| Subject: ...For Meritorious Service, Epilogue, part two |
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TxJAG_b
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Date Posted: 11:34:53 08/18/10 Wed
In reply to:
TxJAG_b
's message, "...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 27 - continued" on 10:56:42 07/07/10 Wed
A/N - Thanks for my editors and consultants was given in part one of this Epilogue - now some terms for the unfamilar coax - co-axial machine gun; BAS - battalion
aid station - enjoy....
From Epilogue – part one:
******************
“Tomcat crashed near Objective India!” The driver called out -- he had been monitoring the battalion net.
Stuart quickly climbed up to the Corporal’s station. “Can you get us there?”
Despite his dislike for these three newsmen, the Corporal was under orders to give them what access he could without endangering the mission.
“Yes sir, Mr. Dunston,” he replied. “Lance Corporal; take us to the Battalion Aid Station!”
“Aye, aye, Corporal!”
*******************
Epilogue – part two
Stuart Dunston was livid. “Hey, hey, hey! Wait a damn minute! I didn’t say anything about going to the Battalion Aid Station! I want to get some footage of that crashed Tomcat!”
“Sorry ‘bout that Mr. Dunston,” the Corporal said insincerely. “That Tomcat was downed in enemy controlled territory. You’ll have to wait until our forces secure the area.” He also dearly wanted to tell this newshound to get back down where he belonged instead of fogging up his instruments.
“The Corporal is right, Mr. Dunston,” added the Lance Corporal. “Besides, we just heard on the battalion net that the Tomcat pilot and his RIO are just arriving at the Battalion Aid Station. We’ll be there in a few minutes, tops. You’ll get an exclusive.”
Somewhat mollified by that comment, Stuart lowered himself back down beside Brad and Sully.
Operation King Cobra, D-day + ???
USS Patrick Henry
Captain Tobias Ingles was in the carrier’s Combat Information Center watching the blips of the returning squadrons of his ship’s Air Wing, listening to the reports from the squadron commanders. He wished he had not let Rabb and his squadron refuel and rearm at al Talil, but he knew that stubborn aviator/lawyer would have argued right back saying that they were the only squadron in the area and that anyone else would get there too late....
Still, if the HCN had been neutralized by the Force Recon team, why not just let the Air Force bombers take care of the mess? He could have used that against the Commander. But deep down he knew that Navy JAG Corps attorney would have had some argument that would have convinced him to let Harmon Rabb, Jr. do what we wanted to.
Patrick Henry’s Captain began studying battle damage assessment images from the RPVs that were now circling high above the smoking hole where the battalion defensive position had been located. After the strikes by the bombers from Diego Garcia, there wasn’t much left to look at. Now all he had to hear was how Rabb’s squadron made out.
The news wasn’t long in coming.
A radio officer in the room held one hand to his radio set then looked over at Ingles. “Captain! It’s the CAG! Commander Rabb -- he’s declared an emergency!”
Ingles sighed inwardly (Not over the water, I hope) he thought.
“Put it on the speakers, Petty Officer.”
There was a lot of static at first then everyone could hear the CAG’s unusually frantic voice.
"Eagle 21, can you make it back!?"
"Negative…" An obviously weak Harm began coughing again "… Negative…losing… altitude fast…Mayday… mayday… we’re… going… down…."
"Eagle 21! You are ordered to eject! Eject now Hammer!! HAMMER! Do you read me?! You are to EJECT NOW! HARM!! EJECT!! EJECT!! EJECT!!!"
“CAG? CAG! This is the Captain! What’s the hell’s going on?!”
“Rabb has been shot down, Captain!” the CAG said tersely. “That’s all I know right now, sir!”
“Captain! incoming message from the acting commander of Eagle squadron!!”
“On the CIC speakers, Petty Officer!” ordered the Captain of Patrick Henry.
“Aye sir!”
