by John Ringo
"You're on a secure line, ma'am," Sergeant Roosevelt said. Two American Marines were belaying the line attached to her harness. "Even if you miss the grab you're going to be fine."
"There is nothing fine about this, Sergeant," Faith snapped. She wished she could close her eyes but there was no way she was fumbling in mid-air, on the edge of a catwalk, with nothing below here but...well, air.
She leaned out and snatched the rope. The combination of swells and the weight of the rope more or less dragged her off the catwalk and fortunately she got both hands around the rope as it did.
"AAAAAHHHHH!" she screamed as she slid down the slick rope.
"You were supposed to get your legs around it, too, ma'am," Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said. "And you can let go, now. Ma'am? You can let go..."
Faith slowly unclenched her fingers from the rope.
"And that was a really lousy job, with no disrespect, ma'am," Januscheitis said. "Back up and try it again, ma'am."
"I don't wanna be a Marine anymore," Faith muttered, trotting to the ladder. "I don't wanna be a Marine anymore..." But she kept it down.
"Wheeee!" Sophia squealed, sliding down the rope. She hit the ground with a spring in her step and bounced back up. "Can I do it again?"
"Go for it, ma'am," Januscheitis said, grinning.
"That was fun!"
"Ooooraaaah!" Faith said all the way down.
"That, ma'am, was better, and admittedly it's not the first time I've ever heard someone scream 'Oorah' in terror, ma'am," Januscheitis said. "With no disrespect intended, ma'am, it was not exactly motivational. And, again, you need to get your legs around the rope, ma'am."
"But you have to let up enough to slide down," Roosevelt said. "Ma'am? You have to unclench, ma'am...."
"I can and will do it," Faith said, picking at her mashed potatoes. "I am a Marine officer. I will not let fear keep me from performing my duty. That does not mean I like it."
"That's sort of the definition of courage, ma'am," Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said. "It's not about being fearless, it's about overcoming your fears, ma'am. But you're going to need to get to the point you can do it without screaming the whole way down. It's unsettling to the troops."
"I'll be all right on the night," Faith said. "And we get to rescue a prince. That's cool."
She looked around the mess hall and then at the cups hanging from racks in the corner.
"Is it just me, or are we bouncing more...?"
"What do you want to do, Colonel?" Gilbert asked.
The weather map was one giant red swirl off the coast of Carolina.
"We can weather it, Captain." Colonel Hamilton asked. "Correct?"
"Oh, we can plow right through," Gilbert said. "Wouldn't want to be in a small boat but we can do it. Assuming I go out enough from the Outer Banks. Going to get a bit nautical, but we'll be fine. You can't train, though. No flying, none of the planned actual air-assault training. And there's another one right behind that one. Basically, looks to me like we're going to be hitting one squall after another from here to England except maybe mid-Atlantic and you don't want to do your training in those conditions. And whatever the Marines may think about fast-roping off my bridge in a storm, I'm not going to allow it in this weather. It's flat out unsafe. I could duck into the Chesapeake and take a few days there between squalls..."
"No," Hamilton said, shaking his head. "We're just going to have to go with what we've got. We don't have time to turn aside. Plow on, Mr. Gilbert, plow on. But do, please, try to miss the Outer Banks. Grounding would be decidedly unpleasant to report."
"This is why I loooove being a Marine," Faith said as the ship nosed up and then crashed down again. She was looking fairly green.
"Bah," Sophia said, taking another bite of eggs. "Big boat sailors! This is nothing! Why this one time off of Spain..."
"You've never been to Spain," Faith said, glowering.
"Ma'am," Sergeant Januscheitis said, grinning. "Don't never get in the way of a good sea story, with due respect. Were there mermaids?"
"Let me tell you about mermaids, Staff Sergeant," Sophia said in a gravelly voice, waving her coffee cup.
"We sure she's not bucking for chief?" Derek asked.
"I think I just spent too much time around Chief Schmidt," Sophia said, laughing. "You okay, Sister dear?"
