Peacekeepers

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Peacekeepers Page 12

by James Rosone


  “Is the rest of the 1st Battalion ready to deploy?” asked General Hays.

  The major nodded. “Yes, sir. Just as ordered. They’ll deploy the day after New Year’s and begin setting up their various listening-observation posts along our area of operation. The battalion commander did pass along one question—he wanted to know what his guys should do if they encounter any persons trying to cross to either the American or Canadian side. In the past, we would have called the Border Patrol, but that doesn’t seem like what we’d do in this instance.”

  Hays snickered at the thought of calling CBP if they spotted some enemy soldiers or Special Forces trying to cross into America. “Tell the commander he should detain them until the military police can fetch them. If they’re Americans, then we’ll let the provost marshal and the DOJ handle them. If they’re foreign military—well, we’ll cross that bridge when we have to.”

  Some of the soldiers in the ops center overhead his comment and a few nervous laughs erupted. Just then, the other general on the base, Hays’s deputy, Brigadier General Don Wittman, came into the room with a serious look on his face. He rapidly made his way over to General Hays. “Sir, this just came in from intelligence,” Wittman announced. “They received a flash message from the NSA. I’m waiting for confirmation from the Air Force as well. They said they had a recon drone headed over to investigate, so we’ll hopefully have confirmation one way or the other shortly.”

  Grimacing at what was probably bad news, General Hays looked at the report, then motioned for Wittman to follow him to his private office. He needed to talk with him where no one else could hear them. Not only was the UN force not heeding the President’s warning, they were mobilizing their forces.

  Once inside Hays’s office, Wittman asked, “Sir, do you think this is just them trying to make a show of things, or do you believe they’re actually gearing up to attack us?” Wittman had just been promoted to general after serving in the 82nd Airborne as a brigade commander. He was being groomed to take over a division command himself in a couple of years.

  Hays sighed. “Don, I think things are about to get real crazy, real fast in a few days,” he responded. Then he pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked over to the vault built into the wall of his office. He pushed the appropriate key in and turned it, unlocking the door. General Hays pulled out a folder that read “TOP SECRET/NOFORN/ORCON/” on it and placed it on the desk between him and his deputy.

  “I wasn’t supposed to show this to you until December 31st. I just received it via courier five hours ago from the Pentagon. It’s been signed and approved by the President.”

  General Wittman looked at the folder. He hadn’t seen a set of orders ever arrive at any military command he’d ever served in quite like this. After staring at it for a few moments without saying anything, he looked up at Hays. “Have you read it?”

  General Hays shook his head. “Not yet. I was told to read it and acknowledge it by COB today. I still have another two hours, but I figure I might as well as look at it with you. I know the instructions said not to share it with anyone else until December 31st, operational security and all—but hell, I need some help deciphering all of this crap going on in our country.”

  “You and me both,” Wittman replied. “It’s like a switch was turned on in September and the country hasn’t been the same since…”

  Hays sat down, then broke the seal on the new set of orders and opened it up.

  ///////TOP SECRET/NOFORN/ORCON///////

  BY ORDER OF THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE, THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES HAS AUTHORIZED OPERATION FORTRESS, THE AUTHORIZATION OF OFFENSIVE MILITARY ACTION TO BE TAKEN AGAINST UNITED NATIONS PEACEKEEPING FORCE AND ANY OTHER HOST NATIONS PROVIDING MATERIAL SUPPORT AGAINST THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THE PRESIDENT HAS AUTHORIZED THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE TO USE ANY AND ALL MEANS NECESSARY TO DEFEND THE TERRITORIAL INTEGRITY OF THE UNITED STATES.

  BY ORDER OF THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE, UNITED STATES NORTHERN COMMAND (USNORTHCOM) WILL ASSUME COMMAND OF ALL CONUS MILITARY FORCES EFFECTIVE 31 DECEMBER 2020. USNORTHCOM COMMANDER, GENERAL RAYMOND MOORE USAF, IS BEING REPLACED WITH GENERAL JOSEPH TIBBETS USA, EFFECTIVE 31 DECEMBER 2020.

