Case Study: Sun Tzu, III/31

0699 said:
But I do. And if the right person gives me the green light, I'm whipping that baby out... :hmm:

:ROFLMAO:
Click to expand...

You are NOT cleared 'hot' for the steel crew served match, nor for the ceremonial match, nor for the emergency c-ration matchbook. :hmm: We just avoided an asteroid strike, we do not need a world wide conflagration. :wall: Go feed and play with Bruno. :thumbsup:
 
After they had passed out of Chief Rollins’ hearing, Reynolds pulled Faith aside. “We’re not really about to go assault a superior commissioned officer, are we sir?” he asked.

“No, we’re not,” Faith said, laughing.

“And by ‘no we’re not’ that means you’re not going to do it by yourself either, right?” Reynolds insisted, his eyes narrowing.

“What, are you serious?” Faith inquired, a look of surprise on his face. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

Reynolds held up his fingers as if he was ticking off a list. “Well, there was Jody Schum, then there was that whole thing with Al James, and-“

“OK, OK,” Faith responded, “I mean what makes you think I’d do something like that now?”

Reynolds smiled. “Well, there was Jody Schum, then there was that whole thing-“

“OK, alright, I get it,” Faith said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Why are you always bringing up old shit?” he teased, “You’re worse than my wife.”

“I spend more time worrying about what you’re going to do then I spend worrying about my three boys,” Reynolds countered. “You’re more unpredictable than they are.”

“Yeah, well, that was the “old” Captain Faith, this is the new and improved version, the one that doesn’t get all pissed off and want to fight everyone just because he has had a bad day at the office. The one that knows in a couple of weeks The Dud will be gone, and I’ll be the Group S2, and that things will finally change for the better around here. Come on,” he added, “Let’s go see what The Dud wants us to see us about.”

“I kind of liked the “old” Captain Faith,” Reynolds grumbled as the two walked down to The Dud’s office. The door was closed, and Faith knocked twice on the door, just like a good captain would do when reporting to a major. “Sir! Captain Faith reporting as ordered!” he called out. “See?” Faith whispered to Reynolds, “New and improved Captain Faith, Version 2.0.” Reynolds rolled his eyes.

“Enter!” came a command from inside the office. Faith hesitated for a moment; that voice wasn’t The Dud’s.

“Captain Faith reporting as ord-“ he stopped mid-word in surprise. Upon opening the door, Faith saw The Dud seated on the couch in front of the bookcase, the one Faith had sat on the last time he was here. The new Group Commander was seated behind The Dud’s desk. And lounged in the easy chair in front of the desk was… Major Roberts.

“This can’t be good,” Faith thought to himself.

“First Sergeant Reynolds, you can wait outside. In fact, you can wait downstairs in the SCIF,” the Group Commander said to Reynolds.

“This DEFINITELY isn’t going to be good,” Faith thought to himself. Reynolds heard what the Group Commander said, but still looked to Faith for confirmation. Faith’s nod to Reynolds said, “Go on, it’s cool, I’ll talk with you later.” After the door closed behind him, Faith refocused his attention on the three men in the room.

“Hiya, Scotty!” Major Quentin Roberts said to Faith.
 
Faith didn’t know which irked him more- MAJ Roberts’ malevolence, or the way he tried to mask it with over-familiarity. Roberts and Faith had been mutual enemies for a long time. Both men knew it. But Roberts always liked to portray their relationship as amicable, as if Roberts were some kind of mentor for Faith. Faith did in fact learn a lot from Roberts, about how NOT to be a leader.

“Scotty, come have a seat over here,” Roberts offered, patting the seat beside him patronizingly. Faith ignored him.

“Sir, Captain Faith reporting as ordered,” Faith said to the Group Commander.

“Sit,” the other man replied sternly. Since he did not specify where he was to sit, Faith deliberately chose to site somewhere other than where Roberts had suggested.

“Captain Faith,” the Group Commander began, “I asked you here today because I am developing deep reservations about your leadership of the MI Detachment. Major Dudley has expressed his own concerns to me, with regard to your insubordination and your inability to get along with other officers in the command, especially other MI officers.” With his eyes, he indicated majors Dudley and Roberts. “This thing with the laptop is the latest in a series of events which has me questioning the wisdom of allowing you to stay on as the Group S2 after Major Dudley leaves.”

