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Distant Valor

Page 20

by C. X. Moreau


  The older man looked Griffin in the eye and continued, “Let them second-guess you all they want to. As long as you’re satisfied you did the right thing, then your conscience is clean. Am I making any sense to you?”

  “I understand, Staff Sergeant. I know I did the right thing. I didn’t have any choice anyway. But sergeant’s stripes are hard to come by.”

  “So is a man’s self-respect. Maybe you ought to think about that. Or maybe you ought to think about what might have happened if you had stuck with the operations officer’s plan and led your squad down that hill and into an ambush. How would you feel then?” The staff sergeant’s face relaxed and he gave a slight laugh. “You know, now that I think about it, it wouldn’t have made any difference to battalion if you had. They would just haul your ass up there and question you as to why you didn’t stay on the hill in a good defensive position and let the enemy attack you.” As he completed the thought he laughed aloud and slapped Griffin on the shoulder. “Shit, Sergeant Griffin, there just wasn’t any way you were going to come out of this one without losing a few feathers.”

  Griffin attempted a smile and said, “A regular catch-twenty-two,” under his breath.

  “What’s that?” asked the staff sergeant.

  “Nothing,” he answered. “Just thinking out loud.”

  “Well, in your position that’s about the one thing I wouldn’t do out loud for the next few days. When you go back to your squad area you have a good heart-to-heart with your corporals and make it understood that all hands are to keep their mouths shut. God only knows what the first shirt will be asking them. But you can bet it isn’t anything you’ll want ’em to answer.” The staff sergeant paused for a moment, then asked, “Is there anybody in your squad who might not understand what’s going on? Anybody you can’t trust?”

  Griffin paused. He had wondered silently on the ride back about how Downs might react. They hadn’t spoken much in the last week, but he had noticed a subtle change in Downs. It wasn’t anything he could define, but it was there. He realized that he was feeling guilty for even thinking a member of his squad might choose to dump on him to the first sergeant. It was the most inviolable of all the unspoken rules of the Marine infantryman that no one ever gives up another Marine to the higher ranks for punishment. They might ostracize him, ridicule him, or even beat him, but justice was dealt out from within the squad or the platoon without interference from the company hierarchy.

  Before he could answer the staff sergeant asked, “Is Downs bothering you?”

  Griffin looked at the Staff Sergeant and said, “No. I thought of him. He’s been a real pain in the ass at times, but after the embassy bombing I think he changed. He sure as hell was quiet up on that hill.” Griffin paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m not sure what it is, Staff Sergeant. Downs is different, you know? But I can’t see him ratting on me to the first shirt or anybody else, anymore than I can see him not doing his duty. He’s just fucking different, and even he knows it.”

  The staff sergeant nodded and said, “He is that now. I’m damned if I can figure him. But you’re right, I can’t really see Downs answering anything the first sergeant asks with anything more than one of his smart-ass ’yes sirs.’” The staff sergeant chuckled, “God knows the first shirt can’t stand the sight of him anyway. If I were the first sergeant I would be damn sure I knew where Downs was at any given moment. Be just like Downs to frag his air wing ass on a dark night and have his coffee and eggs the next mornin’ like nothin’ ever happened.”

  Griffin smiled and said, “Doesn’t sound so bad to me right now.”

  “Well, just don’t go gettin’ any ideas in your head. This ain’t that big of a deal. Anyway, if there is more shootin’ in the next few days they’ll forget all about this up at battalion.”

  “You think they’ll attack us? Here? At the battalion?”

  The staff sergeant shrugged. “Who knows? These people are funny as hell. One minute they’re giving you flowers and candy and the next they’re blowin’ the shit out of the embassy. But if you hurt them as bad as you say you did last night then there is no way they are going to just walk away from this. What would you do in their place? Think about that.”

  Griffin cocked an eyebrow and answered, “Yeah, I see your point.” He paused for a moment then asked, “So what do Slocum and I tell them when they start asking questions? The officers, I mean.”

  “Well, I suppose you have to tell them the truth as far as possible. But I wouldn’t volunteer any information. And you should remember that you know all the facts, they’re only guessin’ at what happened based on what they think they know. You following me?”

  “I guess so. Do you think it’ll be a board of inquiry or a court-martial?”

  “I’m not really sure. If they can prove you didn’t actually have a down vehicle they’ll convene a court-martial.” The staff sergeant rubbed his chin in a familiar gesture that Griffin knew meant he was thinking, then said, “Let’s not worry about this too much right now, Sergeant Griffin. Why don’t you go to your hooch and get some rest. I’ll see what I can find out in the meantime. Maybe you don’t have a thing to worry about.”

  Griffin rose to go and as he did he extended his hand to the staff sergeant, an odd gesture among Marines who commonly greeted each other with salutes, or good-natured banter. As he shook the staff sergeant’s hand he said, “Thanks,” then strode out of the bunker and went to find his cot.