  ALL DIVISION COMMANDERS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO MAKE READY FOR COMBAT OPERATIONS, ALL FORCES BY NO LATER THAN 15 JANUARY 2021. OPERATION FORTRESS WILL COMMENCE ON OR SHORTLY AFTER 15 JANUARY 2021 IF PEACE TALKS FAIL. DIVISION COMMANDERS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO PREPARE THEIR FORCES AND FACILITIES TO REPEL ANY POTENTIAL ATTACKS OR INCURSIONS BY EITHER FOREIGN OR DOMESTIC FORCES, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. AUTHORIZATION FOR THE USE OF DEADLY FORCE TO DEFEND YOUR MILITARY ASSETS HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED.

  WARNING ORDERS AND ADDITIONAL APPENDIXES ARE ATTACHED FOR IMMEDIATE IMPLEMENTATION.

  General Hays and his deputy spent the next twenty minutes going over the rest of the orders and the attached appendixes as they contemplated how they’d go about implementing them. From everything they’d read, it looked as if a military confrontation was not only inevitable, but imminent. The talking heads on the various news outlets were certainly not on the same page as reality at the moment.

  Chapter 8

  Escalation

  January 1, 2021

  Whidbey Island, Washington

  Naval Air Station Whidbey Island

  It was ten minutes past midnight when Colonel Rob Coates walked up to the front of formation of 1st Battalion, Marine Raider Regiment. As he stood in the aircraft hangar, he surveyed the painted faces of the six hundred warriors standing before him. He couldn’t be prouder of the men before him than he was at that moment. They were about to embark upon perhaps the most audacious mission in the Raiders’ short history. Looking to his right and left, he saw that all three companies were ready for war.

  “Marines, today marks day one in taking back our country and putting down this rebellion,” Colonel Coates bellowed. “The past five days have been rough—we’ve been drilling hard on the decommissioned Kitty Hawk. That training is now going to be put to the test. I know many of you are wondering what’s going on and why we’ve been transferred over here to Whidbey Island. By order of the President, we’ve been ordered to seize back control of the Nimitz from the renegade crew that stole her two weeks ago.”

  Colonel Coates heard a soft murmur of whispers from the men as they exchanged a few comments with each other. Colonel Coates raised his hands to calm them before he continued. “What these naval officers did, regardless of why they did it, was treasonous. They betrayed their oath as officers, and worse, they’ve placed our nation’s most guarded secrets and technologies in the hands of foreigners. As such, we’ve been directed by the President to seize the ship and return it to US control.”

  He paused for a moment as he looked down at his watch. “As I speak to you, a SEAL team is preparing to surreptitiously board the Nimitz to disable their weapons systems. When the air defense weapons are disabled, an enlisted person who’s still loyal to America will disable the carrier’s radar systems to blind them just long enough for us to air assault in.”

  A few of the Marines whistled as they realized just how dangerous the mission was. If any of the carrier’s close-in weapons came online while they were on final approach, they’d be dead before they even knew what happened.

  “Alpha will lead the initial assault,” Colonel Coates said, pointing toward the company. “Your objective is to secure the flight line and capture the tower. Following Alpha’s insertion, Bravo and Charlie companies will land and immediately begin to search and clear the ship. Take prisoners if you can, but we have been authorized to use deadly force to secure the ship.

  “Following us in will be three pairs of Cobra gunships. While we are confident our man on the inside and the SEALs will be able to disable the ship’s air defense weapons, the gunships are our insurance plan. As you collect prisoners, I want them brought to the flight deck. We’ll look to evacuate the prisoners via helicopter as we can to get them out of your hair. When the ship’s secure, we’re to fly in some c
rew members who’ll be able to get the ship underway and back to US waters.

  “This is going to be a tough fight, gentlemen,” Colonel Coates added. “Intelligence says at least two hundred French and German marines are on board to provide security for the ship, so expect a confrontation once they see we’re trying to board.”

  As he continued to speak, the helicopter blades of the attack force began to spin up outside the hangar. “Marines, in a few minutes, we’re going to board our sky chariots and ride into history…I want you all to remember your training and do your duty. Your country is counting on you, the Corps is counting on you, and I’m counting on you. I’ll see you on the Nimitz.” With that, Colonel Coates called them to attention and then dismissed them to the charge of their officers.