Faith felt his blood runs cold. Surely he wasn’t going to allow Dudley to stay?

“So, this is what we’re going to do. First of all, you and Dudley are going to work things out between the two of you, right here, right now. As a friend of both you and Major Dudley, Major Roberts has volunteered to mediate-“

“Sir, Major Roberts is most definitely not my friend. We served in the same unit in Korea but that’s about it. If you want an impartial mediator, might I suggest-“ he was going to suggest the Group Chaplain, but never got the chance.

“No you may NOT suggest!” the Group Commander thundered. “You may sit there and do what I said. If you want to make decisions around here, you go to Selection and the Q-course and start wearing a green beret around here instead of a red one. Until that day happens, you do what you’re told or you find another place to work!”

Wisely, Faith said nothing. The Group Commander got up to leave. As long as it takes, you two are going to work something out before any of you leave here tonight. And Faith,” he added, “any more incidents where you can’t hold on to your sensitive items, I’m relieving you of command on the spot.”

After the Group Commander left, things only got worse. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Faith accused The Dud of hiding the laptop and planting it back in the SCIF. The Dude protested stammeringly, insisting that he had been in his office since lunch and had not left at all, “…not even to p-p-p-pee!” Major Roberts backed The Dud’s story, although to Faith that was hardly a ringing endorsement of his alibi.

Eventually, Faith and Dudley simply agreed to avoid each other until Dudley moved out of the unit, which was fine since this was what Faith had intended to do anyway.

Ultimately, what should have been a 20 minute conversation took more than an hour and a half because Roberts, in his “mediator” role, kept feeling the need to interject and complicate matters. He wanted an agreement put in writing, which Faith simply refused to do. “My word is still good in this unit,” he said, clearly implying that Dudley’s wasn’t.

When the door to The Dud’s office finally opened to let him out, Faith felt mentally exhausted. While he was relieved that the missing laptop had been returned, he knew that something nefarious had transpired. Faith never thought that The Dud was a particularly effective liar, and felt he might possibly be telling the truth about not placing the laptop in the locker.

Faith idly wondered if Roberts could somehow have done it. He certainly is both malicious enough and sneaky enough to pull it off. But if Dudley’s alibi was that he was in his office all afternoon with Roberts, and Dudley isn’t lying, then that puts Roberts in the clear too. Besides, no one in the SCIF remembered Roberts being in there, and he didn’t have an access badge. Who, then?
 
Despite the late hour, Faith was not surprised to find First Sergeant Roberts and Chief Rollins waiting for him down in the SCIF.

“We think we figured it out, sir,” Rollins informed him.

“Figured what out?” Faith asked. He had so many things on his mind at the moment, he didn’t know exactly what Rollins meant.

“The thing with the laptop, of course!” Rollins said excitedly. “It had to be Skeet,” she added, meaning MSG Skeet, the Group S2 shop NCOIC. This made sense in some ways, Skeet had access to the SCIF and no one would have thought twice about him being in the SCIF area, although he seldom went down there. But why would he do it?

“OK, so Skeet has placement and access,” Faith said, “but what would his motivation possible be to do something that would make the MID look bad, and potentially get me fired?”

“Revenge,” Reynolds offered, “or self-preservation.”

“What do you mean, self-preservation?” Faith asked.

“What have you told everyone your first goal is going to be when you take over as S2?” Reynolds responded.

“Ensure that intel support to the 2nd Special Forces Group is optimized to provide the highest level of support possible to the ODAs and support staffs,” Faith rattled off from memory.

Reynolds laughed. “I see you’ve put a lot of thought into that! But I think that’s your vision, not your goal. What is the first thing you’re going to do when you take over the Group S2 shop?”

“Cut away the dead weight,” Faith answered immediately.

“Can you think of weight any deader than Master Sergeant Skeet?” Chief Rollins asked. Faith couldn’t.

“So you two think he did this because…” Faith started.

“Because he knows that’s his ass if you become his boss,” Reynolds finished for him. Rollins nodded enthusiastically.

Faith considered what they had just told him. “OK,” he said, nodding, “Got it. I’ll file that away for later, and I’ll be sure to bring it up with him in our initial counseling.”

