“How did he find out? I was to understand that Admiral Conners directed that as few people as possible be brought online for this, just the JUSMAG and whoever from the Thai military has to know to approve air clearance and landing rights?”
“Well, sure. We kept most people in the dark. But the ambassador, he is the head honcho here. COL Smith told him right away.”
Well, there was no getting around that now. He hoped nothing would come of it.
“Col Lineau? We are waiting for you to get onboard now sir.”
He looked up to see Sgt Lipsz waiting expectantly by the first Osprey. He could see one of the Coast Guard pilots looking out the window at him, waiting for him to board.
“Well, thanks again, Major. I guess I’ve got to get going.”
He shouldered his pack and loped over the tarmac and up the ramp of the waiting Osprey.
Chapter 29
Late Wednesday Afternoon, US Embassy, New Delhi
“You’ve got that all wired, Steptoe?”
“Yes, Gunny. We can talk to Post 1, Sgt Niimoto, and the post in the Cultural Affair’s office,” LCpl Steptoe said as he got off his knees where he had been jury-rigging a wire to one of the office phones. “It’s connecting through the switchboard, so it’ll act like a regular phone. I’ve assigned 2002 for bell tower, 2003 for the Cultural Affairs office. This one is 2000, and Post 1 is 2001. Just hit pound and dial the number.”
“And the vault?” Gunny Mac asked.
“I’m getting that now, Gunny. But you know, if anyone closes the hatch there, it’s going to cut right through this wire, and phones won’t work.”
“Can’t you hook it up to the intercom there?”
“Uh-uh,” Steptoe said, shaking his head. “I’d have to drill a hole right through the vault, and that’s pretty tough steel. I don’t even have a drill here to try it.”
He picked up the spool of wire he had scrounged and started out the hatch to connect the vault with the rest of the Marines.
Gunny Mac looked around the office. With the main power out, only the “green” lighting tube from the roof funneled enough light into the room to read. The emergency lights provided enough to move around and talk to each other, but they really weren’t that bright. Loralee had found a magazine and was leafing through it, sitting directly under the tube’s main dispersal globe. The president was sitting on one of the office chairs, head back, apparently sleeping. SSgt Child looked no different, but LCpl Wynn’s breathing was becoming more labored. Mr. Dravid sat on the couch, watching him. Their eyes met, and Dravid gave a slight nod. MAJ Defilice was on one couch, head back and slightly snoring. It somewhat bothered Gunny that PFC Ramon was asleep as well, leaning up against the major’s side. LCpl Saad was in the huge corner desk eating a very mushed what might have once been a finger sandwich. PFC Van Slyke had stripped his M18 and was cleaning it for the umpteenth time.
Gunny walked over to Van Slyke and put his hand on the young Marine’s shoulder.
“You hanging in there Peter?”
Van Slyke looked up, and the damage to his face made Gunny Mac give an involuntary shudder. He looked like one of those zombies in a Hollywood gorefest.
“I’m OK,” he managed to sputter out, the words garbled by the fact that half of his face was not functioning. “My face feels like shit, but what are you going to do?”
Gunny gave Van Slyke’s shoulder a squeeze and said, “Good man. Put your weapon back together. I want you to go relieve Kramer. Give him a chance to hit the head and get some chow.”
“You call this chow, Gunny?” Van Slyke laughed, then groaned as the pain intensified. “I’ve got to stop doing that.”
“What are you complaining about? Good US embassy chow like this? It couldn’t be better,” Gunny said with a laugh of his own, gave Van Slyke’s shoulder another squeeze, then turned around to scan the room.
He was pondering his next move when Loralee walked over.
“You kidding me, PFC Van Slyke? Good chow like this is heaven-sent. No Marine galley could match it,” she said with a laugh.
Gunny looked at her for a moment before asking, “Loralee, I have to ask you, you certainly seem to know your way around the Corps. You were never a Marine, were you?”