"I hate you..."
CHAPTER 30
I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:
"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal";
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
His God is marching on.
(chorus)
--"The Battle Hymn of the Republic"
"HOLY FUCK!" Faith screamed as she stepped out of the hatch.
The storm that had kept them belowdecks for two days had finally passed and she could step outside and breathe free air. Which was UNBELIEVABLY FUCKING COLD!
"AAAAAHHHH," she said, thinking her breath would appear as smoke. But, no, it was simply wrenched away by the wind. Or, and this was a distinct possibility, instantly turned to ice. There was ice accumulating on the ammo containers.
"They did not cover this in the recruiting video," she muttered.
She slammed the hatch shut and went below.
"Gunny," she said, sticking her head in his compartment.
"Ma'am?" Gunny Sands replied.
"Tell me we remembered cold weather gear," she said.
"None available, ma'am," the gunny replied. "Not short of going back to the Iwo to find it and break it out. We've got wooly pully's for most personnel including yourself. We'll need to start acclimatization training as soon as possible. Other than that, ma'am, it's exigencies of service."
"Roger," Faith said, closing the hatch. "This mission just keeps getting better and better. Five days ago we were sweating like a river on a volcano, now we're going to turn into corpse-sicles." She walked down the corridor and thought about that. "Heh, heh. Corps-sicles..."
"FEELING LIKE A CORPS-SICLE, PRIVATE?" Faith screamed at the Marine PFC standing at attention on the quarter deck.
Acclimatization training comes down to being put into whatever the climate may be for a period of time and then allowed to "recover" for a short time, lather, rinse, repeat with increasing periods "in climate" until the body is adjusted. In this case, it was standing at attention, with occasional bouts of exercise, in the freezing wind of the North Atlantic in winter. Ice-spray added to the misery. Which was par for the course for any acclimatization training.
Fortunately for Faith, she got to walk around and shout at people. She wasn't sure if she could just stand there. It was much easier to walk around and be shouty.
"NO, MA'AM!"
"WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO TUCK YOU IN FOR THE NIGHT? ARE YOU SNIVELING, PRIVATE? IS THAT A SNIVEL I HEAR...?"
"Okay, I'm getting impressed again, sir," Gunny Sands said, watching the current evolution from the bridge windows. "That's the third iteration and she's still out there."
"Agreed," Colonel Hamilton said. "I'm wondering if we should check for frost bite. It's like she just doesn't feel the cold."
"Oh, that was a bad idea," Faith said, shivering under a half dozen blankets and anything else in her room that was insulated. Fortunately, she had a compartment to herself and nobody could see what a boneheaded move it had been to stand outside in the freezing cold for hours. "I am such an idiot..."
"ARE YOU COLD, PRIVATE?"
"I AM FROM THE NETHERLANDS, MA'AM!" Marine First Class Vincent Schurink shouted against the wind. "IS THAT A JOKE, MA'AM?"
"Never mind," Faith said after a moment. "Forget I asked..."
"There's no critical need for your involvement, Sis," Faith said, shrugging. "You're just here to pick up some vaccine stuff. Do a little light shopping. I'm here to do all the derring-do. Face it, you're screwed..."
There was no "officers' mess" or wardroom on the Grace Tan. So the occasional sisterly wrang
le tended to be played out in public.
"What are they arguing about this time?" Januscheitis asked, sitting down next to Olga. Usually Marines and Navy don't mix but Januscheitis was ready to mix with Olga any time.
"Who gets the prince," Olga said, leaning back with her arms folded. "They figure who ever meets him first has a shot..."
"Ten bucks, scrip, on Faith," Januscheitis said.
"Yer on."
"He's a pilot," Sophia said archly.
"What's that got to do with it?" Faith asked.
"You really think he's going to be interested in someone who's afraid of heights?" Sophia replied primly.
"Oh..." Faith said, waggling a finger in front of her nose. "If you tell him..."
