Rise of the Phantoms (Special Missions Unit Book 1)

by Gary Beller

  “Six. Kay Jay over there will whoop your ass if you forget about her team.” Kate said, pointing to a point on the other side of the lounge where 2SMU had gathered. The exact number of Special Missions Units active at any given time is never published. It’s not a hard-kept secret, if you talk to enough people you can put it together. In practice, it actually functions a lot like an insurgent cell system.”

  “How so?” Geoff asked.

  “Well, each of us only knows of a certain number of units. The group of us have together come up with six. If the enemy were to interrogate you, you could honestly answer that you only know of six units the size of small platoons. Yes we are elite and fight like crazy, and are capable of unleashing damage vastly out of scale with our size, but somehow I doubt there are only 6 teams. If that were the case, then 1/3 of the Corps’ Special Missions capability is in this room right now.” Kate explained.

  “So how many teams do you think there are?” Sid asked.

  “More than six. I would guess probably a battalion’s worth of active Operators.”

  “Well-reasoned,” Said a voice behind Kate. She turned to see Brigadier General Hardfighter standing there. “Best guess I’ve heard in a long time, actually.”

  “Are you saying you don’t know, Sir?” Grimes asked.

  “That’s precisely what I am saying. I am in command of an entire Special Operations Brigade, and they won’t even tell ME how many teams there are. And I spent ten years with Special Missions.”

  “You were a Special Missions Operator, General?” John asked.

  “Technically, I still am. Once you’re an Operator, you’re always an Operator. Well, as long as you don’t fuck up and get kicked out like a recent Special Missions Candidate did.” The General sat down with his drink, and Ben joined him a moment later. “I actually commanded 1SMU about six years ago. Then Colonel Marye relieved me, and she in turn was relieved by Colonel Pierce.” He said, nodding to Ben.

  “Obviously, Sir, everyone wants to be a Special Missions Operator,” Evans asked, “But among the teams, is there one that stands above the others?”

  “You’re talking about the elite of the elites?” Danny asked, which Evans nodded affirmative to, “You’re looking at it. The Phantoms having the 1SMU designation isn’t just a fluke. It’s also well earned. When you get a chance, now that you’ve made the team, look through the unit history. Fourteen Presidential Unit Citations, six recipients of the Medal of Honor,” For a moment he paused to glare at Ashlie, “Not everyone can name every Special Missions Unit, but virtually everyone in the Marine Corps knows who you guys are. Everyone wants to be you guys. Even the Reapers over there, they all would gladly trade with any of you to be a Phantom. Also, former officers from 1SMU go places too. Three other Generals within the Marine Special Operations Community were also officers with this unit. Three Generals, out of a total of nine.”

  “So there’s a strong chance that we are in the presence of a future Medal of Honor recipient or a future General?” John asked.

  “I’m not sure about the General part,” Danny smiled, slapping Ben on the back, “But there has already been one of you nominated for the Medal of Honor…and that person very politely told me, my brother, and a senator to shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

  Ben looked at Ashlie and Danny, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Danny.” He laughed.

  “You’d eventually be a General if you’d quit refusing promotions.” Danny shrugged.

  “Wait, refusing promotions?” Ashlie asked.

  “Yeah. Look, when you guys get accepted onto these teams, it’s indefinitely. You could be transferred by your own request, at the Marine Corps’ convenience, or at the order of your commanding officer. As I am sure Ben, Sid, and Bob will tell you, Officers are assigned to Special Missions Units on a rotating 2 year cycle. At the end of two years, the team leader issues an evaluation on the Officer, either requesting a transfer, retention with the team, or promotion, which may be within the team or outside the team. The exception is the team leader. Headquarters Marine Corps makes the recommendation to MARSOC Headquarters, usually either a transfer or promote. 13 months ago Ben was ordered promoted to Colonel and was supposed to be assigned as the executive officer, Special Operations Brigade 7 with Marine Expeditionary Corps Mike. He refused, and requested permission to remain with this team.” Danny explained.