“That’s it?” Rollins asked him.

“What did you expect me to do, Chief?” Faith asked. “We have a bunch of suspicions and some circumstantial evidence, nothing I can go off of. Especially after the ass chewing I just got from the Group Commander.” Faith briefly explained to them what had happened in The Dud’s office.

“I don’t think he likes us, sir,” Rollins said.

“The MID?” Faith responded, “What gave you that idea?” he asked jokingly.

“No, I mean all of us, all the support times,” she explained, “He acts like we don’t matter, and he treats us all like crap.”

“That’s not a whole lot different than a lot of the other green-hats here in Group,” Faith countered.

“Yeah, but they’re not the Commander,” Rollins argued. “I wish we had our old Commander back, he at least seemed to appreciate what we did for the Group.”

“Me, too,” Faith agreed. “But we’ve got the Commander we’ve got, and we have The Dud for a little longer. But the good news is, I’ve still got both of you.” Rollins and Reynolds glanced at each other, as if they knew something that Faith didn’t. “What?” he demanded. Reynolds held out a typed document, that Faith could see contained official Department of the Army letterhead. Apprehensively, Faith took the paper and read it.
 
Faith’s brow furrowed when he began reading the document. Then his face exploded into a broad smile. “These are your promotion orders!” he exclaimed to Reynolds.

Reynolds nodded. But it says that your effective date of promotion was…” Faith looked at the date on his watch, “…last Friday. Why are you just telling me about this now?” He demanded.

“I just found out about it this morning,” Reynolds answered. “S1…” he added, referring to the Group’s notoriously inefficient and unmotivated personnel section.

“There’s more, sir,” Rollins added. When she said this, Reynolds did not look pleased. “He has a class date for the Sergeants Major Academy.”

“Already?” Faith inquired, “when does it start?”

“Next week,” Reynolds said flatly. “I’m not going, there is too much going on here with the inspection coming up and the drama going on. I’ll go to the next one.”

“The next one isn’t until six months from now,” Rollins informed Faith. “And if he goes to the later one, it takes him out of contention for the battalion CSM gig he wants.”

Faith didn’t hesitate. “Well then, Sergeant Major, I guess you better get home and start packing your shit to move on out to Bliss,” meaning the Army’s Fort Bliss, Texas where the Sergeants Major Academy was located.

“I’m not going anywhere, sir,” now-Sergeant Major Reynolds said firmly. My place is here until all of this gets sorted out.

“Don’t be silly,” Faith told him, “it’s sorted out now. Rollins has the inspection, they’re going to backfill me in the MID with Captain Castelli, and we’ll wait out The Dud. You’re going to Bliss for the next class, if I have to type out the orders myself.

“Roger, sir,” Reynolds acknowledged. Faith thought he looked a little relieved.

“Who is going to take over as the First Sergeant until Big Army sends us a new E8?” Faith asked.

Reynolds didn’t hesitate. “Sergeant First Class Rico will take over for me as interim First Sergeant.” That was a good choice, Faith thought.

“OK then, the most important question in all of this is,” Faith said, looking serious. Reynolds looked at him intently, “when is the promotion party?”
 
Faith has already been fired, he just doesn't know it. The new guy will probably put MSgt Skeets in as the 1st Sgt, and the two of them (Roberts, not the dud) will ensure faith gets fired.
Then the Dud's orders will be changed, and he will go to the mid.
Hope Faith likes Corps G2.
 
Faith will learn of a vacancy in a unit across the base and have his 4187 (or the Officer equivalent) processed just in time for the Dud and Roberts to Eiffel Tower Skeets and for the Group Commander to end up on the poopy end of the stick once the inspection rolls around.
 
Reynolds ended up doing a joint promotion/farewell party that coincided with Chief Michaels’ retirement. Doing it together was Michaels’ idea, “Imagine all the beer we could buy if we go in together!” This surprised Faith a bit, as Michaels had originally wanted his retirement to be a low-key affair. But, as Michaels explained, “Too many people would get all butt-hurt if I didn’t invite them. So I decided to invite everyone,” which, as it turned out, was pretty much what happened. Both Reynolds and Michaels were very highly respected within the Group, and most of the Group showed up for the party, which, as it turned out, was epic in proportion.

