Chapter One Excerpt

I held my hand up to my forehead to shield my eyes from the hot sun that greeted me as I stepped out of the dark belly of the C-130 transport plane. I put my cover on my head and walked down the ramp to the smooth gray concrete of the Honolulu airport.

It had been a long flight from Cheyenne and my body ached. The accommodations on a Marine Corps transport plane weren’t exactly first class and my recently injured right leg was giving me grief. Although there was stiffness, I was determined to demonstrate that I had no lasting effects from the injury despite the doctor’s assertions that I would have a permanent limp. I walked briskly across the tarmac toward the military assembly area attached to the main terminal.

It was sweltering hot, as evidenced by the arid lines rising up from the tarmac, giving a slightly out-of-focus appearance to the planes that were moving about on the distant runways. It was quite a change from the arctic climate that almost saw the end of me and the rest of Team Mongoose just eight months ago.

A rush of air conditioning sounded as I walked through the sliding glass entryway. I was disappointed to see only a second lieutenant and a lance corporal in the greeting section. Naval Petty Officer Megan Brandeis had promised to meet me and I was really hoping that she would. I had not seen her for over a month.

Megan had taken care of me after I had suffered a broken leg in South Korea. We had become inseparable in the six months it took for the doctors to operate and then operate again in an effort to get my right knee working properly. She had spent a ten-day liberty with me and my family before reporting for her duties in the Emergency Care Center at Pearl Harbor. But that was over a month ago. I had spent most of August in additional rehabilitation and it had done wonders for my leg, but being without Megan all that time had not been easy.

The lance corporal walked by me and took my duffel bag from a private who had carried them from the plane.

The lance corporal was a big man; he was well over six feet tall and had a wide frame. He had a flat, square face that, despite the ever-present sun, was very pale. Bright blonde hair, cut almost to the scalp peeked from beneath his utility cap.

“I’ve got them Lance Corporal,” I said, reaching for the bags.

“Gotta check’em,” he told me with a heavy southern drawl.

He proceeded to place the bags on a long table and began sorting through the contents.

I pulled my orders from my back pocket and handed them to the second lieutenant, who had also taken up a position behind the table. He had a round face and looked no older than twenty. His Class-A green dress uniform was neat and tidy, without a hint of sweat under his arms. It was obvious that he had not ventured out into the heat all day. This was in stark contrast to the lance corporal’s camouflage utilities that had big sweat stains under the arms.

“Staff Sergeant Mitch Garvey?” he asked me. “Are you the only passenger?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said.

“A whole plane just for you?” he asked incredulously.

“No, Sir, there were others. They got off in San Diego,” I told him.

“Is this a new duty station for you?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir, I am reporting to Captain Jack Thompson with the Tactical Command Section,” I told him. “Can I arrange for a transport?”

“It was taken care of earlier today,” he told me as he looked my uniform up and down. I instantly translated his critical expression and wondered how he expected someone to remain free of wrinkles on a twenty hour flight in a transport plane.

“You can get squared away in there,” he said, pointing to a public restroom.

“Yes, Sir,” I said as I reached for my bags.

I noticed that the lance corporal had found my gun case. He opened the case and tilted my Colt pistol in the direction of the young officer whose eyes got as big as saucers.

“Why do you have that?” he asked in a stern expression that seemed too grown-up for his youthful face.

I pulled my wallet from my pocket and showed him my badge.

“Why is a military police officer working for command?” the second-lieutenant asked with more incredulity. “Is there a mistake with your orders? Shouldn’t you be assigned to the Military Police Station at Pearl?”

“No, Sir, there is no mistake,” I assured him.

The second lieutenant closed the lid of my gun case and handed it back to the lance corporal. I saw him place it gently inside the duffel bag.

“Stand by while I call this in to the Station Officer of the Day,” the second-lieutenant said as he turned to pick up a telephone.

The lance corporal cleared his throat and pointed to a clipboard by the phone.

“Sir, remember what the Captain said?”

The second-lieutenant’s face flushed at the cheeks as he replaced the telephone handset back to its cradle.

“Thanks Lance Corporal Larue,” he said.

“Staff Sergeant Garvey,” he said as he turned to me, “your captain left word for you to proceed without delay.”

He nodded to Lance Corporal Larue who motioned for me to follow him to a van that was parked on the street side of the receiving area. He opened the sliding door and placed my bags on the back seat.

“Hop in Sarge’,” he said, “I will give you a ride to the Tac Center.”

“Thanks,” I said as I climbed into the passenger seat.

I looked back into the receiving area and saw that the second-lieutenant was wiping his face with a paper towel. I wondered what Captain Thompson had said to put the fear of God into him. Whatever it was, I liked it.