| Subject: ...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 25d, part one_conclusion |
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TxJAG_b
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Date Posted: 11:47:51 11/18/08 Tue
In reply to:
TxJAG_b
's message, "...For Meritorious Service" on 09:04:26 05/08/07 Tue
1359 Zulu/0859 Local
The Pentagon
Navy Annex
“Thank you, Lacey.” Edward Sheffield said as his secretary put the requested reports in his in-box. He never looked up from the memo he was composing.
The slight dark haired woman gave the SecNav a small smile as she turned and the left the room.
It was unusual for Edward Sheffield to be here this early, but since the attack on the Welles building in Falls Church, better known as JAG Corps Headquarters, the Secretary of the Navy had had his hands full and thus spent many long days and nights in his Pentagon office.
There were calls to field from the three major networks, as well as CNN, FOX, and ZNN, not to mention the Washington Post and the New York Times, USA Today and all the national magazines. And that was just the national press. The international press was also clamoring for information as well. Each answer to a query had to be carefully crafted to maximize support for the US cause and de-emphasize the negative impact the attack had on US fighting capability or the functionality of the Navy JAG Corps.
Lacey and her staff had done an excellent job with the monumental task of organizing and choreographing everything.
But now another situation was stirring that demanded the attention of the SecNav and his staff.
Admiral Chegwidden’s combined JAG/NCIS investigative team had found conclusive evidence that there were indeed traitors within the 36th MEU’s Force Recon detachment. It was these subversive elements that had been responsible for the 36th’s abortive attack into Mirbullah, a string of suicide attacks on the Marine unit, the attack on JAG Headquarters and now a rocket attack on the 36th MEU’s dining facility.
And if that wasn’t enough to try and deal with, the MEU CO Ashton Briggs was asking for permission to carry out a punitive mission against an insurgent stronghold northwest of their position.
With Operation Desert Scorpion and its attendant operations underway, it would be easy enough for the 36th to enter the fray. But the implications of sending in a unit already dogged by problems, and currently the focus of a criminal investigation, would give the media fits.
SecNav Sheffield readjusted his reading glasses as he read the situation report for the 36th MEU. It seemed though, like a logical request. After all, the 36th was the closest unit to the insurgent area.
The problem was a lack of solid intelligence regarding insurgent strength in that area.
Plus the worry about those missing chemical missiles.
Still, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake as his predecessor, sending in JAG attorneys to do the work of CIA Agents and Special Ops soldiers. No, Briggs would have to find someone else to do that intel work for him. The CIA was better suited to this kind of work.
Besides he had already approved Commander Brad May’s SEAL platoon being used to scout for the insurgent missile site and to keep an eye out for the suspected traitors. He wasn’t going to give any other assets to the CIA.
Speaking of which, he wondered if the CIA would try to wrest Commander Rabb away from Captain Ingles….
He chuckled at that thought. Not likely.
Ingles and the other carrier commanders in that region were running dangerously low on qualified pilots, thanks to that debilitating flu bug. He seriously doubted that Ingles would let Rabb go that easily.
DDI Kershaw and DCI Watts would probably fuss and fume about not having access to their agent-in-place, but having enough aircraft to support the current anti-insurgent operations took precedence in this case.
Things were coming to a head in Mirbullah and the SecDef would want to be briefed on what he knew. That meant another late night for Edward Sheffield, gathering reports to create an executive summary.
As he started to compile his papers, a thought occurred to him. He reached over and flipped on his intercom. “Um, Lacey, would you mind making another pot of coffee? It’s going to be another long day….”
The reply was immediate. “Yes, Mr. Secretary.” His secretary had anticipated he would be making this request and had already been filling the hard working coffee maker.
1710 Local /1410 Zulu
Camp Chesty Puller
Mirbullah, Iraq
“Are you sure you don’t want to exchange your drivers for some of my men, Colonel?”
(Damn) Mac quickly shook her head. “Thank you ma’am, but no, I’d like to keep Sergeant Williams, Corporal Burges and Corporal Willet.”
