“Backup’s coming. We need to get to the extraction point.”
The next hour passed in a blur of pain and confusion. Sisco managed to get Bert to slow down enough to wrap gauze around his head to stop the bleeding.
The team ushered the locals away from the buildings that might fall at any moment, and he was surprised when the little boy he’d saved raced over to throw his arms around Bert’s legs. Looking over the boy’s head, he spied the woman and the little girl staring up at him, tears shining in the mother’s eyes and gratitude written on her face.
He simply patted the boy’s back and offered a chin dip to the woman as someone shepherded them out. His team reached the extraction point, where a helicopter waited, its rotors already spinning. And through it all, that roaring in Bert’s left ear never stopped.
On the flight back to base, a medic rewrapped his head, but Bert barely noticed. He kept pressing his palm against his left ear, trying to make the roaring stop, trying to understand why everything sounded so distant and wrong.
“Ruptured eardrum, probably,” the medic said when Bert finally asked. “You need to see a specialist when we get back stateside.”
But Bert already knew it was worse than that. He’d seen enough combat injuries to recognize the difference between temporary and permanent. The explosion had been close… maybe fifteen feet from where he’d been sitting. The blast wave had hit him full force.
And something fundamental had changed. He instinctively knew nothing would be the same.
Three weeks later, Bert sat in a naval hospital in Virginia and listened to the doctor deliver the verdict he’d been dreading.
“The blast wave ruptured your left eardrum and caused significant damage to the cochlea.” The doctor pointed to scans showing the delicate structures of Bert’s inner ear. “Fitting you with a hearing aid will help, but the hearing loss is permanent. Probably 60 to 70 percent loss in that ear.”
Bert nodded, his jaw tight. “What does this mean for my status with the teams?”
The doctor’s expression was sympathetic but firm. “You won’t pass the physical requirements for active duty with the SEALs. The hearing loss affects your directional hearing, your ability to distinguish sounds in chaotic environments. In combat situations, that’s not just a liability for you… it’s a danger to your entire team.”
There it was. The words Bert had been expecting but didn’t want to hear. His career as a SEAL, everything he’d worked for, trained for, and bled for, was over.
“There are other positions,” the doctor continued. “Intelligence analysis, mission planning, coordination. Your tactical expertise is still valuable, Petty Officer Tomlinson. It just won’t be in the field anymore.”
Valuable. The word felt hollow. Bert didn’t want to be valuable from behind a desk. He wanted to be out there with his team, doing the work that mattered.
But that choice had been taken from him by fifteen feet and a blast wave and a decision to shield a woman and her children instead of himself.
He’d make the same choice again. He knew that. But knowing it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.
Six months later, Bert sat in a bar near the naval base, a beer growing warm in his hand, and watched his former teammates celebrate another successful mission. They’d come back that afternoon dirty and exhausted but alive. And Bert had been there to greet them, just as he’d been there for every mission since his reassignment to support operations.
He’d thrown himself into the work. Mission planning, intelligence analysis, logistics coordination. It was important work… all the unglamorous tasks that kept teams alive in the field. And he was good at it. Better than good. But every time the teams went out and Bert stayed behind, something ate at his gut. He knew it, recognized it, but still felt it… grief for the life he’d lost.
The bar was filling up with the usual crowd—sailors letting off steam, locals who’d learned to tolerate the military presence, and women who gravitated toward men in uniform like moths to a flame. Bert watched as a blonde in a tight dress made a beeline for Devlin, who welcomed her with that easy charm that seemed to come as naturally to him as breathing. Sisco had attracted his own admirers. There were no fewer than three women clustered around him, drawn by his deep voice and that quirky smile that transformed his usually serious face.
Logan settled into the chair beside Bert, his own beer in hand. “Not interested in the entertainment?” he asked with a nod toward the women circling their teammates.
“Not tonight,” Bert said. Not most nights, if he was being honest. The hearing aid in his left ear worked well enough in quiet spaces, but in loud environments like this bar, everything became an overwhelming jumble of noise that he couldn’t distinguish or filter. Trying to hold a conversation with background music and dozens of other voices felt like trying to hear underwater.
He knew he could wiggle a finger and a desperate-for-a-SEAL woman would be at his beck and call for the night… or for a few hours. But that no longer held much appeal. He wanted more at this stage of his life. He wanted someone who noticed him, not just the uniform. He wanted someone who could accept all of him, wanted to build a relationship that lasted longer than a night in a cheap hotel, and was willing to get to know him, the way he was now.
But Bert found it was easier to sit back and watch. To nurse a beer and pretend he didn’t mind being on the sidelines. When he grew tired of that, he noticed Logan had disappeared outside to where there were a few empty tables overlooking the water. He stood and made his way outside, immediately calmed by the peaceful environment. He settled in a seat next to his team leader.
“You did good work on this op,” Logan said after a moment. “The intel you provided was solid. We wouldn’t have pulled it off without your planning.”
“That’s the job,” Bert said, but the words tasted bitter. Good work from behind a desk. Valuable support. Important contributions. All the euphemisms that meant you weren’t actually in the fight anymore.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, able to see inside through the windows as Devlin charmed his admirer and Sisco laughed at something one of the women said. The music thumped through the bar, but thankfully, out here, it was tolerable.
“You ever think about what you’ll do when you’re out?” Logan asked suddenly.
Bert turned to look at him, trying to read his expression in the dim light. “Out of the Navy?”
“Yeah. None of us are getting younger. There are only so many years you can keep doing this before your body gives out or you get unlucky.” Logan took a drink. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. What comes next.”