The Return of the Marines Trilogy

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “From our projections, I would have to assume it will be a significant win for the Indian National Party. Popular backlash against the Prime Minister and the ruling part is growing, and that was most likely the tipping point for his dissolving Parliament and calling for new elections. He probably thinks this is his best chance at retaining power, i.e., before full disclosure of his party’s support of the takeover.”

  Despite the seriousness of the conversation, the president had to smile. Kaiyen was an old, old friend, but she was perhaps the only person he knew who would actually use the phrase “i.e.” in a conversation. He was actually surprised she didn’t use the full Latin “id est.”

  “I have also spoken with Viraq Dasmunsi personally. He assures us that India is and will remain a close ally, and he hinted he is willing to re-open past negotiations, such as opening up their financial markets, under his new administration. He made what I understood to be an appeal to help keep this situation as what has been described in the Indian press.”

  “So, we act like this was a mere group of terrorists, which acted due to Indian armed forces being elsewhere on previously scheduled exercises. This ‘terrorist’ group saw an opportunity and grabbed it, and the Indian government was slow to respond due to a fear of escalation and loss of life? And that they invited us to conduct the actual evacuation due to it being US soil?”

  “Pretty much so, yes sir.” Arnie sat back, watching him.

  “And that will fly?”

  “Well, the government did send in the police as soon as the Marines started landing. They arrested over a hundred people. But no, this won’t fly with most of the world’s leaders. On the other hand, it really only has to fly within India and within the general American populace. The rest of the world will just accept what we agree to say.” He paused. “And that’s the value of modern diplomacy. People act as if outright lies are the truth without batting an eye.”

  “Oh, I know we have to do this. But it really sticks in my craw. If you were there, if you had seen those young men and women die, well . . . well, that’s over and done with. Arnie, I want Secretary Pitt briefed on this, and I want him to take point. I want him in bed with soon-to-be Prime Minister Dasmunsi. Let’s make this fade away as soon as it possibly can. Pitt is a good guy, by the way. I want him brought in closer to the circle in the future.

  “OK, I’ve got another meeting in a few, right Arnie? So quickly, about those other things. The awards? Do we have Congressional sponsors yet?”

  “Yes sir, “Arnie nodded. “Congressman Birch requested to sponsor all of them.”

  “Good. I want this done quickly, not going through a couple years of DOD approval. But push them on those other awards, too. I want these people to feel our deep appreciation. My appreciation.

  “And the Marines?” the presisent added, looking a little apprehensive.

  Arnie laughed at this one and said, “Mr. President, I have made a few calls. This one is going to sail through without a problem. The Marine Corps is pretty popular right now, and there were already a lot of people, people in Congress and out in the constituency, who rather thought the Marines should never have been down-sized. Even if you hadn’t promised what you did, I think someone on the Hill would have hitched their wagon to this train.”

  The President looked a little relieved. Hopefully, this was a promise he could keep.

  “You being a bona fide hero too isn’t hurting matters. We don’t have too many presidents personally fighting terrorists, you know,” Arnie said, motioning over to where the M18 the president had used in India was already framed and hung on the wall.

  The president felt guilty about that, posing, in his opinion, as a hero. But he also understood political capital when he saw it, and he did feel a certain pride in having stood up and traded rounds with an enemy.

  “And I still want your input on the bloodletting. Lefever is gone.” The president raised a hand to cut off his chief of staff’s protest. “Oh, I’ll wait a little bit, but that asshole is out of here within two months. I am willing to take your advice on Wright. She can stay out her term. But I want your input on who may have been acting out of their conscience and who was acting for political gain. And then, what you think we should do about it.”

  The president stood up and said, “Thanks for your support. You have served your nation, but I personally appreciate your loyalty.”

  He shook each hand in turn. As he they left, he walked back to his desk. The Marine was outside, still at parade rest, his dress blues tight against his broad back.

  The President of the United States smiled.

