To Sail a Darkling Sea - eARC

by John Ringo

  “My gunners would do it,” Lieutenant Chen said. “My shooters are really chomping at the bit.”

  “I’ve got an alternate, there, I was going to bring up,” Steve said. “We’ve got weapons. Put out the usual recruiting call. See how many people we can scrounge up. Put some sort of bennie on it. If we can do it, we’ll do it. At the very least, we’ll get the mags loaded which is a big part of the time. Okay, next point.

  “Littoral Clearance Divisions one and two: Your boats, as you just noted, are being under utilized in this operation. We really don’t need the gunboats to hold the pier since it’s blocked and we’re detached from it, anyway. So I’m going to send you out on light town clearance, again. But sans Marines. You’ll have to decide if you want to send people ashore or not. Overall command will be Lieutenant Chen. Chen: One of your gunners is a former soldier, isn’t he?”

  “Gunner’s Mate Mcgarity, sir,” Chen said.

  “Is he familiar with medium machine guns?” Steve asked. “I don’t think that if you go ashore you should be under gunned.”

  “Landings are sort of a Marine thing, sir,” Captain Wilkes said.

  “The majority of landing parties, historically, were Navy, Captain,” Steve said. “The Marine Corps did not really start to study large-scale over-beach landings until the 1930s. Most of the force that took Tripoli were Navy sailors. And if I’ve got a choice of Marines clearing small towns and sailors fighting through the bowels of a ship or vice versa, guess which way I’m going to decide?”

  “Point, sir,” Wilkes said. “No offense.”

  “I’d thought about it, Captain,” Steve said, waving. “And Mcgarity, at least, is really a soldier.”

  “Tanker, sir,” Lieutenant Chen pointed out. “But he trained on foot patrolling for a deployment to Afghanistan. And some of the other gunners are more than willing. They sort of enjoyed going ashore in La Puntilla and La Playa. Some stayed onboard, of course. Could I make joining the teams voluntary?”

  “As long as it doesn’t interfere with discipline,” Steve said. “Just cruise down the coast and clear the towns as you come to them and they look good. I hope I don’t have to warn you to watch the rocks and shoals. Bring spare prize crews with you who can pick up any useful looking boats. I want a lot of boats for the Atlantic crossing. The more boats we have, the more footprint we have for finding survivors at sea. Clear the towns if you think it’s worthwhile.”

  “Yes, sir,” Chen said.

  “You’re going to have to mostly resupply on your own,” Steve said. “If you run low on ammo, we can run some down to you. But other than that, independent command. Run with it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Chen said.

  “Jack, we’ve got more gunboats in preparation, right?” Steve said.

  “Two more are undergoing renovation right now,” Isham said. “And we’ve got four yachts that are ready for sea. We’re running low on people who know how to run them.”

  “Lieutenant Kuzma,” Steve said. “Start a class on basic boat operation. No more than three days. If they can drive it without hitting the sides of the harbor, use the radio more or less and put out a fire, they’re good.”

  “You’re serious?” Kuzma said, wincing. “For an Atlantic crossing?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Steve said. “And the big class is on how to unrep at sea.”

  “Oh, God, sir,” Chen said, covering his face with his hands.

  “One boat can cover, at most, a ten mile radius for search and rescue,” Steve said, seriously. “Counting the small yachts we have, what, fourteen?”

  “Yeah,” Isham said.

  “That’s, only a two-hundred-eighty-mile footprint,” Steve said. “A hundred and forty boats gives us a twenty-eight-hundred-mile footprint.”

  “That is a point,” Kuzma said. “And a lot more ships that have to be cleared.”

  “We’ll take the already experienced people and put them in a follow-on squadron or squadrons,” Steve said. “With Marine boarding parties and prize and salvage crews. See if we can find another boat like the Pit Stop to shuttle supplies forward to the main flotilla.”

  “You know the sort of people who will sign up for that are the sort of people we need for everything else, right?” Isham said, shaking his head. “We only have so many people.”

  “They have to have done a scut job, first,” Steve said. “Cleaning up gear, cleaning compartments, what have you. But if they can read a map, use a radio and sort of not hit stuff, we need the boats.”