  *******

  Salish Sea

  Off the Coast of Victoria, British Columbia

  SO1 Chuck “Blackjack” Black had just finished attaching the REBS magnetic climbing gloves and shoes to his hands and feet. The newfangled device would allow him to scale up the backside of the fantail of the Nimitz without having to use a grappling hook or ladder system. While those would be preferable, until he and his partner neutralized the guards on the back of the fantail, it just wouldn’t work. They’d be detected and killed before they could take the guards out. So, that meant they had to try and use this new and untested system.

  Once the foot and hand pieces were secured to their bodies, his partner, “Chubby,” who was ironically skinny as a rail, gave him a thumbs-up. After double-checking their night vision goggles, Blackjack and Chubby began a slow and arduous crawl up the back end of the ship, looking very much like Spider-Man. Each time Blackjack repositioned his hand, the strong magnet would almost slap itself against the hull of the ship. It took every ounce of strength he had to make sure he slowed down the magnetic pull of the REBS device. They needed to silently climb the ship, and a loud metallic thud every time they moved their hands or feet up the hull would alert the defenders that something was amiss.

  Ten minutes into their climb, they’d made it up nearly thirty feet of the hull to the rear fantail and the balconies of the rear deck. Staying just below the lip of the balcony, Blackjack and Chubby detached their shooting hands from the magnetic hand devices and reached down for their sidearms. Unsnapping his holster, Blackjack pulled his Walther P22 out. While the P22 shot a small .22 LR bullet, when used with a silencer, it was truly silent. This meant they could take the guards out swiftly with a well-placed headshot and get on board quickly. Stealth was far more important in this case than hitting power.

  Seeing that Chubby also had his P22 ready, Blackjack nodded, and the two of them slowly raised their bodies above the lip of the fantail. It was pitch-black on the balcony; no lights lit the area. Despite the darkness, their NVGs illuminated six guards. Two were located on each end of the balcony. They appeared to be milling around the edge of the balcony rail, oblivious to the presence of the SEALs. In the center of the fantail balcony, two more guards were lounging on a pair of chairs. They had their rifles sitting across their legs and looked to be doing their best to stay awake.

  Lowering themselves down below the railing of the ship, Blackjack and Chubby put their guns back in their holsters for a moment, then silently worked out who they’d take out first using hand signals. They decided to shoot the two guys in the chairs initially—since they were already sitting, they wouldn’t make any noise when they were killed. Then they’d move swiftly and take out the two guards on either side of the balcony. Once they were cleared, they’d attach the rope ladder and the rest of their team could climb aboard.

  Blackjack nodded to Chubby, and the two of them raised their bodies once again above the lip of the balcony. They each raised their silenced P22 and took aim at the seated guards.

  Spit, spit.

  Both of their shots hit the guards directly in the forehead, right between their eyes, killing them instantly. With the two guards in the center down, they shifted to face the other guards along the side. They were roughly thirty feet away, so it wasn’t a terribly long shot. In seconds, the remaining guards were neutralized, dropping to the deck like sacks of potatoes.

  With all of the hostiles now dead, Blackjack and Chubby both climbed all the way over the rail and got themselves situated on the balcony. While Blackjack rushed to double-tap the six guards, making sure they were in fact dead, Chubby pulled his rope ladder off his back and got it attached to the rear of the fantail.

  The next five minutes of waiting felt like an eternity, but soon the other four members of their team had joined them on the Nimitz. In the meantime, Chubby and Blackjack had grabbed the dead bodies of the guards and dragged them over to one side of the fantail so they’d be out of the way. They positioned two of the corpses so they would appear to be still standing watch, while the two in the chairs remained where they’d died. This way, if anyone stuck their head out of one of the hatches to check on them, it would look like they were still alive and doing their duty.

  Lieutenant Tebo walked up to Blackjack. He leaned in and whispered, “Good job taking those guards out. Take point and let’s go take those guns offline.”