  Chapter 55

  Two Months Later, HQMC, Quantico

  Brigadier General Jeff Lineau sat in his office, listening to the hubbub going on outside the hatch. He realized that inside the office, things had gone silent.

  “Excuse me? I didn’t catch that,” he said.

  LtCol (Col Select) Tye Saunders looked back at his notebook, then back up. “I just told you we are authorized to approach all former Marines now serving in the other branches about returning to us. We really are going to need a senior cadre to help guide this expansion, and the Chiefs of Personnel of the other branches have pledged their support.”

  General Lineau smiled, saying, “I guess it helps getting that support when the Commander in Chief himself asks for it.”

  There was a general chorus of laughter.

  Tye added, “I spoke with Major General Lawrence this morning. He has decided to give up his second star to return to the Marines as our new FSSG CG. He told me one star with the Marines was much better than any number of Army stars.”

  There was a chorus of “Ooh-rahs” at that quote.

  “That’s really good news. I knew General Lawrence, back in the day when he was still a Marine. He is a great logistician, and it’ll be nice to have him back and out of his Army greens. He is going to help a lot in getting us back on our feet. I’m glad he saw fit to give up his Army career and that second star,” General Lineau said, feeling a big sense of relief at the news.

  The Sergeant Major, arm still in a sling, spoke up, “On a related note, we are starting to interview retired Marines about coming in for temporary orders. This afternoon, I’ve got an interview with that Staff Sergeant, the one who lost his legs in Afghanistan, the brother of Loralee Howard. If he’s fit to sit in back of a desk, I’ll send him into see the XO for final approval. But, as you say, if the request comes from the Commander in Chief, I guess we’re going to find that this Marine still can serve.”

  Another round of laughs went around the office.

  “Speaking of Ms. Howard, I haven’t heard back about her move. We had Marines helping her?” Gen Lineau asked.

  Major Mahmoud spoke up, “Yes, sir. The entire S-1 and S-4 sections showed up Saturday and packed her up. Her belongings should probably be half-way back to her hometown now. She said she was going to visit a sister, then head on back. She just didn’t want to stay in DC anymore.”

  “OK, let’s keep track of her. I especially want her to be here for the Birthday Ball. You know, I talked with her on the Reagan and then again while flying back to CONUS. That is one amazing lady.”

  Cpl Tyson knocked and stuck his head in the hatch. “Sir, Admiral Conners is here to see you.”

  “Send him in!”

  He looked at the others. “Ladies and gentlemen, can you give me a few moments?”

  His staff got up and started to leave when Joshua Conners walked in, looking out of place and a little lost in civilian clothes. Tye Saunders reached out to offer his hand.

  “Good to see you Admiral Conners.”

  Conners took the offered hand, saying,“That is just Mr. Conners now, I’m afraid.”

  “Begging the admiral’s pardon, but no it isn’t. You are Rear Admiral Joshua Conners, Friend to the Corps. You will always be an admiral to us. And we’ll never forget what you did for us.”

  The others nodded in agreement. It couldn’t be true,
but it seemed like a small tear formed in the admiral’s eyes, a tiny bit of moisture.

  “I’ll take the ‘Friend to the Corps’ title with pride.” They looked into each other’s eyes before the XO turned away and followed the others out of the office.

  The tall man in civilian clothes hesitated a moment, then turned to his old classmate, hand out. “That star looks good there!”

  “Well, it’s only temporary. It hasn’t been officially confirmed yet, and they could still come to their senses any minute now and kick my ass all the way back to North Dakota. But the President says wear it, so I wear it.”

  “So what happened to 52-and-a-wake-up?”

  “Bastards won’t let me retire now. Something about needing me to build up the Corps again.”

  “Well, that’s good for you. I can’t see you sitting on your ranch pushing cows around. Julie would be bossing you around unmercifully,” the admiral said.

  “You’ve got that right!”

  They both laughed and sat down. The silence carried on a little bit too long for comfort.

  “Josh, you know how much that sucks. I can’t believe they did that.”