For one thing, Reynolds and Michaels decided on an open bar, which was a dangerously expensive proposition given the number of thirsty Soldiers who turned up. Reynolds’ promotion was first, and Reynolds honored Faith by asking him to preside over the ceremony. When it was complete, the MID presented Reynolds with his going-away gift, which was a framed copy of the MID’s guidon, flanked on one side by the Group flash and on the other a set of senior airborne wings. Afterwards, Reynolds gave a light but nonetheless emotion-laden speech in which he profusely thanked the Group, the MID, and several other Soldiers by name, including CPT Faith. After his speech was done, those assembled passed through a receiving line to congratulate Reynolds on his promotion.

As was customary, several of them took turns clapping Reynolds firmly on rank attached to the shoulders of his uniform, driving the pins into Reynolds’ skin. Faith deeply disapproved of this “blood rank” tradition and considered it juvenile and unnecessary. But he did nothing to stop it, nor was it likely he would be able to do so even if he wanted to since the Group Commander was the first one to administer it. Faith looked at the long line of people and wondered if they were all going to try to give the blood rank; if so, he was going to have to think of something to get Reynolds out of it without embarrassing Reynolds or making himself look like a prude in front of the whole Group.

He needn’t have worried though, as Chief Michaels came through one more time for him. As he passed through the receiving line, one of the first ten or so people, Michaels reached up and detached Reynolds’ rank from the left and right shoulders the uniform and handed them to Reynolds’ wife, who was standing beside him. He did it so naturally and so casually, that it didn’t seem at all unusual. Michaels chatted briefly with Reynolds and his wife before moving on. There were some scattered complaints from other Soldiers when they got up to Reynolds and saw that he no longer had rank insignia on his shoulders, but when they were informed that Michaels had been the one to remove it, there was no more complaining.

Faith noticed MAJ Roberts working his way through the crowd and was greatly irritated. Faith wondered what this guy was doing constantly hanging around Group. Didn’t he have a job somewhere?
 
There was a short break to transition from Reynolds’ farewell to Michaels’ retirement. Shortly before the ceremony was scheduled to begin, the cell phone in Faith’s pocket rang. “You guys are here? Great, come on in we’re about to get started,” he said into it before hanging up. Shortly before the ceremony began, Faith was joined by his wife, and an older man wearing a suit with an old Special Forces pin on his lapel.

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http://s3.amazonaws.com/bonanzleimages/afu/images/7604/9131/21d5_1.jpg_set_id_7

As the ceremony began, Faith’s attention was drawn to the dazzling array of badges, awards, and decorations that adorned Michaels’ uniform. In the time that he had known him, Faith never saw Michaels wear anything other than his Special Forces tab over his unit patch on his left sleeve, and his combat patch on his right. He never wore any other badges, not even his jump wings, which Faith thought was unusual. “The only things that matter are what you’re wearing here, sir,” Michaels said, indicating his sleeves, one time when Faith asked him about it.

Today, however, Chief Warrant Officer Five Michaels was in full “bling.” He was sporting “triple canopy” on his left sleeve, with the Special Forces tab and the Ranger tab over the Airborne tab that was part of his unit patch. He was also wearing a combat infantry badge with two stars, indicating three awards of that badge. Amongst the dazzling display of ribbons Faith saw the Bronze Star with “V” device for valor with three bronze oak leaves beside it signifying it had been awarded four times, and a Purple Heart with two leaves, indicating three awards. He also had senior parachutist wings, HALO wings, and a “SCUBA bubble.” Faith had never seen so many awards and decorations worn by one person before. Well, not on one person who had legitimately earned them, Faith corrected himself.

Chief Warrant Officer Five Michaels’ retirement was a lengthy affair. At first, there were the usually array of speeches from assorted VIPs, including a general officer who had once been Michaels’ team leader back when Michaels had been a team sergeant, prior to transitioning to the warrant officer ranks. Then there was the presentation of official unit awards, his retirement medal (a Legion of Merit), and gifts from the unit for Michaels’ wife and children. Then, the presentations from Michaels’ personal friends and former units began, and the retirement began to get a lot more interesting. Several individuals told uproariously funny stories about Michaels, which usually involved the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol, an incident that happened somewhere overseas, or was related to something Michaels screwed up hopelessly earlier in his career. Things quickly moved from a more-official retirement to a bit of a roast. Michaels, and more importantly his wife, took it all in good fun. Some of the stories were quite entertaining, and after every story, the person telling it would present Michaels with a gift, which he would accept and place on a table behind him.