  CHAPTER

  17

  The Syrian looked through his binoculars at the Americans walking around the outside of the building that sat squarely in the cross formed by the intersection of the two runways. He noted the absence of barriers and fencing that would allow approach by a vehicle to within perhaps fifty meters before a sentry could effectively challenge the driver. He observed the sentry and machine gunners standing atop the building. Sweeping the binoculars over the roof he assured himself that no antitank weapons were in view. Another building, smaller than the first, was just north of the one he had been looking at and also occupied by the Marines.

  He knew the buildings fairly well. They had formerly served as the headquarters of one of the various Palestinian factions that occupied the city prior to the Israeli invasion. Both structures were made of reinforced concrete and of fairly modern design. He was certain that the larger, a four-story structure formerly the Lebanese Aviation Safety Bureau, was now the headquarters of the Marines. He searched his memory for details concerning the structure. He remembered a large atrium that rose through the center of the building and was crowned by a series of triangular skylights. He had been in the building only a few times and therefore checked the roof for evidence of the skylights. Through the binoculars he observed the center of the roof and saw the neat symmetrical rows of skylights, confirming that his memory was accurate.

  As he continued to look at the building details of the interior returned to him. The structure was a rectangle whose interior was hollow and whose sides were ringed by offices. The long sides of the rectangle faced north and south and it was the south face that he now studied. The offices in the building were accessed by means of broad stairways located at the east and west ends of the interior. He could not recall if the building had an elevator or a basement. The building was supported by a series of Y-shaped concrete pillars, and through the pillars he was able to discern the Marines entering and leaving the building from the south portal. He was certain that it also had a large plaza on the ground level that in former times had been a welcome center occupying almost the entire lobby area.

  The structure had obviously suffered during the Israeli invasion. The south face was pocked by shell holes and ugly black stains climbed the concrete walls, evidence of a large fire in the interior. He scanned the windows, noting that many of them had been blown out and were now covered by the ponchos of the Marines who lived within. At ground level, ringing the exterior of the building, were a series of improvised shelters and tents set up by the
Marines to house their troops. Here he could see that the specialized troops had been barracked. On several jeeps he saw the cylindrical fiberglass tubes that he knew only too well as the launchers for the TOW antitank missile favored by the Marines and the Israelis. On the far side of the building he could observe a column of perhaps twenty men gathering before four or five of the small jeeps the Americans used to move about the city. He watched as they mounted their vehicles and slowly left the compound by a road leading to a gate north of the compound. He saw two of the huge amphibious vehicles used by the Marines parked just west of the building, their hatches open and the crews wandering around outside their vehicles.

  Immediately to the south of the structure, which he was now sure was the headquarters of the Marines, was a large parking lot that served the airport terminal. Across the center of this lot stretched a strand of razor wire and two outposts constructed of sandbags. By patient observation he was able to determine that the posts were manned by individual Marines who were lightly armed. He broadened his search and saw that the whole compound was ringed by a series of such sandbagged outposts. Punctually, on the hour, a Marine would emerge from the south side of the headquarters building and walk the entire perimeter, stopping at each post. He smiled to himself. All armies are the same in some respects. Guard duty, poor food, and miserable living conditions were common to all soldiers no matter the side they fought for or where or when they fought. He noted that the sentries appeared to be generally alert and the sergeant who checked them was prompt. He was certain that the guard posts were linked by radio to the sergeant who no doubt would have a post somewhere in the center of the building.

  To the east of the headquarters he observed a large gravel lot that was obviously the vehicle repair and maintenance facility for the Marines. Several vehicles of various descriptions were parked neatly in this lot and mechanics worked on others. His eye ran over several large inflatable rubber fuel bladders that he found tempting targets. Further observation convinced him that the fuel had wisely been placed far enough from anything else so that even if he were to cause its detonation, it would achieve very little in the way of casualties or destruction. He dismissed the vehicle park as a likely target for any number of reasons. It was in the center of the Marine compound, and even though it was lightly defended, it simply did not offer the type of target he wanted. The American public would hardly notice the destruction of a few jeeps or trucks.

  Immediately north of the vehicle park he was able to discern a series of large tents housing what appeared to be more troops. He noted that Marines from these tents did not move back and forth between this area and either of the two large buildings. They seemed to be primarily concerned with the large hangar that serviced the eastern runway of the airport. A few more minutes’ study of this area and he was certain that these men were the ground crews of the helicopters that flew regularly between the Marine base ashore and the fleet anchored a few kilometers off the coast. He contemplated the wisdom of attacking this area. Again, it was lightly defended and therefore vulnerable. But just like the vehicle park it did not offer the type of target he was looking for. So far, he was certain, the large headquarters building offered him the greatest opportunity, and also the greatest challenge.