  “Oh, we both knew our careers were over after this. We both went in with open minds. You came out a hero, and I’m not being funny here. You really were. And I’m happy you escaped the headman’s axe. But we both knew what was going to happen, and OK, it happened. I still wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “But we saved the president. If we hadn’t acted, he’d be dead by now, and we might be at war. You were the one who did that. You made it possible,” Jeff said earnestly. “But I broke the cardinal rule in the Navy. I acted without telling my chain of command. They don’t trust me. Audrey Race at PACCOM chewed my ass, and the CNO? You don’t want to know what went on in his office. Oh I know,” he said forestalling Jeff’s protest, “I am getting the Distinguished Service Medal for the action, but the CNO left no room for interpretation. I was told to retire. So I did.”

  “And I told you, let me talk to the president. I think I can get his ear for this.”

  “And I appreciate that. You can’t understand how much. But no. I’m done. I’m going home,” Joshua told his Academy roommate.

  The silence stretched out again.

  “But now you’ve got your star.” He brightened. “A real Commandant. So they’re bringing back a whole division?”

  “Yep, and the FSSG. No air wing, though, for now at least. We’re in negotiations with the National Guard now to take back Camp Lejeune.”

  “Hey, that’s great.”

  “We’re getting back the Marine Barracks in DC from the Park Service, and General Litz says he wants me there. But I want to be in Lejeune. I can’t command from DC!”

  “Heavy is the crown. Well, you’ll have to be a politician now, and get somebody else to do command. Just think if it, though, you should get another star. Both of us making two stars. I never would have believed it.”

  “Three,” Jeff Lineau responded quietly.

  “Three? Three what?”

  “Three stars. I have to wait until the division is stood up, but I’m going to get three stars,” he said, looking a bit apprehensive.

  Josh Conners threw back his head and laughed, standing up and rushing over to give him a bear hug and pound his back.

  “You bastard! Three stars! Who’d you blow for that?”

  The Commandant of the Marine Corps gasped for breath.

  “I never said they knew what they were doing! Hell, all I care is that the Marines are back. Even if we owe it to a Navy puke like you, the Marines are back!”

  Chapter 56

  Three Months after the Embassy Takeover,

  Wisconsin Avenue, Washington, DC

  First Sergeant Jacob McCardle drove the staff car up Wisconsin Avenue, past the trendy restaurants and bars. As the light turned red, he slowed the Ford down. Through the side window, he saw a good lunch crowd eating at the sidewalk tables at the Mumbai Café. Two young women were sitting in the sun, laughing, drinking what looked to be mango lassis. He wondered if they would like Thums Up colas. Probably not. No one except him did. The light turned green, and he continued north.

  The ceremony had been well organized and was touching, he had to admit. The Rose Garden looked peaceful and serene. The white chairs for the attendees had been placed with care. Four placards on silver frames had stood to the left of the podium with photos and bios of the four honorees.

  First Sergeant McCardle got there early, then stood in the back as the dignitaries and guests filed in and took their seats. He saw Loralee Howard, so he sat down beside her, disregarding the name tag on the seat assigning it to someone else. She reached out and squeezed his arm. Finally, all were in place, and the doors to the Oval Office opened. The President, General Lineau, the Speaker of the House, and the immediate family members came out and made their way to the garden.

  The First Sergeant hadn’t seen the family members since the funerals, but their images were imbedded in this mind. Some of the immediate grief present at the funerals might be missing now, but a sense of solemnity, sadness, and yes, pride now was evident.

  The cameras rolled as people took their seats and the president went to the podium to speak. And it was a good speech: heartfelt, earnest, and respectful. Good politicians could do that, but the First Sergeant thought that this was not an act, that it really was from his heart.

  Then it was time for the awards. The President called each family in turn up by the order in which they fell and presented the wreathed star with the sky blue ribbon. Sergeant Tracy Ann McAllister. Private First Class Jesus Emilio Rodriguez. Major Stanley Paul Defilice. Private First Class Haydee Huertas Ramon. All presented with the Medal of Honor.