One of the most memorable gifts was a beautiful customized .45 Kimber pistol. The pistol was from the Group, and the Group’s officers presented him a bottle of 25 year old Glenlivet, which apparently was Michaels’ favorite. An assortment of plaques, trophies, and other gifts were presented, but the thing that seemed to move Michaels most was a framed oil painting that the general, who Faith now knew was the commanding general of Special Forces Command, presented.

Painted by master military artist James Dietz, it was titled “Strength and Honor,” which had long been the unofficial motto of the “2nd Legion.” It showed six men, in the various uniforms that had been worn in 2nd Group from Vietnam through to Afghanistan and Iraq.



jd-pr-103.jpg

http://www.jamesdietz.com/proddetail.php?prod=jd-pr-103

“I wore most of these uniforms, and knew most of the guys shown,” he said, with water welling up in his eyes as he held the painting and looked at it closely. “Thank you.”
“That guy in the middle with the M-14 looks just like you!” someone from the audience exclaimed. Michaels examined it closely. It did indeed look like him. “Twenty years and three Purple Hearts, maybe,” he stated, grinning.
 
When the presentations were over and it was finally his turn to talk, Michaels’ speech was short and to the point.

“I wondered what it would feel like in this moment,” he began, “to be wearing this uniform for the last time, after 35 years. What I feel most right now is… gratitude. I’m grateful to God for allowing me to be standing before you today, and to not be in prison somewhere, or buried in Arlington, or left in pieces somewhere in Southeast Asia, Southwest Asia, or South America or in any other of a dozen other places. I’m grateful to the men on my team, to those who supported us, and those who led us.”

“But none of that would have been possible,” he continued, “without the love and support of my wife Tammy, who raised three beautiful children, when I was-“ he stopped himself and seemed to get choked up a bit- “When I was not around. Thank you honey.”

He paused before finishing with, “I will be eternally grateful for having been given the right and honor to wear the green beret. De Opresso Liber.”

Michaels held up a hand to stifle the resounding applause his comments spurred. “One more thing. There’s not going to be a receiving line, it would take too long and we only have an open bar for another hour. I’m going set this bottle,” he held up the Glenlivet, “on the bar, and if there is anything left in it by the time we leave here tonight, this party was not a success,” Michaels announced as he sat the bottle of Glenlivet on the bar and walked away, triggering a stampede.
 
After things had cleared out a bit, Faith approached Chief Warrant Officer 5 (retired) Michaels, who was chatting with the general who had been the guest of honor.

“Congratulations on your retirement, Chief Michaels!” Faith said to him at an appropriate moment.
“Sir!” Michaels exclaimed enthusiastically. “Thank you for coming-“ he stopped short mid-sentence, looking at the man standing next to Faith.

“Chief, this is…” Faith began.

“I know who it is, sir,” Michaels replied in a low voice. “I recognize your old man when I see him. Good to see you after all this time, sir,” Michaels added, holding out his hand. To the general he said, “Sir, this is my first team leader, then-Captain Faith. And this is his son,” he added, indicating Scott Faith, “the current-Captain Faith.”

“I thought I was your first team leader, Chief,” the general said with a smile.

“You were my first team leader as a warrant,” Michaels replied, “He was my first team leader, ever.”

“Michaels talked a lot about you,” the general said, shaking Faith’s father’s hand. “He held you up as the standard by which he judged all other team leaders. He said you were one of the main reasons for his success as a warrant.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Faith’s father answered, “I think everything he did, he did on his own.”

“That’s not true at all, sir,” Michaels countered, “You took a chance on me when no one else would. You believed in me when no one else did. When everyone doubted me, including myself, you had faith. And that made all the difference.”

“You did real good, brother,” Faith’s father replied. Tears glistened in Michaels eyes. He blinked them away.

