“A disaster. Again.”Simon knew well of my recent dating problems. I kept him updated - he was always happy to lend an ear, thank goodness.“There...” he said. “That should fix it.”Standing up, he went into the lounge room, and I followed him, scuffing my feet. I collapsed onto a couch, and he fetched me a drink (I don’t know why it took him so long) and sat on the sofa opposite.“Now,” he said, staring me straight in the eyes. “Tell me all about it.”For the next fifteen minutes, I regaled him with. He watched as an F-18 was launched from the deck. It reminded him of his own days as a fighter jock. The smile on his face could be seen by any who cared to look at the old man. It was too bad he would be retiring in two more months.He left the bridge for his stateroom. The Marines were well dressed this day. They should be. It was going to be a day to remember, after all. The final flight had left the deck, heading for Iran. It was time for America to deal with that terrorist state. Ten days. More

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