AK 239: The Enemy Is Already Here

Kendrick Bay, Alaska

As we enter Kendrick Bay silence runs across the boat.

Actually there are two things running: The low hum of a Detroit Diesel and our adrenaline. The sun has actually broken free and the weather, although a brisk thirty-four degrees, it’s actually pretty nice.

Snow is covering Bokan Mountain in the distance and a fresh blanket of snow is on the trees and the ground.

We pass a large buoy in the water that shows the international radiation symbol in red with bold red words:

Jennifer says, “That’s weird. I was told by research geologists that there is no dangerous radiation anywhere here.

I look at Jennifer saying, “What is this place?”

“Bokan Mountain used to be an old uranium mine but it was closed down in the 1970s after the price of uranium was deregulated by the federal government and the price crashed.”

I notice the huge sign again and say, “That sign looks brand new.”

Jennifer looks at the brightly red painted buoy and now looks through binoculars and sees there are several more of these signs leading to the old barge by the dock on the far shoreline.

“This place is supposed to be a historic site. That means no one can move anything in or out.”

Much later Jennifer told me she thought right then and there, “I should’ve called for backup but what good would it have done except get more people killed.

Jennifer said, what bothered me at this point was: These rugged guys are going to think I’m a wuss. It’s one old man on a barge. I can handle this.

Jennifer was so wrong!

The barge is really a piece of junk. Paint is peeling and the plywood frame looks ready to fall apart.

I started scanning the shoreline and entire area with binoculars looking for any sign of life. There is none. It fact, it’s unbelievably quiet as we quietly glide toward our own deaths.

As we near, Jennifer is at the rear of the boat trying to look like a fisherman.

I see Mike nearby trying to help. “Here’s a bucket.”

Jennifer takes the empty five-gallon bucket used to separate fish. She smells it, reacts, pulls her gun and carefully places it at the bottom of the bucket.

Jack’s boat slowly pulls up alongside the barge.

The windows on this rusty old boat are all boarded up with plywood.

I couldn’t see any movement, anywhere.

Jennifer remarks, “It’s unusually quiet. Usually, birds are making noise. That is unless people are nearby.”

Jennifer later told me:

Practically everybody in Alaska owns a dog for warning but there is nothing but absolute silence.

So I just felt something was wrong too.

Jennifer already said that she would run point as she walks to the bow. We didn’t need to do this as I have a no-knock warrant issued by a federal judge in Portland for the arrest of George Ruddy.

Jennifer calls out to disarm anyone inside,

“Hello? Anybody on board?”

Her voice echoes across the calm waters of the bay but returns empty. After another attempt also yields no result, I exit the bridge. It’s as quiet as a mouse on the barge, as I see Jennifer motion Jack to pull closer.

As we touch the barge, Jennifer walks from the bow of her boat directly onto the barge.

She is holding a tie rope and looking like a giant target in those huge red overalls and that neon yellow jacket.

Meanwhile, at the back of the boat, even though it’s December, I notice hundreds of salmon swimming around and think,

I love Alaska.

Those thoughts would soon be gone as I jumped onto the back of the barge.

Jennifer and I have pulled our guns as we head for the doors.

I motion for Jennifer to stand back as I’m about to kick in the door.

Jennifer stops me and checks the handle.

The door easily opens.

Jennifer just looks at me in disgust.

So much for trying to impress my partner.

I shrug my shoulders.

Inside is a dreary mess. If the outside looks to be in shambles the inside is filled mostly with trash. This is one giant room. Toilet, kitchen, bed and trash are all together. The first thing I see is stacks and stacks of sockeye salmon tins.

I walk to them and pick up a can saying, “The salmon capital of the world and this guy is eating it out of a can?”

Jennifer is not paying any attention. She’s looking at some rocks on a table. They look to have a shiny silvery center. Another rock looks to be goldish in tone.

I begin going through the drawers on a desk. Nothing seems significant.

Jennifer spots a map that says, Bokan Mountain Road in large red letters.

“These look to be mine entrances,” Jennifer says.

I casually walk to a stack of identical black suitcases. Curious, I pull the top one off the stack and open it.

My mouth drops open!

Stacks of fresh $100 bills. There must be a million or more in just this one briefcase. I start opening other briefcases.

