“I guess you’re right.”
The berthing area hatch opened up. A Marine officer stepped in and walked over to Gunny Smith.
“So do you—”
“Shhh.”
“Huh?”
“Shut up!” Sebastian snapped at Tomlinson. He was trying to overhear Gunny’s conversation.
“Corporal Van Zandt, get over here,” Gunny yelled.
“Yes, Gunny.” Sebastian shot up out of the bunk and walked quickly over to Gunny.
“Sergeant Jennings, you too,” Gunny said.
Jennings was new to the unit; he had transferred over from the 1st Battalion 1st Marine Regiment when Sebastian’s unit came on board. He was tall, lean, and when he spoke there was no mistaking that he hailed from the Deep South.
“I need you two to get your sniper teams in place. We need one team on the starboard and the other on the port side. We need you to assist in watching over the boats that are transporting Marines from the New Orleans.”
“What’s going on, Gunny?” Sebastian asked.
“Apparently we lost the USS New Orleans; the captain of the ship was able to retake it. Men loyal to the colonel are being transported here in exchange for those who don’t want to be here. You both will just be another set of eyeballs out there. If you see anyone who wishes us harm and have a shot, take it.”
Sebastian thought that God was playing a trick on him. This was exactly the opposite situation he wanted to be in.
“Grab your spotters, gear, and get your ass topside,” Gunny commanded.
“Yes, Gunny,” both Sebastian and Jennings said.
When Sebastian and Tomlinson made it topside they were welcomed by the noise of Harrier jets taking off. They quickly proceeded to their position and set up next to the flight deck. Sebastian looked through his scope and he could see the USS New Orleans and estimated it was a mile away. He could barely make out people on the deck, but he could see the aft ramp was down. Assault amphibious vehicles were in the water heading their way. He kept peering through the scope and spotted two LCAC hovercrafts also heading their way. The plume of water put out from the hovercrafts made it easier to spot them versus the AAVs.
An hour had gone by and the operation to remove all those loyal to Barone from the New Orleans was going smoothly. The Harriers were making runs past the New Orleans in a show of force and the LCACs and Amtracs were going back and forth between the two ships. Sebastian thought to himself that it would be nice to go without any incident today.
“How long do you think this is going to take?” Tomlinson asked.
“As long as it will take, T.”
Just then, gunfire broke out below them.
“What the hell?” Tomlinson asked out loud.
They both stood up and tried to look down from their position back into the ship’s well deck. Whatever was happening had taken place inside the belly of the ship. The gunfire lasted only twenty seconds before it was silenced. But the short-lived silence was broken by the sound of General Quarters. Sebastian and Tomlinson were trying to see something but their position prohibited a good view back into the ship. Within moments following the call to General Quarters, a blast shook the ship behind them. Sebastian turned around and saw smoke coming from a hatch on the superstructure of the ship. More gunfire broke out but they could not identify its location before it stopped as quickly as it had started.
“What do we do?” Tomlinson asked.
“Just hold tight, if we can get any shots, we’ll take them.”
They could hear the rapid gunfire of the Phalanx antiship missile system followed by an explosion just off the port side of the ship.
“Oh my God, they shot a missile at us!” Tomlinson screamed.
Sebastian didn’t respond. He was whipping his head around trying to see if anything was coming his way or if he had a target he could shoot.
The Harriers that had been making runs past the New Orleans had pulled away from the ship and were flying above it in the clouds. Sebastian could hear them but not see them. Then, without notice, a missile was launched from the New Orleans; it went straight up. Both he and Tomlinson watched it travel into the clouds and out of sight. The seconds that passed seemed like forever, but an explosion echoed across the wide open ocean. Debris rained down from the clouds into the vastness of the water below.
The rapid fire of the Phalanx from the New Orleans then sounded. It was attempting to knock missiles from the Harriers out of the sky. Fortunately for the New Orleans, their Phalanx did its intended job and destroyed the incoming missiles.
“Can you believe this?” Tomlinson asked.
“Yes, I can. This is what I was talking about.” Sebastian was now getting upset again.
As they were watching the fighting near the New Orleans they had all but forgotten the fighting on their ship. It had been quiet for minutes now.
Another missile launched from the New Orleans with a similar trajectory as before. It disappeared into the clouds but this time no explosion followed its potentially lethal flight.
Barone’s Harriers responded with another volley of missiles but the New Orleans’s Phalanx destroyed them.
Moments had passed with no missile exchange when an explosion like nothing they had heard yet echoed from across the ocean. They both turned their attention to the New Orleans and saw that the ship had been hit on the starboard side.
“Oh my God, did one of the jets finally hit it?” Tomlinson yelled out.
Another explosion followed on the same side as the other; flames shot out of side and the ship started to list. The damage done to the New Orleans was not from a Harrier but from the USS Topeka.
Taking advantage of the damage to the ship, several Harriers fired again. This time, the Phalanx was only able to take one missile down. Two found their way to their deadly destination, the bridge of the New Orleans. More flames and debris came from the ship. The ship was taking on huge amounts of water and began to list even more. Heavy black smoke poured out of the gaping holes on the side and from what had been the bridge.
