THE UNITED FEDERATION MARINE CORPS
BOOK 7: COLONEL
Colonel Jonathan P. Brazee
USMCR (Ret)
Copyright © 2015 Jonathan Brazee
Semper Fi Press
ASIN: B016GAXK9K
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Acknowledgements:
I want to thank all those who took the time to pre-read this book, catching my mistakes in both content and typing. I want to thank Christina Cutting, my editor, for her help in the book and for catching my many typos and mistakes. Any remaining typos and inaccuracies are solely my fault. Finally, I want to thank those in my mailing list who gave me invaluable advice and insight concerning Lieutenant Colonel, this book and the upcoming final book in the series.
Original Cover Art by Panicha Kasemsukkaphat
Christina Cutting can be contacted here.
TARAWA
Chapter 1
“Staff, present, ARMS!” Major Maurice “Mary” Abd Elmonim, the battalion operations officer and the commander of troops for the ceremony shouted out as all six officers brought their swords up in a crisp salute.
Ryck returned the salute in his best drill field manner.
“Staff, order, ARMS,” Mary said before doing an about face, and in a much louder command, shouted out, “Battalion, order, ARMS!”
Looking over the COT’s shoulder, Ryck saw the entire battalion, all five companies, complete the order seemlessly.
It seemed like only a week ago, not almost three years, that he’d proudly taken command of Second Battalion, Third Marines, the “Fuzos.” Now, it was over.
“Sergeant Major, deliver the colors to the commanding officer!” the COT shouted out.
Sergeant Major Hector “Hecs” Phantawisangtong immediately stepped off and marched to the color guard. Ryck kept his eyes locked forward, but he could still see Hecs take the battalion colors from the bearer. Hecs stepped off to the right, left hand at the base of the pole, right hand half-way up, and marched directly to Ryck.
As he marched, Sergeant Timko Pleasance, the narrator, with his deep, resonant voice, spoke over the microphone:
Ladies and gentlemen, we now come to the most solemn moment of the ceremony, that actual passing of command. The battle colors of a Marine Corps unit symbolize both the storied history of the unit as well as the authority and accountability of command. Transferring the colors during the ceremony symbolizes the relinquishing of command by Lieutenant Colonel Ryck Lysander. By accepting the colors, Major Sandy Haunish Pelltier-Aswad accepts command and confirms his total commitment to the Marines and sailors that he will command. Sergeant Major Hector Amarin Phantawisangtong is delivering the colors to the commanding officer.
Hecs had crossed the field to reach Ryck and stopped in front of him. The two men looked each other in the eye, showing no emotion.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the transfer of the colors,” Sgt Pleasance said.
First the staff, then the battalion, were called to attention as Pleasance read the orders:
From: Commanding General, First Marine Division
To: Lieutenant Colonel Ryck Lysander, United Federation Marine Corps
Subj: Division Special Order 3-19
Effective 0001 GMT, 19 May, 359, you stand detached as the commanding officer, Second Battalion, Third Marines, and are transferred to the Fleet Retired List.
Signed, Norris K. Meintenbach, Major General, United Federation Marine Corps, Commanding General.
Hecs pushed out his arms, presenting the battalion colors to Ryck.
“Sir . . .” he whispered.
“It’s OK, Hecs. Really,” Ryck whispered back as he took the colors,
The wind picked up, and the colors flew out, battle streamers fluttering. Ryck felt the presence of the long line of previous commanders watching over him. If they were watching him, Ryck hoped they were at peace with Ryck’s time in command.
Pleasance immediately launched into the second set of orders:
From: Commanding General, First Marine Division
To: Major Sandy Haunish Pelltier-Aswad, United Federation Marine Corps
Subj: Division Special Order 3-20
Effective 0001 GMT, 19 May, 359, you are ordered to report for duty to Second Battalion, Third Marines, as the commanding officer.
Signed, Norris K. Meintenbach, Major General, United Federation Marine Corps, Commanding General.
Still holding the colors, Ryck whispered, “Ready, Two!” On the command, he executed a left face while Sandy executed a right face. For someone taking a command, and as a major at that, Sandy looked miserable.
“I told you to stick with me, Sandy, and you’d go far,” Ryck whispered as he thrust out the colors.
“This isn’t how I wanted, it, sir,” Sandy whispered back as he accepted the colors.
Both men faced the front again where Hecs was waiting. Hecs saluted, and then accepted the colors as Sandy handed them to him. As Hecs marched off to return the colors to the color guard, the two commanders, outgoing and incoming, turned to face each other again. Sandy saluted, and Ryck returned it before taking Sandy’s hand and shaking it.
“Sir, I—”
“We’ve already discussed it, Sandy. Let it go. Just take in the moment for yourself. You’ve got the battalion for three months before Lieutenant Colonel Lu Wan gets here to take over, but until then, command! We may not have done much since getting back from Freemantle, but you’ve been there before. A mission can pop up in a moment’s notice. And if I have to leave the battalion to anyone, there’s nobody that I would trust more to take it than you.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, be seated,” Pleasance passed over the sound system.