It appears there are fresh $100 bills in every one!

There are twenty-two briefcases.

“Uhh, we might have stumbled into something else here,” I said.

I don’t realize that Jennifer has already gone outside.

I pop the last suitcase and on top of a million dollars in cash is this picture:

The eyewitnesses were right!

And that’s a steel reinforced dock!

What the hell is going on here?

I walk out and show Jennifer this picture saying,

“Here are your Typhoons!”

She says, “Holy shit!”

“Well, now we know: There are at least two of them!”

“I know a mining company was testing up here.”

Jennifer looks at the heavy machinery in front of the subs.

“That’s no mining operation. That machinery looks specifically designed for these subs. It looks like they can offload something from the front of the subs, doesn’t it?” asks Jennifer.

“I guess.” I answer, carefully looking at all of this heavy equipment.

Jack is on the bow of his boat with binoculars toward Bokan Mountain.

I then say, “This isn’t the half of it. Inside there are twenty-two suitcases filled with…” I don’t have time to finish as Jack sounds worried saying, “There’s movement at the tree line.”

Jennifer and I stop to look.

An older man with a white beard appears in a small, beat up Honda 4-wheel ATV. He waves to them as he approaches. I can’t see well from my angle looking through binoculars.

“Is it Ruddy?” I ask.

“No,” Jennifer quickly answers.

As the man rides onto the long steel dock, he is dressed in a big parka and a pair of blue jeans. He looks harmless enough as he is about 60 years old.

As he drives out to the edge of the dock where we are, Jennifer and I both pull our Glocks and have them in our ridiculous yellow rain gear.

“Hello,” he says with a thick Russian accent.

Jennifer answers, “Hello. We’re with the FBI and would like to ask you a few questions.”

The man, a little too eagerly, says,

“All right.”

The man walks to the barge from the dock. Looking closely now, I realize Jennifer is right, this dock is designed to move heavy machinery as it’s definitely made of heavy reinforced steel!

As the man approaches the boat he puts out his hand and I help him aboard.

“I am Doctor Vladimir Peskov, senior scientist, Russia Uranium Specialty Company (RUS), how can I help you?”

“I am Jennifer Tavana and this is John Denning, Special Agents, FBI. Have you seen this man?”

Jennifer shows the doctor a picture of George Ruddy.

“Nyet. No, no, can’t say that I have,” answers Doctor Peskov. “We’ve purchased mining claims all over this mountain. Looks like it’s a big waste of money as all of the uranium is under water and not economically feasible to get out. We’ll be packing up soon and leaving.”

Jennifer later told me this too was suspicious as recent news articles on Bokan Mountain have valued the rare earth deposits alone at six and one half billion dollars, and that doesn’t even include the uranium!

Jennifer asks, “Are you here alone?

The doctor pauses before answering, “I have several associates around here somewhere.”

“How many?” I ask.

Once again, after a long pause the Russian answers,

“Three.”

Jennifer: “Mind if we look around?”

The scientist is acting a little too helpful, “No, no. Not at all.”

Jennifer, “Could we talk to your partners?

“Sure but they are deep in the mine and I can’t contact them. They won’t be back ’til late,” says the Russian scientist.

This is suspicious to me as Jennifer said her satellite passes only indicated one person.

Jennifer looks at me, then hands the doctor a picture of George Ruddy,

“Please call me if you see this man. Don’t approach him, he’s to be considered armed and dangerous.”

“Absolutely,” says the Russian.

“Okay then, thank you. We’ll be going now.”

Jennifer and I know we’re likely in way over our heads and we begin to leave.

The scientist stops me saying,

“By the way, did you look in my suitcases?”

Apparently, I hesitated just a tiny bit too long before I said,

“No, No I did not.”

The Russian scientist put his left arm in the air and made a fist.

While I was looking at this, puzzled, when the utter silence of the woods was shattered by the thumping of silenced rounds tarring into the wood around us.

Jennifer and I immediately dive for protection as we both instinctively know that a thump with no crack means:

Damn!

Those are suppressed rounds!

And they’re close!

Then silence again.

Several more suppressed shots and then silence once again.

