| Subject: ...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 25b |
Author:
TxJAG_b
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 14:29:08 07/25/08 Fri
In reply to:
TxJAG_b
's message, "...For Meritorious Service" on 09:04:26 05/08/07 Tue
…For Meritorious Service, Chapter 25b
A/N3: Thanks to my friend and beta Karen who is my sounding board and Mary Ann who gives me the fan readers's POV. Kudoes to JAG writers AeroGirl, Mkim, Soleil, TZ, Janlaw for providing their help and technical expertise. Also thanks to Lisa Griffon [Yahoo Shipper Group] for her continuing support.
JAG Headquarters
“Take her to my office!” AJ ordered as Marla Givers and Jennifer Coates gently assisted the pregnant Lieutenant.
“Tiner!”
“I’m calling the Corpsman now, Admiral,” he reported as he punched in numbers on a nearby desk phone.
Harriet gave Jennifer an annoyed look as she and Marla tried to steer her towards the Admiral’s office.
“I said, *I’m fine*” Harriet repeated with irritated emphasis.
Jen and Marla looked back at the Admiral.
“Coates…” AJ’s exasperated tone meant he would not brook any argument over his decision.
“Aye sir,” Jen responded automatically and adjusted her hold on a still woozy Harriet Sims. “Come on ma’am, let’s just go sit down for a moment….”
Harriet tried to pull away from her. “Coates, I didn’t faint…I just got a little light-headed, that’s all….”
Harriet’s confused explanation was met by raised eyebrows of the two women helping her.
“If you say so, ma’am,” Marla replied stoically.
“Let’s go sit down on Admiral’s couch for a moment,” Jen added “You know, humor him.”
That line of logic seemed to make sense to Harriet. “All right,”
As the two enlisted women managed to get Bud Roberts’ wife to the Admiral’s sofa, Harriet stumbled, almost falling onto it.
“I think I will sit down for a moment,” she said in a worried voice as she sank toward the leather cushion.
“Easy does it ma’am,” Marla said as she lowered the pregnant woman to the couch with Jennifer’s help.
“Do…you…hear that… roarin…..?” asked Harriet as she slumped down.
Jen’s eyes widened in fear. “Admiral!”
AJ rushed in to see the two women struggling to lower Harriet onto the sofa, obviously unconscious. Both women were doing their best to make sure the descent wasn’t too fast.
The JAG bent down over Harriet’s unconscious form. “C’mon
Lieutenant,” he said quietly as he listened for a heartbeat. It was strong and regular. That was good. “Snap out of this…”
Jason stuck his head in “Admiral? The Corpsman is here,” He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but couldn’t. All he could do was stare at the unconscious Lieutenant. The Corpsman shouldered his way past him and moved toward AJ and Harriet. Marla and Jennifer backed out of the way.
“Got here as soon as I could, sir,” The young Corpsman said apologetically, setting down his bag. “Has she been unconscious long?”
The JAG shook his head as he stood up and watched Harriet for signs of consciousness. “No, she just fainted.”
“Did she hit anything on the way down?”
AJ searched his mind and tried to replay what had just taken place. Had she hit her head? “No,”
He said firmly. “When she fainted she was sitting on this couch.”
“All right.” He turned his attention to the unconscious
woman. “Lieutenant Sims? This is Petty Officer Valez. Can you hear me?” He reached into his medical kit and pulled out a plastic encased ampoule. He looked at the Admiral. “Let’s get her feet elevated, too.”
As the JAG elevated Harriet’s feet, Valez gave the capsule a swift snap, passing it under her nose. Harriet gagged and coughed in response. That was good news; if the smelling salts hadn’t worked, then it might be more than a simple fainting.
The Corpsman continued examining the pregnant Inspector General’s liaison. “Admiral, do you know whether or not she has been keeping herself properly hydrated and sticking to the diet her doctor gave to her?”
A scowl flitted through the JAG’s features. How the hell was supposed to keep track of something like that? He had a command to run. “It’s been a rough couple of days, Corpsman.”