  “You turned down a promotion to stay with us?” Kevin asked.

  “Yeah. I don’t need more jewelry on my collar. I like where I am at. And if I can, in another 11 months I’ll probably make the same request.”

  “Don’t you have to get promoted eventually, or get forced out of the Marines?” John asked.

  “I’ve got three years before I hit that point, but only if we win this war by then. No chance in hell the Marines are going to force out an officer in a time of war, just for refusing a promotion.” Ben said.

  “Pretty much.” Danny confirmed. “I’ve got to be going….I have some IGS to attend to.” He shook some hands, and was gone.

  “IGS?” Evans asked, looking puzzled.

  “Important General Shit.” Ben explained.

  Chapter 12

  It took a day and a half of packing and preparations for Danny’s newly detached command to pack everything they’d need for an extended trip and get loaded up. 1st Raider Battalion, along with Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 133 under the command of Commander Mike Bones, loaded aboard the Assault Transport UCNS Mobile, While Delta Squadron and both Special Missions Units rode aboard the Chancellorsville. The two smaller cruisers served as force escorts, while the cargo ship SS Phillips carried the several tons of supplies and equipment needed to support more than a thousand Marines on an extended deployment.

  The planet chosen by Danny was within a light-year of the front lines, but because the planet was judged by both Coalition and Banor scientists to be of little value, neither had bothered to occupy it. On arrival, Jumpers transported Delta Squadron and the two Special Missions Units to the surface to secure a landing zone, just to make sure. Once the landing zone was secured, both the 380-meter long Mobile and the 470-meter long Phillips landed, and the Marines and Navy personnel began unloading and setting up.

  The Marines spent much of the day pitching tents that would provide temporary housing for them, while the Construction Battalion got to work on doing what they do: Building things. What Commander Bones’ battalion couldn’t bring with them, they had to find. To make room, they offloaded all the supplies from the Phillips and the Mobile and both ships departed, presumably back to Koliath to service the impending departures from there.

  With the ground cleared, the Marines lent a hand to the construction battalion, getting a solid, steady landing field established for the Jumpers, as well as building walls around the compound. Ben, Danny, and Commander Bones observed as the two groups worked together. “Kind of impressive, actually.” Bones said.

  “What’s that?” Danny asked.

  “This is the sixth forward operating base we’ve built, not counting the work we did on Leatherneck. None of the Marine units we worked with before helped at all. They pitched their tents and waited for us to do our thing, or pulled guard duty or some other bullshit. Shit I wish we worked with you spec ops folks more often.”

  “It’s a pride thing, Mike.” Ben said, watching as Kevin and Kate helped guide a grader that was leveling off an area where prefabricated hangars would be built. “To be able to say that not only did we move out of the creature comforts of home, but we helped build our little base here, it’s something to brag about. I can’t speak for the other units, but for us this is going to be home for the foreseeable future. Why not help?”

  “Indeed.” Mike said.

  Building the Jumper Field took three days, but by the end of it the Jumpers all had nice, cozy hangars and concrete landing pads. While part of the Battalion had built that, another part had dug out a pit, 30 meters deep and ten meters wide, to install the
new forward operating base’s power generator. Once it was in place and ready, it was covered with a heavily armored dome, then buried with some of the dirt that had been removed for its placement, so as to conceal its location. Also built below ground level was the munitions bunkers, which held grenades and assorted expendable explosives for the jumpers. The only other semi-permanent structures built in the compound were the headquarters building and the field hospital, manned by the medical staffs from the four commands assigned there.

  Commander Bones took a break from supervising construction to use the community head that was built in the center of 1SMU’s encampment. As he finished and washed his hands, something caught his eye. “What the actual….”

  Bones stormed out of the head and found Ben. “Colonel, A word?”

  “Sure, Mike.” Ben said.

  Bones took Ben back to the head and showed him, what could just barely be classified as artwork. “All 1 SMU members, form up in Phantoms’ Square.” Ben ordered into his radio. A few moments later, the Operators were formed and waiting at Parade rest.