She laughed again before saying, “Oh no, not me. I don’t have enough discipline to last as a Marine. But my kid brother is a Marine. Ian Cannon. He lost his legs to an IED in Afghanistan as a Staff Sergeant and retired, and he lived with Stan and me while he was at Bethesda. I guess I spent enough time with him and with the Wounded Warrior Detachment to get a feel for the Corps.”
”I thought you said he ‘is’ a Marine,” the president said after walking over to listen in.
“Yes, I did.”
“But then you said he retired,” he said, looking perplexed.
“Once a Marine, always a Marine, right Gunny?” Loralee responded.
Gunny nodded.
“Ian may not be on active duty anymore, but he is still a Marine. And president or not, he’d kick your butt if you tried to tell him different. His home is a homage to the Corps, like a Marine Corps Museum, and his buddies from the ‘Stan drop in to see him all the time,” she told the president.
“You know Gunny Pyle, from Camp David?” she asked, turning back to Gunny Mac.
It was a small Corps, especially within a pay-grade, so Gunny nodded. He knew Randy well.
“Well, Lance Corporal Pyle pulled Ian from the HUMVEE and helped hoof him to the aid station. Gunny Pyle stops in to see Ian whenever he can make it down Lejeune way.
“It was the saddest day in his life when his request to stay on active duty was denied,” she said, looking thoughtful for a moment. “But he is a resilient old bastard, and he is doing fine.”
Her face broke out into a smile.
“So being a Marine was that important to him?” the president asked, sitting down and looking up at Loralee.
“That’s what you don’t get yet, even after being with these Marines here. It is not that it ‘was that important,’ as you put it, but that it IS that important,” she replied, with a heavy emphasis on the “is.”
PFC Ramon nodded in silence behind Loralee from where she had woken up and listened in on the discussion.
The president started to respond when he was interrupted by the phone. Gunny pounced on it as everyone in the room swiveled his or her attention on it.
“Gunny, this is Fallgatter. We’ve got Indians inside again.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Gunny rushed out and down the passage to the Cultural Affairs office, followed by the rest. He went up to Sgt Chen and LCpl Kramer who were mindful of their previous instructions and were hanging back about five feet from the windows. Everyone else rushed up as well, until there was a line abreast looking out into the coutryard. In the afternoon light, Gunny could see that about ten men had made it over the wall so far. The first of these started moving toward the consular building.
Gunny looked around to where PFC Fallgatter was still holding the phone, and said, “Hang up and then get me Niimoto.”
Gunny walked over, took the handset, and heard Sgt Niimoto already on the line.
“Gunny, I’ve been trying to get you,” Tony whispered loudly, “but the phone was busy.”
Gunny took a second to glare at Fallgatter who looked back perplexed and shrugged his lack of understanding.
“We’ve got about a dozen guys inside now, and more are coming. What do you want me to do?” Niimoto asked.
Gunny Mac turned back around so he could see out the window and talk on the phone at the same time.
“Same thing as before. Hold your fire unless you or we are attacked. But keep an eye on things. We’re almost one story high, so we can’t see what’s happening right below us. I’ll keep this line open for now,” Gunny said, handing the phone back to PFC Fallgatter.
“Keep this glued to your ear!” he ordered.
Fallgatter just nodded and took the
handset.
Gunny rejoined the line of people looking out the window.
“What do you think is happening?” asked the president.
Several sets of eyes looked at Gunny Mac expectantly.
“Well sir, it is kind of hard to say. It looks like these people are checking out the consular building. We’ve got Sgt Niimoto in the bell tower watching them, too, and he can see a lot more than we can in here.”
They all watched for a few more minutes.
“You know, this is bullshit!” the president said as he turned and folded his arms across his chest belligerently. “I’m sick and tired of this. The Indian government should have taken action long before this. What the hell are they waiting for?” He turned to Gunny Mac. “I want the vice-president on the phone again.”
“Mr. President, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We are scheduled to contact them again in,” he glanced at his watch, “uh, an hour and 36 minutes. The more often we call them, the sooner the PDA is going to be out of juice.”
“I am not making a suggestion, sergeant. I am giving you an order. Get the vice-president,” he said, with a glare in his eyes, almost daring any further comment.
