“I know,” said Torch. “This is my second Mast this month and the XO has already given me shit about it. I wish we’d get some money for fuel so we can fly again. If the squadron only had something else to do besides sit around and go to the bars, our guys might not get into so much trouble.”
“Yeah, maybe we wouldn’t, too,” said Calvin. “It’s hard to work on keeping your troops’ morale up, though, when your own is so completely down the toilet.”
“What do you think he’s going to get?” asked Torch, looking down the hallway at the accused.
“Well,” said Calvin, “this is Airman Sanders’ second Mast in 4 months, so I doubt that the Skipper is going to be very lenient with him. The CO could give him up to 45 days of extra duties, forfeiture of half of his base pay and/or give him a reduction in rank, and I’m guessing that Sanders is going to get most of them. Based on the outcomes of the last couple of Masts I’ve heard about, it looks like the Skipper is getting tired of all of the problems that the squadron’s had and is starting to set some examples. I don’t think this is going to go well for him.”
The two officers stood thinking for a couple of moments, and then Calvin said, “At least we’re not underway on the carrier; if we were, the CO could confine him for up to three days on bread and water.” He paused and gave Torch a wry smile. “I know I need to lose a couple of pounds, but that wouldn’t be the way I’d want to do it.” Calvin knew that the commanding officer could also send the case to court martial, although Calvin suspected he wouldn’t do that…this time, anyway. The big difference between the two types of proceedings was that the rules of evidence for a court martial, like a civilian criminal trial, didn’t apply at Captain’s Mast. If the CO determined that the sailor committed the offenses, he could impose whatever punishment he felt was commensurate with the offense. Calvin knew that the lack of evidentiary rules was why non-judicial punishment was such an excellent tool—it let the CO quickly dispense punishment for minor offenses, without having to deal with the pain-in-the-ass efforts of a trial.
The Master-at-Arms called everyone into the ready room for Captain’s Mast. As everyone began to take their places, the Executive Officer pulled Calvin aside. “Perhaps you need to be a little more involved with your people,” he said. “Airman Sanders could use a bit more leadership, it appears.”
“Yes, sir,” said Calvin. “I’ll make sure I provide it.” As the XO left to take his place, Calvin continued under his breath to Torch, “And why don’t you do the same for us officers, XO? Our morale sucks, too.”
The University of Washington, Seattle, WA
“The next four years are going to be the best years of our lives!” said Sara Sommers as she walked toward McMahon Hall.
“I’ve been waiting for this my whole life!” agreed her roommate Erika Murphy. Best friends from high school, they would be rooming together on the 11th floor of the 11-story dorm for the next year. “What are you looking forward to most?”
A freshman just starting her first year at the University of Washington, Sara was attractive with long dark hair. “I’m looking forward to the challenges of college courses, the freedom of being on my own, and the boys.” She paused. “Well, maybe not exactly in that order,” she giggled.
Erika, for her part, while also pretty, was a little shorter and as blond and light-skinned as Sara was dark-haired and tanned from being outside. “Definitely the boys,” Erika opined.
Sara agreed. Even though they had grown up only 30 miles to the east of Seattle, it was in the tiny town of North Bend, Washington. Located along I-90, North Bend and the towns near it had mostly served as bedroom communities for Seattle over the years. Although the school district was one of the largest geographic districts in the state at 400 square miles, it only had 6,000 students, largely because the area did not have a local industrial or economic base. The opportunities to meet suitable members of the opposite sex were somewhat limited, therefore; their graduating class from Mount Si High School in Snoqualmie the year before had only totaled 303.
“I’m also looking forward to joining the Adventure and Wilderness Outdoor Leisure Club,” Sara said. “I just found out that even though they haven’t had one for ten years, some of the upperclassmen are going to restart it this year!” Civilization only extended for four or five miles on either side of I-90 in the Cascade Mountains where she had been raised, and Sara had grown up an avid hiker.