It’s funny:

No matter where you are, you instinctively dive and always remember the smell of dirt, wood, or whatever is near your face.

I look around the corner of the heavy wood frame.

Nothing.

I’m looking for Jack and Mike but see nothing.

No answer.

I look around and cannot see the doctor or anyone.

I look at Jennifer and only now realize:

Fuck!

She’s hit!

And unconscious.

Only now do I realize my fall was instinctive.

Jennifer’s is possibly lead induced.

Fearing the worst I grab her, unzip her jacket, and now notice a buckle on her overalls has been shattered.

I continue to look around, worried that the doctor and his accomplices can’t be far away.

I pull off her shirt and see she is wearing a bulletproof vest but it appears to have done little good. Her Glock is nearby teetering on the edge of the deck. When I reach for it another shot goes off knocking the Glock into the water.

Now I know I’m dealing with expert marksmen.

I turn Jennifer on her right side and see blood coming out her upper back. The bullet has gone through her body and has exited near her left shoulder.

It’s so near her carotid artery, she’ll bleed out in seconds.

I look to Jack’s boat to see if I can somehow get to that first aid kit when a sniper round flies about an inch from my head.

Okay, I’m not doing that again!

I hustle back inside the barge and can see the old Russian scientist taking off on his ATV down the dock.

I find a role of duct tape, grab it, and tear a piece off, slapping it on the entrance and exit wounds.

This appears to stop the blood so I do it again.

I peek through a hole in the wooden barge and now, for the first time, get scared.

Ya, even Navy SEALs feel fear!

I see five operators with high-powered rifles in full military tac gear only about 100 yards away and closing fast.

There likely is at least one other sharpshooter looking at us from a covered position.

In any event, my Glock is worthless at that range.

My Navy SEAL training comes flooding back.

My first thought:

We’re outta here!

But I cannot leave Jennifer.

First, I take three very slow and very deep breaths as I continue to work on Jennifer.

You can do this, JD!

I begin dragging Jennifer to the back of the barge away from the sniper’s line of fire. I check her neck again and finally feel a faint pulse.

I peer around the corner of our boat and can see through the deck railing onto The Black Pearl. Both Jack and Mike are lying in their own pools of blood, dead.

I look at the water then back to the boats.

I then peer around the barge and, for the first time, identify what appears to be an unmarked Russian GRU Special Forces team closing fast.

Little green men?

I hated that Ukrainian term!

Ukrainians coined the term when Russian Special Forces Teams in unmarked military uniforms quietly began taking over the Crimean Peninsula in 2014. From airports to military bases previously owned by Ukraine, these units sowed confusion and put down anyone who resisted. God help us if this is who they are. They are the best of the best.

Later came the marked units but the little green men had done their job: Cause confusion, diversion and pave the way for armored units.

These guys are all dressed in black.

I shake Jennifer,

“Jennifer!”

She’s still unconscious.

I now realize I still have on my ridiculous yellow jacket and bright red fishing pants thinking:

We might as well have been wearing bull’s eyes!

I look at the water and realize this is our only escape route.

Just my luck:

Again, with the cold and the wet.

And I’m the slowest swimmer in the U.S. Navy!

I take a deep breath, breathe into her mouth and then close it, holding her nose. I turn Jennifer around so her back is directly against my chest.

Then I fall on my back, protecting her as much as I can.

My first thought as I hit the water:

Damn!

This’s cold!

I take another breath and give it to Jennifer. I then immediately place her on my side and begin a sidestroke, pulling Jennifer, so I can see around the back of the barge.

The Special Forces team is half way down the dock heading right for me.

I notice the water is deeper at the back of the barge right up to the coastline.

A tiny cove is there.

I decide this is our only chance.

I give another breath to Jennifer before disappearing into the icy black waters under Jack’s boat.

The water temperature must be under forty degrees.

Hypothermia occurs when the human body cannot generate enough heat to compensate for the warmth it loses. You have maybe ten minutes, if you can breathe, before all the blood rushes to the core of your body as your extremities go numb. But I’m underwater pulling another body and every second feels like eternity.

I’m right back in SEAL training.

Miles and miles and miles of swimming.

Pain, pain and more pain.

I rolled out with a broken leg and then I couldn’t pass Phase II. I had to repeat Phase II with a completely new class.