Valez immediately regretted asking the JAG that kind of question. “I understand sir, it’s probably better if I asked the Lieutenant myself--”
As the words left the Corpsman’s mouth, Harriet groaned and started to move around.
“It’ll be all right Lieutenant,” The JAG said soothingly as the Corpsman placed sticky patches on her wrist and exposed belly and attached them to a machine he had pulled out of his bag. In the doorway, Tiner, Jen and Marla stood silently watching.
The Corpsman scanned the readout on his monitor. “Nothing unusual on my monitor, but my wife who was pregnant last year did the same thing. Her blood sugar bottomed out, that’s why she crashed, sir. I need to get her to a hospital where they can run more tests on her and her child….”
AJ looked up “Tiner--”
“Ambulance is on its way, Admiral. It should be here any minute now.” Jason reported quickly.
Harriet’s eyes fluttered open. A puzzled look filled her pretty features. “Admiral? Whu--”
“It’s all right ma’am.” Replied the Corpsman with a reassuring smile. “I’m Petty Officer Valez. Do you remember what happened?”
Harriet nodded weakly. “I saw Bud on the television screen--” She said as a way of explaining what had happened.
The Corpsman looked to the JAG to fill in the blanks.
“She saw her husband on television just now. He’s apparently one of the survivors of the insurgent’s rocket attack against a Marine camp in Iraq.”
*~*
Clayton Webb tried not to sound alarmed. Dammit! His emotional attachment to Sarah was getting in the way. He wished he’d never asked her to go to the Chaco Boreal with him….
“Sergeant? What can you tell me about the rocket attack?”
The voice on the other end of the line was puzzled. “How’d you learn about this so quickly, sir?”
The ‘sir’ Reyes was referring to was Clayton’s persona during his brief, but unsuccessful sojourn with the MEU – as Lieutenant Wilksbury. “I’m working intelligence at Quantico,” Webb lied. “How bad is it there?”
“It’s pretty much a mess here right now, sir,” Reyes reported.
That didn’t sound encouraging. Webb swallowed nervously. If any JAG Corps officers were among the dead or wounded, he was sure a certain Admiral would be paying him a visit.
“How many dead?” He ventured.
For a moment there was dead air, heightening Clayton’s nervousness.
Then at last Reyes responded.
“Well, none so far, sir…we may have gotten lucky….”
Clayton Webb visibly relaxed as Harrison Kershaw listened to the conversation from his phone. “How so?”
“Ordnance Disposal says it was a partial dud. If it hadn’t been, more than just the DFAC would have been taken out….”
*~*
Harm and Nicole had had a quiet patrol. They were about to head back to the carrier when Harm’s radio came alive with a terse call.
“Eagle 21 this is Liberty Bell…”
“Go ahead Liberty Bell, this is Eagle 21…”
“ZNN reports Camp Chesty Puller was just hit by an insurgent rocket attack….”
Harm tried not to think about his friends who might be dead or dying back at the Marine encampment. He quickly looked down at his fuel gauge. “We’ll be bingo fuel before we can get there, Liberty Bell, are you sending a tanker?”
“Negative 21; you and Supergirl are to return to the ship
immediately. Eagles 23 and 24 will go on station over Mirbullah, Eagles 25 and 26 will take over your patrol. Liberty Bell out.”
*~*
“Can Officer David’s information be trusted, Jenny?” Tom Morrow stood in front of the larger than life picture of Special Agent Jen Shepard. The Israeli operative, Ziva David, had just confirmed for her it was Sahood’s unit that had fired that rocket.
Shepard’s grainy image nodded. “Her sources are very close to Sahood.”
“How close? Have they infiltrated the unit?” That would be the best break they’ve had so far in this case.
“Not yet, but they’re in proximity.” She hedged.
‘In proximity’ another word for close. That seemed to be the operative word here. Everyone seemed to be ‘close’ to infiltrating Sahood’s unit. NCIS, DIA, SEALs, even the CIA. Close though in this case, was as good as a miss.
“We need someone inside that unit, Jen. Today we got lucky. Next time, we might not be.”
“I understand, sir. Officer David and I will do our best.”
