Approaching the little Greek island with the noisy tilt-rotor is quite an experience.

The place looks tranquil, simple, and green. It almost feels like coming home.

If only the trip weren't three hours long over the Mediterranean.

Or the SEALs aren't forcing this twenty-pound body armor on me.

"You'll thank me later, Nerd." The Commander slaps my back as we land by the dense forest.

"The name is still Lt. Odysseus King, Sir." Despite the sound of it, long journeys are my kryptonite. Well, it was my dumb choice to enlist in the Navy. Carriers are always on the move.

This blonde guy kidnapped me from the USS Theodore Roosevelt's bridge. He wanted an interpreter which went against every regulation, but the brass let it slide.

To make it worse, when I told him I speak two ancient dialects of Greek too, he stuck the nickname on me, and wouldn't budge.

"I need someone to translate between us and the locals before the 82nd arrives." He claims, and I expected more than a single policeman and an old grandpa with a double-barrel shotgun.

But for now, those are the forces waiting for us on the ground.

"I zimiá pou ékane to megathírio sto dásos mas tha sas kostísei." # The damage that behemoth did to our forest will cost you. # The old hunter greets us, shaking his large pouch.

A birdshot falls out of it, what is this if not a threat? I better be careful with the translation. But he is right, the wreckage of the crashed plane was already visible from above.

The Osprey couldn't land any closer, and it's off right away to rescue the crew who parachuted into the Ionian Sea.

"What's he saying, Nerd?" The Commander asks as his two dozen men fan out.

"That the wreck is over there. The cop's name is Hermes, and he's Apollo." I go with the tamed version after they introduce themselves.

"Half the Olympos is already here and we only touched down in Greece." The SEAL laughs and the irony isn't lost on me either, especially considering the place and my name.

He gives precise orders to his men with simple hand gestures and nothing escapes his sight.

"And the girl?"

"Girl?" Following his gaze, I spot a kid trying to hide behind the trees in vain. Her royal-blue t-shirt with a big owl printed on it makes that impossible. "Poia eínai aftí?" # Who is she? #

"Eínai i Athiná. Min tin peirázeis." # She is Athena. Don't mind her. # The hunter waves, and I'm already worried about translating this to the Commander. It's another mythical name.

"Tell them to get lost, this is a Broken Arrow, not a playground." He groans before I can even attempt to explain. "Also stay behind, and tell the locals what a Broken Arrow is."

That will be fun. They're already pissed, and I can't even blame them when a B-52 crashed on their small island of Ithaca. It might contaminate the ground for centuries to come.

The SEALs head for the dirt road cutting into the forest, and the civilians follow. That's not good, but they won't listen. The strange part is that the Commander doesn't seem to care.

"Éla edó, i Athiná í oi Amerikanoí boreí na se pyrovolísoun." # Come here, Athena or the Americans might shoot you. # As the hunter yells at the girl, another plane zooms overhead.

This one is a jet and a strange-looking one at that.

"Is that ours? Or the Greek Airforce?" The Commander asks, but that's an easy no.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"It's an An-72. NATO codename Coaler, Sir. You can tell from the high-mounted engines on the wings." I try to explain but he waves me off halfway through and scrambles for his radio.

"You're still here, Nerd? Roosevelt Actual, Bravo 1. We have a possible enemy sighting. An-72 flying overhead, bearing two-seven-zero. Suspect enemy activity. Requesting guidance, over."

"Bravo 1, this is Roosevelt Actual. Say again, the last transmission. Over." The radio booms, with more static than usual. The girl runs out of the forest, hiding behind the hunter, looking shy.

"Éla, Athiná min paízeis. Aftós eínai o Odysséas, ópos proanangélthike." # Come on, Athena don't play. This is Odysseus, as foretold. # The old man scolds her.

I must have heard that wrong.

I attempt a smile, but the rest of the SEAL team looks rather anxious. What is going on?

"Bravo 1, this is Roosevelt Actual. Roger, understood. We are scrambling air assets for recon and potential intercept. Hold position, and... — ...I will... — ...further instructions. Over."

"Fucking hell, they're jamming us." The SEAL looks nervous for the first time since we met, but it only lasts a second. "Nerd, how much space does that plane need to land?"

"More than our Ospreys, but four to six hundred yards should be enough." I try to call up the relevant knowledge from my staff officer training. "Why would the Russians come here?"

"Well, the B-52 crashed because it collided with their UAV during a Black Sea patrol. Looks like it wasn't a simple accident." The Commander spat, barking a new set of instructions.

The two dozen SEALs pick up the pace, weapons ready as we head into the forest. I don't know if they forgot about the Greek trio, but they also follow us.

Why would the Russians want our nukes? They have plenty of their own.

Unless the SEALs didn't tell me something, which wouldn't be surprising. To them, I'm only a Pencil Pusher.

"I take it you don't speak Russian?" The Commander asks, and I shake my head. "Great. And I had my men cram Arabic in case we had to deal with the Houties. God damn it."

"Sir, didn't they tell us to hold our position?" Now that the Russians are here, I'm getting nervous too. According to Apollo, the forest isn't that large, and the other end touches the shore.

That's the perfect place to land an STOL like the Coaler, and it has twice the capacity of our Osprey. They put a Level III Hard Armor on me but didn't give me a gun.

"They meant to hold the position around the Stratofortress, Nerd. Don't stay behind now."

My M9 feels completely inadequate if it comes to shooting. Though I never heard of a Broken Arrow that involved a firefight. It means a compromised nuclear payload that needs recovery.

We're here to secure the area until the 82nd Airborn arrives. They have the EOD and all the stuff to deal with this. I begin panicking when a small, warm hand slides inside my palm.

"Eínai entáxei. Eísai o Odysséas. Tha to lýsete aftó." # It's okay. You are Odysseus. You will sort this out. # It's the local girl, Athena. She's around eight and shouldn't be here.

This isn't what I signed up for either so I can't share her optimism.

"If you want to come, remove those ranks from your uniform. You don't want to be the first target for the Spetznaz snipers." The Commander yells at me, but it's too late.

Something punches me square in the chest even before the supersonic crack catches up.