  Moving the glasses farther north he saw the tent city created by the 42nd Brigade of the Lebanese Army. The Lebanese soldiers wandered about their camp with no apparent goal. Rows of tents sagged along dirt streets and soldiers stood around and smoked or chatted. He noted that the Lebanese were separated by a dirt road from their American allies, who appeared only marginally concerned with them. Several armored personnel carriers were parked in the Lebanese compound, as were a few jeeps and heavy trucks. A few guards appeared at the corners of the Lebanese camp, but they seemed to be generally inattentive. He examined the road that led between the Marines and the Lebanese. Any access it may have once offered was now denied by the fencing placed across the intersections. Although a heavy vehicle would have no trouble simply running through the fence, by doing so it would lose all possibility of surprise. At this point no plan was formulated, but he preferred to have the element of surprise if at all possible. He quickly decided to dismiss the Lebanese as a means of defense of this area of the Marine perimeter. They were not an army so much as a well-armed mob. They would do little for either side in this struggle. He brought the glasses south for another look at the hangar area. A sentry walked his post around a parked helicopter gunship, perhaps two hundred meters south of the Lebanese. An easy entry to a very tempting target. He doubted if the Marines had any effective communications with the Lebanese, and he was sure he could have his attacker through the LAF compound and on his target before the alarm could be raised.

  He brought his gaze west of the hangar area and again observed the smaller building occupied by the Marines. A constant line of men moved between this building and the larger one to the south. He decided that this building probably served as billeting space for the officers and the men moving between the two buildings who were carrying messages or returning to their quarters after their duty shift was over. The traffic in and around the two buildings seemed to support this theory as well as his own experience in the Syrian army. He also was able to see another still smaller building behind the billeting building, and this he took to be more barracks. Access to this area would be by foot traffic only. He could not specifically recall ever having been in either of the two buildings. He observed the low one-story structures for another few minutes and satisfied himself that his analysis was correct. These two buildings were the type of “soft” target he was looking for, but they would be difficult for his bomber to reach, perhaps impossible given the depth of the defenses.

  To the immediate north of these two buildings was a heavily defended gate accessing the compound. A broad boulevard leading to the airport terminal ran just west of the gate and paralleled the western perimeter of the Marine compound. Civilian traffic moved constantly along the boulevard, just yards in front of the Marine sentries. A few hundred yards north of the headquarters building, sitting astride the boulevard, was a Lebanese Army checkpoint.

  He smoked another cigarette and watched as the Lebanese guards at the checkpoint stopped traffic and conducted cursory checks of the cars and trucks that approached. No vehicle remained longer than a minute or two at the checkpoint, and in thirty minutes of careful observation he did not see a single vehicle pulled aside for a secondary search of its occupants or cargo. A steady stream of construction vehicles moved through the checkpoint and into the terminal area where repairs were being made along the eastern runway.

  He followed the traffic as it moved south past the Marine headquarters and into the terminal area. Most of the cars stopped in the immediate vicinity of the terminal, obviously delivering or picking up passengers. The trucks of the construction company, however, moved past the terminal, swung east, then followed a dirt road south of the parking lot with the Marine sentries and into the construction site. Here they took on loads of dirt from the excavation, then reversed their route and exited the terminal area. At their closest point they were no more than one hundred meters from the Marine sentries.

  He waited another half hour for a truck marked OGER LIBAN to pass through the checkpoint and into the terminal. He noted the time on his watch as the truck entered the compound and recorded it in a small notebook. As the truck swept past the sentry post the Marine and the driver exchanged a friendly wave. It took the truck fifty-seven minutes to take on a load of dirt and rubble before exiting the area. He noted again the attitude of the Marine sentries as the truck left. They did not seem alarmed or to be recording any information regarding the entry and exit of the vehicles. He smiled. The trucks had a plausible reason to be there and the Marines therefore had no reason to question their arrival or departure. The fact that the construction had probably been going on for some time would also help him. By now the guards would have become conditioned to seeing the arrival and departure of t
he trucks marked with the logo of the Lebanese construction company. Their appearance was so regular and expected that it caused no alarm in the sentries. The exchange of greetings between the driver and the Marine was evidence of that.

  A rough plan began to take shape as he sipped scalding coffee and smoked, sitting on the balcony with his feet propped comfortably on the low stone wall in front of him. This would be a difficult enterprise, but the rewards would be tremendous if he could bring it off. The planning would take several days, perhaps a week. Already he knew that he would have to spend days observing the movements of the construction vehicles in and out of the area to determine their schedules and normal working hours and procedures. But the basic idea was sound and he found no immediate flaws to discredit it.

  He swept the glasses over the airport. From his vantage point he could see the entire airport and the sea beyond where the American vessels floated. Helicopters circled above the ships like bees around their hive, then angled for shore with their cargoes of supplies and men. Below him the Marines went about their routines in the warm summer air. Their lines were laid out in a neat arc around the eastern runway, the troops dug in and well positioned. Bunkers were linked by trenches and supported by tanks and artillery. The helicopter gunships and naval batteries were capable of delivering massive and accurate fire within minutes directly onto the formations of an attacking enemy. Somewhere over the horizon, out of sight, lurked an even more deadly foe, an American aircraft carrier with its complement of jet aircraft. In the gray haze of the horizon he was able to discern the battleship New Jersey. With her sixteen-inch naval rifles and batteries of five-inch guns, she was a not so distant threat.

 

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