Darcy seemed to be distracted by something for moment, but then she shrugged her shoulders.
“Suit yourself, Colonel.”
(Whew, dodged that bullet…) Mac thought as they continued to walk toward the staging area.
As they approached, Master Gunnery Sergeant Galindez sang out.
“COLONEL ON DECK!!”
The platoon members dropped what they were doing and quickly assembled into formation.
Darcy turned once more to Mac. “Looks *like* they’re ready also, Colonel.” Mac heard the faint tone of condescension in Darcy’s words. She ignored it.
“Well, I’ll leave you and the Master Guns to get this expedition underway, MacKenzie. Remember, we’re counting on you.”
“Carry on, Master Guns.” Darcy walked away from the unit and back toward her waiting HMMWV.
Victor gave her a crisp salute. “Aye, aye ma’am! Platoon aten-hut!” Then he turned back to Mac and gave her a churlish look. “They are all *yours* Colonel.”
Mac looked out at the sea of faces. Which one of them would try to kill her and Gunny tonight?
She cleared her throat.
“I won’t waste your time with rah-rah speeches. We lost one of our own to these thugs and I know, like me, you are aching for revenge….”
The silence was palpable.
“We have a job to do, let’s do it. Let’s show them how Force Recon does things. Dismissed.”
There was only a moment’s hesitation. “OOO-RAH MA’AM!”
And with that, the Recon Marines headed for their trucks.
All except for Master Guns Galindez. He stood there grinning and shook his head. “Great speech, ma’am, ‘we have job to do, let’s do—"
Before he could finish Mac was in his face, nose to nose.
Mac’s brown eyes glinted fiercely. “Do you have a problem with me, Master Guns?” she snapped.
For the first time, the Master Gunnery Sergeant’s smirk disappeared. “I--”
“I SAID; DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME, MASTER GUNNERY SERGEANT?!”
“MA’AM! NO MA’AM!!” he barked back.
“THEN I SUGGEST YOU LAY OFF THE SMIRKS, THE LITTLE COMMENTS AND THE OTHER NONSENSE! CFB, MASTER GUNS?!”
“AYE, AYE MA’AM! CFB!!”
Everybody within earshot of the Colonel knew that CFB was code for ‘Clear as a Freakin’ Bell’.
Mac wasn’t through with her new senior Sergeant. “NOW GET TO YOUR TRUCK! YOU’RE WASTING MY TIME AND COLONEL BRIGGS’ TIME! TIME, MASTER GUNS, WE DON’T HAVE TO SPARE!!”
“AYE MA’AM!” If there was any hint of surliness left or anger with Mac and the way she had treated him, it didn’t show. Victor hustled over to his truck and began getting his men settled.
“GUNNY DALLAS!”
The unit Gunnery Sergeant quickly made his way over to her. “Yes ma’am!”
Mac modulated her voice because she didn’t have a bone to pick with the Gunnery Sergeant.
“Get everyone on board the trucks.”
The Gunnery Sergeant gave her a smile of approval. “Yes ma’am!”
Eager to avoid his CO’s wrath, Dallas began instructing the Staff Sergeants on the need for speed. In turn, the unit Staff Sergeants and Sergeants relayed to the others that they had squandered enough time.
Mac motioned for Kayce to follow her. “I want you to stay with me, Corporal.”
If Kayce had any reservations about this, she didn’t voice them. “Aye ma’am.”
Mac got into the cab of the venerable Dodge truck first, followed by Kayce. Once both women were settled in, Mac turned to Corporal Burges.
“Let’s get going, Corporal.”
Burges started up the truck. “Aye ma’am,”
The young Corporal put his pickup in gear and pretty soon, the three-vehicle rag-tag convoy was headed away from Camp Chesty Puller and toward FOB Metz. Their orders were to skirt Mirbullah and then cut across the fields until they were back on a northeasterly course.
*~*
Mac’s truck was in the lead, with Gunny Dallas taking the middle position and Master Guns Galindez securing their rear.
