Chapter 5 - A Father's Rage
While the supply depot returned to work, the disciplinary fallout was reaching outside the base gates.
At three o'clock that afternoon, a private sedan pulled up outside the Alpha Company barracks with tires screeching against the curb. Out stepped Master Chief Parker—Noah’s father—accompanied by a retired master sergeant wearing a veteran cap.
The elder Parker stormed into the battalion commander's office like a hurricane. His son had called him three hours earlier, sobbing into the receiver, explaining how his squad leader had dragged them into an executive disaster.
"Where is he?" Master Chief Parker barked, his face weathered by twenty-five years of deployments, eyes blazing with fury.
Noah, Jake, Ethan, and Marcus were seated on a wooden bench outside the company commander’s door, looking like condemned prisoners awaiting execution. When Master Chief Parker rounded the corner, Noah stood up immediately, his face pale.
"Dad—" Noah began.
"Quiet!" the Master Chief roared, pointing a calloused finger directly between his son's eyes. "Did you participate in this disgrace?"
"No, Dad! I tried to stop them!" Noah stammered desperately. "The second I saw the subdued trident on her sleeve, I told Jake to back off! I swear to God, Dad, I didn't say a word to her!"
The Master Chief turned his furious gaze onto Jake Thompson, who was shrinking back against the painted cinderblock wall. Jake’s father was a wealthy defense contractor from Orange County who had used his political connections to ensure his son got favored duty assignments. Jake had always believed his family name made him untouchable.
"You must be Thompson," Master Chief Parker said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, razor-sharp hiss. "The hotshot who thinks carrying a Navy ID gives him the right to insult operators who bleed to keep this country free."
"Sir, I made a mistake—" Jake tried to say.
"You didn't make a mistake, son," the veteran spat. "A mistake is dropping a wrench on a flight deck. What you did was reveal yourself as a cowardly, arrogant liability. You judged an officer by her gender and her silence, and you proved that you aren't fit to polish the boots of the men and women who serve in this uniform."
The company commander’s door opened, and Captain Harris stepped into the corridor, holding a sheaf of official personnel actions.
"Master Chief Parker," Harris acknowledged with a nod. "Thank you for coming. The Admiral has reviewed the incident. Commander Mitchell has declined to press formal assault charges under the UCMJ."
Jake let out a ragged, trembling sigh of relief, believing for a split second that his career had been saved.
"However," Captain Harris added, his gaze dropping onto Jake like an anvil, "Commander Mitchell did request that your disciplinary action be handled operationally, not administratively."
May you like
Jake blinked, confused. "Operationally, sir?"
Harris smiled, a cold, predatory smile that made every hair on the back of Jake's neck stand on end. "You boys wanted to see what special warfare looks like. Pack your seabags. You report to the Naval Amphibious Base Coronado tomorrow at zero-four-thirty."