“Let’s get a drink!” he exclaimed. “I know what you like,” he said to Faith’s father, “but I don’t know what you’re having,” he said to Faith.

“You know what I really like?” Faith said sheepishly, “Southern Comfort and Diet Coke.”

Michaels looked at Faith and then at Faith’s father, who rolled his eyes at his son’s drink choice.

“Oh, you’re not joking!” he said to Faith. “OK, come on over to the bar and we’ll see what we can do.”

Faith’s wife, Linda, had already volunteered to be the designated driver for the evening, and was talking to her own group of friends, including Chief Rollins, while Faith, his father, the general, and Chief Michaels and pretty much everyone else there proceeded to get completely plastered. Faith, his wife, and his father decided to leave about the time someone thought it might be fun to take Michaels’ new Kimber out back and see how well it shot.
 
Faith made it to PT on time the next morning, and managed to stumble through the upper body routine that was on the schedule for the day, but he did it with a raging hangover. “That’s what you get for drinking that Southern Comfort crap instead of the good stuff!” his father had informed him cheerily that morning as he drank a cup of coffee while Faith tugged on his PT clothes and staggered out the door to his car.

Faith felt MUCH better after his post-PT shower and about four Motrin.

“Great party last night, huh sir?” Sergeant Major Reynolds inquired as he tugged on his uniform in the office that the two shared. Reynolds drank at least as much as Faith had, yet seemed to be suffering no ill effects. Maybe there was something to that whole thing about drinking the “good stuff.”

“Yeah, I had a pretty good time,” Faith admitted.

“I’ll say you did, by the end of the evening you were telling that general how you would kick his ass in racquetball.”

“I didn’t!” Faith exclaimed immediately. “Did I?” Then he thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I did,” he groaned out loud, putting his head in his hands.

“Don’t sweat it sir,” Reynolds said, laughing. “The general was laughing after you said it. I think he replied with something along the lines of how your play probably matches your taste in alcohol- which he defined as “pretty crappy.” Why do you like that stuff anyway?”

“Southern Comfort? Well, it goes back to when I was in high school, and that’s about all we could get to drink. I just like the way it tastes, it brings back good memories. What I really like to drink it with is Diet Cherry Coke, but I’m embarrassed to ask for it so I just go with regular Diet.”

“Damn, sir, if you’re going to do it, do it all the way, don’t stop with just regular Diet. Maybe they can dump a handful of cherries and put one of those umbrella thingees in it, and you can have your drink just like the rest of the girls,” he teased.
Faith smiled. “so what’s on the agenda firs this morning?”

“Chief Rollins.”

Faith was surprised. “What’s her deal?”

“I found out during PT that her sister’s wedding is Sunday.”

“OK…” Faith prodded.

“She’s not going to go to it because the inspection is this Monday, and she’s worried about how we’re going to do if she’s not here.”

“Get her in here,” Faith ordered. A short time later, Chief Rollins was seated casually in the office. “Chief, talk to me about this weekend,” Faith instructed.

“Well, my sister’s wedding is this weekend,” Chief Rollins explained, “But it’s in Tallahassee, and the big inspection is next week. I don’t think I can get back in time on Monday morning to be here when the inspection kicks off.”

“Why am I only finding out about this now?” Faith inquired. “Of course you should go to your sister’s wedding. I’m confident that we can pull this inspection off without you.”

“Well…” Rollins began, “First of all, this is my sister’s third wedding,” she said, rolling her eyes, “so the novelty has worn off a bit. Also, I know how important this inspection is, and I don’t want to let the unit down.”

“Look, Chief, no one in the unit is indispensable,” Faith stated.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her!” Reynolds exclaimed, interrupting. Faith ignored him.

“You’ve did an outstanding job on this inspection, both this year and last. All of the internal pre-inspections were carried off without a hitch. The inspection crew this year is legit, unlike last year’s. Everything that needs to be done, has been done. So at this point, your physical presence here on the actual day of the inspection is completely irrelevant to the inspection results,” Faith informed Rollins.

“Well, what if there is a problem with the paperwork, or someone has a question or something?” Rollins countered.
“Then there are any of a half-dozen or more solid NCOs who you trained, who can take care of it,” Sergeant Major Reynolds replied.