The rest of the ceremony was somewhat of a blur. Brigadier General Eternal Light made the remarks, which was somewhat a slap in the face in and of itself. General Meinterbach evidently didn’t want any of the shit to splash onto him, Ryck figured.
One thing stuck out in Ryck’s mind, though. The pass in review was inspiring. Ryck had originally planned for a small change of command in his office. The men, however, had a different agenda and had insisted on a full ceremony, and they stood tall and proud as they marched by, pointedly delaying their present arms until it was obvious that they were saluting Ryck, not the general.
General Eternal Light gave flowers to Hannah and Esther and certificates to both of them and the boys as well. He gave a short speech lauding Ryck’s career, which although Ryck didn’t listen, he appreciated. He might not have wanted to be the reviewing officer, but the general was making a good show of it.
Finally, it was over. Sergeant Pleasance thanked the audience and invited them to the O-club for Sandy’s reception.
Ryck stepped back, and before Sandy could say anything else, he simply shook the new CO’s hand.
“Go see to Popper,” Ryck told him, nodding his head at Sandy’s young wife who was proudly making her way from the bleachers to them. “Be happy for her, OK?”
Ryck turned away to leave the two. He didn’t want to put a damper on what was a great moment in Sandy’s
professional career. For three months or not, he was a Marine battalion commanding officer.
As Ryck started walking to his family, he was intercepted by a contingent of Marines, retired and still on active duty. Colonel Bert Nidischii’, his best friend, Colonel Fearless uKhiwa, his former commander, Colonel (ret) Moses Ketter, Master Gunnery Sergeant Bobbi Samuleson, and General (ret) Praeter came up in a group to shake his hand. Ryck could see others from his career hanging back, not wanting to interfere with this illustrious group.
“You OK?” Bert asked, hand out.
“Sure, I’m copacetic. Fine,” Ryck answered. “I’m about to be a free man.”
“I . . . I,” Bert started.
“I know. But really, it’s all good.”
“I should say so,” Sams said. “Hitting the course every day, a man of leisure. I’ll be joining you soon, and me and you can play together sometimes, right?”
“Golf? You haven’t played a day in your life, Sams,” Ryck said with a laugh.
“Sure, but that don’t mean I can’t start, right? I mean, how hard can it be, just hitting a little ole ball around?”
Leave it to Sams to lighten the mood, Ryck thought, surprisingly feeling better.
“Sorry it had to end this way,” Colonel uKhiwa said, shaking his hand.
Ryck had been surprised but honored to see the colonel at the ceremony. The rest of the guests were stationed on Tarawa, but the colonel had come all the way from Alexander, and on short notice. Ryck and the colonel had not started out on good terms when Ryck was one of his company commanders, but the man had become a mentor for Ryck, and by resigning his commission, Ryck felt he’d let the colonel down. He’d let a lot of people down.
“Hey, you’ve got a lot of well-wishers here, and I can see Hannah over there waiting with your kids. We’ll catch up with you at the reception, OK?” Bert asked.
“Sure thing. I’ll see you there,” Ryck said, shaking each hand again before stepping off to where his family waited for him.
Except that the intervening separation was filled with 60 or 70 people, mostly Marines and a few corpsmen, men who had served with him. A few he didn’t recognize or couldn’t put a name to the face. He faked it, shaking hands, saying thanks to the men for showing up. Most, though, he knew. Prince Jellico. Jorge Simone. Frank Lim. Cleo Davidson. Naranbaatar “Genghis” Bayarsaikhan and Mike “Hog” McAult, two of his company commanders who had peeled out of formation from the pass in review to join the small mob. And many more, from Ryck’s past, from recruit training to men from 2/3.
“This sucks, colonel!” a voice called out.
Ryck turned from the hand he was shaking to see Shart, Staff Sergeant Clarence Gutierrez, standing in back of a few Marines. Shart had served with him twice, on GKA Nutrition and in the Cygni B system,
“That fucking asshole deserved it,” Shart insisted.
The Marines around him nodded.
And that was the crux of the matter. “That fucking asshole deserved it” was probably true, but it hadn’t been up to Ryck to take matters into his own hands.
It had only been seven days ago that Ryck single-handedly destroyed his career. He’d been at the annual Military Outlook and Beyond Conference in Lisbon on Earth. As was customary, the battalion commander for 2/3, whose patron was the old Portuguese Corpo de Fuzileiros, was invited. He’d already attended the last conference and been feted like a star. The Portuguese organizers were thrilled that “their” battalion was commanded by one of four Marine Federation Nova holders and perhaps the best known Marine on active duty.
Normally, Ryck was just a member of the audience, but one of the breakouts was on the use of the Raider Battalion, and as Ryck was a former company commander and briefly the acting commanding officer of the Raiders, he was asked to sit on the panel. Unfortunately, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, General Devon Papadakis, the man whose pet project had been the formation of the Raiders when he was the director of Marine Corps Personnel, was also on the panel.