"Like I'll have to," Sophia said, her arms crossed. "Everybody on board knows. Aaaaah!" she said in a high falsetto, clutching her arms to her chest like she was gripping a rope. "It's so HIGH! WAH! WAH! I'M A MARINE AND I'M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!"
"I am going to sit on you!" Faith sputtered. "I'll do it!"
"Have either of you considered that you're both still jailbait, ladies?" Januscheitis said loudly.
"I. Will. Clear. Arkansas." Faith said.
"The good news is we can put in on the Tower Green," Captain Wilkes said, pointing to the overhead. "There used to be trees. Pretty obviously, they've been cutting them up for heat. Gives us enough room, barely, to put in the 53."
"We'll load up the first sortie in with supplies, sir," Hamilton said. "Along with a small Marine security detachment. It's possible that they may want to leave a token force behind. Then pull out all the refugees. We'll have to determine the pattern of extraction on the ground. I'll leave that up to them."
"Sounds good," Steve said. "Any questions?"
"Comment?" Sophia said. "Navy Security could handle the insertion just fine, sir. It's not like we're going to fast-rope in."
"But it is the correct way to do the operation," Steve said. "And, daughters of mine, it is time to stop playing around and focus on the mission, not who gets to...meet the prince first."
"Marines, Ensign," Hamilton said drily. "And as your father said, neither of you get to...Ahem. It will be Marines, Ensign. And, yes, that means sending your sister."
"Yes, sir," Sophia said.
"Oorah, sir," Faith said. "But it's me!"
"Colonel, sir," Faith said, tapping at his door. "Moment of your time?"
The small convoy of ships had passed Margate, England and was picking its way, slowly, through the bay of the Thames. Slowly, because according to the Louisville, which was preceding them with active blasting, the area was littered with wrecks. Some of them were ships so large that they were definite hazards to navigation. The Thames itself was simply impenetrable by any ocean-going vessel.
They had one more day to get ready for the mission and the last niggling details were being cleared up.
"Enter," Hamilton said, leaning back in his chair. "Another issue?"
"Possibly, sir," Faith said. "It overlaps personal and professional, sir. I would prefer to handpick my landing team, sir."
"My guess is that would include Staff Sergeant Januscheitis?" Colonel Hamilton asked.
"Yes, sir," Faith said.
"Approved," Hamilton said. "Anything else?"
"No, sir," Faith said, slightly surprised.
"I was going to suggest it," Hamilton said. "And as soon as some Navy personnel get trained in on helo support, he's moving back to the platoon. All of the Marines except air-crew are moving back. I'm sending the gunnery sergeant as well. So it will be you, a gunnery sergeant, the staff sergeant and I'd suggest letting the staff sergeant choose the rest of the team. My suggestion on that is either the Dutch Marines or Second Squad. Second is Iwo-heavy."
"Yes, sir," Faith said, clearly puzzled.
"Is there anything else?" Hamilton asked.
"No, sir," Faith said.
"Dismissed."
"Okay, why doesn't this bother me?" Faith shouted.
The tail ramp of the CH-53 Super Stallion was down and she was hanging onto a stanchion while standing on the ramp. She had a safety-strap on but that shouldn't have been much consolation. It was a long way down.
The view, though, was spectacular. If Armageddon was your choice of views. Everything was burned. Fires had raged through London and its sprawling outskirts. The 53 was following the line of the Thames and the devastation was enormously evident. Ships and boats were sunk all along the river. The houses and wharfs on either side of the river were ruins. There were infected crawling everywhere she looked. It was enough to give her chills. The reason they were following the river was that if they went down, they'd have a better chance in the water than on land.
"Survivors," Januscheitis shouted, ignoring the question. He was pointing to the north. There were definitely people on a miraculously unburned building, waving at the passing helo.
"We'll determine if we're going to do extraction later," Faith shouted. She looked at her watch and tried to figure out the landmarks. They were passing over a dropped bridge so that meant...
"Time to get on game face," Faith shouted as the helo slowed and banked. And banked tighter. Then she clutched the stanchion in both hands. "SON OF A BITCH!"