“Yeah, I heard that, too,” said Erika. “I’ll join it with you.” Sara knew that Erika liked to go hiking, although not as much as she did. As a young girl, Sara’s dad had spent many weekends with her in the wilderness near North Bend. They had started out camping and hiking at the Middle Fork Campground located about 10 miles to the northeast of North Bend along the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River, but then had gone further afield as her skills and stamina had improved. Erika had gone with her on many of these trips, as they shared the same love of the forest and nature. Erika also liked boys, too, though, which was starting to become a bigger part of her life and absorb more of her time. Sara wasn’t quite ready for that yet.
“Have you figured out where all of your classes are?” Sara asked.
“Yes,” answered Erika, “I think I can find all of them now.”
Although Erika was sometimes directionally challenged, Sara didn’t have any problems finding her way around campus. She guessed that was due to all of the time she had spent navigating in the woods. “It’s all about finding landmarks that you can remember,” Sara told her friend.
“I can’t wait to get up to the room and relax,” said Erika. “It’s been a long day.”
“It’s going to get a little longer,” replied Sara opening the door to the dorm. “The elevators are out again.” They had been out a lot during the first week of orientation.
They both sighed.
Snoqualmie National Forest, Washington State
“The hell with them,” grunted Ryan O’Leary as he swung the axe and thought again about his dismissal from the United States Navy. A veteran with over 26 years of naval service, he was a victim of the latest round of Navy downsizing to meet its ever-shrinking budget. At six feet, two inches and 220 pounds, the former Senior Chief Petty Officer was a big man; however, with a body fat of only 8%, he was obviously someone that was used to physical exertion. He should be; O’Leary was a SEAL. Well, he used to be, anyway, until the Navy had told him six months earlier that they no longer needed his services. “Damn it,” he finished.
“I’m not sure I’m any better off,” replied First Sergeant Aaron Smith, who had come up to the cabin Ryan was building to give him a hand putting on its roof. “I keep wondering why I didn’t retire, rather than take this set of orders. I had enough years in the Army that I could have easily retired and taken half-pay for the rest of my life. Maybe find a little job to do on the side to have some spending money, and then I could come up here and live the sweet life with you.”
“What’s so bad with your job?” asked Ryan, happy to have something to take his mind off his own problems. He had known Aaron Smith off and on for almost 20 years, ever since they collaborated on a mission in Kosovo to capture a Serbian war criminal behind enemy lines and bring him back to justice. Although they respected each other’s skills, a friendly rivalry over whose unit was better existed between the two men. The same height as the SEAL, although a little slimmer, Aaron had just taken over as the senior non-commissioned officer for the Rifle Company, 2nd Battalion of the 75th Ranger Regiment.
“I checked into the command yesterday,” said First Sergeant Smith, “and it is the most fucked up unit I’ve ever had the misfortune of being associated with. My commanding officer, an Army captain, has to be one of the most worthless officers I have ever met. Usually the Rangers are pretty good at weeding out idiot officers at Ranger School, but somehow this moron made it through. He must either know someone or be related to someone important,” Smith guessed.
“So what?” asked Ryan. “You’ve tr
ained a lot of officers over your many years in the Army. What’s different with this one?”
“Well, it’s not just that the CO sucks; the first sergeant that I’m replacing is also terrible, too, so the company is all fucked up. In just one day with the company, I can already tell that they can’t march, they can barely stand in formation, and there’s no way I’d trust them to even hold a rifle, much less point it at something and fire it,” Aaron grumbled. “Now I understand what the ‘Powers That Be’ meant when they told me that I needed to clean up the unit when they gave me my orders. When they told me that, I gave them a hearty ‘Hooah!’ saluted and accepted the orders. If I’d have known that the company was this bad, I’d have retired rather than come here.”
“So why don’t you just quit now?” asked Ryan. “You can come join me here in the forest.”
