Excerpt from Ready to Roll
Meet SEAL candidate John “Seagull” Livingston and BUD/S instructor LT Peter “Grunge” Greene…
Setting the scene: Navy SEALs Izzy Zanella, Mark “Jenk” Jenkins, Jay Lopez, and Tony Vlachic are sitting in beach chairs, chatting and watching the current BUD/S class SEAL candidates run the punishing Obstacle or O-course.
We’re in Izzy’s point of view.
…They all laughed again, which caught the attention of one of two SEAL candidates—a skinny, height-challenged white guy—who was wrestling his tired ass up and over the cargo net. The wind was picking up, which made it that much harder, and his companion—a huge black guy with shoulders that looked like he could easily bench press a house—said something that Izzy couldn’t hear, but was probably a variation on “Watch yourself, Tiny,” with a side of “Don’t slow me down!”
Although in truth, it seemed like it was the little guy who was taking his time so the bigger guy could keep up, but he did a good job of covering, so the big guy didn’t realize it.
And it was then, as Izzy was watching closely to try to figure out if the little guy really was disguising the fact that he wasn’t going at a hundred percent, that the lil’ dude hooked his boot up and through and around one of the squares of rope before—holy shit!—he just let go.
To anyone who wasn’t looking closely, he appeared to slip and nose-dive toward the ground—from where he was, it was an eighty-five foot back-breaking drop to the sand below—but his fall was stopped short by that leg he’d secured to the net. Still, his sudden movement and his shout of alarm made everyone look up, and instructors and candidates alike rushed to his aid.
As he dangled there, upside down, it seemed as if he’d caught his foot purely by luck. But Izzy alone knew better.
He was the only one still sitting down. Even Jay Lopez—a hospital corpsman—had pushed himself up and out of his beach chair despite his injured knee, ready to help if the kid actually fell.
“Guys, I’m pretty sure he did that on purpose,” Izzy said mildly, but no one heard him, on account of all the yelling.
Two of the other SEAL candidates—Jackson, the big black guy who was on the net with the foot dangler, and Schlossman, another muscular dude who could’ve been Jackson’s twin brother-from-another-mother, albeit blond with a square cut crew—had been the closest. They helped secure Livingston, AKA Foot-Dangler, as two of the on-duty instructors swarmed up the net to assist.
It was then that the Dangler—Livingston—puked. Thankfully, Izzy was sitting upwind, but the four men on the net got fully chunked.
“Jesus. Fucking Livingston.”
Izzy turned, fast, to see that Grunge—Lieutenant Peter Greene—had come out of nowhere, as Grunge was wont to do. The officer sat down in the sand next to him.
Izzy started to scramble to his feet. “Sir—”
“Zanella, come on. Relax. At ease.”
Izzy had known the man way back before either of them had become SEALs—and before Grunge had done the mustang enlisted-to-officer thang. Even though he’d been residing in Officer’s Country for years, Grunge still dressed like the California surfer that he was at heart. He had sun-streaked brown hair and twinkling blue eyes in a movie-star-handsome face that had aged remarkably well, considering how much time he spent on the beach. And he spent a lot of time right here. Some years ago, he’d found his calling as a BUD/S instructor.
With his flip-flops, board shorts, and overall Zen-ishness, Grunge looked like everyone’s easy-going stoner big brother, but he was, in fact, the meanest, roughest nightmare of an instructor ever to hit Coronado.
He had the insight and ability to look inside a SEAL candidate’s soul and find his weaknesses and fears. And he had the grit and toughness required to then stomp on those weaknesses with both big feet—and he’d put on his boots to do it. He’d cheerfully grind each of the candidates’ faces into the worst of their own anxieties and phobias.
In fact, Grunge often knew, after just a few hours working with each new class, which men would make it through, no problem, and who would quit and ring out within the first few hours of Hell Week.
And he never, ever gave anyone a free pass. If you made it through BUD/S on Grunge’s watch, you were ready to wear the trident, no question.
Sadly, if you were a SEAL candidate named Livingston, and Grunge said Jesus like that, when he was talking about you, describing you not just as Livingston, but fucking Livingston…?
It was highly unlikely that you were going to be one of the men still standing after the dust of Hell Week settled.
“I don’t know what is up with this kid,” Grunge told Izzy as they watched all five men slowly make their way back down to the ground. “He was invisible up to about a week ago. Suddenly he’s all three of the Stooges simultaneously. Any time there’s a screw-up, who’s suddenly at the epicenter? John Livingston.”
“Maybe he suddenly realized that the program’s not for him, and he doesn’t know how to handle it,” Izzy suggested. “Maybe he thinks it’d be easier to get medically rolled and just never come back. Because that circus act on the cargo net…? That was definitely for show. Maybe not the hurling part, but the dangle? Absolutely.”
“Except this kid isn’t an idiot.” Grunge was really annoyed. “If his goal was to go to medical, he’d know that wouldn’t happen unless he really got hurt. He’s been here long enough to know what comes next.”
What came after an O-course cargo-net mishap—like that near-death dangle—was exactly what had happened to Izzy, years ago. Here and now, the instructors were already reaming Livingston a new one and telling him he had to run the entire O again. And if he did it fast enough, he might not have to do it twice.
* * *
From
© 2016 Suzanne Brockmann
Available now in eBook, print, and audio!
Suzanne Brockmann returns to the action-packed world of her bestselling Troubleshooters series with a new novella featuring U.S. Navy SEAL Izzy Zanella, his extended family, and his kickass teammates in SEAL Team Sixteen.
The only easy day is yesterday.
BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) training is known for being the toughest, meanest, most physically punishing program in the entire U.S. Navy, and a new crop of tadpoles have arrived in Coronado eager to prove their worth—to make it through Hell Week, and become U.S. Navy SEALs.
Although Izzy prefers assignments out in the “real world,” he’s happy enough to be TDY as an instructor for the current BUD/S class, because it allows him to spend time at home with his wife, Eden, and her lively and lovable extended family.
Eden’s sixteen-year-old brother, Ben, is dealing with a new crush and a homophobic bully in his high school, but it soon appears that things are not as they seem.
As Ben deals with the type of too-serious high school drama that could involve a body count, Izzy is intrigued by “Boat Squad John,” a misfit team of young SEAL candidates all named John, who include the intriguing young Seagull, his swim buddy Timebomb, and Seagull’s nemesis Hans.
Does Seagull have what it takes keep Boat Squad John still standing when the dust of BUD/S Hell Week settles, or will they ring out?
Set in Coronado during BUD/S training Hell Week, in Ready to Roll Brockmann introduces the SEAL officer and instructor nicknamed Grunge—Lt. Peter Greene—as she delivers what she does best: a story celebrating the U.S. Navy SEALs—and the women (and sometimes men) who wholeheartedly love and support them. (About 56,000 words or 220 pages)