“Petty Officer Bryant, I see you did not require an escort today,” Lieutenant Commander Stevens said, interrupting Bryant’s reverie.
Bryant turned to see a smile and a twinkle in Steven’s eyes. He returned the smile and replied, “No, sir! And I’m glad I don’t need one.”
“Come on in. I have some things to talk to you about before you leave for your new mission.”
Bryant seated himself in the now familiar chair across from Stevens.
Stevens looked at the petty officer and acknowledged to himself that Bryant appeared much more relaxed than when the interviews began. He even seemed to slump some in his chair. He smiled inwardly.
“I just wanted to review the things we have talked about over the past few weeks and explore what you will take with you into your next assignment and hopefully beyond,” Stevens explained.
They talked about the desensitization exercises and how Bryant could think of them helping him to control his response to brutal behavior toward animals, especially dogs. Lieutenant Commander Stevens acknowledged that Bryant may not experience anything like this last incident in the future, but that using his new tools might be useful for managing any situation that evokes his anger. He explored how he could choose between rapid, almost instinctual response and a measured, thoughtful response. Stevens reminded Bryant to use the cue word time to apply to the decision to react or slow down his response. They explored several scenarios to help Bryant learn when to apply more “time” to his actions.
“You may not have the same experience in the future, but you can practice using this cue word to make decisions on reaction time in all of your experiences, except the most dire. The more you use it, the easier and more normal it will seem,” he added.
Bryant nodded. The exercise seemed awkward at first, but he had already become more comfortable with the “behavior-management technique.” He believed that he could continue to use it.
“Okay, that about does it. You have done well in our sessions, and I expect you will continue to benefit from what you have learned in our time working together. I’m glad that it has worked out this way for you, and I wish you the best in your new assignment,” Stevens concluded.
Lieutenant Commander Stevens rose from the desk, and Petty Officer Bryant followed.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you for helping me.”
Bryant was feeling like he had just graduated from something. He couldn’t wait to get back to the real world, even if that world was filled with bullets and blood.
Chapter 6
Special Assignment
US Army Private Eugene Mallory stood nervously by the crate holding several automatic weapons. He could hear the beating of the Huey rotor blades but couldn’t see it yet. The copter was twenty-three minutes late. The helicopter was approaching with a late afternoon sun behind it, and it was difficult to see what was on the horizon. Mallory shifted his stance, leaning on the Humvee with his right elbow. He was dressed in civilian clothes as was his partner in crime, Corporal Chance White. He glanced at White and gritted his teeth. White was sound asleep, and a slight snore emanated from his open window. It was time to wake him.
“Corporal White! I think they’re here.”
White stirred and looked at Mallory with sleepy, irritated eyes. He slowly emerged from the Humvee, stretching his thin six-foot-three-inch frame, pulling at his pants, and scratching his head.
“’Bout time,” was all he said.
Both men reached for their M4 carbines and felt for their M9 pistols. They knew that the copter coming toward them should be friendly, but they also knew the exchange they were about to make changed the circumstances. Until the exchange was made, neither soldier would breathe easy.
Six hundred feet away and nearly invisible against the brown desert shrubs and rocks, SEAL Shawn Bryant adjusted his hybrid hyperspectral camera. He was on a limited time assignment to gather information and video and photographs of the suspected drug deals by a few rogue US Army soldiers in the Kandahar region of Afghanistan. He carried a Sig Sauer P226 pistol and an HK416 assault rifle, and he also carried a SOG serrated knife. He hoped he didn’t have to use any of them.
For nearly three weeks prior to this moment, Shawn Bryant had gone through training in preparation for his surveillance. He had been given a brief training on how to use the camera, a thorough review of the terrain where he would be, and an overview of what to expect when he was on assignment at the location of the exchange. Just prior to departure, his trainers reiterated that the exchange he was about to observe and record was very dangerous. He was told that it was a drug-for-guns exchange and that the drugs were almost certain to be purified opium. They explained that if he was caught, there was no doubt he would be killed, or tortured then killed if the afghans caught him.
He was thirsty and tired. He hardly moved to avoid detection. When he heard the beating of the rotary blades of the Bell UH-1 helicopter, he drew the tarp he had covered in brown grass and branches from a nearby bush over his head. He moved closer to the trunk of the shrub.
This wasn’t an ordinary assignment. Bryant reflected on the briefing held in Captain Ericson’s office. Ericson, along with Captain Fredericks, told him this was a dangerous assignment and that he would have no backup unless he didn’t make the rendezvous with the returning helicopter. By that time, it would likely be too late. He could see Fredericks leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head telling him he was on his own. He had added that they were confident he would be successful.
At that exact moment, Bryant was not so sure. If he was detected, there would likely be a short firefight, but in the end, if he could not escape, he would be killed. Given the nature of the activity that these men were engaged, he would choose death.
The helicopter came in over the top of Bryant’s hiding spot. He felt the rustle of the tarp, but unless the draft pulled it off completely, he was certain he would not be detected from above. After the copter had passed, Shawn pulled the tarp aside with the caution of a predator stalking his prey. He had trouble seeing the action taking place at first as the helicopter stirred the dust into a small storm. As the rotor blades slowed to a stop, the air settled some, and Shawn could see the exchange.
He placed a dark cloth on the end of the camera to block any sunlight from tipping off the men involved in the exchange. His movements were nearly imperceptible.
He noticed that one of the men stopped moving the bag and looked in Shawn’s general direction. The soldier pulled out a pair of binoculars and started scanning the horizon. Shawn tucked himself back under the shelter of his tarp but kept one end slightly open to assess the actions of the group of men.
He could hear muffled laughter, and the man put away the binoculars. Shawn heard some shuffling sounds coming from his right. He tensed and gripped his weapon tighter. Slowly he opened the tarp a little wider to investigate the noise. Staring into his eyes was some weasel-looking creature. A beech marten had come to check him out. He stood and sat on his haunches when Shawn lifted the tarp, but as soon as Shawn shifted his position, the marten turned and wandered back into the desert.
Shawn noticed a trail of dust coming down the road from his right. He renewed his filming, but kept his tarp over him except for the lens end. He was soon rewarded for his care. Before the caravan of vehicles and armed Afghans arrived, the helicopter restarted and rose into