  Nodding, Blackjack pulled his silenced P22 out and proceeded to open one of the bulkheads. He kept his HK416 slung behind his back, ready in case he needed the added firepower of his compact assault rifle. As soon as the door was ajar, Blackjack realized the hallway was lit, so he flipped his NVGs up on his helmet. He then led the way down the hallway with his pistol extended, ready to shoot anyone that happened to enter his field of fire. They needed to hurry to get to the Phalanx system.

  The three of them progressed down the hallway, stopping briefly at each open door to make sure there wasn’t someone inside that might spot them or need to be dealt with. It took them roughly ten minutes of moving through the corridors until they made it to the side hallway that would lead them outside again, to the balcony platform that contained the CIWS system and the Sea Sparrow launchers.

  Moving up against the door, Blackjack flipped his NVGs back down. “One…two…three…,” he said quietly.

  He flung the door open and entered the balcony with his pistol at the ready. In the blink of an eye, a figure appeared near the CIWS system. The guard was caught by surprise and fumbled for his firearm.

  Spit, spit, spit.

  The sentry dropped to the ground, three small holes in his face. Blackjack turned to his right and fired off three more quick rounds, dropping another guard who had turned around to see what was going on.

  “Sonnez l'alarme, nous sommes attaqués!” shouted a French marine. He raised his rifle and fired several rounds at the three SEALs on the nearby platform.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  “Four o’clock!” shouted Blackjack. He dashed to the side so one of the SEALs behind him could bring his HK416 to bear on the Frenchman.

  Chubby and Lieutenant Tebo hit the French marine with a barrage of well-aimed shots, dropping him where he stood. Unfortunately, the warning Klaxon on the ship sounded, alerting the crew that they were under attack.

  “Take the CIWS out! We’re heading over to take the Sea Sparrow out,” yelled Lieutenant Tebo.

  Placing his P22 back in his holster, Blackjack swung his HK416 around to the ready position. When the LT and his other teammate went back into the hallway to make their way over to the other platform, a storm of gunfire erupted in the close quarters of the hallway.

  Crap, this plan’s falling apart, and we haven’t even taken the first weapon system offline yet, thought Blackjack.

  Sensing that they might not make it over the other platform, Blackjack raised his rifle and took aim at the radar pod that controlled the CIWS, firing off half a dozen rounds. He was rewarded with a flash of sparks and popping sounds from the electronics being damaged or destroyed. He then fired off the rest of his magazine into the missile pods on the Sea Sparrow, making sure he riddled them with bullets.

  “Blackjack, we need your help! Hurry up
and finish the job!” shouted the LT over the roar of more gunfire.

  Stepping back to the bulkhead door, he raised his rifle with a fresh magazine and emptied half of it into the radar dome above the gun system. He then finished off the rest of his magazine into the control box next to the CIWS. Once he was sure the system wouldn’t work, he dropped his empty magazine and jumped back into the hallway to help his comrades out.

  Blackjack hoped the other teams had taken their targets out. They were going to need the cavalry to come bail them out.

  *******

  USS Nimitz

  Combat Information Center

  Electronics Technician First Class Tiffany Aikman walked into the CIC at precisely 0213 hours with one purpose, to take the fire control system for the ship’s self-defense systems offline so they couldn’t function.

  When the Nimitz had put to sea two weeks ago with only twenty percent of the crew, she’d found herself trapped on a ship with a crew and captain that had gone rogue. When the captain had announced over the ship’s PA system that they were going to sail the Nimitz to Canadian waters and place the ship under the control of the United Nations, she had been appalled. However, when she’d been approached by one of the master chiefs and an officer and asked if she could still perform her duties in spite of what was going on, she’d replied that her loyalty was to the ship and its crew.

  Later that day, though, she’d taken her smartphone and found a quiet place to make a call to the base NCIS office. Since they were parked next to a major naval port and city, she still had cell reception. In short order, naval intelligence had established a working process of sending information to her and allowing her to report back to them what was going on inside the ship. When they asked if she could assist them in disabling the ship’s defensive systems, she had cooked up the idea of taking down the Nimitz’s fire control systems during a routine maintenance check.

 

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