“Pie Tin, Pie Tin…” Rhino’s voice sounded somewhat strained. “I repeat, this is Eagle 31, Misno one one; MISREP to follow: Objective India, four runs Eagle, one run Thunder, one run Lightning - twelve tangos, fourteen alpha papa charlie; eight tango echo lima four SCUD and four FROG destroyed; losses…one foxtrot fourteen delta to SAM.”
As his report played over the intercom system, almost everyone in Combat Information Center froze in place. Alfred Aldridge scribbled a few quick notes about the radio message, and then he picked up an available radio mike.
“Eagle 31, this is Law. What is the status of Eagle 21?”
Joseph Wayne had obviously been holding in his real feelings because they spilled out in his next message. “Hammer, that is, Eagle 21, he was struck by a SAM just north of Mirbullah, sir….”
Alfred Aldridge felt as if he had been smacked in the face by a sandbag. Tobias Ingles quickly grabbed the mike out of the Force Judge Advocate’s hands. “A SAM!? How bad Eagle 31?”
Rhino got himself back under control. Flying to pieces wasn’t going to help anyone. “He last reported trailing smoke and losing altitude, sir.”
“Commander,” Tobias Ingles snapped at the Force Judge Advocate standing next to him, “Where is Captain Seranovich?”
Command Aldridge was ready with this information. “The Captain is with Colonel Baxter at the 36th MEU Headquarters. I’ll send her to the crash site, sir.”
“Belay that last part Commander!” Tobias said hold up his hand. “Eagle 31 this is The Baker,” he said to let the pilot know he was speaking with the Captain and not the Force Judge Advocate. “…you say ‘last reported’?! What the hell happened to his radio?!?”
“I-I think he turned off his radio and then he and his RIO … Clyde…they punched out, sir. Supergirl, that is, Eagle 22…she confirmed two chutes but she said they looked injured.”
“Injured?!” Ingles thoughts immediately snapped him back to that night when Rabb’s Tomcat lost power and fell into the Atlantic during that storm. Only this time they were bailing out over enemy-held territory, not water.
“Yes sir. Eagle 22 said they were hurt when they ejected out of the plane…possible seat malfunction caused by the SAM’s detonation….”
“Damn…damn…damn….” Patrick Henry’s Captain swore viciously. Everyone in the CIC started when they heard him. No one moved or spoke. No one had ever seen The Captain like this before.
“But they’re alive, sir” Rhino added.
Captain Ingles nodded, working to get his anger back under control. “Thank God for small miracles, Eagle…I take it the plane…”
“The Tomcat augured in, sir. Eagle 22 reported it was the strangest thing she’d ever seen…. “
Patrick Henry’s Captain couldn’t let that slide. “How so, Eagle 31?”
“Well sir, Eagle 22 said it looked like someone was piloting that wreck – it plowed right into the Gaskin that knocked Eagle 21 out of the sky and it took out some of the retreating al-Qaeda troops to boot.”
(Well thank God for small favors. At least there’s *some* good news.) “How are Hammer and Clyde?”
“Shark Two evac’ed them to GATORFORCE’s BAS just south of here, sir.”
Captain Ingles cut his eyes toward the Force Judge Advocate. “Commander--”
Alfred Aldridge anticipated his request. “--I’m on it, sir! Get me Captain Seranovich, Petty Officer!”
“Aye sir!”
Tobias Ingles turned his attention back to the acting Eagle squadron leader. “Eagle 31, Where’s Eagle 22 now?”
Joseph Wayne turned around and looked to his nine o’clock. “She’s getting ready to rejoin us, sir.”
The fact that Nicole Hollands had left Harm and rejoined the squadron indicated she thought he in was good hands.
“Tell her to report to me as soon as she lands, Eagle 31.” The Captain ordered.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Operation King Cobra, D-day + ???
MTAC, NCIS Headquarters
Washington Navy Yard
The Navy/Marine Corps JAG had seen his fair share of combat, but he had never witnessed a SAM knocking a Tomcat out of the air.
