SSgt Davidson sighed. No rest for the wicked, he thought, as he got back to work.
Chapter 2
Same day
Naval Station Norfolk, Virginia,
Second Lieutenant Anthony Niimoto, USMC, nervously pulled on the bottom of his Summer Service Alpha jacket while standing behind the battalion XO. Major Hansen rapped on the CO’s hatch, then stuck his head in.
“Sir, Lieutenant Niimoto is here, checking in,” the major informed the commanding officer.
Tony didn’t know why he was nervous. He had met the president himself and the commandant, both on more than one occasion. Now he was sweating meeting his new commanding officer?
“Send him in, major,” the CO’s voice came out through the hatch.
The XO stood to the side, motioning Tony in. Tony stepped through, marched up to the CO’s desk, and came to attention.
“Second Lieutenant Niimoto reporting for duty as ordered, sir!”
He stared at a spot a foot above the CO’s head. Peripherally, Tony took in the short, barrel-chested man sitting in front of him. Tony had never met LtCol Pavoni before, but he knew of him, of course. After the downsizing of the Marine Corps, it was hard not to at least know about other Marines, and as the Alpha Company commander of the Marine Security Battalion, then Major Pavoni was well known as a pugnacious fitness freak, but one who enjoyed tipping back a beer or two. Tony knew that the Marines in his company both respected and feared the man at the same time. Now he had been both promoted and given command of the first battalion to deploy since the reestablishment of the Marines as a fighting force.
LtCol Pavoni came to his feet, hand out over his desk.
“Welcome aboard there, lieutenant. Glad to finally get you here. You’re the last of the battalion’s officers to arrive, and none too soon. We get underway next week, as I’m sure you already know.”
Tony shook the CO’s hand, not sure if he was still supposed to be at attention or not.
“Thank you, sir. And I’m sorry for the delay in—”
The CO held up his hand to stop him.
“Don’t worry about it. We all know the reasons. Stand at ease, by the way.”
Tony shifted to a modified parade rest.
“What we have to do now is get you to your platoon and get you up-to-speed as quickly as possible. Normally, you would’ve been here for the entire work-ups, but that wasn’t going to happen.”
Tony started to say something, but once again, the CO held up his hand.
“I know it wasn’t your fault. And if the commandant tells me to hold a boat space for you, well, I hold a boat space. I’ve got you assigned to Kilo Company. I’m not sure if the Sergeant Major or XO told you yet, but Kilo will be cross-decking on smaller fighting ships while the rest of the battalion will be on the two amphibs. Right now, we’ve got to get you to your company. But you owe me a chat. Maybe in Rota, I want you to sit down with me over a beer and give me the real scoop about Delhi, Marine-to-Marine, not what that Fox made-for-tv movie showed.”
Tony reddened a bit at that. He’d had enough of that movie already.
“First things first, though. You’re out of uniform,” the CO said, a scowl on his face.
Tony panicked. Out of uniform? He had been prepped hard before all the public appearances, so he should know how to get dressed. He looked down quickly at his uniform to see what he might have missed.
The CO opened a drawer and took out a green braid. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, his scowl turning into a smile.
“Um, no sir?”
“This is the French fourragère.” He moved around the desk and started attaching the braid to Tony’s left epaulette. “The 5th and 6th Marines were awarded the fourragère after they earned the Croix de Guerre with palm leaf three times during World War I. And now, this is part of your uniform until you leave the regiment.”
Tony’s heart stopped pounding. It seemed as if the battalion CO was not above messing around with his Marines a bit, scaring him like that.
“So, anyway, let’s get you down to Kilo. All your fun and games are over now, so get cracking.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Tony replied, coming to attention, again.
The CO hadn’t actually said “dismissed,” but Tony took it that he was, so he about-faced and marched out of the office. The XO was still standing there, and behind him was a lance corporal.