Faith nodded his head. “Go to the wedding,” he said encouragingly.

A short time later, Rollins brought him a leave form to sign. She looked relieved. “Thanks sir,” she said to Faith, “I really do want to go to this wedding, I hardly ever get to see my family anymore. I just didn’t want to let the team down.”
“No worries Chief,” Faith said with a smile, “We’ll be fine here.”
 
Only, things weren’t fine. In fact, things went wrong from the very beginning. No one could get into the safe inside the SCIF where Chief Rollins put all of the inspection paperwork before she left for her sister’s wedding. This was the infamous “SCIF hallway” safe, which had caused so many problems during the first inspection. Faith knew he remembered the combination, but it wouldn’t open. Several other people tried it, but the door stubbornly refused to budge.

“Sir, if you can’t get us the paperwork, we’re going to have to give you a failing grade on the inspection,” the lead inspector, an NCO from SOCOM, informed Faith about a half-hour after the inspection was set to begin.

“Look,” Faith said, “Give us a little more time. We’ll get this safe open, or get someone in here who can.”

“Sir, I can give you another hour,” the NCO replied, “and that’s all.” As soon as the NCO left, Faith asked Reynolds to call the engineers to have someone come cut the safe open. Reynolds had, of course, already thought of that. But when the engineers arrived, they had brought only bolt cutters, not the saws and torches that would be necessary to get into the safe. It was maddeningly frustrating; everything they needed to pass the inspection was in that safe. And they couldn’t get to it.

When the NCO from SOCOM came back, Faith asked for more time but was gently rebuffed. “Sorry sir,” he was told, “We have a schedule we have to keep. We checked everything else we could, and everything exceeds the standards, but without that paperwork you’re an automatic no-go. I’m sorry sir, but 2nd Group failed this inspection.” Then he and his inspection team packed up and were gone. Faith stood in stunned silence for a second.

“What the fuck just happened?” Reynolds asked rhetorically. Faith knew what happened; for the second time in almost as many years, the 2nd Special Forces Group had failed a major security and intelligence inspection.

Today was supposed to be The Dud’s last day in 2nd Group, and after the inspection, Faith’s first day as the Group S2. This was going to be the launching point of a Group-wide effort to tighten up intel support as a whole, and to initiate a screening, assessment, and selection process for intel types coming to the Group. It was supposed to be a good day. But it had all gone terribly, horribly wrong somehow.
 
The consequences of failing this spectacularly an inspection of this level of importance were severe. Protocol required that every arms room in the entire Group were to be shut down, the SCIF was closed, and classified computer accounts were frozen. Units doing training were recalled in order to turn their weapons and sensitive items in for a 100% inventory. This was a major disruption of most of the Group’s business. And needless to say, people were PISSED. Especially the Group commander, who called Faith on the carpet of his office.

“How the FUCK does something like this happen?” he demanded. “You had ONE job to do, and you completely screwed it up. Now I have to get on the phone to SOCOM and beg them to reopen my SCIF, clear my arms rooms, and restore my SIPR lines, because what, you forgot the combination to your safe? The same safe you’ve had for two plus years?”

“It’s not that simple, sir,” Faith tried to explain.

“Oh, it isn’t?” the Group Commander retorted. “You explain it to me, then.”

“Well, I’m not at all sure it’s a coincidence that the safe doesn’t work the same day that Major Dudley leaves the unit. I wouldn’t put it past him to have done something on the way out the door.”

“Look, captain,” the Group Commander said menacingly, “I’m getting damn tired of you blaming everyone but yourself for your failures. I’m going to get Major Dudley on the phone right now and get to the bottom of this.” He sat down, pulled out a unit alert roster, and dialed Dudley’s cell phone. “Major Dudley? Yes, it’s me. Look, we have an issue over here in the SCIF, can you come over so we can talk about it? You’re where? Great, see you soon.”

“That was Major Dudley,” the Group Commander said, “He says he headed over as soon as he heard about the issues we were having. He’s in the parking lot, on his way down to the SCIF right now. I think we should join him.”

“Right on, sir,” Faith responded, feeling his face redden. He wasn’t sure yet exactly what happened, but he knew in his gut that The Dud was behind it.
 

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