  Each family solemnly accepted their loved one’s award with both sadness and pride. Little Mac’s father, a sun-weathered cowboy, thanked the president and stoically accepted his hug. PFC Rodriguez’s grandmother, the person who had raised the young man since he was a toddler when his mother was sent to prison, openly cried. Major Defilice’s young son stepped up, clearly not understanding the importance of the ceremony, his small, innocent face looking back at his mother, the major’s ex-wife, to see what he was supposed to do. And Pedro Ramon, Princess’ father, took the award in his hands, looking at it for a long moment before crossing himself and looking heavenwards, quietly mouthing his pride to her, his only daughter.

  Normally, a Medal of Honor took a year or two to get approved, but by having a Congressional sponsor recommend these in a special session of Congress, these four were shoved through the system in record time. Not that anyone in DoD was complaining.

  The evening before, First Sergeant McCardle had gone up to Arlington to see the graves of PFC Ramon and Major Defilice. They had been buried side-by-side there, and the grass already covered any sign of the digging of the graves. But the small images of the medals were already on the tombstones. Someone had already had them emplaced. The First Sergeant had just stood there for half an hour, lost in his thoughts before leaving and going back to the hotel reserved for the ceremony guests.

  He continued his drive north. He thought about all that had happened since that fateful day. The sense of despair at losing his Marines, the sense of joy when he saw LCpl Steptoe and LCpl Saad on the Reagan. Yes, those two had made it. LCpl Kramer hadn’t. He had been shot while trying to free Mr. Dravid, who had been leading the gunmen on a wild goose chase, and when they figured that out, they held him down to execute him. LCpl Kramer wasn’t going to allow that, and he rushed from a closet to save him. Eight-to-one odds might work in Hollywood, but they don’t usually work in real life, and Hank Kramer was cut down, soon to be followed by Mr. Dravid. But Steptoe and Saad were able to draw the men up one more flight of stairs before the bomb hit, and both had been knocked unconscious. LCpl Steptoe had recovered enough to catch the attention of LtCol Ricapito’s Marines as they came pouring in through the hole in the roof. LCpl Saad had taken some fairly serio
us cuts from flying glass, but he was quickly attended to and brought back to the Reagan without problem.

  Getting back to the US was a blur to him. Then there were the debriefs, the funerals, the press interviews. He had taken a week’s leave, but he felt lost back home, so he had come back to Quantico three days early. His promotion to First Sergeant was a surprise. No more “Gunny Mac.” “First Sergeant Mac” did not have the same ring to it. Everyone called him “First Sergeant McCardle.”

  There had been another smaller ceremony at the Pentagon that morning before the Medal of Honor ceremony. The new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Kantres, and the Commandant had presented the awards to the rest of the det.

  Navy Crosses went to Tony Niimoto and Hank Kramer. Hank’s father accepted the award for him. 2ndLt Tony Niimoto looked good in his new bars. He was reporting to OCS at Ft Benning in two weeks. Soon, the Marines would have their own OCS back, but for now, it was still the Army school for new looies.

  Corporals Steptoe and Saad were both presented the Silver Star. Both had very large extended families at the ceremony. Sergeant Chen and Private First Class Fallgatter were also presented the Silver Star. It hurt the First Sergeant to see that no one was there to accept the medal for Chen. His mother had been contacted, but she refused to come, saying she had better things to do. Loralee Howard, who had become somewhat of a den mother to the Marines, took the award instead. Her brother, SSgt Cannon, looked a little old for a staff sergeant, but he stood proudly beside her in his uniform. You could not even tell that he had prosthetics under his trouser legs.

  LCpl Wynn, SSgt Child, Cpl Crocker, and Cpl Ashely were awarded the Bronze Star. There had actually been some tension about that at the Department of the Navy. Some people felt that while their loss of life and injuries were deplorable, except for Wynn, they hadn’t actually done anything to earn a medal. But this had taken on a political life of its own, and the medals were awarded.