It was surreal in a way because it looked, at first, as if the last missile had actually missed the fighter bomber. But as the camera on board the aerial drone zoomed in on the stricken plane, the fatal damage could clearly be seen.
“Oh my God,” breathed one of the MTAC technicians as the Tomcat began to shudder violently. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the main screen in the room.
(C’mon Commander,) AJ silently willed, focusing on the smoke billowing from the obviously doomed aircraft’s cockpit.
Tom Morrow watched intently for tell-tale signs of the explosive bolts being blown to release the badly pitted cockpit canopy and release this crew from their doomed aircraft.
“I’ve got audio from Patrick Henry’s CAG, Director!”
The speakers in the Multiple Threat Assessment Center picked up Harm Rabb, Junior as he conferred with Patrick Henry’s CAG about his increasingly desperate situation.
"Eagle 21, can you make it back!?"
"Negative…" An obviously weak Harm began coughing again "… Negative…losing… altitude fast…Mayday… mayday… we’re… going… down…."
"Eagle 21! You are ordered to eject! Eject now Hammer!! HAMMER! Do you read me?! You are to EJECT NOW! HARM!! EJECT!! EJECT!! EJECT!!!"
As he watched this awful scene unfold. AJ Chegwidden’s thoughts reeled back to his first meeting with Harmon Rabb, Junior.
*~*~*
“Since you have the hot hand in JAG, I’m going to give you the hot investigations. I expect results – and headlines – positive headlines...can you handle that, Mr. Rabb?”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“If you can’t, I’ll drop you in my wake faster than my garbage.”
*~*~*
And the Navy/Marine Corps JAG hadn’t been disappointed with the Commander’s performance--with one or two glaring exceptions. His thoughts were dragged back to current situation on the screen. It was obvious that the badly damaged Tomcat was on the verge of breaking apart…still no one had ejected from the fighter bomber.
AJ focused his eyes on the starred canopy (Commander, get your damn butt out of that aluminum cloud and stop trying to be a hero!)
The canopy suddenly went sailing up and back over the craft through the hot afternoon air. This was followed by Harm and his RIO’s seats jetting skyward out of the doomed F-14D.
Their initial descents were textbook perfect, but the Gaskin SAM’s shrapnel had obviously shredded several of their restraints. A couple of the technicians in the Threat Assessment Center audibly gasped and groaned as they watched two pilots being badly hurt during their ejection.
Both men, on wildly different trajectories, shot up, back, and away from the burning plane.
“Director! Admiral! Shark Two is moving to intercept the two pilots!”
AJ studied the Force Recon vehicles as they raced to meet the two descending pilots. He knew instinctively that Sarah MacKenzie was leading this rescue mission. He just hoped the Commander was still alive when he reached the ground.
With the two pilots reaching the ground and being cared for by the Force Recon team, the MTAC staff went back to their jobs.
“Director! Fire control teams report the strike force from Diego Garcia is feet dry and inbound to Objective India!”
Operation King Cobra, D-day + ???
GATORFORCE Battalion Aid Station
The Captain had just finished working on his third patient. He slid down against the side of the HMMWV ambulance and put his head down between his legs. He wasn’t about to pass out but the ghastly injuries he had seen in the last few hours were messing with his mind. With luck, the Sergeant he had just operated on would live. He wished he could have said the same for Corporal Danielle Weitz. As hard as the surgeon had tried, it wasn’t enough. The look in that young JAG Corps officer’s eyes as he held Weitz’s hand was too painful to think about.
He didn’t even notice Faith Coleman approaching him.
The Captain looked up to the see the JAG Corps officer staring at him. Immediately he stood.
“Captain--” Faith began.
“Look Commander,” The doctor replied angrily, “There’s no way on God’s green earth that I could’ve saved her! I did everything I could! If you’re going to bring me up on charges, you’d better do it!”
