"Time for your trial by fire," SEAL Chief Hampton said,
gesturing for Baylee-Ann Thorn to follow him out of
Operations. Hampton had met her CH-47 helo from Bagram Air
Base. As he walked with her from Ops toward the SEAL
compound, he told her how it was always below freezing in
the morning despite its being a day in June in Afghanistan.
Bay tried to quell her nervousness. They traversed deeply
rutted Humvee tracks outside Operations. Camp Bravo, an FOB,
forward operating base, was thirty miles from the Pak,
Pakistan border. It housed all types of black ops groups.
Hampton led them toward a small concrete one-story building
located near the edge of the CIA and black ops complex.
The Afghan sun was rising above the sharp, high peaks of the
Hindu Kush Mountains. Bay was glad for the desert cammies
and her soft cap since it was so cold. She removed her
wraparound sunglasses as the chief of Alpha Platoon pushed
open the door for her. Bay took a deep, steadying breath,
feeling as if she were about to walk into a firefight.
Inside, she halted, unsure where to go. Looking to her left,
she noticed seven SEAL shooters sitting and talking among
themselves. They looked as if they'd just finished a patrol,
sweaty, dusty and tired-looking. She felt exactly like them,
flying out of Iraq and leaving her Special Forces, a team
stationed near Baghdad, for this outpost.
"Follow me," Hampton said, giving her a smile of encouragement.
Bay felt slightly better, ignoring her exhaustion and
following the tall, wiry Navy chief to the front of the
large room. As soon as Hampton arrived, all talking stopped
and the seven SEALs sat alert and focused. There were large
wooden plyboard tables pushed off to one side. To her, they
looked like planning or mission tables where the black ops
SEAL team would plan their patrols. The SEALs sat on a few
wooden bleachers at the other end of the room.
The room quieted as three Navy SEAL officers, who ran the
platoon, entered the area from another doorway. Bay stood
off to one side with Hampton as Lieutenant Paul Brafford,
the OIC, Officer in Command, strolled up to the center.
Every man in the room wore a beard in order to fit into the
Muslim culture. Two other officers followed him into the
silent room.
"Gentlemen, two days ago we lost Steve, our 18 Delta combat
medic and sniper." His voice turned heavy. "It's a loss we
didn't want to see happen, and I know we're all upset about
it." He sat down on a four-legged stool, hooking the heel of
his combat boot on a lower rung. "What I'm about to tell you
is top secret. And Chief Hampton is going to be passing
around a paper that you will sign, ensuring that this will
be kept that way."
There was a murmur among the shooters, who collectively
looked at the woman standing beside their chief. They rested
their safed rifles, muzzle down, across their legs or chest.
Brafford said, "Unbeknownst to us, there has been an ongoing
initiative called Operation Shadow Warriors. It is an
experiment created by the Joint Chiefs of Staff to see if
women, who are adequately trained for combat, can be
successful under combat conditions. This operation has been
ongoing for three years now, in Iraq and Afghanistan. You
will read and agree to what you're signing. Basically, it
says you won't
ever speak a word about having a
woman assigned to our platoon."
Bay saw the collective shock on the SEALs' faces. Chief
Hampton passed the papers among them. Bay was interested in
how the SEALs operated. There were three SEALs on the first
bench, three on the second bench. On the last bench near the
rear bulkhead or wall sat one lone SEAL. She was good at
interpreting facial expressions and body language. Bay
noticed the anger and disgust in the faces on the first
bench of SEALs. They wanted nothing to do with her. The
second bench of SEALs looked surprised. Bay saw something
else in the expression of the SEAL who sat by himself.
Interest. Curiosity. No judgment. At least, not yet.
Bay felt her skin prickle as the lone SEAL's green eyes
narrowed speculatively, assessing her. He had a square face,
strong chin, wide-set eyes and was deeply tanned from being
out in the elements. His black hair was dusty, longish and
reminded Bay of a raven's wing. He was tall and she felt
coiled energy around him. His right hand rested relaxed
across the rail system on top of his M-4 rifle. Even though
he appeared to be at rest, Bay noted the tension in his
broad shoulders. There was nothing casual about this shooter.