*~*
Ashton Briggs surveyed the damage. The anger he felt melted away his indecision. How dare these lowlifes fire a rocket into his camp! The lead EOD officer told him it was a partial dud. That was fortunate. According to the latest casualty figures there were 20 injured; five seriously. The toll would have included dead if the
rocket had gone off the way it was supposed to….
Instead, he was looking at the burned out shell of his DFAC. The Officer’s Galley was a total loss and the Enlisted Mess was severely damaged. Boy, some luck.
But worse than any of that, his camp security had been breached. And the bad guys had gotten close enough to pop a rocket. What the hell had happened to his sentries?
Colonel Briggs kicked furiously at some nearby rubble. Walking toward him, Major Barnett and Captain Johnson watched him and flinched at his action.
“That tears it!” snapped Briggs. He gave his ever present aide a snarling scowl. “Get Livingston here, pronto!”
“Aye sir!” The Sergeant took off hurriedly in the direction of Livingston’s command post.
“I’ve had it with playing namby pamby with these dirt bags!” He turned to the assembled NCIS Agents and JAG Corps officers. “And thanks to your screwing around, I’ve got a unit walking on eggshells instead of doing their business!”
He cast a baleful eye at the MEU and MEF SJAs. “And the two of you are supposed to be helping me, not hindering me.”
Barnett and Johnson looked at each other. What could they say in their defense? Nothing. “Aye sir.” They replied in unison.
Tony thought about speaking up, but decided now was not the time to tell him that his traitors had probably arranged this little show of force. He probably already knew that.
As quickly as he had left, the aide returned with Lieutenant Colonel Livingston in tow.
“Colonel--” she began soothingly.
He cut her short. “Colonel, I don’t care how you do it, but you find the dirt bags that did this. I want them trussed up like Christmas turkeys and on my porch by noon tomorrow.”
“But, but C-Colonel,” she stammered obviously flustered by his orders, “it might take a little longer than--”
Briggs’ eyes glinted dangerously. He was in no mood to discuss options. “Noon tomorrow, Colonel Livingston! *I desire* results by *noon tomorrow*, do you read me? Or would you rather I get someone else to do the job?”
Darcy looked as if she were going to melt. ‘I desire’ was a senior officer’s ‘polite’ way of saying ‘I’m ordering you’ “N- No, no sir, not at all,”
Ashton Briggs’ voice was cold and showed no sign of the confusion that had been plaguing him of late. If anything he was more alert than ever.
“Then get it done, Colonel; I don’t care how, just get it done!”
The head of Force Recon snapped to attention. “Aye sir! Noon tomorrow, sir!” She executed a perfect about face and strode away.
“Baxter!” Briggs snapped.
The 36th MEU XO who had been conversing with one of the SeeBees about the feasibility of salvaging any part of the dining facility hustled over. “Yes sir?”
“Find out who those sentries were that were supposed to be on that hill and relieve them of their duty!” He turned to the SJAGs. “And you two go with him; make yourselves useful. Place those sentries under arrest!”
Grateful that Briggs hadn’t asked them to recite what UCMJ offense the sentries would [or could] be charged with, the two SJAGs merely snapped off salutes and replied, “Aye, aye, Colonel,” and then hustled off to catch up with the XO.
Briggs then turned his steely glare on the remaining assembled JAG Corps Officers and NCIS Agent. “Now that were all alone, we can have a frank little chat….”
Tony had been with Gibbs long enough to know not to be intimidated by officers’ threats. “Colonel, you can’t interfere with our investigation; we’ll be as obtrusive and annoying as we need to, to dig out who’s responsible.”
Briggs gave him an understanding nod. “Believe me, Special Agent, I know that. I know your boss, remember?”
This time it was Sturgis who spoke up. “Then what do you want, Colonel?”
“There’s a traitor in this unit, right?” It seemed the MEU CO was hinting at something.
The assembled JAG attorneys and NCIS agent looked at each other and then back at the Marine CO. “Yes sir, we believe there is.” Faith replied for the group.