“Well, first of all,” replied Aaron, “I’m pretty sure that it is illegal to build a house in a national forest. I really doubt that you own this land or have permission to build on it. When last I looked, this was part of the Snoqualmie National Forest.”
“That might be true,” answered Ryan, looking at the one-room cabin he was building, “if I gave a shit. I’ve got an apartment in Seattle in case I need it, but I’ve always loved nature and needed a place to get away from it all and unwind before joining the rat race. I’m self-sufficient here. Besides, no one is ever going to find the cabin. It’s in a ravine to the west of Lower Garfield Mountain Lake and is unreachable except by hiking into it. I looked at the satellite imagery and it’s in the shadows of the mountain in the pictures. I’m also going to camouflage it once I’m done, which will make it pretty damn hard to find.”
Aaron didn’t doubt it; when they had driven in, Ryan had driven his jeep off state road NF-5640 and up a dry stream bed until it was out of sight of the road and then had hidden it among the shrubbery. Aaron knew he never would have seen it. And even if anyone found the jeep, it was still extremely unlikely that they’d find the cabin, as it was a several mile hike over some fairly steep terrain. Although Mt. Garfield had been climbed many times, it required someone with excellent skills to do so, which limited the traffic through the area.
“Also,” continued Aaron, “it’s not in my nature to pawn off my problems on someone else. Now that I’ve taken over as the company’s first sergeant, the unit is my problem.” He paused, watching Ryan swing the axe for a couple of strokes while he gathered his thoughts. “In the German Army,” he continued, “a first sergeant is often referred to as the “Mother of the Company,” because he is the peace-maker, the disciplinarian, the provider, the counselor, the trainer, the confidant…basically, everything that’s important to the success of the unit. He is the leader that interacts with the troops every day and the one who sets the standards that they all live up to. Previously, those standards were set pretty damn low. It’s my job to bring them back to where they should be.”
“Fuck ‘em,” said Ryan. “That’s what they did to me.” He put another log on the chopping block and continued making firewood. The winter was long and cold in the mountains of Washington, and he knew he needed a lot of firewood.
“Funny you should say that,” said Aaron, “but that’s just what I plan to do. I looked at the weather report, and it is supposed to be raining tomorrow morning. I thought a 0500 early morning run would be just the thing to let them know there’s a new sheriff in town.”
Ryan chuckled. That was just what he would have done. “I like it,” he said. “Are you going to invite your company officers?”
The first sergeant sighed. “Yeah, I’m going to invite them, but I doubt the CO will come. Apparently, he barely talks to any of the enlisted soldiers in the unit, and only when he has to.
Ryan grunted. “Stupid officers.”
Aaron shrugged and gave Ryan a half grin, “I know you don’t have much use for them, but officers are good for doing all of the unit’s paperwork while we’re getting the real work done.” He shrugged again. “The one bright spot is that, even though the CO is an ass, the executive officer seems pretty cool, although he can’t overrule the CO. The XO is young, but appears trainable; I just hope that the CO doesn’t ruin him or try to make the XO into a carbon copy of himself.”
Ryan looked at the sky. “Well, if it’s going to rain tomorrow morning, we better get the rest of the roof on,” he said. “I can do more firewood later.”
* * * * *
“Chinese Auto Invasion”
Today, Chinese auto maker Guangzhou Automobile Group Co. (GAC), Ltd., rolled out the first E-Jet automobile made at its American assembly plant in Seattle, Washington. GAC is the first Chinese auto maker to complete a car in an American plant. In addition to the E-Jet, GAC is also expected to begin producing a full-size van called the “J-Van” at its Seattle plant. This vehicle will have a new, modular seating system that will allow its owners to easily reconfigure the cargo compartment as needed. Two other Chinese firms, SAIC Group and Zhejiang Geely Automobile will also be rolling out their first vehicles later this year. In an effort to reduce costs, all three firms have built their American assembly facilities in the Seattle/Tacoma area so that they can combine their parts shipments from China. Zhejiang Geely Automobile also has its plant in Seattle, while the SAIC Group facility is in nearby Tacoma, Washington.