“Did you see that? That was fucking awesome!” Tomlinson said. He was smiling behind his binoculars.
Sebastian looked at Tomlinson in disgust. He reached over and grabbed the binoculars and scolded him.
“What’s wrong with you, those are Americans. Those are our countrymen. This is not funny!”
“Corporal, I’m tired of your whiny bullshit. Stop complaining. You wanted to go home and this is what it takes to go home.”
“I don’t think that the end justifies the means for me.”
“Stop being a bitch, Corporal. I am so sick of you whining about this shit. If you don’t like it then you have a choice.”
Sebastian didn’t answer Tomlinson, because in some way he was right. All he was doing was complaining and if he felt this strong about it he’d do something. He thought to himself, What could he do? Where would he go now?
“Here,” Sebastian said to Tomlinson, handing him back the binoculars.
Tomlinson snatched them out Sebastian’s hands. He leered at him for a second, then went back to watching the battle across the water.
Sebastian leaned against the bulkhead and looked through the railing as the smoldering and smoking New Orleans lay on its side. He could see all the lifeboats and rafts being deployed. The Harriers overhead kept making passes near the ship but the fighting was now over. The New Orleans was a complete loss; hundreds of men were dead. Sebastian wondered what damage his ship had taken. The smoke from their ship billowed out of the well deck and the superstructure behind him.
“Do you think they’ll serve turkey today for Christmas?” Tomlinson asked.
Sebastian just turned away and shook his head.
• • •
“I need a damage and casualty report,” Barone ordered, walking into the CIC
. He had just been on the bridge overseeing the final loading of the survivors from the New Orleans. The ship’s first officer, Navy Lieutenant Montgomery, his executive officer Major Ashley, Lieutenant Colonel Pelton, the VMA-214 Attack Aircraft Squadron Commander, and Sergeant Major Simpson were already in the briefing room.
“XO, what do you have?” Barone asked Ashley.
“Sir, our damage was limited. We lost one LCAC, which has been replaced by one from the New Orleans. We have three KIAs and twenty-two wounded.”
“Give me what you have from the New Orleans,” Barone then ordered.
“Between us and the Pearl Harbor we were able to rescue four hundred and sixty-eight Marines and three hundred and thirty-seven sailors. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Colonel Silver was lost as was Captain Newsom,” Ashley said, reading off a pad of paper.
“Any new word from the Topeka?” Barone asked.
“Sir, the Topeka has proceeded ahead of us to provide overwatch.”
“Well, I am damn glad we had them on our side. In my entire career, I have never seen a submarine in action and now I have a newfound respect for them,” Barone said, sounding upbeat.
Barone had not wished for this incident, but was happy with its outcome.
“You’re goddamn right, sir. I couldn’t believe my eyes when the first torpedo struck the New Orleans, just incredible,” Sergeant Major Simpson said.
“Sir, we also lost one Harrier today,” Ashley said with apprehension as he interrupted the joyful mood in the room.
“I saw, who was it?”
All the men looked around at one another and no one said a word.
“Gentlemen, what’s going on?”
“Sir, the pilot on board was First Lieutenant William Barone.”
“That’s impossible; his jet was not called up. I know this.”
“Sir, he was called up after Lieutenant Holland was injured on his way to the flight deck. Lieutenant Barone took his place and jumped in Holland’s aircraft,” said Lieutenant Colonel Pelton.
Barone sat stunned; he could not believe what he was hearing. You could hear a pin drop, it was so quiet in the room. Barone started to shake his head in disbelief.
“Are you sure of this?” Barone asked, his voice now subdued.
“Sir, we were just as shocked as you are now. I personally went down to confirm,” Pelton said.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” Barone stood up quickly. A feeling of sickness overcame him. He needed to leave the room immediately. Without saying another word, he left and walked as fast as his legs would take him back to his stateroom.
The entire walk back was torture; he kept picturing his son’s young, handsome face. His mind wanted to deny what he just heard.
Finally making it to his room, he stumbled inside and headed for the toilet. He fell to his knees and threw up. He had been in the Marine Corps a long time. He had witnessed death many times and had even taken life, but this was too personal for him, this was too close to home. His son was now dead. How would he explain this to his wife?
After minutes of dry heaving and exhaustion, he sat down on the floor. Seeing the bottle of whiskey, he stood up and grabbed it and poured the entire contents down his throat. He looked at the empty bottle, then smashed it against the bulkhead. Looking at the thousands of tiny fragments of glass thoughts came of Billy. That was all he was now. He had been blown into a thousand unrecognizable fragments like this bottle.
“Goddamn you, Newsom, goddamn you!”
Barone wanted to blame Captain Newsom, but deep down he blamed himself. The emotional pain was now too much; he could not resist and finally gave in and started to sob.
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
President Conner sat alone and motionless in the cold briefing room. The solitude felt appropriate in the current circumstances. Christmas morning had started out perfect. He and Julia had spent the early hours feeling like teenagers, lying in bed and making love. This bliss was shattered with the news from New York.