Briggs folded his arms as if challenging them. “All right then; dig them out. Find this bastard or bastards before they do anymore damage. We’re being pinpricked to death by the enemy, thanks to these lowlifes and I want this scum out of my unit!”
“We have your word you won’t interfere with either of our
investigations again, Colonel?” Tony wasn’t sure this wasn’t some kind of trick. Briggs could see what the NCIS agent wanted. “You have my word. And see if you can teach those two worthless SJA’s I’ve been saddled with some of your tricks. Speaking of tricks, where’s Rabb?”
“He was recalled to duty on board Patrick Henry, Colonel,” Sturgis replied.
“Fine time for him to go joyriding as a sky jockey…” muttered the Colonel, more to himself than to the group.
“Where’s that partner of his, MacKenzie?”
“She transferred to Colonel Livingston’s unit as a legal liaison, sir,” Bud replied trying his best to sound angry about it.
The group could actually see the MEU CO’s blood pressure
rising. “What?! Livingston never mentioned that!”
“We thought you knew, sir….” Bud added with genuine surprise in his voice.
“The Colonel doesn’t tell me everything, Lieutenant.” He looked sternly at the assembled group. “Okay, you have your orders, now get to it!”
The JAGs, including Commander Coleman, returned the Colonel’s salute. Tony just stood there.
Once Briggs was out of earshot, Tony did a near perfect imitation of the man. “ ‘You have your orders, now get to it!’ … is he putting us on?”
“I don’t think so, Special Agent,” Sturgis replied, “I think this attack was the proverbial last straw….”
1620 Local
Multinational Division - Central
Polish 12th Mechanized Division, Camp India
Near al-Diwaniyah, Iraq
36th MEU Executive Officer (XO) Andrew Baxter had had a busy afternoon. After turning over the two surprised PFCs to Barnett and Johnson, he decided that if a counterattack was in the offing, it might be a good multi-national overture to let the Polish peacekeepers know since they were the closest unit to Mirbullah.
The biggest surprise of the afternoon, though, had been the help he had received from those two Republican Guard tank crewmen. Truthfully, the Colonel had never suspected that those two would have ties to the local Iman.
After talking a few minutes with Rafid and Kahlil, Ayatollah al Barani had welcomed Lieutenant Colonel Baxter with open arms. Baxter, knowing a little something about Shiite customs, had not hurt the situation any.
By the time he left the local Mosque, the Ayatollah had given Baxter assurances that a Fatwa would be issued against Sahood and his al-Qaeda cell. It seemed that Sahood had not been a good Muslim and al Barani did not care for anyone who associated with bin Laden or that
renegade Sadik Fahd.
Now he was about to tell Colonel Baranova, head of the Polish peacekeeping unit, what the 36th intended to do about ‘the insurgent problem’.
Baxter saluted when he came up to the Polish commander’s
desk. “Colonel Baranova,”
Luisa put down her pen and stood up, returning his salute along with a warm smile. “Colonel Baxter, is it, yes?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“What can I do for you, the American Marines, I mean….”
Baxter pretended not to notice her slip or the fact that her face had colored slightly.
“You probably heard about the rocket attack on our camp--”
Colonel Baranova began nodding sagely. “Ah yes, your ZNN is very good at, how you say it? ‘Spreading the good news’….”
Baxter cleared his throat, eager to change the subject. “Yes they are. Colonel, most likely within the next twelve hours we’re going to be launching a counterattack against the ones who did this….”
Luisa Baranova nodded her head. Despite having her sunny red hair in a bun and wearing a standard Polish Army military battle uniform, this woman was very attractive. It was getting harder for Andrew Baxter to keep his mind on his original reason for coming here in the first place.
“That makes sense Colonel. Your Commanding Officer’s unit has a right to defend itself. I don’t think anyone who is a part of the multinational force would deny that.”
“Y- Yes, I mean, thank you, we appreciate your understanding.”
Luisa smiled slightly at his verbal stumble. With his rugged good looks, Andrew Baxter made a model Marine. At first she wasn’t going to say anything to Americans about her ‘surprise package’ but maybe they would appreciate a little local ‘backup’ for their operation.