Bay was used to relying on her intuition, which was finely
honed by her years of living in the Allegheny Mountains with
her hill family. This man was lethal in ways she couldn't
imagine. Yes, SEALs, as she understood them, were at the tip
of the black ops spear. They went out on patrol or a direct
action mission and moved into harm's way. SEALs were intent
on taking out HVTs, high-value targets. Bullets were going
to fly when they entered the picture. Still, there was
something about the lone SEAL that touched Bay's
fast-beating heart. If she hadn't been so tired and stressed
at being thrown into this awkward and unexpected situation,
she might have picked up more about him.
"Okay, gentlemen," Brafford said, "you've read it. Now sign
your life away so we can move on."
Bay stood next to the AOIC, a tall, lean second lieutenant,
Reed Latham. The AAOIC, an ensign, Pete Scardillo, watched
and listened. The chief had told her the SEALs were
instituting a new officer training template. The AAOIC was a
recent graduate and officer, but he'd be going out on every
mission with the SEAL shooters, learning the trade. Latham
critically watched his SEAL shooters. They were all enlisted
men, Bay knew. Like her. Would they accept her or not? She'd
worked with Marines and Army Special Forces in Iraq over the
past three years. She'd heard about the clandestine SEALs,
who had an awesome reputation of being a deadly force behind
the scenes. Now, for the first time, she was getting a
personal and up-front look at them. There was a lot of
muttering and grumbling among them.
Hampton moved through the group, took the signed papers and
walked over to the AAOIC and handed the sheaf to him. The
chief then came and stood at Bay's side.
The tension in the room amped up. Bay felt every pair of
SEAL eyes on her. She wanted to cringe inside her cammies
and hide. This wasn't going to go down well. She could feel it.
"Chief," Brafford said mildly, "would you like to finish up
introducing our new doc and getting her assigned a mentor?"
He eased off the stool.
"Yes, sir," Hampton said.
All three officers left through another door. Bay tried to
appear relaxed, but her heart was pounding now, with
adrenaline leaking into her bloodstream. She watched Hampton
take the stool with accustomed ease, his hands resting
relaxed on his thighs as he regarded his men.
"I want to introduce you to your newest team member, Petty
Officer First-Class Hospital Corpsman Baylee-Ann Thorn.
She's a combat corpsman. She's been trained for a year by
the Marines at Camp Pend-leton and knows the drill on being
a shooter. Plus?" he looked over at her "?she's going to be
one of our medics in our platoon. You'll find her competent.
And I know that all of you are going to have to be flexible
about having a female in our midst. I feel sure you guys can
handle it. Be gentlemen and understand that because she's a
medic, your life is in her hands. Got it?"
Bay saw a lot of unhappy faces in front of her. They didn't
want a woman around. She could feel their anger, surprise
and distrust of her being an outsider to the tight SEAL
team. Swallowing hard, Bay kept her face carefully arranged.
Somehow, with the chief's help, she was going to have to
make this work. The SEALs were a badass group. None of them
was smiling. All but one, frowning.
"Doc, why don't you come up here and introduce yourself?
Tell the guys a little bit about yourself," Hampton invited,
gesturing for her to step forward.
Oh, Lord, give me strength. Doc was the nickname
every combat corpsman was called in the military. Bay
stepped next to the chief. "Good morning," she said, "I'm
Corpsman Thorn. I know my first name is a mouthful, so most
folks call me Doc or Bay." She fearlessly met their black,
flat stares. "I know this is an odd situation, but I promise
you, I won't become a liability. I've been working for years
over in Iraq with Marines and U.S. Army Special Forces. I
know the drill."
Hampton intervened. "Well, I can tell you that Doc is a very
humble person. She isn't going to brag on herself." He
smiled a little over at Bay and then shifted his attention
to the team. "Doc Thorn is the first woman to ever be
allowed to go through and graduate from Army 18 Delta combat
medic training. Almost two-thirds of the Army Special Forces
guys who go through this eighteen-month course fail. But she
didn't. She's used her skills for the last two years in Iraq
combat situations and hasn't lost a man yet."