It is unknown whether the American public will embrace the E-Jet. Although it is stylish, its safety ratings are somewhat suspect. The range-extended electric vehicle claims to have a pure-electric range of about 62 miles, or roughly 100 kilometers, and a top speed of about 100 miles per hour. Although this is comparable to its competition, the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety, a nonprofit scientific and educational organization dedicated to reducing automobile losses, was unimpressed with its safety features, as the E-Jet received grades ranging from “Acceptable” to “Poor.” In comparison, the Chevy Volt, its closest domestic competitor, received ratings of “Good” in all categories. Despite this disparity in ratings, GAC has decided to press on with its production, in a move that harkens back to the “Field of Dreams” movie line, “If you build it, they will come.” The other two Chinese manufacturers have similar issues with safety concerns, but have also decided to remain in business for at least another two years, to see if the problems can be resolved.
This decision is also in spite of some less-than-positive public relations news from all three plants that has come to light recently. When the plants were built, residents in the area thought that the plants’ openings would result in a number of well-paying jobs for the local economies. In most cases, though, that hasn’t happened, as the management of the plants has hired mostly Chinese immigrants to man the facilities. Citing language difficulties, as the managers of all three facilities do not speak English, very few non-Chinese language speakers have been hired and nearly all of the second and third shift workers are of Chinese descent.
- World News Online. Posted March 18, 2017 by Sam Simmons
* * * * *
2017
Beijing, China
The President of the People’s Republic of China, Jiang Jiabao, laughed, “The Americans are idiots! They are so hungry for peace that they will believe anything if you just say the word ‘peace’ to them. They have acquiesced to all of our proposals, even this ‘softball challenge.’” Jiabao had approached the United States’ ambassador with a proposal for several Chinese ships to make an ‘Around the World’ tour to promote ‘peace, openness and better diplomatic relations.’ Jiabao laughed again, his laugh loud in the large, empty room. Once again, the executive war council was meeting without the 29 ministers and staffers present to conduct the high-level planning for the coming hostilities. “My proposal was met with great enthusiasm and the U.S. actually offered several of its west coast ports, including Seattle, for our fleet to make port calls in.”
Looking to Vice Premier Li Min, he asked “Where do we stand with the rest of our preparations for the Dragon’s Bite portion of Operatio
n Lightning?” Dragon’s Bite involved the operations that were planned to occur in the United States. These operations were crucial to Operation Lightning and would ultimately determine its success or failure.
The Vice Premier was much shorter than the president, but not overawed by him. He replied in a firm voice, “All of the diplomatic overtures have been completed for the Dragon’s Bite portion of Operation Lightning. We have received port call clearances for both Vancouver and Seattle. We are still working on final authorization for the other ports, but that is all misdirection, so it does not really matter. If we get them, fine; if we do not get them, we will change the story to accommodate the ports we can get. We have also received permission for your state visit to Washington, D.C. It was not as hard as when President Hu Jintao made his visit in 2011; as expected, that visit helped open the door for this one. Diplomatically, everything is progressing on schedule.”
“The Dragon’s Bite naval forces are ready, with all of the ships fully armed,” noted the Commander-in-Chief of the People's Liberation Army Navy (PLAN), the naval branch of the People's Liberation Army (PLA), who had been invited to this session. At six foot four inches, he was the only man in the room that the president looked up to; he also had the least seniority. With nothing but good news to report, he was happy to pass it on. He stood and said, “The aircraft are ready and tested. We are continuing to train all of the personnel involved. We have gradually increased our training posture throughout the country so that the Americans will not think that our operational preparations are out of the ordinary.”
Red Tide: The Chinese Invasion of Seattle (Occupied Seattle Book 1) Page 2