“Don’t mention it; however, we are not under the illusion that former regime elements from Saddam’s shattered armies won’t try and turn this into a, how you say, set piece battle.”
Baxter turned serious. “Meaning?” Was the Polish contingent worried about the paroxysm of violence spilling over into their area?
Luisa smiled again. These Americans, they were so jumpy right now….
“Meaning that it would be a good idea for us to prepare for this kind of conflict. Fortunately my Commander and the commander of the other contingents in this region understand the gravity as well as the delicacy of this situation. It also just so happens that my government ‘felt’ it was important that my contingent have viable offensive and defensive capability—in light of the recent unrest.”
She handed him a requisition stamped a week ago.
As Baxter scanned the listing, a sly smile came to his face. “You mean you tricked them into sending you what you wanted.”
Baranova gave him look of wounded dignity “I’m insulted Colonel Baxter! After all, when I asked for wheeled personnel carriers for my troops, is it my fault they send ones armed with anti- tank missiles? The tanks they sent me are three obsolescent Polish-built mine clearing tanks….”
Baxter’s eyes raised at that last comment. “Obsolescent? Colonel, since when are PT-91 main battle tanks outdated?”
Luisa took back the piece of paper and gave Andrew Baxter a phony shocked look as she held her hand over her mouth
“Oops! As you Americans say; ‘my mistake.’ That was a typographical error on the request. That was supposed to be T-55 tanks. I really must talk to my clerks about their spelling and grammar….”
Her smirk indicated she had gotten exactly what she had wanted.
Or so she thought. Their meeting was interrupted by a sharp knock. Luisa motioned for Baxter to sit back down when he tried to get up to excuse himself.
The Polish Colonel gave her guest a brief smile, “Sorry for the interruption,” Then she turned her attention to the door, “Yes?”
The door cracked open and the man who peeked in surveyed the situation. “Colonel? I hate to bother you, but Sergeant Runaski is here to see you, ma’am. He says it is urgent.”
She looked back at Baxter. “My supply Sergeant,” she explained, “…probably has some forms for me to sign, this will only take a moment….”
Luisa turned back to her aide, “Send him in,”
“Yes ma’am,” the door opened wider to reveal Sergeant Runaski, a short barrel-chested soldier with graying hair who strode into her office.
Baxter noticed that Colonel Baranova’s demeanor changed when the Sergeant walked in. “Yes Sergeant?” She said brusquely.
Runaski looked like someone you wouldn’t want to pick a fight with, but his bearing changed as soon as his Colonel addressed him. These two had obviously tangled before. “My apologies, Colonel, this was just sent back from Army Command. Your request for the missile
mounted APCs was denied.”
“Denied?! Those--!” Then she caught sight of the two men watching her. Baxter had suspected she had a fiery temper and obviously Runaski had been on the receiving end of her displeasure once before.
She chuckled and shook her head. “Ah, well, Command has its priorities and concerns….”
That was probably said for Andrew Baxter’s benefit. If he had not been there, Runaski might have experienced more of her CO’s mercurial disposition. She gave the supply Sergeant a sharp look. “That will be all, Sergeant, thank you,” she replied coldly.
“Yes ma’am.” The Sergeant did not want to stay around to hear anymore. Colonel Baranova was well known for getting what she wanted.
As soon as the door shut, she gave Baxter another smile. This one had a hint of anger in it. “They have their priorities and concerns, and I have mine.” She stood, prompting the Marine XO to stand as well. “Colonel, would you be interested in seeing some joint maneuvers with a local provisional Iraqi army unit?”
Before Baxter could respond, she continued pressing her case.
“We’ve been training them for the past few weeks. My predecessor made quite an impression upon their commander and I think he would be most willing to help us with our, um, priorities.” She gave him a wink.
Andrew Baxter wasn’t sure whether the wink was meant for him or for the subterfuge she was about to undertake. If he excused himself, it would look bad. Americans blowing off their allies at a crucial time. If he stayed, it might be worse. The devil and the deep.
