Page 48 of Luck Be Mine
November 2020
Eleven Months Since Injury
◊ A New Rank, A New Weight ◊
Hunt kept Cait’s hand in his as they made the way through the crowd to join the team. Her touch reminded him that, since his last promotion, his foundation had changed. While promotions ceremonies honored achievements and carried a sense of celebration, this one spurred moments of sober reflection.
Spotting Senior Chief Hernandez, he shifted course to get them to the edge of the group.
Gil Stemmons was the first to greet him, triggering irritation. He locked down anything but respect.
“Lieutenant.” He shook the man’s hand because it’s what you do.
“LT, congratulations. Good work.” His eyes shifted to Cait. “I don’t believe we’ve met Mrs. Hunter.”
Hunt released Cait’s hand to slip an arm around her waist. She’d forgone the heavy black shoulder brace for a deep blue paisley sling to support her hand. Her simple sky-blue sheath hugged her curves, the color lighting her eyes. “Cait, this is Lieutenant Gil Stemmons. Stem, my wife, Dr. Cait Hunter.”
Cait had on her doctor face as she returned the greeting, and amusement flushed out the ill-will. Cait could take care of herself in this realm.
Doogie came to their side and kissed Cait’s cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Doogie.” She winked at him.
“You ready, LT.” Doogie shook his hand.
Hunt kept his reply succinct. “No choice now.”
Stemmons wiped a hand over his mouth. “Wow, inspiring, LT.”
He managed a neutral face. “Reflecting on how many lost lives are standing with me today.”
Cait slipped an arm around him, squeezing his waist. “They’d be proud of you.”
Hunt caught the noise level shift, the sense of celebration tempered by respect for the ceremony. Conversations tapered off, chairs creaked as people found their seats. Formation began. He took Cait’s hand and led her to their place. The Executive Officer stepped to the mic, voice carrying in the outdoor public address system.
“All hands, attention to colors.” The orders snapped with intent. The Color Guard marched in with sharp, synchronized steps. The U.S. flag led, followed by the Navy’s blues, the gold trident of Naval Special Warfare Command, and the California bear snapping in the breeze.
Hunt closed the door on images of the little boy who’d chosen long ago to become a SEAL and the hardened warrior who hunted terrorists. This meant everything to him. His last promotion had been halfway around the world, sand in his teeth, gunfire not far off.
The anthem swelled over the speakers. Hunt locked his gaze on the stars of the flag and repeated the promise he’d made the day he joined the Navy.Smart. Steadfast. Strong.
Today the vow had different weight.
The Commanding Officer rose. After introductions and comments from other command staff, he announced the firstpromotion. “Lieutenant Travis Hunter, please step forward.” Hunt left Cait’s side and went to the podium. The CO reviewed his stations, deployments, and commendations. The official language skimmed over blood and loss, helicopter crashes, and a doctor’s sweet hands. The orders came next.
“The President of the United States has reposed special trust and confidence…”
Hunt knew the words by heart but listened to each one.
Cait stepped forward when called. Lieutenant Commander Scott joined them on the stage. Hands steady, Scott helped Cait remove the silver bars and position the gold oak leaves. Her fingers lingered while pinning one on each side – a silent, reverent message of support.
“Lieutenant Commander Travis Hunter, SEAL Team Three.”
Applause broke like a wave. Hunt shook Scott’s hand, took Cait’s arm, and moved off the stage. The CO called the next name, but Hunt’s focus shifted.
He held Cait to his side, grounding himself in her steady presence. This promotion marked more than a new rank. It was a promise of a shared life, personal and professional. As he made his way to Doogie, he was aware of the other promotions and the applause. Satisfaction washed over him. He’d worked hard and earned this respect. The joy of the moment wove itself into the quiet support of teammates, friends, and family, washing away difficult memories. Time for new ones.
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