Chapter 14 – The Next Step
Washington, D.C. – Leroy Jethro Gibbs's Home
The kitchen clock read 2:37 a.m., but sleep seemed a distant concept for Jason Gibbs. He sat on the kitchen counter, swirling his bourbon glass between his fingers, his mind restless. There was something he needed to tell his father.
In the living room, the fireplace burned slowly, casting shadows on the wooden walls. Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat in the armchair beside it, his eyes fixed on the fire, in no hurry to break the silence.
Jason finally turned to him.
"I've been thinking about what my next step will be."
Gibbs looked away from the flames and fixed his blue-gray eyes on his son.
"And?"
Jason took a sip of his bourbon before speaking.
"I'm going to try OTC."
His father didn't react immediately. He only tilted his head slightly.
"Delta?"
Jason nodded. — Yes.
Now, Gibbs leaned back in his armchair and crossed his arms.
The OTC (Operator Training Course) was the selection and training process for the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, better known as Delta Force.
Few outside the American Armed Forces knew of the unit's existence. Even fewer knew how someone became a tier one operator.
Gibbs rubbed his chin for a moment before asking:
— Why?
Jason looked at the bottle of bourbon on the table and then back at his father.
— Because it's the next level.
His father gave a slight smile.
— I already knew that. But why do you want it?
Jason took a deep breath.
— I spent years in the Special Forces. Kosovo was my first real test as a sniper, but I know I can do more. I know there are missions that require more than just being good.
Gibbs picked up his own glass, swirling the amber liquid.
"You want to be at the top of the food chain."
Jason shrugged.
"If I'm going to do this, I want to be among the best."
His father remained silent for a moment. Then he took a sip of bourbon and looked him straight in the eye.
"You know what it means to be in Delta, right?"
Jason nodded.
"Yes."
"You really do?"
Jason frowned.
"I've been in Special Forces for years. I know the challenges. I know Delta does the toughest, most secret operations."
Gibbs interrupted him with a serious look.
"That's the surface. Do you know what it means to live without an identity? To operate in zones where no one can know you exist?"
Jason held his father's gaze.
"I know. And I'm ready for it."
The silence between the two lingered. Gibbs studied his son with the patience of a man who had seen a lot.
Finally, he sighed and stood up, taking the bottle of bourbon and pouring some more into both their glasses.
"So tell me…" he said, sitting down again. "How are you going to do this?"
Jason leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"Delta selections happen a few times a year. Only highly qualified operators can try. But the dropout rate… is absurd."
Gibbs gave a half-smile.
"That's never been a problem for you."
Jason continued.
"The selection lasts four weeks. Extreme land navigation, physical and mental endurance pushed to the limit."
His father nodded.
"And then?"
"If I'm accepted, there's OTC. The toughest training in the world. Advanced CQB tactics, hostage negotiation, covert operations." Something completely different from what I've done so far.
Gibbs leaned back in his chair and looked at his son.
"What if you don't pass?"
Jason clenched his jaw.
"I'll try again."
His father studied his expression for a moment and then chuckled softly.
"You're stubborn."
Jason smiled.
"I learned from you."
Gibbs gave a slight nod, as if admitting the truth in that.
The fireplace crackled softly, and the two men remained silent for a while.
Jason looked at his father.
"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"
Gibbs took a deep breath.
"If you're asking if I approve, the answer is yes. You were always destined for this."
Jason relaxed a little.
"But if you're asking if I worry…" Gibbs took a sip of bourbon. — Yes.
Jason frowned.
— You never worried about me in the Special Forces.
Gibbs tilted his head.
— Because, in the Special Forces, you still have a name. You still exist. In Delta, you become a shadow.
Jason knew his father wasn't exaggerating. Delta Force was more than an elite group. They were ghosts.
Gibbs continued:
— You'll become a man who can't have ties, who can't be recognized. Everything you did before… will cease to exist.
Jason nodded slowly.
— I know.
His father watched him for a long time. Then, finally, he gave a slight smile.
— So go ahead and pass that damn selection.
Jason laughed and raised his glass.
— I will.
The two toasted silently.
That night, Jason went to sleep knowing the decision was made.
He would try for selection by Delta Force.