"There it is!" Januscheitis shouted, pointing down.
The outline was engraved on her brain and she even knew most of the portions of the fortress. Develin Tower. The Bloody Tower. The Traitors' Gate. And there were survivors. Quite a few. Most were in British camo standing sentry or manning machine guns that tracked the helo suspiciously. A few civilians ran out into the open areas, waving at the 53.
As they passed over the Bailey, Januscheitis tossed out a radio attached to a small parachute. The helo banked away and out, spiraling upwards.
Faith pulled a set of cans off a hook and put them on.
"Hello? Jolly good to see you, Yanks. Captain Carl Whiteshead, First Royal Rifles. Over."
"Lieutenant Faith Smith, United States Marine Corps," Faith replied. "Plan is as follows. We have supplies in case you wish to leave a token force. Land on Tower Green, unload security element, unload supplies, load refugees. Given the numbers we're seeing here, at least two lift sorties. Then the last of the last go out. We cannot guarantee resupply any time in the next six months. So we're bringing in one year's supply for twenty people. All we can loft. You're going to need to figure out if anyone stays and if so who. Is that all clear, over?"
"Roger. Define security element, over."
"One squad of Marines to assist with loading of refugees, over."
"Understood. Be aware, you will be under guns until we determine you are, in fact, United States Marines. Over."
Faith looked at Januscheitis. He nodded and mouthed "Makes sense."
"Understood," Faith replied. "Make sure all your personnel know to stay away from the rotors at the rear. It would be a real bitch to spread some of your people all over the walls if they walk into them. Clear the Green and we're inbound."
"We're clearing it, now. Come ahead. Out."
"Captain Wilkes?" Faith said, switching to intercom.
"Preparing to land," Colonel Kuznetsov said. "Thirty seconds."
"On your feet, Marines," Faith shouted, waving for the Marines to stand up. She took off the cans, put on her helmet, then grinned at Januscheitis. "This is the good part."
"I'm not counting chickens till they're all in the boat, ma'am," Januscheitis said, buckling his own helmet. "Remember to stay away from the rotors yourself, ma'am!"
"Roger," Faith said, holding the stanchion in a death grip as the helo slowly crested the walls of the Tower. She was fine high for some reason. A thousand feet was just sort of surreal. Fifty feet scared the shit out of her. They were low enough she could see the sentries on the walls clearly and was surprised that they were Oriental. Her innate and highly trained paranoia went off like an alarm bell and she started tapping her pistol.
"Ma'am?" Januscheitis said. He could read her like a
book.
"The guards!" Faith shouted, pointing. "They're not English!"
Januscheitis peered at the one guard in sight suspiciously, then grinned.
"Your knife, ma'am!" the Marine shouted as they flared out.
"What?" Faith yelled.
"Gurkhas!" Januscheitis shouted. "They're Gurkhas!" He leaned over and tapped the lieutenant's kukri.
"Oh," Faith said, walking down the ramp.
One thing that her da had told her, years ago, was that Gurkhas did not like just anyone carrying a kukri. You had to earn it. In their opinion.
"Oh...crap!"
"Lieutenant Faith Smith, United States Marine Corps," Faith said, saluting the captain. He wasn't the prince. From his rank tabs, he was the guard unit commander. "Captain Whiteshead, I guess?"
"Yes, Lieutenant," Whiteshead said, returning the salute. "Although shouldn't it be 'I presume'?"
"I'm not sure, sir," Faith said. "I speak American and Australian, sir, but I'm still working on British. We ready to get unloaded? And are you planning on leaving a contingent?"
"Yes, we are, Lieutenant," Whiteshead said, clearly bemused by the reply. "And we're prepared to unload immediately."
"Gunny!" Faith bellowed, turning around. "Hook in and get those stores moved!"
"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Gunny Sands said. "Start unpacking, Marines!"
A line of civilians and military, mostly the Gurkhas, started unloading the food, a combination of MREs, "humanitarian service packs" and canned rations.