Instead of lighting into him, Faith sighed heavily. Deep down, she knew she had deserved that. “What I was going to say, Captain, is that I know you tried your best,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
The Captain looked at the Navy JAG officer for a moment and then nodded, accepting her unspoken apology. “How is Lieutenant Roberts?”
“He’s dealing with it,” Faith replied flatly meaning she really didn’t know how he was dealing with it.
Both turned toward the sound of the approaching aero-medical helo.
A running Petty Officer brushed past both of them. “Incoming wounded!” he yelled as nurses and orderlies began rushing toward the Seahawk as it settled to the ground.
Operation King Cobra, D-day + 7 hours
Somewhere south of Objective India
The three HMMWVs rolled to a silent stop outside the partially camouflaged bunker. Before theirs stopped moving, Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Tony DiNozzo jumped out and ran to the side of the bunker. PO2 Vickers kept the vehicle’s .50 caliber machine gun trained on the open back entrance as Victor Galindez, Master Chief Coskill and two other members of the SEAL team joined the uniformed NCIS Agents. The rest of the team spread out in a defensive posture around the bunker.
Gibbs nodded to Tony. “You go high, I’ll go low.”
“Got it, Boss,”
“Go!”
The two men entered the darkened doorway; Gibbs was squatting, and pointing his rifle to the left into the darkness. To his right, Tony was standing aiming his rifle into the darkness. No one greeted their armed entrance.
Tony couldn’t see anything threatening in the inky black interior. “Clear!” he whispered to Gibbs.
The senior NCIS Agent nodded. Maybe this bunker was abandoned. Victor turned on his flashlight and shined it into the dark interior.
The red light revealed a closed door at the far end of the room. Though bathed in red light, it looked like an ordinary wooden door.
One of Coskill’s young Petty Officers stole over to it and tried the handle.
“It’s unlocked,” he reported in a tense whisper. All in the room raised their weapons.
“Open it,” hissed the Master Chief.
The young Petty Officer nodded. He counted down with his other hand as he gingerly began to turn the knob. Three, two, one!
The door swung open and Gunny Galindez’s red light disappeared into the gaping darkness beyond the door.
The Special Agents and the SEALs lowered their weapons. Abandoned, like the room they were standing in. Then Gibbs raised his rifle again.
Tony started to ask him why he was raising his rifle and then in a moment, they all heard it. Voices in the darkness. English spoken with an Arabic accent. But why were they speaking English?
“Samir, I’m sorry…we failed to destroy the Americans.” The first voice then started speaking his native tongue.
“English please, Hakim, we do not want our foot soldiers to know how badly things are going. But do not be sorry, we actually achieved our goal.”
Gibbs and the others moved forward into the inky black room.
“How can you say that, Samir? The Fedayeen was scattered, their armor destroyed, our missiles and their launchers were destroyed and our base of operations was pounded to oblivion!”
Gibbs felt another door in front of him. Like the previous one, it was unlocked. He slowly opened the door and the SEALs and NCIS Agents entered the dimly lit room.
“But we sowed doubt in the minds of the Americans, Hakim! Part of their vaunted Marine Force Recon has been found to be corrupt and in collusion with us. Do you not see the value of this? Now the Americans will be second guessing every independent acting Force Recon commander and Special Operations officer. It erodes their morale that much more!”
“I beg to disagree, Samir.”
The Al-Qaeda commander’s cigarette fell out of his mouth and onto the floor. His eyes were locked onto the Caucasian with the silver military haircut. His rifle was pointed right between Samir Al-Sahood eyes. The second man had his weapon pointed at the man’s heart. The other soldiers had their rifles trained on Hakim Faoud al-Harib.
The older man’s hand moved slightly.
“Please go for your gun, Samir. I would love to wound you badly enough that you live in horrible agony for the rest of your life!” Gibbs growled.
Operation King Cobra, D-day + 7 hours
GATORFORCE Command Post
Andrew Baxter stood looking through his binoculars at the fiercely burning rubble that was once the Iraqi Battalion Defensive Position. Nothing within stirred. Flying over the ruins, a lone AC-130, ‘Elvin Fury’, scanned for enemy movement.
