by James Rosone
As he meandered through the cathedral and the museum, Childers was very happy they hadn’t leveled it. It was a beautiful gem in the city. He was glad the residents would still have this piece of history to hold on to as they looked to rebuild their nation.
When Childers walked into the main building, he spotted a gaggle of officers, soldiers and NCOs going through the various rooms. At first, he didn’t think much of it and figured they were touring and securing at the same time, just as he was doing, but then he witnessed some of them snatching up items they’d found around them—probably to take home as mementos.
He remembered what had happened in Iraq when Baghdad had fallen, and how the country’s national treasures had been pillaged by the looters at an astonishing rate. He knew he had to get this situation under control immediately. Right now, two companies in his battalion were already present at the fortress, but by evening, the rest of the battalion and eventually the regiment would be there.
He quickly turned around and walked right back through the main entrance of the building before anyone else could enter. Swiftly, he unslung his rifle. He yelled at the soldiers near the entrance, “Stand back!”
Childers switched his selector switch to semiauto and proceeded to fire off several rounds, which obviously immediately gathered the attention of everyone around him. Those inside would have heard the shots, too.
He poked his head into the entrance, and in his loudest and angriest sergeant major voice he shouted, “Out! Everyone, get the hell out of the building and into formation right now!”
Instantly, the soldiers started falling into formation, and a few of the officers fell in with their platoons and troops. He saw Lieutenant Colonel Schoolman give him a bit of a bewildered look as he walked up the stairs to the entrance of the building.
“Did I miss something, Sergeant Major? What’s going on?” he asked, confused.
Childers pulled Schoolman aside so he could speak to him without giving up his staunch demeanor in front of anyone else. “Sir, when I walked into the building here, I spotted several soldiers and officers starting to loot the building. While I know we just won the war, this building is a national treasure to the Russian people. When I invaded Baghdad, one of the big mistakes we made was not protecting the national museums. They were raided, and most of the items were sold on the black market. The items in this building, Sir, are worth hundreds of millions, maybe even billions. We can’t let the men of our unit loot it. It wouldn’t be right, and it would bring enormous shame on the 2nd Calvary and V Corps.”
Schoolman nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Sergeant Major, for taking charge of this situation and bringing the men to formation. You might have just saved my career. We’re going to nip this in the bud right now. I want you to have all the men searched, and I want you to personally oversee the security of this museum until we can get a proper unit to take over the task. Is that understood?”
Childers smiled. “Roger that, Sir.”
Then he turned around to the rest of the soldiers, staring daggers at them.
Schoolman glanced at Childers as if asking to speak first, and Sergeant Childers tilted his head to defer to his officer.
Lieutenant Colonel Schoolman did his best impression of a bad cop. “Listen up,” he said starkly. “I was just made aware of something egregious that was about to happen. This museum you see behind us is a historical heritage and landmark to the people of Russia. Our unit is not going to be the one that loots it. I won’t have the 4th Squadron or the 2nd Calvary Regiment’s name and reputation impugned by those who would seek to rob this place and bring home items to sell on the black market or hang up in their office as war trophies. Every one of you has fought with distinction in this war and brought honor to our country and your families. I won’t have a few hotshots mess that up for the entire regiment. Effective immediately, I’m placing Command Sergeant Major Childers in charge of protecting this museum. He’s going to search everyone who has already been inside the museum to make sure nothing has been taken. If you took something, then cough it up right now and we won’t hold it against you. If we find it later, I’ll have you brought up on charges and court-martialed. Troop commanders—if the sergeant major says he wants one of your platoons or squads for guard duty, you will give him control of them. Is that understood?”
“Yes Sir!” shouted everyone present in formation.
“Excellent,” Schoolman responded, speaking a little quieter now. “Captain Taylor, you’re going to work with the sergeant major as the OIC in charge of this task. When we get a proper unit to secure the museum, your group will be relieved and join the rest of the squadron in whatever duties the regiment has planned for us. In the meantime, I want camp set up immediately. I want guards posted throughout the facility, and I want EOD to make sure this place is safe. Tomorrow, I want NCOs and officers to begin writing up your AARs and award packages at once. The war may be over, but the Army will get its pound of flesh when it comes to paperwork. I want this taken care of at once before we get assigned some sort of occupation duty…and before you ask, I have no idea what that may be. When the rest of the squadron shows up, I want what was said here passed down to them. Is that understood?”
“Yes Sir,” came the reply, a little more subdued than before.
“Dismissed!” he announced.
*******
Schoolman moved out of the way while Childers took control of the search for artifacts. While that was taking place, he decided to tour the building himself and see if he could spot any obviously missing items. As he walked in this time, he couldn’t help but be drawn into all of the intricate details and the collections of beautiful historical items. After he finished his tour, he felt more than justified in coming down hard on his unit.