Baxter forced a smile. Walking a political tightrope was not his best subject. He cleared his throat again. “Sure Colonel, lead the way…”
JAG Headquarters
Jason had spent the morning showing Jennifer the pass codes for all the servers, his indexing file for all the reports in the file room and his daily procedures. The junior Petty Officer followed his every word, jotting notes down on a small pad of paper she carried
with her.
“Now this is the username and password for the Admiral’s server.”
“Got it.”
“R-Right; anyway….”
Her proximity to Jason made it hard for him at times to properly explain what she needed to know. When this happened, she would laugh it off, trying to make him feel more at ease. Her witty comments helped lessen the tension some, but there was no doubt in Jason’s mind; he wanted to get to know Jennifer Coates outside of
the office.
(Wow, she looks really good in her uniform today….)
He had heard the scuttlebutt about her. Small time hood joins the Navy, continues her larcenous ways until she’s arrested in a Santa suit and turned over to Commander Rabb during the holidays. Whatever happened over that Christmas break in 2001 and at her subsequent NJP [nonjudicial punishment proceeding], had changed Coates’ outlook on life. Jason had, later on that spring, seen her
name when she became legalman aboard USS SeaHawk. He figured he probably wouldn’t get the chance to talk to her again, but at least he knew where she was…he just didn’t know if he could, or should, contact her. Not to mention would she even be interested in him.
(Uh oh, she’s frowning, why is she frowning? Did I say something wrong?)
Then the Colonel got her transferred here to JAG Corps Headquarters Christmas 2002 after Lieutenant Roberts’ injury. He didn’t know the details of how it had happened, but that wasn’t really important.
What was important was the fact that he got a second chance with her.
(Way to go Jason! If Gunny were here, he’d be laughing his socks off at your gaffe….)
Still, until Commander Rabb and the others were sent to Mirbullah, not much had really happened between them. An occasional lunch, helping her with some office protocol or troublesome program on her computer [which she always thanked him for], or some other chance meeting was about all that had happened.
(She’s smiling again, she has such a pretty smile….)
Any romantic sparks seemed to drown in the routine of day-to-day work. Then as soon as things began erupting in Iraq, their friendship seemed to shift. Now she seemed more interested in what he had to say, laughed at his jokes, stopped for longer periods at the coffee machine or water cooler when he walked by. Or was it just his imagination? Then they had nearly been killed during the
attack on Headquarters; sure, he’d saved her, but he would have done that anyway. He didn’t do it just because it was her. In some ways he wished Gunny hadn’t gone to Iraq; he could sure use his advice right now.
*~*
Jennifer was beginning to think Jason didn’t really find her attractive. Sure, he had warmed up to her after the Commander and Colonel were sent to Iraq, but he still held back. It wasn’t protocol that was in the way. She had double and triple-checked on that. She could see that his interest was piqued from time to time, but then, for whatever reason, he pulled back. She thought about
throwing tradition out the window and asking him out, but in many ways, Jennifer Coates was an old-fashioned girl who liked to be asked out, doors held for her, the stuff that most forthright women would cringe about. Maybe it came from having, or more truthfully, not having, a father-figure in her life. There was nothing nurturing about Reverend Coates; as soon as Jen got into trouble,
he’d disowned her, left her to the streets.
(C’mon Jen, keep smiling at him, he likes that….)
After all the fun that Tiny and the others had gotten her into in Maryland, she practically written off men, even though she was tempted by Lieutenant Roberts’ boyishness. He had those old-fashioned values that she sought – just like the Commander….
(Red light Petty Officer, RED LIGHT! New thought, new thought….)
Okay, so what was wrong with Jason? Maybe he was still interested in Marla. No, that couldn’t be it …Jason didn’t visit her once while we were in the hospital….
(But he did visit you several times…he’s staring at you again. Give him another smile….)
As the two Petty Officers continued to wrestle with their private thoughts, no one noticed the IGO’s Liaison quietly enter the bullpen.
Marla was the first to notice Harriet Sims. “Lieutenant! Ma’am? How did you--”
Everyone in the Bullpen stopped what they were doing at the sound of Marla’s excited voice.