  “And… ” Isham said. “Steve, look, I’m up to my eyeballs in work already. You want to bump up the number of small boats? I mean times ten? You got any clue how much logistics that is?”

  “Yes,” Steve said. “Need a hand?”

  “Oh, hell, yeah!” Isham said. “You see my enormous staff, right?”

  “First of all, if you’ve got numbers to crunch, toss it to the boats,” Steve said. “By which I mean the subs. And speaking of looking for craft, that’s a group that’s going to start being more actively involved. At a certain level, if it’s not in an AO we can effect, I’d rather just not know. But they’ll sweep one wing of the movement. They’ve got sonar, radar and people who will actually maintain a watch. They can’t interact but they can spot. One flotilla of fast response boats with them.”

  “Suggestion, sir,” Chen said.

  “Always,” Steve said. “Please.”

  “Cigarette boats,” Chen said. “Based around one of the megayachts. Something needs to be cleared, the teams head out on those.”

  “They use gas, right?” Isham said.

  “Yes,” Chen said.

  “So now I gotta not only find gas, but have a way to carry it,” Isham said. “Thanks, Zack.”

  “Glad to be a buddy, Jack,” Isham said, grinning. “You can pump the diesel out of one of the tanks on the megas.”

  “They’ve got a spare gas tank, anyway,” Wilkes said. “And an av gas tank. Speaking of which, you can spot stuff really well with a helo. Hinta, hinta, Captain.”

  “Qualified on a Lynx?” Steve asked.

  “Does it have a Dash one, sir?” Wilkes said.

  “Are your airframe mechanics qualified on getting it up and running?” Steve asked. “We got parts? Thing’s been sitting as deck cargo in storms for six months, Captain.”

  “Point, sir,” Wilkes said, shrugging.

  “We’ll put that on the to-do list on the crossing,” Steve said. “At least get it surveyed. If it’s working, do you think it would make an okay trainer?”

  “Want to learn to fly a chopper, sir?” Wilkes said.

  “We’re going to need a buttload of chopper pilots at some point, Captain,” Steve said. “And airframe mechanics and all the rest. After we clear Gitmo, you’ll definitely be turning in the rifle to start working on that program. But that’s for later. Lieutenant Chen’s concept has merit. So, Chen, look for fast ocean going boats with range as well. And, yes, some source of gasoline for them.”

  “Tools, parts, fittings… ” Isham said. “Seriously, Captain, I’m going to need some help, here.”

  “I’ll find you some,” Steve said.

  “I could really use… ” He paused and frowned and looked at Faith for a second. “You know, Zumwald is an asshole and I know he’s on your shit list. But he’s really underutilized.”

  “I kind of like that he’s in charge of cleaning our gear,” Faith said. “Serve him right. Sir.”

  “Your point is worth considering,” Steve said. “Okay, Marine Corps Ball, continue clearance on Sierra Two. USCG personnel to shift to classes on small boat operations for available personnel. LitClear to go, well, LitClear and collect said vessels. Work on an expansion plan for an unknown number of small boats. Chen, you’ve got about ten days, tops. All clearance to be complete by last week of November. We pull out November 20th. All clear?”

  “Got it, sir,” Isham said. “And get me some more staff.”

  “I’ll work on that,” Steve sa
id.

  CHAPTER 18

  Freedom is not free, but the U.S. Marine Corps will pay most of your share.

  Ned Dolan

  “I’m totally freaking out!” Faith said, adjusting her uniform as she approached the doors to the ballroom. She’d been informed as the “junior Marine” she had to give the toast and was, therefore, required to be in uniform. Her beautiful dress was relegated to the closet. Worse, all she had was MarCam.

  “You’ll be fine,” Olga said.

  “Easy for you to say!” Faith said. “You get to wear girl clothes!”

  “Take a deep breath,” Olga said, hand on the door. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Faith said.

  * * *

  “Do you think you could increase your father’s knowledge base, Lieutenant?” Steve said at breakfast the next morning.

  “I’ll try, Da,” Faith said, holding her hand up to her face. She was wearing oversized glasses and make-up which was unusual to say the least. And she didn’t seem to want to move her hand away from the left side of her face.