The fears he had about another attack had come true. At 9:23 A.M. Eastern Standard Time a low-grade nuclear bomb was detonated in Manhattan along the east side, destroying most of the city. Feelings of inadequacy and failure competed with the strong feelings of anger and revenge.
Griswald, senior staff, Dylan, and Cruz came into the room and immediately took seats around the long table. Conner looked around and noticed that General Houston was absent. He was tempted to ask about his whereabouts but didn’t want to waste any more time and began the meeting.
“By now you all have heard what’s happened in New York.”
Everyone looked somber and acknowledged Conner by nodding.
“First let me begin by saying that because we have failed to act our country has been attacked again. This new attack wasn’t coincidental; this was a planned attack on a national holiday,” Conner said, then paused. “General, it has been three weeks since we were initially attacked and still you have nothing but excuses. If we had done something we might have prevented this. We have sat in this mountain for weeks and all we do is talk and talk. I know you oppose my plan. I listened and gave your counsel great respect and deep consideration. Retaliating against our known enemies with the use of our nuclear arsenal is something that should not be taken lightly, I understand that. However, it’s not as if we haven’t been attacked with the same type of weapon. There are those out there that want to exterminate us. We know who they are; we have been dealing with them for over a generation. Many of my predecessors have had to deal with them. We have taken action before by putting troops on the ground and slogging it out slowly over years and years. Have we had some success? Yes, but we can never win this unless we do to them what they want to do to us. We must wipe them off the map! We must completely and utterly destroy them. Like Lincoln over one hundred and fifty years ago realized that he could not win the war against the Confederacy unless he decimated them—that is what we must do now to our enemies. We can no longer waste time talking; we can no longer waste time attempting to find out who did this. We know who did it.” Conner stood up and started to slowly walk around the room. “General, you have been a trusted counsel during these trying times but I have given you enough time. I do not wish to hear your objections.” Conner was looking at Griswald the entire time he spoke. He then began to address the rest in the room: “I brought you all in here today not to talk but to inform you of what we will do today. Today we strike back! Today we once and for all destroy our enemies! We eradicate them from this planet. I am not concerned about what the world thinks. Today, we take real action and begin the reconstruction of our country.” Conner made his way back to his seat but did not sit. He again turned his attention to Griswald. “General Griswald, I hereby order our nuclear forces to strike the following cities: Tehran, Baghdad, Islamabad, Kabul, Mogadishu, Pyongyang, Damascus, Tripoli, Aden; I also want all military installations in the countries of Iran, Iraq, Syria, Libya, North Korea, Afghanistan, Yemen, Somalia, and Pakistan destroyed with nuclear weapons. If that means dropping a hundred bombs on each country, I don’t care. I don’t want them to have the means to come back; I want whoever survives to be sent straight to the Stone Age. You have my orders and I expect them to be carried out immediately.”
The room was quiet; no one said a word. They all stared at Conner. They knew the gravity of the situation and what was about to happen.
“Sir, I cannot do what you ask,” Griswald said, breaking the silence.
“Excuse me, General?” Conner asked.
“I cannot follow an order that allows for the murdering of millions of innocent people.”
“General, enough of the innocent people talk. The days of innocent people are over. The people in these countries hate us. Look at what we have wasted over the past decade attempting to win their hearts and minds. They want us dead. They only use us for their benefit, then disca
rd us. If you will not carry this out, then I will find someone who will.”
“Actually, sir, you will not be doing anything like that,” Griswald said defiantly. He stood up; he was at the opposite side of the table from the president.
“What was that, General?”
“Sir, we will not let you.”
Looking around the room, Conner asked, “And exactly who will not let me?”
“Sir, I have been working behind the scenes to prevent this type of holocaust from happening. I am sorry to say that there is a consensus amongst those here.” Griswald looked at a few around the table. No one would look at him. They all turned away.
“Who exactly is willing to stop me? Please stand,” Conner asked of the group around the table.
No one responded, everyone looked at each other. No one would even look in Griswald’s direction.
“General Griswald, I was briefed some time ago that you might be up to something, so I planted the idea in others to make themselves available to your potential plan. As you can see, no one agrees with you and there is no consensus,” Conner said.
“You cowards, do you not understand what’s at stake here?” Griswald screamed.
Conner looked out the main window of the briefing room and nodded. Within seconds, Agents Davis and Jackson stormed into the room. Griswald turned and drew his pistol. Everyone sitting ducked under the table except for Conner, who stood his ground. Griswald aimed his pistol at Davis and shot him in the chest; Davis fell to the ground, dead. Jackson entered the room just behind Davis, but Griswald was able to shoot him too. The bullet hit Jackson in the head; Jackson’s lifeless body fell to the floor with a loud thud. Griswald then turned and faced Conner.
“General, put the gun down.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. President, but I cannot allow this to happen,” Griswald said, raising the pistol and taking aim at Conner.
“General Griswald, I am the President of the United States! What are you doing? Your name will go down in history as a traitor, as the man who killed a president. Do you want that?” Conner kept looking toward the door and the main window. With the gunfire he was wondering where the Air Force security forces or the command post personnel were.
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