Sniper (Women of the United Federation Marines Book 2)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  Dave Oesper was confirmed KIA, though. His brain had been far too destroyed for any hope of resurrection. She’d gone into the hide the de facto commander of three other Marines. Two were in regen, and one was KIA. That didn’t reflect well on her ability to lead, she knew.

  The fact that she wasn’t even scratched filled her with survivor’s guilt. Why was she spared? If karma was real, then certainly with her butcher’s toll, she should have been hit, not Oesper.

  Up until the mission to take out Red Piper and Doughbaby, the battalion had suffered three KIA and five WIA, two of whom required regen back on Tarawa. During the mission, just two days before the first elements re-embarked aboard the Josh, the Scout-Sniper Platoon suffered three KIAs with two being resurrected, one WIA requiring casevacs and regen (Cable-Williams, who’d lost his arm just below the elbow), and three more walking wounded (Staff Sergeant Riopel, Brick Liogeni, and Suggs Rustan). All three of the walking wounded refused to be casevac’d and demanded to travel back to Tarawa with the platoon.

  The platoon had suffered, but not as much as Hotel. The company had been the only one of the line companies not to have lost anyone KIA or seriously WIA up until that day, but during the operation, they suffered 18 KIAs (with seven being resurrected), nine WIAs requiring full regen, and another twelve mobile WIAs. Most of the walking wounded would still undergo regen back on Tarawa as well, but this would be done at the outpatient clinic and could last from a week or so to three or four weeks.

  Gracie had to wonder if it had been worth it. Doughbaby had been killed, along with well over 150 other jericks, but when Golf moved in to clear the Hatbox, Red Piper opened the front doors of the building, welcoming the Marines. Gracie had seen the holos. Despite being arrested and turned over to the local police, he was acting as if he’d called in the battalion instead of being one of the targets.

  “Well, now on to your performance. First, I’m sorry to say that NVU has not certified our numbers for you.”

  What?

  Gracie knew that the Navy Verification Unit was the keeper of records for the Navy and Marines, but for a moment, she was at a loss.

  “We submitted 35 confirmed kills for you, but they are only allowing 24. The Three knew you’d probably not get full credit for the shot that nailed Rinzinni, but we think they were overly strict with their count.”

  Oh, that’s what he’s talking about, she realized.

  She’d been somewhat preoccupied over the last few days, and she hadn’t really tallied up her kills. She knew technically she’d only get credit for Doughbaby with the CD33 round as the others would be considered collateral damage, but as to the rest, she hadn’t even attempted to tally up the numbers. She knew this was odd; snipers tended to be a bit anal about that, and she was no different. It had just slipped her mind.

  Now that the lieutenant had brought it up, though, her curiosity had been piqued. What hadn’t NVU allowed?

  “Twenty-four, huh sir?”

  Twenty-four kills in one battle was an incredible number, more than most snipers had in a career. Still, 35 might have been some sort of record.

  “Yes, that’s all. It’s not like we didn’t have documentation. Between your scope-cam, all the Navy and Marine Corps drones, the Josh, and then the BDA, we thought we’d put together a very solid 35 kills.”

  “If you had that evidence, why did NVU disallow so many?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I can guess, though,” he said.

  “What, sir?”

  “Well, that leads me to the second piece of bad news. The Three already started the paperwork for you for a Silver Star.”

  That shocked Gracie, and she sat up straighter on the small stool.

  “But immediately, it came back down with a, well, officially a request, to withdraw it.”

  “What? Why, sir,” Gracie asked, confused.

  “I think it’s for the same reason that you didn’t get all 35 kills. You see, we’re not at war here.”

  “Tell that to Oesper’s parents, sir, with all due respect.”

  The lieutenant didn’t seem upset by her outburst and instead said, “I know. I meant to say we are not officially at war. And your kills were Federation citizens.”