  “Is there a reason that the Gunnery Sergeant is sporting one hell of a shiner?” Steve asked.

  “What happens at the Ball, stays at the Ball, Da,” Faith said, chewing carefully…

  CHAPTER 19

  They got the Library of Alexandria. They’re not getting mine.

  Bumper sticker (with quote flanked by silhouettes of pistol and rifle)

  “Hey, Ernest,” Steve said as Zumwald tentatively entered his office. “Grab a chair. I understand you’re a scotch drinker?” He laid out two glasses and pulled out a bottle.

  “So what’s this? Last drink before you put me on a desert island?” Zumwald said, picking up the glass and sniffing it. “Strathisclyde? Where’d you get Strathisclyde?”

  “My daughter Sophia clears a lot of ships,” Steve said. “I mentioned that. There’s always booze left. Zombies don’t drink it. Cheers, mate,” Steve said, taking a sip. “By the way, is it Ernest or do you prefer to be called something else? I doubt, sincerely, it’s Ernie.”

  “Nobody’s called me Ernie since I was in grade school,” Zumwald said. “Ernest, usually.”

  “Cheers, Ernest,” Steve said.

  “Seriously, why are you being nice to me?” Zumwald asked. “What do you want?”

  “It’s like any abusive relationship,” Steve said. “I smacked you around, at least emotionally, you did what I needed you to do, and you did it well according to the Gunny. Now I’m being nice.”

  “As long as I keep doing what you need, right?” Zumwald said, chuckling. “Seriously, you should have been in my industry. What, you need a movie done?”

  “No,” Steve said, then frowned. “And, yes. But there’s a kid who used to do documentaries, small things, and he’s working on that. This is history in the making. I’m not… I’m not a narcissist. But that’s the reality. At least if we manage to keep the ball rolling. Which is why, yeah, I’ll slap you around or feed you good scotch, whatever it takes, if I need something to keep that ball rolling.”

  “So what balls do you need rolled?” Zumwald asked.

  “You got someone who can take over the whole gear thing?” Steve asked.

  “I didn’t get the pick of the litter,” Zumwald said, balefully. “But, yeah, I got somebody who can probably handle running it. Do I get a reprieve, finally?”

  “I only ever saw that as both something I needed done and something that you’d do well but still hate,” Steve said. “And as I said, you’ve managed it well. Even though, yeah, you got the bottom of the barrel to do it. This is different. We’re going to be closing out the liner clearance in about a week. Then we’ll do some reconfiguration. After that, we’re going to cross the Atlantic. Isham’s been looking at the logistics of that and it’s going to be tough. And he’s buried in the day to day and can’t concentrate on planning it.”

  “So you want me to plan it?” Zumwald said. “What’s in it for me?”

  “You get to quit being a washing girl?” Steve said. “There’s not a lot in the way of really good staff available but you get your pick of that. As for the rest, we’ll figure something out. This is… what was that movie, Ben Stiller thing about some movie that was being made in the jungle… ”

  “Tropic Thunder?” Zumwald said, frowning. “What a crock.”

  “I’d wondered if you were the original for Les Grossman,” Steve said, grinning.

  “No, I wasn’t,” Zumwald said. “And Cruise can bite my ass.”

  “He’s probably a zombie at this point,” Steve said. “Still, the point remains. This is the deal zone. What do you want? And don’t say, ‘the world back the way it was.’ Nobody can do that.”

  “What is there?” Zumwald said. “I mean, really? What I’d like is a steak.”

  “Don’t we all,” Steve said, grinning. “You’ll get the top ration level. Lieutenant equivalency. Isham’s still only a Lieutenant and I can’t really put you ahead of him. But it’s the same stuff I eat. I’m thinking of sending one of the boats up to do a lobster run to Bermuda. But we’ll at least have that once we reach the Caribbean. And the same on booze ration. Which means by the bottle, which I happen to know you’ve already been arranging. But you can just hit the Class Six for it. And the good stuff when available,” he added, raising his still barely touched glass.