And he wouldn't accept failure.
Chapter 15 – The Final Limit
Fort Bragg, North Carolina – September 2000
The rain fell on Fort Bragg like a gray blanket, turning the dry ground into a slippery mixture of mud and rotting leaves. The air carried the smell of wet earth, sweat, and gunpowder.
Jason Gibbs was in hell.
And he loved it.
The Delta Force Operator Training Course (OTC) was almost over.
Fifteen highly skilled operators had entered. Now, only five remained.
Jason was among them.
He crawled through the mud, his M4A1 rifle pressed against his chest, his breathing controlled, ignoring the pain in his muscles. Beside him, Sergeant Matthew Cole, a former Ranger from the 75th Regiment, gasped but remained focused.
Ahead, the instructor a man identified only as "Sergeant Major Adams" watched with sharp eyes, analyzing every movement.
"You haven't proven anything yet!" Adams shouted. "Delta Force doesn't accept ordinary men! If you want to be ghosts, you have to become something more than you are now!"
Jason didn't answer. He just kept crawling.
There was only one truth in that course: pain was temporary.
Failure was forever.
Almost a year had passed since Jason began Delta selection.
The initial phase, Physical and Mental Selection, had been brutal. Forced marches in mountainous terrain, extreme land navigation, sleep deprivation, and minimal food. About 80% of the candidates dropped out at this stage.
Now, in OTC, everything was worse.
CQB (Close Quarters Battle).
Hostage rescue operations.
Advanced intelligence tactics.
Psychological training to withstand torture. And, of course… the final test.
Fort Bragg – 3:47 AM
Jason and the other four candidates were inside an abandoned building, armed with drill ammunition.
The mission? To raid and rescue hostages under unknown conditions.
They wore black balaclavas. Names no longer mattered.
A radio crackled in the silence of the early morning.
— Alpha Team, green light. Proceed with the raid.
Jason gripped his M4A1 firmly and advanced through the side entrance with Cole and Sergeant Ryan Vickers, a former SEAL Team 6.
The first room was dark. Absolute silence.
Jason raised his hand and signaled. Advance.
The team moved in sync, checking the corners, each step calculated.
Then… all hell broke loose.
BOOM!
A door was forced open, and strobe lights blinded the team for fractions of a second. Simulated gunfire began to rain down.
Jason dove behind cover, feeling the impact of a paintball hitting his armor.
"Contact! Right flank!" Vickers yelled.
Jason stood up and fired a controlled burst, hitting two of the simulated "terrorists."
Cole and Vickers advanced, clearing the corridor while Jason climbed a narrow staircase.
The second floor was even more chaotic. Two "hostages" were tied up, with three enemies pointing guns at them.
Jason knew what to do.
He adjusted his breathing.
Three shots, three targets.
BANG.
The first enemy fell.
BANG.
The second tumbled backward.
The third tried to fight back, but Cole hit him with a precise shot.
"Hostages secure!" Jason shouted into the radio.
The mission had been a success.
But that didn't mean they were approved.
At dawn, the five remaining operators stood lined up in an open field, exhausted, their uniforms covered in mud and paint from the simulations.
The OTC Commander walked slowly before them.
His gaze was cold and calculating.
"You've reached the end of something few achieve. But that doesn't mean you've passed."
He stopped and looked at Jason.
"Gibbs. Do you think you deserve to be here?"
Jason didn't hesitate.
"Yes, sir."
The commander studied his face for a long moment.
Then, without saying anything more, he handed a black envelope to each of the five men.
Jason held the envelope, his heart pounding.
He slowly opened it…
And there it was.
The approval.
He was now a Delta Force operator.
That night, Jason was in the barracks, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.
He did it.
Almost two years of extreme training.
Thousands of applicants.
Only five passed.
He was now part of the most secret and lethal unit in the American Army.
The phone rang.
He answered.
— Jason.
He would recognize that voice anywhere.
— Dad.
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
Then Gibbs spoke:
— I knew you could do it.
Jason smiled slightly.
— It was hard. But it was worth it.
Gibbs took a deep breath.
— Now you're in the real game.
Jason knew his father was right.
The real war was just beginning.
And he was ready for it.
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