  “Who were trying to kill Marines, sir.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Corporal,” he said, holding both hands out as if to stop an outburst. “But the facts are facts, and someone apparently doesn’t want to advertise the fact that the Marine Corps was out there killing citizens. And it’s not just you. Staff Sergeant Riopel was recommended for a BC1, and his came back the same. So in my mind, and I’m completely off-record here, I think the same high someones didn’t want it known that a single sniper killed 35 citizens in one battle. Twenty-four were irrefutable, and they couldn’t deny them. But the rest. . .” he trailed off.

  “For the rest, if there was any way to find fault, they found it,” she said.

  “I’m not saying that, Corporal, and I’ll deny it if it comes back to me, but you’re a smart woman. I can’t help it if you come to the same conclusion.

  “But I wanted to tell you two things. The first is that everyone knows what you did. Hotel’s First Platoon is calling you their guardian angel.”

  She knew that. She’d been invited to sit with the survivors in the galley just two hours ago at lunch, and they’d embarrassed her with the presentation of their platoon patch. They’d given her three more, which she promised to give to Eli, Kierk, and Oesper’s family.

  “The second is that the CO can give meritorious promotions to lance corporal, corporal, and sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir. One every six months.”

  “And that doesn’t have to go any higher. She’s got the authority.”

  “And, sir?” she asked suddenly knowing where he was going with the train of thought.

  “The Three went to her, and she agreed. As of the second of next month, you’ll be pinning on another stripe. Congratulations,” he said, standing up and holding out a hand.

  Sergeant? Me?

  She’d fully expected to make sergeant, but not until next year at the earliest, and this took her by surprise. She stood up and shook his hand.

  “Why, thank you, sir. Or thank the CO. . .or the Three? Who do I thank?”

  He laughed and said, “We should be thanking you. What you did, that was copacetic to the max, Corporal, copacetic to the max.”

  Suddenly, the smile fell from her face, and she asked, “But what about Lance Corporal Gittens, sir? He and Lance Corporal Oesper?”

  She’d seen enough gleaned from the various recordings to know that Oesper had simply taken a shot that destroyed his head, but Eli had stood tall, facing down four onrushing jericks to protect her back. She’d asked Gunny to make sure both of them were recognized.

  “Both are receiving Purple Hearts, of course, and I think Oesper will be awarded a BC3, but for the rest, I’m not sure.”

  “But did you read the report? Eli stood down four of them, keeping me alive so I could cover First Platoon. Without him, I’d have been killed, and then probably more of First Platoon. He deserves something, sir!”

  “I know he does, Corporal Medicine Crow. But I don’t know,” he said, pausing as he wrinkled his brow in thought. “Tell you what. The CO can give a commendation medal, the same as she can promote you. If it comes to that, I think we can swing that. But the regimental CO can approve a BC3. Let’s see what we can swing as soon as we get back. Fair enough?”

  “Yes, sir. More than fair. Thank you, sir.

  He looked down at his PA, which was still lying on the small desk. “You know, looking at all of this, we’ve got quite a debriefing still to go, and to be honest, I’ve had about enough of Jericho to last me a while. Let’s cut this off for now, OK?”

  “Uh, sure, sir. It’s your call.”

  “I guess it is,” he said, a smile breaking out. “In that case, it’s time for a command decision. I’m done for the day, and I think I need to hit the
gym. Tell. . .” he said, pausing to look at his PA, “tell Corporal Khalil to go back to berthing, and tell the rest we’ll finish back at Tarawa.”

  “Aye-aye, sir.”

  “And with that, we’re done, at least for now. You did well, Corporal, really well. I don’t have to tell you that you’ve found your niche, and I’m proud to be your commander. Semper fi, Marine!”

  Gracie came to a position of attention.

  “Semper fi to you, too, sir. And I’m proud to have you as my commander. I’d be just as proud to serve with you anytime.”

  She performed a credible about face in the constrained space and stepped out of the stateroom.

  “The lieutenant’s done for the day,” she told Possum. “Head on back to berthing.”