Your underwater times are the slowest the Navy has ever seen, son! was all I could now hear. That instructor was the meanest, cruelest son of a b…

I stopped myself because I then remembered graduation day when that same instructor walked up to me and said, I’m proud of you, son. I have never, ever in twenty-five years, seen a more determined guy than you!

That helped.

That helped right now.

I could use one of those other SEALs arms and legs right about now. What I wouldn’t give for a breath of air. I can do it. Only a little further. It’s only fifty meters underwater! I had to do twice that for Hell week!

And thanks for bringing up that painful memory, JD.

When I retired from the Navy I swore I would never do anything ever again that involved cold and wet.

And now look at me!

In addition, looks like I’m up against a full blown team of operators. It was like another reoccurring bad dream I had in BUD/S training. I dreamt I was being drown by someone I couldn’t see. By someone I couldn’t reach. All I remember is that I’d wake up in a cold sweat trying to catch my breath.

These operators I could see: Big, mean and decked for warfare.

I’m outta here!

If they were Russian Special Forces I am in trouble as they train in just about every form of combat the same as SEALs: HALO, SCUBA, demolitions and all have specialized training.

There’s no way I can go on.

These guys are just going to track us down and shoot us where we wash up.

I pop Jennifer’s head out of the water first.

We’re about 100 feet away from Jack’s fishing boat.

It’s at least another 100 feet to land but I needed air.

The Russians are still on the dock, nearing the barge, and don’t notice us, yet.

Jennifer’s lips are blue and so, probably, are mine. I breathe another breath into her lifeless mouth while holding her nose. I continue my sidestrokes on my way into a tiny cove, somewhat hidden from the boats.

I’m thinking to myself I can’t quit; I’m so close to the beach. With every breath it seemed as if my heart was growing fainter and fainter. Again, I thought back to my Navy SEAL training.

One instructor said:

Mind over matter. If I don’t mind, nothing else matters!

Pain is just weakness leaving the body!

That was what another instructor yelled at me one day when I almost quit.

Everybody has something that makes them push way beyond where they thought they could go.

In SEAL training, you were taught: Never put your faith in a friend or the toughest guy in the group. If they quit, you’ll likely walk out right behind them.

The instructors taught you to put your faith in something deep inside you, preferably something eternal, bigger than you.

At Coronado, I’d look back to the 32nd Street Naval Base, see some ugly ship and say,

Hey, I’m in the sun! I sure don’t want to be stuck in the bowels of that ugly tug in some God-awful part of the world!

Some of the smallest guys in my SEAL class had the biggest hearts and the fight and strength of guys much, much, bigger. In the combat classes it was like watching a Chihuahua nipping at the heels of a pit bull. The Chihuahua is much faster and has the heart of a lion. And when the Lion soon tires the Chihuahua pounces.

Suddenly, the rain pours!

Thank God!

The rain will make it harder for them to see any trace of us.

I took another deep breath and continued to swim, if you can call it that.

It was a chore to push my legs at all. The strain of holding a hundred-pound woman’s head now above water would have been tough enough at these temperatures and with only one arm pushing through the water, it’s too much.

I’m standing still!

It was like the reoccurring dream I had as a child.

With a high fever, I was running down my grade school hall.

The harder and faster I ran, the further and further the door seemed to get.

The harder I paddled, the further away the beach seemed.

I’m giving up.

On the other hand, this is much easier than that five-and-a-half-mile ocean swim!

The cult I lived in with my mother banned all electronic devices but I found this old cassette tape recorder left at a rest stop picnic table on Interstate 5 and after asking everyone, no one seemed to own the it so I took it!

It had one cassette tape with one song:

When all else failed, that one song got me through Phase II underwater SEAL training.

I started singing what little I could remember:

I couldn’t remember any other verses so I just kept singing the ones I knew over and over and over.

Strange as it sounds:

It worked!

After what couldn’t have been more than ten minutes,

I touched land!

As I try to stand the sheer weight of my wet clothes and Jennifer drop me back into the water. I make one more lunge at the shoreline and fall into some shallow water like a ton of bricks.

Jennifer isn’t breathing. I pull her all the way out of the water to give her a few more breaths.