“Colonel!” It was Sergeant Dewert, “Dust Devil One and Rover Leader report the Fedayeen are trying to mount a counter attack!”
“With what?” snapped Baxter.
Staff Sergeant Fuller says they’ve got an Assad Babil T-72, a couple of OT-64s and some URAL trucks along with a couple of Fedayeen pickup trucks.”
The acting MEU commander grinned wolfishly. The Staff Sergeant and Lieutenant Borden had their platoon positioned all around the perimeter of the burning rubble. “Tell Rover and Slugger leaders to take them out!”
“Aye sir!” Dewert replied then spoke into his radio. “Rover Leader, Slugger Leader; take out the tangos!”
*~*
If there had been twenty more of them, they might have presented a threat to GATORFORCE. But the lone T-72M1 was more of an anomaly on this battlefield than anything else. Hank Borden, Slugger Leader, watched the Soviet built tank as it trundled toward them, seemingly oblivious to the hull down M-1 tanks.
“Tango identified! He’s not moving very fast Lieutenant!” reported his gunner.
“Uh huh,” replied Borden studying the Assad Babil. “He’s hurting, Gunner. Let’s try to take him intact. Fire!”
“On the way!” Slugger Four’s 120mm cannon cracked once, sending an armor piercing round directly into tank’s lower right front.
The Iraqi tank shuddered as the round dug into the unprotected right hand side drive sprocket, obliterating it and sending its right hand tracks slithering forward, piling up in front of the vehicle.
The heavily armored behemoth swerved to the right, with the entire vehicle tilting the same direction. The beast’s 125mm cannon pointed uselessly into the air, away from Slugger Four.
“Mobility kill! Right on the money, Gunner! Coax on Tango! Loader! M Two Forty on Tango! Let’s make it hot for them!!”
Try as they might, the inexperienced crew couldn’t depress their main gun low enough to engage Slugger Four. If this had been a TR-77 like they had trained on, they might have had a chance, but with .50 caliber and 7.62 rounds bouncing off their wounded machine, they panicked and tore open the hatches and thrust a dirty white undershirt into the air indicating that they were done fighting.
*~*
Staff Sergeant Fuller watched as the first OT-64, machine guns blazing, roared toward him, filling his vision.
“Gunner!” Fuller barked “Armor Piercing! PC! Point blank!!”
“On the way!!”
25 millimeter rounds punched into the charging Czech-built personnel carrier holing it. Driverless, the smoking OT-64 veered toward a slight drop off and overturned, spilling flaming wreckage out of it.
To his left, Sergeant Kyle Sewett in Rover Three was not as lucky as he had to dive into his hatch to avoid the hailstorm of machine gun fire that pelted his LAV.
The surviving OT-64, sensing it might have a kill, lunged toward the stricken LAV-25. It never saw the TOW missile from Lieutenant Dye’s LAV-AT or 83mm SMAW rockets headed toward it.
The hapless OT-64 disappeared in an explosive convulsion of flame and debris.
Kyle pulled himself back up into the hatch opening to see who their savior had been. The Sergeant saw Lieutenant Dye in the LAV-AT giving him a thumbs-up along with Corporal Holmgren from Lieutenant Rowe’s squad. Behind Holmgren was Seadragon A021 moving up with Gunny Sanchez and the rest of the squad.
*~*
Dewert gave Andrew Baxter an update on the Fedayeen assault. “We’ve knocked out their armored support, Colonel! But they still have their technicals and their armed transport trucks!”
Andrew Baxter shook his head at the irony of it. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least if these were the same insurgents who had ambushed the 36th as it had entered Mirbullah back in March. Samir’s men. And Lieutenant Hawkins unit was the closest one that could respond. Now that really was ironic.