  As Gracie followed him off the Bravo deck, she realized what she’d said was true. She’d be more than proud to serve with the lieutenant again, to serve with any of her platoon-mates again. For the first time in her career, she thought she truly understood what it meant at a visceral level to be brothers-in-arms.

  TARAWA

  Chapter 28

  37

  “Am I late?” Sergeant Gracie Medicine Crow asked, rushing into the room.

  “No,” Tiggs said, getting out of the chair to hug her and give her a peck on the cheek. “They won’t start for another ten minutes, and the doctor said it could take another 15 minutes for him to come around.”

  Gracie had never been much of a huggy person, but that was hard to avoid with the effervescent Antigone Gittens. To her surprise, Gracie didn’t mind. She was probably more surprised that she had become close friends with the young woman, someone at a polar opposite from her. Where Gracie was a hard-ass, and some said, hard-hearted Marine, one who ignored make-up and fashion, Tiggs was all gossip, the latest trends, and social interaction. Tiggs took over any group, guiding them to a common goal while they thought it was all their idea in the first place. Yet, somehow, the two had bonded while watching Eli’s progress over the last two months. He was still in his regen coma, and Gracie had cut short a field exercise to make it back to be there when he came to.

  At first, Gracie had felt uncomfortable around Tiggs. She had promised the woman that she’d bring Eli back, and the survivor guilt was still running strong in her. It wasn’t until she’d tried to apologize to Tiggs a week after returning that the damn broke, with Gracie breaking down into tears, and Tiggs, little, bouncy Tiggs, playing the mother figure, holding Gracie until she sobbed out. And Gracie felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. She still vowed to become a better leader, a better Marine, but the guilt had disappeared like a morning mist (mostly, at least). After that, she never brought it up again, and the two became close. Tiggs, for all her surface flightiness, had a keen, questing mind, and with only Eli’s unconscious body keeping them company, they’d had some deeply intellectual conversations that went deep into the night—along with a few utterly silly ones, or even a couple that strayed into the more adult-oriented topics. For such a sweet-looking girl, Tiggs had an undeniably naughty streak that entertained Gracie to no end.

  Gracie took the seat next to Tiggs as the RT, the regen tech, came in to start bringing Eli around. Lieutenant Commander O’Nial, the ward’s daytime charge nurse, followed the RT, looking over the man’s shoulder as if waiting for him to screw up. The nurse could be a stickler for the regs, but it was evident that she really cared for each of her patients.

  “That’ll do it,” the RT said after stepping back from the console. “I’m giving him ten minutes.”

  Gracie started to feel nervous. The doctors all said that Eli’s progress had been good, but no one could be sure until he was brought out of his regen coma. His body might be well on the way to healing, but was Eli still Eli?

  Tiggs reached out and took Gracie’s hand. She was trembling, and Gracie tried to project calmness. She knew Tiggs had to be about ready to climb out of her skin.

  Five minutes later, several other nurses and corpsmen came in, followed by Commander Quillion, the head regen doc. He had a young lieutenant in tow, her white medical coat the traditional mark that she was a doctor, probably fresh out of medical school.

  At ten minutes, Tiggs squeezed Gracie’s hand. Gracie wasn’t sure what to do, so she squeezed back. At 11 minutes, Gracie was just about to ask the doctor what was going on when Eli coughed, twice, then opened his eyes.

  Tiggs jumped up from her seat and rushed to his side. Eli seemed confused and tried to focus, but when he saw Tiggs, he smiled and slowly reached out for her.

  “What are you—” he started to say in a gravelly, faltering voice before coughing.

  “Lance Corporal Gittens, I’m Doctor Quillion. You’re back on Tarawa at the Naval Medical Center. You’ve been here for two months. How are you feeling?”

  “Two months?” he asked, his hand firmly in Tiggs grasp.

  “Yes, son. You took a couple of shots on Jericho that destroyed much of your jaw and throat, and more importantly, to your brain stem, cerebellum, and occipital lobe. That’s why your vision is blurry now, and you’ll have trouble speaking for a while.”

  Damn, pretty blunt, Gracie thought. How about easing him into it?