Harriet looked slightly embarrassed as everyone in the area seemed to descend upon her. “The doctor said I was fine, Sergeant.”
Jason turned from the file cabinet to see Lieutenant Roberts’ wife. “Lieutenant--!”
At the same time, Jennifer looked up, and her eyes
brightened. “Ma’am!”
Both got up and moved toward the crowd that had assembled around Marla and Harriet.
Jason acted as the informal spokesman for the staff. “Are you all right, Lieutenant? What did the doctor say?”
“The doctor said the baby and I were fine, but he did admonish me for not eating enough at breakfast this morning,” That added comment brought gentle chuckles from the assembled group. Harriet looked around cautiously. “Where’s the Admiral?”
“He was called to the Hill, ma’am, not expected back until this afternoon,” Jennifer explained as she hugged Harriet. “It’s good to have you back so soon.”
“And it’s good to be back,” the IGO Liaison replied. Then she turned serious. “Have they said anything more about the rocket attack?”
Provisional Iraqi Armed Forces Headquarters
Co. C, 304th Battalion, Iraqi National Task Force (INTF)
BDE South—Iraqi Civil Defense Corps (ICDC)
Al-Talill Air Base, Iraq
Colonel Baxter shook hands with the tall stout man dressed in an Iraqi Army Captain’s uniform that stood in front of him.
“Captain Azeri, this is Colonel Andrew Baxter, 36th Marine
Expeditionary Unit, United States Marine Corps,” Luisa Baranova said by way of introduction to the Iraqi officer.
Azeri nodded. “I heard about the attack, Colonel, were many in your unit hurt?”
“Twenty-five injured; luckily none were killed.”
The Iraqi Captain’s look of intense concern lessened for an instant. “Praise Allah for your good fortune, Colonel.” Then his expression grew more sorrowful. “These bandits are wrecking my country….”
Baxter gave him somewhat incredulous look. Was the Captain really blaming bandits for this unrest? “Bandits aren’t usually armed with Katushya rockets, Captain.”
Azeri gave him a knowing look. “They are in my country, Colonel. Especially taking into consideration the security situation right now.”
“Point taken Captain,” Baxter said wryly, shaking his head. “But we are doing our best to try and help remedy that….”
Azeri nodded again. “Ah yes, your humanitarian operations. They have had a great effect on the local populace. Still, it does nothing to quell the bandits, they have their own plans for this country.”
Andrew Baxter wasn’t sure whether or not the Captain was telling the truth or merely being sarcastic. However, before he could say anything in response the Captain continued his thought.
“No Colonel, they only understand one thing – brute force. Fortunately, we have something that might help with that….”
He led them to a fenced in parking lot. There sitting in the early evening Iraqi sun were a dozen Iraqi Army OT-64 personnel carriers armed with missiles. Most still sported their Republican Guard markings. A few had been repainted and now had the insignia of the provisional Army.
The MEU XO couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Captain, I thought you were supposed to turn these over to the local US Army units in the area….”
Azeri gave the two foreign officers a brief chuckle. “We
were ‘given’ these vehicles by the Provisional Government, Colonel, with the stipulation that they only be used to quell insurgent unrest and banditry….”
Baxter turned to Luisa. He could see the wheels turning in the Polish CO’s head. He knew what she was going to ask.
Baranova put on her best ‘damsel in distress’ aire. She could have just brusquely ordered the Captain to turn over the vehicles she needed, but Baxter could tell she preferred to do things with finesse, and flattering the Captain would not hurt either. “Captain, as a sign of cooperation between our two countries, would you loan me six of your APCs? Our shipment was delayed by bureaucratic red tape, surely you understand.”
Captain Azeri smirked. He knew what she was doing, but he didn’t mind playing along. “Of course. I don’t see why not, Colonel Baranova…as long as we can help you with your, uh, problem.”
The Polish CO winked at the MEU Executive Officer and then turned back to the Iraqi officer. “I believe that can be arranged, Captain.”
TBC on Tuesday...
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 