All SEALs were given basic medical lifesaving training but this situation was clearly beyond “basic.”

I notice the duct tape on her wound is peeling and starting to bleed. Jennifer is still unconscious and doesn’t look like she’ll make it.

I look around knowing we can’t stay here, exposed on the beach. If that is a Special Forces Platoon they will search this beach first.

I would.

So I pick her up and sling her over my back and head for some trees.

I find a sheltered area inside a huge dead tree. I am deep in a lush green forest. What am I thinking: Are you sightseeing? Or trying to stay alive?

Fortunately, this whole area doesn’t have much snow.

I knew from wilderness survival training this meant the area was warmer than the surrounding areas covered in fresh snow.

Also, it’s fortunate that this area has no snow.

Tracks in the snow would lead those operators right to us.

Again, the whole area is beautiful.

“Maybe you should take out your phone and get a picture,” I sarcastically thought to myself.

Idiot!

We’re gonna die here and I want a selfie!

I take off my waterlogged trusty, old, Richard Bass, black parka.

My cell phone falls out of a pocket and quickly check to see if there’s service.

Everything on the phone seems fine but:

No Service.

I now find myself angrily shaking my cell phone trying to deny physics and common sense.

I place my parka under Jennifer’s head and again shake her.

Nothing.

I check for a pulse on her neck and, getting nothing, I put my ear over her mouth.

Once again, nothing!

So, I begin chest compressions.

Nothing.

Now I remember, I am supposed to clear the mouth. I pull out a piece of green slimy something from her mouth, hopefully that’s from the water.

I extend her neck and elevate her chin and start mouth to mouth. I can’t believe it: I think I’ve remembered most of my medical training!

After several attempts, Jennifer half opens her eyes and mumbles something I can’t quite make out. I put my ear to her mouth to hear what she’s trying to say:

“If this is your idea of a first date, it may be your last.”

She speaks!

I see her trying to reach for her gun. I knew then and there,

This was my kind of girl!

Suddenly we hear voices and we both freeze.

I cover her mouth.

I’m afraid she’s in so much pain that she might scream.

I now see it’s two operators walking the beach nearby.

As soon as they walk away I take my hand off her mouth.

She lays lifeless again in my hands.

My first thought is,

Oh my God, I’ve killed her!

Again!

My heart races back to Mt. Hood, Oregon just days ago when I was holding the life of Trevor in his hands.

My mind then went flashing to Trevor’s girlfriend as I began to wonder if:

I’m cursed!

Then I remember the EMTs and the Portland Rescue Unit that rescued us on Hood said,

By the time we found you in that blizzard, if you hadn’t built those snow caves you would have frozen to death.

I then wondered how Trevor’s girlfriend was doing.

Last I saw her they upgraded her condition to stable.

The City of Portland wanted to thank me at a press conference.

I told myself: I don’t need no stinkin’ press conference.

And that’s when I left town.

Now I’m thinking,

What the hell? I should’ve been doing compressions.

I snap back to reality as Jennifer’s eyes struggle to open and she tries to speak.

“Don’t try to talk.”

Jennifer stubbornly shoves my hand aside saying,

“Russian! I know why they’re here.”

Jennifer pulls out a phone from her jacket and looks at it,

“Damn! They’re jamming the sat signal.”

“You have a satellite phone?” I grab it trying to see if it’ll work.

Jennifer struggles but gets out the following,

“We’ve gotta find their jamming device.

I joke,

“We?”

This is maybe the first time I’ve seen her smile.

I ask coyly, “So your Ex-Navy too?”

“Ya. Lieutenant Commander, USS Alaska.”

At this point she’s probably going to die, so I might as well compliment her.

“Weren’t you the first woman to command a submarine?”

“Thanks for bringing up such a painful subject.”

“You don’t want to discuss it?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay. John Denning, SEAL Team Six. Nice to meet you.”

“So you guys killed Bin Laden?” asks Jennifer.

“My guys, ya.”

Where were you?

“Fishing in Alaska.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Ya, now that’s something I don’t want to talk about.”

“Fair enough.”

With that, Jennifer winces in pain and lays back.

“Easy.” I grab her head and adjust my jacket under her.

“Keep going it takes my mind off the pain,” says Jennifer.