Ryck had always held that the mission on Acquisition was the wrong mission for the Raiders. They had gone in light against a larger, more heavily armed SOG home base. A standard infantry battalion, with its PICS Marines and attachments, would have had a far easier mission, but the lightly-armed Raiders faced an armored enemy. The Raiders had prevailed, but at a heavy cost.
During the panel discussion, Ryck pointed this out several times, but the commandant had flatly disagreed with Ryck, stating that a quick, hard-hitting elite unit was what was needed, and the Raiders’ success in the mission had proven his point. A number of questions during the Q & A were directed at the fight between the Marines and the SOG, and the general and Ryck were mostly on opposite sides of the issue.
The breakout was the last of the day, and Ryck quickly retired to the hotel bar where he downed a few quick drinks to calm down his festering anger. Their so-called “success,” while technically true, had been too expensive. Ryck had been damned proud of his Marines, but he knew even one platoon of PICS Marines could have handled the SOG Nizzies with little, if any casualties. Marines had died just to validate then LtGen Papadakis’ work.
He switched to gin after two beers, needing something a bit stronger. Ryck didn’t drink much, but he thought he could use the soporific effect of the gin to help calm him down. Unfortunately, the general, probably equally as angry, was also into the booze. As he came back into the lobby, he spotted Ryck at his bar stool and made a beeline for him.
“You were out of line there, Colonel,” he said, his breath heavy with alcohol.
Ryck turned to look at his commandant, the head of the Corps, sneered, and turned back to his drink, ignoring the man.
“I’m talking to you, Colonel,” the commandant said, his voice rising.
“I hear you jabbering, but I’m not listening. I’m off duty and enjoying my drink,” Ryck told him, still facing away.
The commandant grabbed Ryck’s chair, spinning him around to face him.
“You will do as I say, Colonel, and I say you will listen to me! You may be the great Ryck Lysander, but you’re really just a punk. And I am, I am the fucking Commandant of Marine Corps. You don’t mean shit to me. I made you. Me. It was my mission, my idea, that put you there on Acquisition. The mission succeeded because of me!” he yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth to land on Ryck’s chest.
Ryck looked down at the glistening spit, slowly put his drink down, then stood up and leaned forward until his chest was almost touching the commandant’s.
“Your precious mission cost us 312 Marines and sailors, all good men, the best. They all died because of your grubbing pride, sir!”
“That was your fault, Lysander! If you’d been even half-way competent, they’d be alive today. You should have been court-martialed, Colonel, instead of protected,” he screamed as an aide tried to pull him back. “You killed them! You killed them with your incompetence, just like you killed your men on Freemantle!”
With that, something inside of Ryck broke. He didn’t consciously decide anything. His body just reacted. With every essence in his body, he put all his anger, all his frustration, into the swing, his fist catching the general right at the left side of his jaw. Ryck’s fist kept traveling, almost tearing the general’s jaw off and knocking him cold.
A sense of calm swept over him and he looked down at the commandant, lying face down and motionless. Ryck didn’t know if the man was alive or dead, and he didn’t care. The aide, a major whose name Ryck had never gotten, stared in shock, then ran out to get help. The 20 people or so in the bar stared silently, not sure what to do. Ryck knew what to do, though. He turned back and sat down, picking up his drink. He had just finished it when the local police arrived on the scene. They stood around at first, not sure what to do as the rescue squad took away the general, who had just started to come around. They looked at Ryck, well aware of who he was, and the senior police officer hesitantly asked Ryck what had happened.
“The
general forgot himself, and I reminded him of who he was,” Ryck simply said.
At that moment, a Navy staff judge advocate, a full captain, rushed in and took over. He assured the police that the military would handle the matter, and with an obvious sense of relief, they left.
Captain Grissom, the Navy lawyer, asked Ryck to follow him to his hotel room where several Marines and sailors waited. He asked Ryck what had happened, and Ryck told him flat out and with no excuses. General Papadakis had insulted him and he’d hit his commandant, knocking the man out and breaking his jaw. Captain Grisson recorded Ryck’s statement and then ordered him to his room where Ryck took a shower and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
In the morning, Ryck called Hannah, and then after telling her what he was going to do, he tendered his resignation from the Corps. To his surprise, his resignation was immediately accepted and orders cut for his return to Tarawa. He would not be facing a court-martial. Six days later, he was turning over the battalion to Sandy and retiring from the Corps.
Ryck posed for a few holos with the men as he made his way to his family. Nine-year-old Benjamin was in hog heaven, seeing the entire battalion lined up for his dad. Of Ryck and Hannah’s three children, he was the one most enthralled with the Marines. He even had a child-sized set of skins with fake bone inserts that he proudly wore while playing. Ryck thought Ben had not quite grasped the situation, that his dad was leaving the Marines and under less than laudable conditions.
The twins, as young teens, understood though, and they stood soberly with Hannah, who seemed to be trying to hold back from breaking out in tears.
Ryck gave Hannah a hug and a kiss on the cheek before saying, “Why don’t you head on home. No reason to go to the reception.”
Colonel (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 7) Page 1