  “You’re still on assisted breathing, but it’s time to wake you up so you can take an active part of your rehabilitation.”

  “Jericho? Corporal Medicine--”

  “Here I am, Eli. I’m fine,” Gracie said, stepping up so Eli could see her.

  “Eli?” he said, a smile coming over his face.

  “Well, you know. . .” she said.

  After all they’d been through together, it was about time she got the ramrod out of her ass and became a little more relaxed with him.

  “It’s Sergeant Medicine Crow now,” Tiggs said. “And Gracie’s been here every day to check up on you.”

  Eli started to cough again, and the little box beside the bed clicked and emitted a slightly higher hum. The box had leads attached to Eli’s chest, and his breathing evened out.

  The doctor had been scanning readouts, but as Eli’s coughing subsided, he said, “I know everyone wants to spend time with Lance Corporal Gittens, but he needs to build back up his strength. So for now, everyone except for his wife needs to leave. Lieutenant Commander O’Nial will set up a visiting schedule—Commander, use Protocol D for now, and we’ll adjust it after we see how he tolerates that,” he said directly to the charge nurse before addressing everyone else again, “so with that, I want everyone else except for Belling and Garcia gone as in now. You two, run a full analysis and forward it to me. Ms. Gittens, you are welcome to stay, but Lance Corporal Gittens will be drifting in and out for the rest of the day.”

  As if on command, Eli closed his eyes and fell asleep. Gracie had wanted to tell him that his BC3 had been approved, figuring the good news would cheer him up before she let him know about Dave Oesper, but all of that could wait. She followed everyone else out of the room.

  Now that it seemed clear that Eli was going to recover, she wanted to tell Gunny Buttle that she thought her spotter should be promoted to sniper as soon as he was returned to full duty. She was comfortable with Eli, and more than that, she trusted him, but she couldn’t use him as a crutch if that would retard his own development. She’d resisted being assigned a new spotter since their return, and she didn’t look forward to breaking in someone new, but the Marine Corps was anything but static.

  It was time to march on.

  Chapter 29

  37

  “Damn, I’m hungry,” Zach said, sniffing the air. “How long are we going to have to wait?”

  “Until she gets here. She stopped off at the Wounded Warrior Battalion, so if you have any complaints, why don’t you march on over there and tell General Ling?” Gunny said to him.

  “No, you know what I mean,” Zach hurriedly corrected.

  No one criticized the Wounded Warrior Battalion, nor did they resent any of the care those Marines and sailors received. Those undergoing rege
n and therapy were their brothers and sisters, and with increasingly better medical technology, Marines who even 20 years ago might have been permanently KIA were resurrected and joined the battalion for their rehab. There was a very real probability that many of the Marines in 2/3 were going to end up in the Wounded Warrior Battaltion at some time in their career, and it had become accepted fact that juju was at work, and by saying the wrong thing, the gods of karma would make sure you ended up there.

  Kierk reached over and thunked Zach on the head with a closed fist. He’d just returned to the battalion two days earlier, still on light duty, but back with the platoon. With three newbies, even with Eli and Cable-Williams still in rehab, the platoon was at full strength.

  Gracie stole a look at Lance Corporal Tibone Mubotono. “T-Bone” was her new spotter, and she didn’t think she’d ever met such an arrogant, self-centered young man in her life. The guy could shoot the left ball off a gnat at 1000 meters, but Gracie thought he would be a liability in a hot mission.

  When Gunny Buttle had told her he was assigning the young Marine to her, he’d left her with a laugh and a sarcastic “good luck.” Evidently, T-Bone’s reputation had preceded him. T-Bone had arrived with Tennerife Delay, the second female Marine assigned to the platoon, and initially, Gracie had been happy Delay hadn’t been assigned to her. She’d been concerned at how the others would react to the “all-girl” team. In retrospect, she thought she’d much rather have dealt with that than with T-Bone. Delay might not be the marksman that he was, but she seemed to listen, and Brick Liogeni was full of praise for her potential.