“Let Lieutenant Hawkins and Alpha Company take care of them, Sergeant.” Andrew Baxter replied. He was sure that Hawkins and his men would relish this chance to even the score.
Sergeant Dewert knew they would. “Aye, aye, sir!”
Operation King Cobra, D-day + 8 hours
36th MEU Battalion Aid Station
Harm woke up to everything being olive drab and dusty but strangely quieter than his doomed Tomcat had been.
Then his eyes locked on her. She was still dressed in her Force Recon outfit but she was as lovely a vision as he had ever seen.
“Mac? What’s going on?” Harm tried to stand and found sharp pains wracking his wrapped arm and leg.
Mac put her pretty hand on Harm’s chest and pushed on him gently, urging him to lay back down. She didn’t need to insist too much as Harm eased himself back down on the padded cot. “Easy Flyboy, you’re still not in any shape to get up and walk around, you’ve got a busted arm and a pretty banged up leg.”
The groggy aviator/lawyer looked around. “Where am I?”
“Battalion Aid Station,” she explained, “they’ve been debating about sending you to Mirbullah and then shipping you out to a hospital ship.”
Harm pushed against her hands. “Mac, you can’t let them do that…”
She stood firm, keeping her hands on his chest. “Why not Harm? You’re not exactly mobile at the moment--”
Harm struggled against her. “I’ll be the judge of that--”
Mac fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Harm, don’t be such a hardheaded idiot…” Commander ‘Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead’ was back.
“Ah, Commander Rabb, Colonel MacKenzie….”
They both turned and looked at the Romanian officer entering the room. Mac stepped away from Harm. “I’m sorry, Kapitan…?”
“It’s Colonel Eliasu, Colonel.” The Romanian officer replied correcting her politely. Then he turned his attention to Harmon Rabb, Junior. “Commander, I bring best wishes from her Excellency, Queen Alexandra.”
Harm started at the name. Mac fought hard to suppress a smile. The aviator/lawyer looked uncomfortably at the Romanian officer. “Uh, well…tell her Excellency thank you--”
But the Romanian Colonel wasn’t done. “The Queen has also put our medical unit at the service of this Marine Battalion Aid Station. The Queen wishes to see that you and the Marines of the 36th MEU get the best medical care available.”
“Ah okay,” Harm answered cautiously looking in askance at Mac.
“And she asked me to relay a personal message of wishes for a speedy recovery and she expressed hope that your injuries were not too um, debilitating.” His eyes glanced downward toward the Commander’s nether regions. Harm’s eyes immediately went wide at what he was implying. Mac nearly burst out in laughter.
“Ah no, no! Really, I’m, uh, fine, uh yeah, just fine, down there…”
The Romanian Colonel beamed. “Excellent, excellent. Your Colonel Baxter has agreed that our surgeon should take a look at your arm and leg.”
Harm was feeling trapped by Queen Alexi’s humanitarian offer. “Ah, that won’t be--”
But there was to be no escape for the Navy JAG Corps attorney. “The Queen insists, Commander. I’ll be back in a little while with your surgeon.” He turned to Mac and nodded. “Colonel,” and with that, he left the room.
The aviator/lawyer couldn’t believe what was happening. When Harm looked back at Mac, she was looking at him with a cocked quizzical eyebrow.
“Maac;” Harm groaned, “I swear, I knew nothing about this…”
Mac decided to have a little fun at his expense. After all she had been through this morning, she couldn’t help doing something impish. “Uh huh; I see I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, Squid.” She tried her best to sound miffed.
She succeeded. “Maac,” Harm moaned. It was bad enough he was trapped in this aid station with this Romanian officer courtesy of Queen Alexi [Alexandra]. He didn’t want her thinking what she was thinking. Not now.
Mac couldn’t keep up the act. She truly felt empathy about his sticky situation; she had been in plenty of them herself. She smiled saucily at him and gave the Commander a wink. “You’d better watch it Commander,” she said teasingly, “your nose might begin to grow….”
---To be Continued…
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