mildewed into garbage, and if it has, we won't leave until we do find some line. Everything gets lashed down. I don't want any more than about thirty pounds or so a square foot, if we can manage it. And before we go fast today, I need to fill the tanks and get a feel for how fast we slow down with all that crap and all your weight on the deck. Load from the rear forward, if you please."

Manasares stared at her for a moment with the rest of the men, and then he turned and said, "You heard the Bosun. Do it like she says." The men started moving.

Lenore turned to find Kostowe still on the dock, clapping silently.

So far the day had been exhausting, Lenore thought as she held the cold beer to her sunburned forehead. She'd been too busy all day to reapply sunblock. After fueling, they'd returned to the area she was at yesterday, and this time, there was little rest. Manasares had had them trying to figure out how to best pack and offload the various electronic equipment and the precious circuit boards. Someone had made a few mockups of those from wood and particle board, and it'd shown the effect of seawater fairly clearly.

They tried a small round rubber-boat-like thing, but the gear packs were fairly heavy, and even mild rocking had capsized it. Lenore was forced to jockey the throttles until with each attempt it became clearer that this wasn't working.

Making matters worse, Lenore pointed out, any larger rubber boat they might try to move the gear ashore with would need to a) be stowed on the Joy Redux, and b) would have to be staged in a much smaller area than the cut-down PCF boat meant for littoral use (littorals are close-to-shore waters) she was currently driving. There wasn't room to inflate the boat on the deck, load the gear on it, and throw the kit over the Joy Redux' rail and transom. "Novotny!" she barked, next to j.g. Manasares' ear, "Dee-minus-one, Yellow duct tape, mark off the Joy Redux' deck area for training."

Manasares gave her a sour look for yelling in his ear, but then seemed surprised when Novotny echoed the note back to her. Lenore very carefully didn't smile at either Manasares or Novotny.

Next, they tried backpacks, and breaking the bigger units down into smaller ones, and seemed to have the most success carrying the smaller packs over the side and placing them on the small round boat-thingy.

Then, after an abbreviated lunch, they asked Lenore to repeat the fast-in, fast-out maneuver. Given the sea was calmer, it should have been faster, but the extra mass of the gear on the boat and the weight of the platoon sitting wherever they could find space meant that Lenore couldn't slow the boat as dramatically.

"It's the mass of the hull and the lack of power of the diesels, and maybe some with the pitch of the props," she explained to j.g. Manasares. "These diesels make maybe six-hundred horse each, where the Joy Redux will make about nineteen hundred each, and has bigger props with less pitch. These just cavitate beyond a certain point."

"So we'll be able to go in and get out fully loaded on the yacht?" His frustration was evident in his voice.

Lenore nodded unhappily. "Yes, sir, if we have to. I'm hoping we won't have to. Sir, this kind of operation, the massive initial stockpiling, maybe it doesn't have to be so massive?"

Manasares gave her a level look. "Go on."

"Yes, sir," she said. "The weapons and maybe the larger radio gear, sure. But the circuit boards and money and all the tools and cable and stuff can be carried out from a dock in a harbor over a few days by people with backpacks or briefcases and such, right? After the first couple of days, the ... men shouldn't need but a few things a day, right, sir?"

"Operators," he corrected her distractedly. "Okay, we'll work out what we could deliver over time that way." He visibly returned to the problem of moving the heaviest, largest items off the boat.

Lenore shrugged. Not only can I pack suitcases and load them in the trunk, I can load dishwashers and do laundry, too. Kostowe caught her eye - he smiled only a little, with the corner of his mouth. I bet he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Lieutenant Rudolfs led the way into the room, followed by Lenore, Kostowe, Manasares, and the Platoon Chief, CPO Vales.

"Have a seat," Rudolfs told her. Kostowe helped himself to a seat, but the other three leaned against desks, instead. Lenore sat.

"Collins, you can drive a boat, better than most, Novotny says, but I already knew that. Cabrero and Siglin say you can shoot, pretty good, but they don't know if you'd do okay with someone shooting back. I think you'd do okay. Despite today's issues, I'd like to move past the 'Insertion and Replenish' point of the workup, and move onto the 'Movement over Terrain', and into the Technical Surveillance. The team likes you, and thinks you'd do okay as their boat driver." He paused, and gave Lenore a moment.

Well, thanks, I guess. Wait, though... "But only as the driver, sir?"

Rudolfs broke out in a smile, and the Platoon Chief behind him grunted. "You want to take a week off from school and show them you can do more? It's like this, Lenore. During an operation, things go wrong. People get bitten by snakes, break bones falling out of bed, or get shot by a jealous husband. Sometimes things go wrong in a hurry. For sure, the team would like their boat driver to be able to save their bacon in a fire, especially if they don't need a boat driver right then. You with me?"

"I can get a week, probably, before the winter break. I think I can take my midterms early, and I don't think my Battalion XO at Cal will mind, if someone tells him why."

"You'll have to work hard," this from Chief Vales. "Really hard. You're going to have to be stone reliable."

Lenore nodded. "Chief, I kind of expected to have to do that."

"Okay, Collins. I'll tell the team to expect more of your company. They can get a little ... playful, so be on your toes."

With that ominous warning, Lenore watched them file out of the room. Shrugging, she got up to follow them.

I should stick to wine, Lenore thought, muzzily. Beer has a fuzzy kind of buzz to it, and I should probably drink some water right about now. One's definitely enough. Lenore found a bottle of water in the cooler, and watched the others at the picnic table.