With the tasks at hand set, it was time for him to find out what the regiment had in mind for them, then he had to find some time himself to sit down and write up his own AAR and award recommendations. Sergeant Major Childers had already been awarded a Silver Star and the Distinguished Service Cross, but he wanted to push for him to get the medal of honor for his heroic action a week ago, saving those wounded soldiers trapped in the street by an enemy sniper. That might be a tough sell, but he’d try. The man deserved it for how he had led the soldiers of this squadron throughout the war.
*******
Moscow, Russia
Ostankinsky District
Sergeant Philip Jones couldn’t be happier now that the war was over. He had dreaded the idea of 40 Commando having to fight their way into Moscow. While their brush with combat had been limited to their last-minute dash toward Moscow from the northern port city of Severodvinsk, what he had seen was more than enough for one lifetime. Two of his Royal Marines had been killed, and three more injured during the fighting. However, by and large, his unit had come through rather unscathed compared to many of their army brethren who had fought with the Americans in Ukraine.
“Now those poor blokes saw some serious combat,” Jones thought.
After a couple of days, Sergeant Jones was permitted to take a rare break from their now daily and hourly patrols through the streets of the Ostankinsky District. He and a few of his mates sat down at a comfortable café with a cup of tea and enjoyed having a beautiful waitress serve them. After the horror of war, it all seemed very surreal.
Liberated
Taiwan
Victory Base Complex
Taoyuan International Airport
A cool breeze moved across the sprawling military encampment as the Marines of Echo Company focused on completing the last mile of an early morning run. Rounding the last stretch of the perimeter they were running along, Captain Long really opened it up, pushing himself as hard as he could. Few of his Marines could keep up with him as he ran for all he was worth. Once he reached the finish line, he slowed down until he came to a walk and then continued to amble along for a few minutes as he completed his cooldown. The rest of his Marines eventually arrived and followed suit,
stretching their muscles and grabbing their canteens to rehydrate.
Looking to his left, Captain Long spotted a pair of C-5 Galaxies unloading several hundred new Marines, fresh from the States. “I wonder how many of them are slated for my unit,” he thought.
Once he finished his stretches, he trotted off to his tent to gather his gear to grab a quick shower and then head over to the mess tent for some breakfast. Today marked the third day his Marines had moved out of the field to a formal military camp. After months of hard fighting, the remaining PLA forces on the island of Taiwan had surrendered to the Allies. Now came the hard part—the rebuilding of the island and preparation for the eventual invasion of Mainland China.
An hour later, Captain Long walked into a tent that had been designated as his company headquarters and saw his platoon leaders eagerly waiting for him. “Good, the new guy is here as well,” he thought.
“You trying to kill us on that run this morning, Captain Long?” snickered his XO, a good-natured first lieutenant from Idaho.
“You guys are just out of shape, that’s all,” Long replied with a grin. He pulled out some ibuprofen from a bottle on his desk and tossed four tablets down his throat and then passed the bottle to his lieutenants. As he chased the pills down with water, they all broke out in laughter, though the new guy stayed relatively silent. Captain Long realized that he was the odd man out. The rest of the officers had all fought and bled with each other, but the newbie would still be unsure of where he fit in.
Checking his watch, Long turned serious. He took a seat and stared briefly at his platoon leaders. “Today is the start of day three we’ve been back in camp,” he began. “We have a lot of work to do to get ready for what may be coming next. First, I need you to get on your NCOs to submit any award packets they want to write up from the Taiwan campaign. I also want the squad leaders and you platoon commanders to get me your AARs by the end of the day. During the regiment meeting last night, I was told the award packets from the Philippine campaign had all been approved and will be handed out in a ceremony on Monday by the division commander.”
A few of the men smiled at the news. They were glad to see their Marines being recognized.
Captain Long looked down at his notes and then back at his lieutenants. “We have fourteen guys receiving the Silver Star, and two of them had their medals upgraded to Navy Crosses. Fifty-two Bronze Stars and sixty-seven Purple Hearts as well. Sadly, twenty-three of these medals will have to be awarded posthumously. Here’s the official list of those receiving an award; make sure everyone knows who’s getting what. Before I hand this out, I want to let each of you in this room know you’re being awarded Silver Stars. That was a hard-fought campaign and we lost a lot of guys, but you held your platoons together despite some terrible losses. I want you each to know that I went to bat for you guys to get those awards, and every one of you earned them. You brought great honor to yourselves, this unit, and the Marines. Those paratroopers fought like demons.”
Sighing, he passed the list over to his XO and then continued, “We’re still short nine Marines. I was told the replacements should be arriving today, so when they do, make sure your sergeants get them integrated into their new fireteams and squads ASAP. Figure out with your NCOs what you want to do for team building exercises next week. We have a lot of new faces in the company, and we need to get them synced up with our veterans, so everyone starts to work as a team.”
The leaders nodded.
“Today is Friday,” Captain Long continued. “At 1800 hours, you’re to dismiss your platoons until 1900 hours on Sunday. If they want to sleep in, go to the MWR, gym, or whatever else they want to do on base, let them. These guys need some downtime. Come Monday, we’re going to be right back at it, training for the next mission.”