Victor was sitting in the bed of the truck, looking at the map he had of the area. He was glad to be back out in the field again. The assault on JAG Headquarters had reminded him why he’d rather be out here taking out the bad guys…because it gave them less of a chance to attack in the States. Somehow though, these terrorists managed to slip through, and Victor Galindez was eager to plug that gap. Not only for Anson Brewster’s sake, but also for the sake of all those killed and wounded at JAG Corps Headquarters.
“She chewed the Master Guns a new one, didn’t she?” someone said a low voice
There were some muffled chuckles along with a hushed warning that the ‘Master Guns might hear them’ above the noise being made by the Dodge truck.
Victor ignored them for now. He didn’t want to do anything that might alert a bad guy in the unit that he really wasn’t Hector. And since he really didn’t know or trust anyone in this unit other than the Colonel, it was best to shrug off any whispered talk. He kept looking at his map.
The real Cesar knew all about where those chemical missiles were hidden, but he didn’t and Hector sure wasn’t going to tell him.
Cesar was cooling his heels in Charleston. And he would be there for a long time to come.
Victor’s eyes scanned the topographic map. There were some low hills northeast of Mirbullah, they might be stashed there--
“Hey Master Guns, you glad to be back in the Sandbox?”
Victor looked up from his map. It was his team’s Staff Sergeant, Reynolds. He had a big greasy looking grin stretched across his face.
Victor mirrored the smile. “I missed it, yeah. Iraqistan’s like a second home to me.”
“What are you lookin’ at?” Reynolds, his recon clothes covered by the Bedouin outfit, looked like a pregnant whale, which perfectly fit his chubby face.
“Just trying to find the best angle of approach…” Victor said obliquely. If this man was a member of the bad guy’s team, he might reveal that now--especially since he had treated Victor like an old buddy of his.
Reynolds almost laughed. “Best angle, that’s a good one, man. We don’t have to worry about that, now do we?”
There was his answer. Victor continued, smiling conspiratorially. “No, but I gotta make it look good, right?”
“Sure Master Guns.”
Victor noted that Reynolds’ sarcastic reply meant he didn’t think that was worth doing, so he decided to treat him the way Cesar would.
He leaned over and spoke into Reynolds’s ear. “If I don’t ‘look like’ I’m figuring out our assault, it’ll look suspicious, you idiot. Draw attention to what we’re doing. And we don’t want that, comprende?”
Reynolds nodded quickly. “Understood Hec-, uh… Understood, Master Guns,” he said with a somewhat strained voice and sat back down. Victor gave him a ‘good natured’ pat on the leg.
“Good suggestion, Staff Sergeant,” Reynolds hadn’t made any suggestions, but it would cover their little discussion and was a face saving gesture for the Staff Sergeant. This was a good idea since Victor wasn’t in any position at the moment to stop Reynolds. But at least now the ‘Master Guns’ knew at least one of his team members was a bad guy.
Reynolds nodded again, still totally flustered by ‘Hector Bustamante’s’ tongue lashing. “Uh, Thanks, Master Guns.”
(Just how many more bandits are aboard this truck?) Victor wondered.
1820 Local/1520 Zulu
USS Patrick Henry
Persian Gulf
The evening mess had actually been very appetizing, but Harm had only picked at his meal and ended up eating just half of it. He was worried about Mac, despite her reassurances over the phone. Nicole had tried to distract him with idle conversation, and to the casual observer it looked like Hammer was actually paying attention to Supergirl.
But she knew better. She knew that in his mind he was right there with his Marine, going on that dangerous recon mission. She wished she could take his mind off that, but knew it was really impossible.
Nothing was going to keep Harm from worrying about that Marine light Colonel. Nicole was quickly learning that Harm had an uncanny ability to stay focused on those things that were most important to him—despite all the chaos and chatter that might be swirling around him.
Her efforts to distract him from his worries had cost her the last of the available apple cobbler. Her stomach had protested about that, grumbling its displeasure as they made their way out of the officer’s mess.
Harm obviously heard her stomach as he cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her. “Didn’t you get enough to eat?”