I have never revealed these facts to anyone. I think,

How did she get me to say that?

I stare off into the woods, suddenly a million miles from Alaska.

Jennifer, told me later, she’d seen that thousand-yard stare before and wisely says nothing.

All she did was:

Sit up and grab my hand.

After an eternity and a deep sigh, I began,

“Our orders were to breach a compound in Kandahar province, five clicks from the Pakistan border.”

She later told me,

I thought you couldn’t look any paler but this did it.

I looked like a dead body, she said.

This is more painful than the swim. I said, “By the time we got there he was shot and on the ground. He was tryin’ ta say something. I brought my ear to his lips but I couldn’t hear him. I said, Buddy, I can’t hear you. He kept tryin’ ta speak as our medic worked on him. I just kept tryin’ to hear what he wanted to say.”

“He died in my arms. Bravest man I ever knew.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” says Jennifer from the other side of the planet.

I lose it yelling,

“It was my fault. Bull was on point. I made him announce to the terrorists that we were there and I killed him.”

“Why did you announce you were there?”

“The ROEs.”

“Rules of engagement!

“I hate ’em.”

“I hate all of ’em!”

Jennifer is clearly taking about the brass and not the ROEs.

“Make the fucking armchair generals in Washington come over here and follow their own fucked up orders!”

That snapped me back to reality. Other than my team, I’d never heard anyone talk about Navy command like this.

Jennifer is probably seconds from death and yet she seems like she could care less about her life.

I’ve met some brave people in my time but she just might be the bravest!

She’s listening, so I go on.

“My other buddy, Big John, was on the raid and we were both really close with Bull. When a review board command blamed us, Big John committed suicide. I resigned from the SEALs the same day. Brought up too many unresolved issues I had with suicide. I blamed myself.”

I feel like I’d just as soon die right here and now.

“I foolishly followed stupid orders and got two of my men killed.”

Jennifer slowly puts her weak hand over my shaking mouth. She sits up and hugs me as I my mind was a million miles away.

When I pull away from her, I realize that she has passed out. I shake her saying,

“Jennifer!”

As she comes to, her first words are:

“They probably heard you, Mr. PTSD. Have you ever talked to someone about all this?”

“Ya, you.”

I look around, “We gotta move.”

Jennifer tries to sit up but almost passes out again.

“You’ve lost too much blood. I gotta get you help.”

Jennifer looks over to the boats saying, “Are they off the boats?”

I peer through a large gaping hole on the side of the hollowed out log.

“Looks like it. All right I’ll swim back to the boat and try to use the radio.”

Jennifer says, “Too bad we don’t have on our blueberries.”

She’s referring to the most hated uniforms in the U.S. military. Fortunately, I heard they’re permanently retiring those dogs.

“We could a used those uniforms. They’d have been the perfect camouflage when we fell overboard.”

No sooner had I said that then both boats explode. Demolitions placed on both hulls sink them right where they sit.

I say sarcastically, “Well there goes Captain Jack and The Black Pearl!

Jennifer wasn’t laughing so I continue,

“I got texts coming into the bay. If I could swim there, I could text help.”

Jennifer: “How far out were you when you had service?”

“About two miles.”

And how far did you swim with me?”

I then had to stupidly act macho, “Hey, we had to do five and a half miles in SEAL training.”

“Coronado?” she sarcastically asks.

“Ya!” I confidently answer.

“Ya, that water was probably thirty degrees warmer!” she points out.

I grind my teeth and force out, “I’m sure it was.”

I pull my iPhone 7 out again and say,

“It’s working but no cell service.”

“They can’t jam the entire mountain. If we can get up higher on Bokan you might have cell service,” says Jennifer. “See if you can get hold of some of their communications or at least a first aid kit.” Jennifer looks to the sunken boats.

“They sunk mine!”

Not showing any sign of worry I say,

“Stay here. I’ll see if I can find you a big bottle of hydrogen peroxide.”

Jennifer, “Okay, but I have dinner plans tonight.”

“Of course you do, darling, as soon as I take care of Boris and Boris, I’m takin’ you out!”

I went running off into the woods like a chicken with my head cut off thinking,

I can’t let this woman die!

Oh God, please don’t let her die!