“Lieutenant, this is Lance Corporal Upton. He’ll take you over to Kilo later, but he’ll be your guide for now. Captain Svenson and his headquarters are out training with the company and won’t be back until this evening.” He looked at LCpl Upton, for confirmation, who nodded back. “So get yourself checked into the Q, change into cammies, then draw your gear until your company gets back in.”
“Aye-aye, sir!”
As they walked down the passage to the front hatch, he could see Upton surreptitiously eyeing his chest. Tony was used to it. Not too many Navy Crosses were worn by active duty Marines. First Sergeant Ames had one, back from Afghanistan. And there was a sergeant, one of the Army transfers, who had a Distinguished Service Cross. But that was about it.
“Sir, was that all true?”
“Was what true, lance corporal?”
“You know sir, what that movie said. In India.”
Tony sighed. He was never going to get used to this, he knew.
“Sort of true. But they made it out to something much bigger.”
There was a pause as they reached the front hatch and stepped out into the sunshine, putting on their covers before continuing.
“Cpl Steptoe, he says what they showed about you is true.”
Tony stopped and looked at Upton. “You know Cpl Steptoe? Is he here?” he asked excitedly.
“Oh, yes, sir! He’s one of our radio operators. Didn’t you know that?”
“No, I didn’t,” he responded, but with a bit of spring in his step.
He hadn’t seen Stepchild since the President’s State of the Union address, back, what, nine months ago? And now they were serving together again. That thought gave him a surprising amount of comfort as he looked forward to this deployment.
Chapter 3
Early that evening
Naval Station Norfolk, Virginia
Tony was waiting in the company office when a familiar figure ambled in. Tall and soft, he looked more like the village idiot than the genius he was.
“Stepchild!” Tony called out, rushing over to shake hands.
“Tony . . . I mean, Lieutenant, sir, glad to see you again, sir!” Cpl Steptoe told him.
Tony immediately felt a small gap widen. Even though he had been a sergeant while Stepchild had been a lance corporal, they were still enlisted together, in a very small detachment. Stepchild’s reaction highlighted the gulf between them now, with him being an officer. It saddened him a bit, to be honest.
He pushed that thought away.
“And how the heck are we in the same company? Is that a coincidence?”
“Well, you know, sir, friends in high places, I guess. I begged the skipper to be one of your radio operators, and he didn’t seem to think I was getting above myself.”
“But I thought you would be one of those computer jocks, in a nice air-conditioned office.”
“Well, technically, I’m a 2802. A radio operator. But after I went to go visit SSgt Childs up at that VA hospice in Detroit, well, I decided I needed to get out with the real Marines. You know, in the mud and the rain.”
Tony was quiet for a moment. SSgt Child had been a Super-Marine. He had earned a Silver Star at La Paz, only to fall in Delhi. Steptoe had hero worshiped him, hence his “Stepchild” nickname.
“Well, it’s good to see a familiar face. I’m glad you’re here with me,” Tony told him. “I ran into Van Slyke when I was a reviewing officer at the Naval Academy. He’s doing well there, but since the State of the Union, I haven’t seen Saad or First Sergeant Mac.”
“Well, you know I went with First Sergeant
Mac back to Delhi before I requested field duty. He just left there for the company headquarters. Corporal Saad’s at the detachment in Cairo now.” He looked up at the front hatch. “Oh, here’s the skipper. I guess you’ve got to go.”
Tony looked up to see three Marines, still dirty from training, come in the hatch. He tried to read the nametags, which were partially covered by deuce gear, wondering which one was Capt Svenson.
A tall, lanky African-American Marine saw him and called out, “Ah-ha! Our long lost lieutenant, I believe. Welcome aboard! Let me drop this gear, and let’s talk.”
Svenson? Tony wondered. He sure didn’t look like a Swedish Viking. He dutifully left Stepchild and followed his new company commander into his office, taking a seat when the captain gestured for him to do so.
Capt Svenson draped his deuce gear over a hat stand in the corner, stretched, and then held out his hand.