  “Better accommodations?” Zumwald said. “I’m getting sick of my roommate. Fucker picks his nose. I can’t believe I have a roommate. I didn’t have a roommate in college.”

  “Deluxe cabin on the Boadicea,” Steve said. “To yourself. Share a steward. Probably with Isham. I’ll see if one of the ones that’s still intact is available.”

  “Reluctantly,” Zumwald said. “It’s not exactly the Ritz.”

  “I just realized the other day that I’m running a commune,” Steve said. “Which is odd since I loathe communism.”

  “What?” Zumwald said. “Sort of out of the blue, there.”

  “Not really,” Steve said, musingly. “I’m sort of puzzled by it myself. But the overall drive is from everyone according to his ability, to everyone according to their needs. More like classic Soviet economy, though. For example, I’m offering you the equivalent of a better apartment and access to the good stores to run some stuff that I don’t want to be bothered with. You get the similarity?”

  “Yeah,” Zumwald said. “And they made lousy films.”

  “Oh, they made lousy everything,” Steve said, chuckling. “But the military has a lot of similarities. Another fact I realized the other night. In the military you get relatively little pay and some generalized living support, not much, for what is really seriously lousy work. You’ve seen the results. Then there’s the guys running the ships, the cooks… It’s really a communism but there’s a reason that it works. And that this works, sort of. Where you from, Ernest? Where’s home?”

  “I’ve lived in LA most of my life,” Zumwald said, staring at him like he was wondering if Smith had lost it. “But really the City’s home.”

  “Where?” Steve asked. “The City is many cities in one.”

  “Brooklyn,” Zumwald said.

  “Family?” Steve asked.

  “I got the word that’s not something to talk about, mostly,” Zumwald said. “Slew of greedy ex wives. No kids. Got myself fixed after my first close call.”

  “You like New York?” Steve said. “It’s pretty clear you’re all about number one. But is it something you miss?”

  “Yeah,” Zumwald admitted after a few moments. “Yeah. I do. What’s your point?”

  “We saw the bridges fall,” Steve said, looking out the window at the relatively pleasant harbor. If you ignored the fins. “We were in New York harbor, the Hudson, as a back-up plan for my brother. We went to the last concert in New York city, in Washington Square Park. They had the final black-out that night. The concert had generators for its lights. The infected closed in. We figured it was time to leave.”

  “I
went to NYU,” Zumwald said. “I spent a lot of time in Washington Square Park once upon a time. Hell, I was beat up in a peace protest in Washington Square Park.”

  “I wouldn’t have pictured you as a peace activist,” Steve said, grinning. “That’s a little too altruistic.”

  “Ah, there was this chick,” Zumwald said, shrugging. “Nearly ex number one. I got out after the beating and finished my film degree. Did a couple of, yeah, documentaries about the horrors of capitalism. Then I realized the money was in doing the background work and went to the dark side. Never looked back.” He shrugged again. “What’s your point?”

  “Want to walk in Washington Square Park again?” Steve asked. “No Tyvek suit. No mask. No zombies. No guns?”

  “Good luck,” Zumwald said. “You’re not going to do that with thirty marines and some chick thinks she’s Arnie. ‘Hasta la vista, zombies.’ ”

  “No, I’m not,” Steve said, leaning forward. “It’s going to take a huge force. It’s going to take thousands and thousands of people sacrificing their time and effort and intelligence to push that ball. It’s going to take hundreds, thousands, of troops. And for every combat troop it’s going to take ten people supporting them. And that’s going take really smart, skilled, organizers. It’s going to take one hell of an organization.

  “Once we get the subs opened up, there are going to be a slew of those guys. But they’re all military. They’re… narrow on certain processes and concepts. It’s going to take a lot of people, Ernest, to clear New York to the point where kids can run free in Washington Square Park. The question is, Ernest, whether you want to be part of that? I mean, seriously, what do you really want? Who are you?”

  “What I want, yeah, you can’t give me,” Ernest said. “I want my fucking corner office, my fucking PA, a thousand people running around like a kicked ant-hill if I’m having a bad day. And the parties, and my mansion and the women and, yeah, the coke. You can’t give me all that back.”