~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“Bill,” I said into my phone. “Red Dog just called and said he’s waiting at the airport for pick-up. Call Brady over the radio and have him swing by and pick Red Dog up.”
“I’m on it LT,” Bill said getting up from Brian’s computer.
“Thanks Bill, I’ll be watching for them to get here.”
Bill grabbed the microphone on his radio. “Sea Hawk, Sea Hawk this is home base, over.”
“Home base this is Sea Hawk, go ahead over.”
“Red Dog is in town and needs a pick-up, do you copy? over.”
“Roger that home base we copy and are on our way to pick-up the package, this is Sea Hawk out.”
I was standing by the helicopter pad watching as the helicopter came towards us. A few of our team members were there to greet Ken Labby, AKA Red Dog. He’d been a friend of ours for many years and everyone wanted to see him. Soon the bird was on the ground and its blades were slowing down. I stepped forward and yanked the cabin door of the helicopter open and shook our friends hand as he stepped out.
“Ken, I’m glad you were able to join us on such short notice,” I said. “Welcome to Dead Men’s Isle.”
Ken stood and looked the island over. Dead Men’s Isle is just under 500 acres or roughly three quarters of a mile square.
“It’s good to be here Rick. It beats the hell out of sitting around doing nothing.”
“We’ll give you plenty to keep you busy, you won’t have to worry about that.”
Ken turned to greet the others. “Doc you old horse doctor, how the hell are you?”
“Good and you’re looking pretty good yourself for a retiree,” Doc proclaimed grinning.
“Former retiree,” Red Dog corrected him. “Jake, you’re looking good,” Red Dog complimented the Senior Chief.
“I’m a former retiree too,” the senior chief admitted. “I hated it all to hell. I hate sitting around on my ass with nothing to do.”
“Ken, this is my bride to be Karen Jacobs,” I said as I drew Karen in close to me.
“Ah, you’re a lucky man Rick, you surely are. Karen when you have a little time I have to talk to you alone. There are a few things you need to know about this guy before you say I do,” Red Dog said grinning.
“I’d love to sit with you and hear your stories,” Karen said while giving me a mischievous look.
“This is Chief York; he’s going to run our CIC on the Sea Eagle. The two of you will be sharing a state room on the ship and also one of our houses here on the island,” I informed him.
“Good to meet you, Bunkie. It’s always good to meet another career military man.”
“Good to meet you too, Sarge. We’ll have to tip a few beers and talk about all the trouble we managed to get out of over the years.”
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to do that. It doesn’t look like there are too many places to hide on this little island,” Ken laughed good naturedly.
“On Saturday nights we take the cruisers over to Montego Bay for supper and a little dancing and drinking,” I informed him.
“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Red Dog reminded me. “It looks like I got here at the right time.”
“When we go into town everybody carries their Glocks. We have conceal carry permits courtesy of the Jamaican government. We still have enemies and we won’t be caught empty handed. Your men will carry their hand guns with them too. Even on our island we have our guns on us, just in case.”
“A smart man never gets caught with his pants down around his ankles,” Red Dog said wisely. “It’s always wiser to bring a gun to a knife fight than to bring a knife to a gun fight.”
“Unless your name is Patch,” Doc said. “Lord almighty, if that man pulls out his knife I’d want more than just a gun.”
“Don’t forget LT,” the senior chief tossed in. “Hell he doesn’t even need the damn knife. He can just kick you to death before you can clear leather.”
“Now that is a fact,” Red Dog agreed. “I saw him kick two guys at once one time. They had a race to see which one could land on their butt first.”
I’m a six degree black belt. I’ve been training since I was a very small boy, probably around five years old. When I joined the Navy I was a third degree black belt. After Navy Seal training at Coronado Island I stayed stationed there. I met a grand master that taught in San Diego. He’d brought his style of martial arts over from the old country. It was real old stuff, nothing like it was taught anywhere I know of. If he taught me one thing above all others, it was speed. If you could execute your move faster than your opponent could react you’d win every single time.
I got fast under his tutelage, almighty fast. I competed for his dojo for four years and never came close to losing a match. I don’t remember even being hit by an opponent. In 274 matches I was undefeated. Many of them were by knockout and many ended fast.
“I’m not as fast as I used to be,” I confided. “I’m aging and my leg hurts from the shrapnel when it rains.”
“His mind has slowed up considerably,” Doc attested. “But his feet and hands are still registered as lethal weapons.”
“It looks like that plane is lining up for a landing in front of your island,” Red Dog said, pointing his finger at the approaching aircraft.
“It’s our weapons shipment we’ve been waiting for. Damn, it’s turning out to be a good day! Ken, after we unload the airplane I’ll brief you on our first mission and give you a tour of the island.”
“I’m looking forward to it Rick,” Ken admitted freely.
“For now let’s unload the plane so our sharpshooters can clean and sight in the weapons. It won’t be long now and we’ll be in need of them,” I said as I looked north towards Cuba.