“I’m glad to have you here at last. We needed you here a couple of months ago, to be blunt. But I guess some things can’t be helped. Although why the Marines, in their infinite wisdom, thought having you there ringside at that UFC fight in Vegas was more important than you training with your platoon is beyond me.”
“You saw that, sir?”
“Once the CO told me you were mine, I watched a lot of what you were doing. After I called some of my buddies down at Benning to see how you did in school. Do you know what they told me?”
“Um, sir, well, I finished at number two at the Infantry Officer Basic Course,” he answered, feeling a bit on the defensive.
“Yes, academically, you did well, and your personal fitness was good. But they also told me that you lacked a bit in leadership. And, leadership, lieutenant, is more important than book smarts. But you’re young yet, still green at the gills even if you’re a mustang. And SSgt Davidson, your platoon sergeant, is going to help you out there. He’s pretty seasoned, a Ranger who accepted an inter-service transfer. Listen to him, and he’ll help you.”
Tony had gone to Benning for his officer and infantry training as the Marines were still reconstituting their own schools back in Quantico, and it seemed that every one of his classmates professed a desire to be a Ranger. (He suspected that some of that may have been mere lip service. He had heard about how difficult the school was.) He wasn’t quite sure how much he was going to like having an ex-Ranger as his platoon sergeant, and he really didn’t like the inference that he personally was somewhat lacking. For the last year plus, he had been feted pretty much everywhere he went, and now it was hard to get this reality check.
The captain hadn’t stopped talking. “And this is really going to be important to you, ‘cause you’re going to be on your own. Your platoon will be on the Jason Dunham. I’m putting Second and Weapons Platoon with me on the Gaffert, the new LPD, and we’ll be the point of main effort. Third will go on the Independence, which was the first littoral combat ship. Sorry you get the older platform, but frankly, your platoon is probably the least combat-ready right now. I should tell you though, that the captain of the Dunham is none too pleased with you being aboard. They fought against being assigned the entire platoon. But they have a history of having Marine FAST teams on board going back to 2006, even if those teams were only 20 Marines. Without an embarked extra medical team, the ERSS or ERRS or whatever they call them, I guess they conceded that you can be shoehorned in someplace. Consider yourself lucky, though, that you get your entire platoon. Third can only embark with two squads.”
“The rest of the battalion is going to be on the Pearl Harbor. I’m not sure how much you’ve been told yet, but the main body of the battalion will be doing some showing of the flag and re-introducing the Marines to the region, but we are designated the Maritime Raid Force, and our task will be anti-piracy. That’s why the company is not on one deck, and you and Third aren’t even on an amphib. We’re going to cut square circles in the ocean to keep the pirates at bay, so be ready for a long, boring deployment. And as I am sure you realize, this is pure politics. Some of your friends in high places want to make sure the Marines get some press. So no matter how the Navy complained about you and Third going on combatants, well, they weren’t going to win that fight.”
He got up and poured himself a cup of coffee from where it had been brewing on a bookcase. He offered Tony one, which was accepted.
“Not everyone in the Navy is upset, though. We’re supposedly taking over this mission for now from the Navy, and the SEALs training us couldn’t be happier. They think this will free them up with their ‘real’ missions,” he said, using his fingers to make quotation marks in the air, “so they can poop ‘n snoop to their hearts’ content. To be honest, I think this is a mistake, to push us before we’re ready. But like I said, this is purely a political decision to get the Marines back in the public’s eye as a fighting force. The Marines got a huge boost from Delhi, but I think the administration needs to justify the expense of building the Marines back up as a fighting force.”
Tony wondered at the heavy use of “they” and “Marines” instead of “us” and the more commonly used “Corps.” This was a temporary office, so it wasn’t surprising that there were no personal mementos up on the walls. But Tony was now fairly sure that his company commander was another Army transfer. Not that it really mattered, he guessed. The Corps could get former Marines in the higher enlisted and officer ranks, and new recruits and second lieutenants were no problem either, but for lower NCOs and mid-level officers, well, most of these had to come from other services.