Another low grumble rippled through her stomach as if in reply to his query. “Didn’t feel like eating anymore,” she said quietly, trying to hide her embarrassment.
Harm grinned at her, “Sounds like your stomach disagrees.”
Nicole decided the best way to end this line of questioning was to throw the focus back on him. “I figured your stomach would be doing the same, you barely touched your dessert.”
Harm gave her a lopsided smile. “Got a lot on my mind right now,” he said absently.
Nicole watched as the smile melted away.
“Commander Rabb, Harm, do you have a moment?” Captain Natalia Seranovich was coming down the passageway carrying a sheaf of papers.
Harm winked at Nicole. “Lawyer stuff, do you mind?”
Nicole faked a yawn and glazed over eyes. “Not at all, counselor.”
Harm gave her wry look and shook his head as she made her way past the two attorneys. “Good evening, Commander, Captain.”
Seranovich aka ‘Lawboss’ gave her a puzzled look as she passed and then turned to Harm.
Harm shook his head. “It’s a long story, what’s on your mind, Captain?”
“Let’s get out of this passageway,” Lawboss pointed to an open doorway. Harm nodded his agreement.
Both entered the empty ready room and sat down at a table near the door. Natalia spread her papers across the tabletop.
“What have you got here, power of attorney changes for the whole wing?”
Lawboss shook her head, her dark auburn hair perfectly framing her face. “Wish it were that mundane, Commander. No, these are status sheets pointing to a need to alter our rules of engagement….”
Harm’s eyebrows went up. “Alter our Rules of Engagement? Why? Are we expecting Iran to try something?”
Natalia shook her head again. “No, but the counter insurgency operations in Iraq are heating up, and Patrick Henry’s squadrons may be called in to provide close air support. There’s also intel that points to the insurgents having portable surface to air missiles….”
*~*
Nicole lay on her rack, skimming a paperback sci-fi novel she had picked up at their last port of call.
“I could write better stuff than this,” she grumbled as she tossed the book to one side. Nicole could see someone sticking his head in the doorway.
“Supergirl? You busy?” It was Joseph Wayne, one of the pilots from the squadron.
“Nah, just killing time. What is it Rhino?” She motioned for the pilot to come in.
Wayne was never known for beating around the bush when something was on his mind. “What do you think about the ‘old man’?”
Nicole had started to reach for her novel, but the question stopped her movement.
“ ‘Old man’? You mean--”
“--The Commander.” He finished for her. “He’s got quite a fan club on this boat, doesn’t he?”
Nicole knew it wasn’t outright disrespect. Rhino was new to the Patrick Henry, he didn’t know about the Commander’s history or his reputation. All he knew was that some older dog, a Reservist to boot, had been picked to lead the squadron. Keeping that in mind, the young pilot’s question was a fair one.
“That ‘old man’ has two Distinguish Flying Cross awards, Rhino. One for saving the SeaHawk’s CAG during the Balkan Crisis back in ’95 and the second for saving SeaHawk from a dirty nuke missile just last spring.”
To Rhino, like most young pilots, that was ancient history. “So why was he picked to lead our squadron, Supergirl? You could have done the job, Undertaker said so several times.”
A couple of days ago, Nicole might have agreed with him and even been bent out of shape about not being picked to be squadron leader. After all, Rhino was right; Undertaker, their squadron leader, had named Nicole as his backup.
But life sometimes gives you a curveball and in this case, it turned out the Reservist they got happened to be one of the best leaders they could hope for. So Nicole didn’t mind playing second fiddle to Hammer.
“Look Rhino, I know this sounds weird coming from me, but the guy is better than any other replacement we could have hoped for. Trust me, on this; we could all learn a few things from him.”
Rhino wasn’t convinced. “I’ve heard about his exploits, Nicole, and sure he got you in some dogfights, but anyone can get lucky up there--”
As Executive Officer, Nicole knew she had to try to stem any doubts the other pilots might be having. She held up her hand to silence him.
“Rhino, you’d do well to listen to that ‘old man’. He might just save you from having to ride the nylon elevator someday.”
---TBC…
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