  “Attention!” Ben said. “Commander Bones here has something he would like to address with you.” Ben said. “Mike, all yours.”

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, We have us a bit of a problem. You see, I was using the head, and I found some graffiti.” He said.

  The Operators did their best to suppress laughs. Graffiti was a common enough occurrence on forward operating bases that it only rarely got more than a second thought. The fact that a senior officer was upset about it seemed humorous to the team.

  “What kind of graffiti, Commander?” Major Dawn asked.

  “A Penisaurus Rex of all things.” Bones said.

  “That’s not really anything new, Sir,” Bielema said, “Those things have been roaming the front lines of war zones since at least Iraq and Afghanistan.”

  “I don’t need a history lesson, I just need to know which one of you assholes made another four hours of work for my working parties.”

  “Sir,” Captain Grimes spoke up, “Obviously this head is in our AO, but what makes you think it was one of us? Besides, its graffiti, can’t we just paint over it and move on?”

  “Simple, Captain, I know it was an Operator because Mr. Penisaurus seems to have been etched into the bulkhead with a particle pistol. And let’s be honest, you are the only assholes in a dozen light years that has the pistol skills to make that happen. Anyone else would have either used a sharpie or blown a damned hole in the wall.”

  “See, Sir, it could have been worse. No glory hole in the side of the head.” Sergeant Wainright said, from the back.

  “Shut up, Carl.” Bielema said.

  “Here’s the deal guys,” Ben said. “I will give the responsible parties 48 hours to make a private confession to me and I will handle it behind closed doors. If you make me hunt you down, I’m bringing an asswhoopin’ with me.”

  On the last day that NMCB 133 was encamped, they installed a sign near the main entry point of the base that read, “Welcome to Camp Ka-Bar”, a name chosen after the famous fighting knife that Marines had traditionally been issued for centuries. Commander Bones was given a plaque by General Hardfighter, made of local redwood from the planet and inlaid with a challenge coin, recognizing NMCB 133 for their efforts in helping build FOB Ka-Bar.

  “I’ll make sure we put this somewhere special. Thank you, General.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Danny said, shaking his hand, then turning to the assembled “Seabees” as they were called, “Naval Mobile Construction Battalion One Three Three,” He announced, “You have successfully completed your mission, with the thanks of Task Force Ka-Bar, and you hereby stand relieved. Good luck, Seabees!”

  Life on FOB Ka-Bar wasn’t always pleasant for the Special Operations Marines. Being a relatively small base, people used to living in apartment-style dwellings, sometimes with one roommate or sometimes by themselves, were now clustered in groups of four. Ashlie, Kate, Erica Martinez and Staff Sergeant Danielle Burke all shared a tent, as did Kevin, John, D. J., and Geoff.

  Life was somewhat easier for Officers, although not by much. Danny, Ben, Kay Jay Wright from 2SMU, and Lt. Colonel Cole Erickson of 1st Raider Battalion were the only people on the entire base with private “Quarters”, essentially offices with a bed and a bathroom. For the rest, they shared tents the same size as the enlisted and NCO tents, but roomed two or three to a tent instead of four. The pilots and ground crews for the two Jumper Squadrons set up their living spaces near their aircraft, some of them choosing to sleep on cots inside the jumpers or the hangar facilities.

  Commander Bones’ battalion had, however, done a fine job of taking care of the camp’s utilities. Water was pulled from the ocean, just yards from the camp, and run through a desalination and distillation plant that provided enough clean water for drinking, cooking, and for everyone to regularly shower and brush their teeth. They even repaired damage to the head, which John Roberts and Kevin Bielema eventually confessed to.

  Ben kept his word and kept punishment discrete, although Roberts blew it two days later by proclaiming to be the Penisaurus Blaster. For that antic, Ben ordered him to mop the deck in front of the Headquarters building, in the rain.

  In the first few days on the base, the various units spent time running through training simulations in the fields to the east of the base during the morning and evening hours, when it was slightly cooler. During the afternoons, most of the Marines on the small outpost spent the day either in their tents near the portable air conditioners, or swimming on the beach.