“We’ve got two more days of training here in Little Creek, then a 96 for the long weekend. Since you’ve just arrived, I’d like you to stay here on duty so the other platoon commanders and the XO can join the troops and go home before we set sail.”
The company commander had said “troops.” That settled it. He was Army.
Captain Svenson looked like he was going to say something else.
Here it comes, Tony thought. The don’t-expect-any-special-treatment lecture, which he had received several times so far.
But the captain shook his head slightly, then stood back up, offering his hand.
“I’m glad you’re here now, and I look forward to having you in my command. We’re all professionals here, and that’s what I expect from everyone in the company.”
“Thank you, sir, and I’m glad to be here, too.”
Chapter 4
The next day
Naval Station Norfolk
The Black Hawk came in fast, flaring out over the ship below. Tony pulled his heavy gloves tighter around on his hands. He was familiar with the Fast Rope Insertion Extraction System (FRIES) having fast roped at Benning, but that was over an open field. This time, though, it was onto a deck of a mothballed freighter which was under contract to the Navy.
He felt nervous. Sliding down a heavy woolen rope in the middle of all the things that stick up on a ship was one thing. But this was also the first time most of his platoon would see him in action. He knew enough not to take over from SSgt Davidson, who had led the rehearsal the morning before, but he didn’t want to watch as an observer from the pier at which the target ship was berthed, so he had inserted himself with 2d Squad to observe the takedown. He just prayed that he would land standing and not on his butt.
The Navy SEAL instructor, BM2 Alfryd, had barely acknowledged Tony before the final brief and before they boarded the Blackhawks. Back in Delhi, Tony had been rescued by 1stSgt Mac and a SEAL team, and Tony wanted to know if the petty officer knew any of them, but the sailor’s brusque manner didn’t seem to offer the opportunity. So Tony had just stood around while his platoon went through their paces.
Capt Svenson was there as well, and given his comments about Tony’s supposed leadership weakness, Tony was extremely tempted to step in and take over. But he would have had to know what was going on to do that, and the mission itself was the most important thing, so he just hung back and observed.
But he knew he was being observed as well. Onl
y Stepchild knew him, and now he had both his platoon trying to get a feel for him and his company commander observing him as well. That put more pressure on him than sliding down 20 feet of rope.
The two ropes hung on either side of the helo, and the first man to fast-rope was sitting at each one, legs over the edge, hands on the rope. The helo came to a hover, and at the command of the fast rope master, the first two men hopped off and started to descend. The next two men immediately moved over and stepped out, followed by the next two. Tony has shifted his position to be ready, and without hesitating, grabbed the rope and swung out, legs wrapping around it and acting as a partial break, slowing his descent. He felt the rotor wash and had a glimpse of another Marine going down the opposite rope, but within seconds, he hit the deck and stepped back. Immediately, the Black Hawk took off, clearing the area.
Tony had been on the last bird in, so he stepped to the side of the freighter, watching his Marines move through their paces. He had to admit that they seemed pretty professional. Maybe his platoon sergeant knew what he was doing after all.
Capt Svenson was observing the operation from the ship’s flying bridge. He was with the company first sergeant, who Tony hadn’t officially met yet, and the two seemed to be discussing what was happening. The first sergeant looked down at Tony, then flicked a finger at him, seemingly pointing him out to the commander. Capt Svenson gave Tony a brief glance before going back to his conversation.
What does that mean? Tony wondered. Should I be walking around? Should I be taking charge?
He couldn’t get a feel for his new boss, and that made him uncomfortable. For most of the past year, 2dLt Anthony Niimoto had been somewhat of a hero, and the admiration and even deference given to him had propped him up, had given him a bit of an inflated ego. Now, his new commander didn’t seem too impressed, and that brought Tony back to earth. He knew he had to get his head on straight and prove himself worthy of his shiny new bars.
The Return of the Marines Trilogy Page 27