All the SEALs looked at one another, doubly shocked. The 18
Delta combat medics were the golden hour in a field of
combat. They saved lives that regular combat medics were not
trained to do. Nearly all SEALs who were medics were
graduates of 18 Delta. The looks on their faces turned to
grudging respect.
Gabe Griffin smifed a little to himself. Chief Hampton was
smart. Bay showed her humbleness and yet nailed the
disbelievers in the team with the one thing that counted: a
damn good medic who could save their sorry ass if they got
shot out on a patrol or mission. About half the SEALs sat
back, seriously digesting the info. Baylee-Ann Thorn's soft
drawl wasn't quite Southern, so he wondered where she was
from. He liked her husky voice, her confidence as she stood
relaxed in front of the group. For a medic, she was a good
height and weight. Bay, as he decided to call her, was
probably around five feet ten inches tall. In a firefight,
this woman could haul a SEAL to safety if she had to.
Adrenaline would make up the difference.
Still, as Gabe listened to her background, he was struck by
how innocent Bay looked. She had light brown, slightly curly
hair, pulled back into a riotous ponytail. With intelligent
blue eyes, a nice mouth and kind-looking face, she wasn't
typical of a combat SEAL. She wasn't beautiful. Rather,
natural and at ease with herself and who she was. Gabe liked
her easygoing nature, and as he studied his team, he saw a
couple of the guys losing their bristling demeanor.
Yes, Bay certainly had a nice voice. The kind of voice you'd
want around if you were bleeding out and going to die in two
and a half minutes. You'd believe anything Bay told you
because you trusted her and trusted her incredible training.
Gabe wondered if her personality would be able to tame the
animals in this squad of eight shooters. They all sat alert
on their benches, listening closely to what she had to say.
Chief Hampton looked at the team. "Thanks, Doc," he said. "I
want to welcome you to Alpha Platoon. Do you animals have
any questions for her?"
"Yeah, I sure as hell do," Hammer, who sat on the first
bench nearest them, snarled. "Just what the hell was the
Navy thinking? Putting a
woman in our platoon? I
don't care if this is some top-secret op or not. It's insane."
Bay winced inwardly at the tall SEAL's angry comment. He had
disgust in his eyes. She felt his emotions strike her.
Hampton sighed. "Hammer, stand down. This is not her fault.
Doc did volunteer for this experiment. Keep in mind this op
has been ongoing for three years and it has been very
successful."
Hammer glared at the chief, challenging him. "Have there
been any other bitches assigned to a SEAL squad?"
"Knock off the disrespect," Hampton growled. "The answer is
yes. And you wouldn't have heard about it through the
grapevine because every man signed that waiver, promising to
never speak of it to anyone. Not even to other SEAL squads
or platoons."
Hammer lifted his chin. "She's going out on our patrols with
us?"
"That's what a doc does," Hampton replied in a reasonable tone.
"That's friggin' babysitting, Chief!" Hammer protested
loudly. "It's not like we don't have enough on our hands
watchin' out for the tangos, the goddamn IEDs and the rest.
Now we have to watch out for her ass, too? She's a major
distraction and that can get us killed."
Bay put her hand out and briefly touched the chief's
shoulder. "Chief, if you would allow me?"
Hampton shrugged. "Go for it."
Gabe sat back. Bay Thorn's blue eyes narrowed slightly and
her wide, soft mouth thinned. He was surprised she'd take on
a SEAL, expecting her to hide behind the chief and let him
do the fighting for her. That impressed him.
Bay met Hammer's black glare. "I have never worked with
SEALs, that's true. From what I've heard about you guys over
the years, y'all are heroes in my eyes."
Gabe watched the team preen to a man, as if stroked by her
long, narrow hand. They were warriors. And they had the
confidence and training to rightfully feel that way about
themselves. It was always nice to hear someone consider them
heroes and tell them to their face, however. He watched Bay
with fascination, wondering how she was ever going to handle
this male alpha wolf team.
"The chief was right. I am trained for combat. I also have a
yearlong immersion course in Pashto. I hope to be of help in
different ways to you. I'd much rather be a terp,
translator, for you, or another gun in the fight, than have
to save your hide once you took a bullet out in the field.
But I can do that, too. Like you, I'm multi-skilled and
consider myself an asset."
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