  Finally, Danny received the intelligence he had been waiting for, and called his officers together. With Ben, Kay Jay and Cole all sitting in, Danny outlined what was going to happen. “Fleet Intelligence has isolated what they believe to be an enemy dispatch center, located about fifteen light-years beyond the front lines. Monitoring of Banor communications routing seems to indicate that between forty and forty-five percent of enemy reports, communications, and requests in our sector of the front are channeled through this installation.”

  Danny put up a map using the wall projector to show where the target was, then clicked the remote to change to an overhead view. “This facility is small, and far enough back behind enemy lines that it doesn’t appear to be well defended. Two unmanned probes were able to sneak in and capture these images you’re seeing now, and sometime in the next hour we should be receiving final intelligence from a more sophisticated, manned reconnaissance flight through the system.”

  “Why this planet?” Cole asked.

  “This kind of target is exactly why we were detached, Colonel. With the concentrated offensive now fully underway along all or most of the main line of resistance, both on our front and the Valderan front, it is critical that we be able to hamper the enemy’s command and control functions.”

  “Obviously,” Kay Jay said, “But to take down a relay station, wouldn’t it just be simpler to say, run a Cruiser past and rod the place?” Danny smiled for a moment, liking the idea, but shook his head. “While a quick, concentrated kinetic bombardment, or a carpet bombing isn’t necessarily out of the question, what we’re really after is intelligence. We can break their routing encrypters, track where their communications are coming from and going do, but we haven’t broken their military cyphers yet. A target like this might avail those to us, as well as any additional information we can find on planned enemy movements or counter-strikes.”

  “So what’s the plan here, boss?” Ben asked.

  “Once Intel is confirmed and we have solid information, we’ll form the ground strike package. Most likely 1SMU, along with 1st and 2nd Platoons from Delta Squadron and Able Company from 1st Raiders Battalion; Bravo Company will also come along as a QRF for backup. On the way we’ll be picking up VMF-99 from the Majestic to provide additional air support, since as you can see, the base does have a small spaceport and there are fighter craft visible on the apron. Teufulhund will take out the base’s orbiting
communications’ satellites to cut them off, then provide suppressive fire against enemy air defenses with precision munitions.”

  The focus of the map shifted to a building in the center of the base now, the largest structure and what appeared to be a large number of antennae atop it. “1 SMU will be landed on the first terrace here, cutting off the antennae and then working their way down. 1st Platoon from Delta Squadron will assault the building from the north and west entrances, while 2nd Platoon will assault from the south and east entrances. Able Company will drop in to provide security around the outside of the target building, and keep the enemy from reinforcing the security forces inside. Teufelhund will be targeting enemy air defenses, including any spacecraft they find on the ground. However, they may get fighters airborne, so VMF-99 will provide an escort for the jumpers on the way in. Once we have air superiority, the Starfighters will provide tactical close air support for the ground forces. They will be carrying bombs and rockets to cause as much carnage and mayhem as they can and keep the enemy off balance.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” Kay Jay said, “But why such a heavy package for this target?”

  “Tyrannia VII taught us a bitter lesson,” Danny said, nodding to Ben, “We thought we had a good plan for 1SMU’s strike there, we thought our intel was good, and the team walked into a trap. We’re hitting this place hard and fast, to make sure we don’t get trapped again.”

  “I like this battle plan better, anyways.” Ben said, somberly, “Last time we jumped in outside the base, had to make the approach from a mile away, and then infiltrate with just our snipers providing cover. This way we’re directly on the target, enemy defenses are suppressed, and we’ll have plenty of backup in case things go wrong.”

  “And what about the rest of us?” Kay Jay asked.

  “We’ll be alternating which units make raids. We have the personnel to keep up a hot operational tempo without burning everyone out. For now, 2SMU along with the balance of both Delta Squadron and the Raiders, as well as the other Jumper Squadron will stay here with me. Colonel McMillan from the Teufelhund will have operational command of this raid.”