Killed in Action - A Spy School Story

Chapter 12: Workup

Camp Pendleton, CA

April 1st, 2018

1425U

Jawa POV

"Hernandez?"

"Sir?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a menace?"

"I've heard that before, sir."

"No, I mean in the past twenty-four hours."

"I've heard that before, sir."

That was the exchange between me and Special Warfare Operator 2nd Class Danny Hernandez, one of my fellow SEALs in Bravo Platoon of SEAL Team 3. Combined with Alpha Platoon and a small group of explosive ordnance disposal technicians and Air Force combat controllers, we made up Task Unit Archangel.

Our area of operations was going to be western Mexico, specifically the coastal area. In conjunction with the Mexican Navy (particularly their Marines' Fuerzas Especiales), we were going to conduct counter-narcotics, amphibious reconnaissance, and limited direct action missions—basically running in, killing/capturing enemy personnel, and running out. Our limited DA capability was due to the strict rules of engagement we were operating under, which basically had TU Archangel focus on intelligence gathering and security force assistance—in other words, the Mexicans were taking the lead while us Americans provided support.

We need to have some American boots on the deck... and we're going to have some American boots on the deck... only question is how many and what can they do?

It was definitely a bit unnerving going back to Mexico after the calamity that was Operation Fox Hunt—remember, I got shot five times and thrown out of a collapsing building—but since nobody else knew that, I could only grin and bear it. We had a job to do, after all.

Just as long as they don't court-martial us for shooting back at sicarios.

We were in Camp Pendleton to train with a Marine Raider team and Force Recon mobility team, who were to share their expertise in driving and better prepare us for our deployment. The Raiders gave us knowledge regarding more covert circumstances, training us on a number of civilian and military vehicles. Despite some of the junior guys in TU Archangel (myself included) coming in somewhat shaky, we'd significantly improved over the last few months.

The FORECON men, meanwhile, trained us on all-terrain vehicles, utility task vehicles, dirt bikes, and other off-roaders, with us surprisingly having an easier time with those (save for the dirt bikes). The training often turned into competitions—everything from regular races to shooting and scooting (we did that on a range with safety in mind). And I was quite pleased with the direction we were going.

So far, the only real issue had been my platoon commander—Lieutenant Jack Koenig—getting a really, really bad case of diarrhea, with the doctor informing me that it was likely due to food poisoning... which most likely came from Pendleton's mess hall (I blame Sodexo). But as the assistant officer-in-charge, I was now temporarily commanding Bravo Platoon until we deployed, at which time LT Koenig would be cleared for duty.

However, as I would quickly realize, that temporary command came with a great deal of bullshit, much of which came in the form of SO2 Hernandez.

Now don't get me wrong, Hernandez is a fantastic SEAL, and this was his third platoon, so he had more experience than me. However, he inconceivably managed to get into some of the craziest messes I'd ever seen in my brief time in the Navy—which was due to a healthy mix of bad luck and his daredevil attitude. In the six-ish months I'd known him, I'd seen him flip off an airplane (no, not the middle finger) while parachuting; he blew up a car with so much explosive, a chunk of debris landed on a crackhead carjacking an old lady half a mile away; and as a serial prankster, he'd done everything from planting stink bombs in another platoon's lockers to trapping an admiral's car in its reserved parking spot... with construction contractors.