The Command

“That was ‘welcome’ in Arabic, the language of Bahrain. I’m Aisha Ar-Rahim, Naval Criminal Investigative Service Field Office, Bahrain. Welcome to the best liberty port in the Gulf! You probably got an advance package from our morale and rec office. Camel rides, tours, golf, beaches, diving. A lot of nightlife downtown. Great shopping. The people here are on the whole welcoming. Almost everybody knows some English. But as is true everywhere, there are things you need to bear in mind.”

She shifted into automatic and went through the mores of moving through an Arab society. What not to do. Topics to avoid. A hand popped up. “Question?”

One of the women. “Will we have to cover up the way their women do?”

“No. Bahrain’s not Saudi or Iran. You’ll see the full-bodied cloaks, the black jilbab, but for you it’s neither required nor expected.” She touched her hijab. “A scarf’s useful. When I go into a mosque, I veil.”

“You’re a Moslem?”

“I’m an observant Muslim. For the women aboard, I recommend the same guidelines we require on the base. No bare midriffs, no cleavage, no shorts. Pants or skirts below the knee are acceptable. Bare arms are OK on Western women, though you won’t see Bahraini women in short sleeves. On the beach, conservative one-piece suits.”

She went on to the security tips: be aware of your surroundings at all times; keep a low profile; stay low-key in dress, language, music, and actions. Be careful in telephone conversations.

“The island’s relatively crime free, but don’t walk alone at night. Stay in well-traveled, well-lighted areas. Don’t park on the side roads or parking lots near the base.

“Before you leave the Activity, look at yourself. Can someone tell you’re in the U.S. military? The locals wear brands like Gap and Nike, but leave your ship’s ball caps, military belt buckles behind. Avoid large gatherings, especially near the mosques after evening prayers. Remember Friday’s the equivalent of your Christian Sunday.”

A tough-looking chief with a stubbled head wanted to know about unrest. She said most resentment was directed at the island’s government, rather than Americans, but she still advised staying out of the Shi’a neighborhoods.

“Are you Shi’a?” someone else wanted to know. She parried that and went on to warn them about local drug dealers and how not to get ripped off when you bought a rug. She left her card, English on one side, Arabic on the other, with Hotchkiss, and told her to call her cell phone if they needed her.

* * *

Having a drink with the guys on the team was OK if he ran into them ashore, but Marchetti didn’t want to actually go steaming with them. So he went down to the goat locker after the brief.

“There’s only one place I want to go, and that’s anyplace that’s got a bar,” somebody was saying as he came in.

“This guy in Jubail gave me a card, the carpets at this place will bug your eyes out. Persian. The good stuff. Tear the label off and there’s no way Customs can tell.”

He’d been here before and wasn’t that excited about it, but a drink sounded good. He hadn’t had one since Palma, and what he was hearing from the radio chief, Gerhardt, was that after they got their repairs done, they’d be heading up toward Iraq.

He went through into the berthing area and found Gerhardt and Andrews, the cryppie, getting dressed. They planned to start at Murphy’s Pub, then hit the Ramada, then later on check in at Shwarma Alley. He showered and shaved, then lathered his head. At the mirror he pulled the razor over it with light careful strokes. Very gingerly; there was a place at the back where if he wasn’t careful he’d cut the shit out of himself. He put on slate Dockers and a Harley buckle with glass jewels and a short-sleeved shirt with red and blue stripes and then his boots.

* * *

Dan slumped on the sofa in his in-port cabin, looking blankly at the equally blank television, drinking a diet Coke out of the fridge. Blair wasn’t due in till five, at Bahrain International, on the far side of the city.

Someone from the staff should have been on the pier to meet them. Strange there hadn’t been. He’d have to pay his calls, starting with the DESRON commander. He’d ask there if it’d be kosher to call on CO-MIDEASTFOR.

He was throwing his civvies and kit into an overnight bag when someone tapped at the door.

The lieutenant introduced himself in an apologetic manner as Palzkill. Dan found out why when he handed over the envelope. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, sir.”

In accordance with Paragraph 4 of Part V, Manual for Courts-Martial, he was notified the command was considering imposing nonjudicial punishment on him. The alleged offenses were violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Article 128, assault, and Article 134, conduct of a nature to bring discredit on the armed services. He had the right to refuse imposition of nonjudicial punishment. If he did, charges could be referred to trial by court-martial by summary, special, or general court-martial.