First Lieutenant Buck Conlon, his XO, asked the question that Long realized must be on all of their minds. “Do you know when the mission is? Are we going to invade the Mainland?”
The others sat silently, waiting to see what Long would say. “I’m supposed to meet with Colonel Tilman tomorrow. Hopefully, I’ll know more after I see him. What I can say is we are most certainly invading the Mainland. Shoot, the Army’s already invaded the Mainland in northern China—us Marines can’t let the Army get all the glory.”
Looking at his newest platoon leader, Second Lieutenant Miles Johnson, Long asked, “So, Lieutenant, why don’t you give us the ten-second version of who you are and how you ended up in the famed Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, 6th Marines?”
Lieutenant Johnson stuck his chest out. “I’m from Atlanta, Georgia, and I joined the Corps right after graduating college. My brother served in the 2/3 Marines in Korea before he was killed. I asked to join Echo Company because I was told this unit saw more action than any other unit in the brigade.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother, Johnson,” Captain Long said. “I was in Korea when it all started, though I was in a different unit. Right now, Second Platoon is missing an officer, so that’s where I’m going to stick you. You have an outstanding platoon sergeant, so basically listen to what he tells you as you get your bearings. We’re going to run through a lot of drills and exercises the next few weeks, so that’ll be a good time for you to learn how to lead the platoon before we’re thrown right back in the fire. Just don’t try to rush things right away; take your time to get to know your men and your sergeants. You’ll do fine. If you have any problems or questions, ask any of these guys for help, or you can ask me.”
With the company business out of the way, Captain Long passed things over to his XO while he and the first sergeant got caught up on the few remaining details—mostly promotions and award packets that had to be finalized for the battalion.
“There may be a war going on, but by God, your paperwork had better be in order,” Long thought, nearly laughing out loud at the absurdity of it all.
*******
The following evening, Captain Long found himself sitting next to Lieutenant Colonel Noble, his battalion commander. Colonel Tilman had invited his battalion commanders and a couple of captains to come along with him to a newly opened restaurant just outside the camp, and he’d reserved a large table for them in a private room, his treat.
“Gentlemen,” Colonel Tilman began, “we’ve gone through hell together and lost a lot of friends along the way. I wanted to take some time out of our busy schedules to just relax, eat, and drink some beers together before we worry about the future. Right now, just enjoy this moment and the comradery we have with each other. When this war is over, these are the memories you’ll look back on and long for again.” He raised his beer, taking a very long chug before he sat down and joined his men as they broke bread together.
Long wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he’d ended up being seated opposite Colonel Tilman. He tried not to overthink the seating arrangement and downed a beer like everyone else. After some good grub and another beer, he was starting to have a great time, just like everyone else. Then Tilman suddenly leaned forward. In a very serious tone, he asked, “Captain, do you plan on making the Corps a career, or are you going to get out at the end of the war?”
Judging by the seriousness of the colonel’s question, Long knew his immediate future probably rested on his answer. He’d been thinking about that very question for a few months now. He was on year eight in the Marines, and usually at year ten you had to make a firm decision as to whether you were going to stay in until retirement or get out. This conversation felt like it was speeding up his timeline a bit.
“At first, I planned on getting out when the war was done,” Captain Long admitted. “However, I’ve given that a lot of thought, and I think I want to stay in and see where my career takes me.” The colonel’s demeanor immediately changed from serious to happy, and he knew he’d given the right answer.
“Glad to hear it,” said Tilman. “With your record and all those medals, you’ll go far. As a matter of fact, I’m going to promote you to major. I’m short
staffed officers right now, and I need some people I can trust to take command of a new battalion we’re forming up. As we near the final stage of the war, the size of the Marines is still growing. All the Marine divisions are being given a new regiment, and the regiments are being given a new battalion, and the battalions are getting another company. It’s all part of this massive buildup leading to the invasion of China. I’m sure once this is all over there’ll be a huge demobilization like they did at the end of World War II, but for the time being, this is a great chance for you to get some higher-level command experience. When the time comes, I’ll do my best to shield you from any demobilization.” Tilman spoke like a father whose son had just joined the family business.
“Until the men for the new battalion start to arrive, I want to move you to my staff so we can spend some time getting you ready to take command,” Colonel Tilman explained. “You know the field side of command, but we need to get you up to speed on the garrison side of running a unit. We’ll be back in combat by spring, but until then, you’ll be spending a lot of your time getting your new unit ready to fight.”
Captain Long’s brow furrowed as a reflex as he thought about the enormous weight of responsibility. Tilman must have seen the change in his expression. “Listen, Tim,” the colonel said, “I know you’re nervous, and rightly so. But I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to give you your current battalion sergeant major to help you run things. I’m also going to make sure you are assigned half of your officers from those who fought in the Philippine or Taiwan campaigns, so you won’t have an entirely green command structure. This position is definitely going to force you to grow, but we need competent combat veterans in command, not guys who have the right rank but have never seen battle. My regiment is the toughest, most combat-tested regiment in the Corps right now, and I want to keep it that way.”