Gunny didn’t hesitate but said, “PFC Ramon, go get LCpl Steptoe. He’s down in the vault.” As Princess ran off, he turned back to the president. “It’ll be just a moment, sir.”
They stared at each other for a moment, the president still glaring, Gunny Mac keeping as neutral an expression as possible.
“Uh, Gunny? It’s Sgt Niimoto. He wants to talk to you,” PFC Fallgatter said nervously looking at the two men and holding out the phone to the Gunny.
“Yeah, this is Gunny,” said into the phone’s mic.
“Gunny, most of the Indians are in the consular affairs building, but about four are back at the security doors, and there are two walking alongside your building again.”
“What are the guys at the security door doing?” Gunny asked.
“Well, one guy looks like he is explaining something to the others. He keeps pointing at different parts of the doors, then saying something. One of the other guys looks like he’s taking notes.”
“Well, that can’t be a good thing,” Gunny Mac harrumphed. “OK, keep watching them and let me know if anything changes.”
He gave the phone back to Fallgatter and moved back in line. Everyone was intently watching what they could see of the courtyard when there was a thump on the window as a pair of hands appeared on the ledge. Each American took and involuntary hop back. Slowly, a face appeared in the window, and with a lurch, the man there managed to get his elbows on the ledge. He used his hands to form a tunnel between his eyes and the window to try and see into the room.
“Can he see us?” asked Loralee.
“No ma’am,” offered Sgt Chen. “This is one-way glass.”
Everyone froze, though, and after a few moments, the man stopped trying to see in, and dropped out of sight. There was a collective outtake of breath.
LCpl Saad sidled up to the far side of the window and tried to look down, asking, “How did he get up here? He must have been standing on someone’s shoulders.”
LCpl Steptoe, PFC Ramon, and Drayton Bajinski came into the office and everyone jumped again. A nervous laugh followed, much to the three’s confusion.
“Gunny?” asked Steptoe.
“LCpl Steptoe, the president wishes to speak with the vice-president now,” Gunny said as he saw the beginnings of an objection form on Steptoe’s broad face. “And that is a direct order.”
LCpl Steptoe grabbed a hold of his objection and smothered it, saying “You’ve got it, Gunny.”
He took the PDA out of his pocket and began the process of powering up. The president had wanted some degree of privacy, so after a search of the offices, an earbud had been found which was compatible. He held it up to his ear without actually clipping it on. A series of beeps and tone sounded, signaling when it was ready. LCpl Steptoe retrieved the number, then requested the connection.
“This is LCpl Steptoe. The president wants the vice-president.” There was a pause. “Yes, we know this is early, but you need to get her now. And hurry up please, our power is getting low on this thing.” He looked up at the president. “It’ll be a moment, sir; they have to go get her.”
Everyone except for LCpl Saad watched Steptoe expectantly. And waited. And waited.
Gunny Mac saw Mr. Dravid watching Steptoe along with everyone else. No use taking chances, he thought.
“LCpl Kramer, please escort Mr. Dravid back to the Admin office,” Gunny ordered.
Dravid started to object, but he obviously thought better of it and followed Kramer out of the room.
Finally LCpl Steptoe spoke up. “No ma’am, this is LCpl Steptoe. Here, let me give you the president.”
He handed the PDA to him and stepped back. The president clipped the earbud around his right ear and held the PDA up to his mouth despite the omni-directional mic, which could clearly pick up his voice from fifteen feet away.
“Jennifer, this is the president. You know, we are rather tired of sitting around here. Tell me you have some good news for us.” He put his right hand up to his ear, pushing the earbud firmer into place. He nodded a few times before his face contorted. “No, that isn’t good enough! What do you mean you can’t speak to any of them?” Another pause. “In case they haven’t noticed, this is pretty much a crisis. I’m sure they want a peaceful solution, so why the stonewalling?”
He glanced at the others in the room before leaning forward in his chair, as if to exclude them.
“What does she say about that?” He pulled at the collar of his shirt. With the power out, the air conditioning wasn’t working, and it was pretty warm in the office. “Really? That’s pretty hard to believe, but if she says so, then I have to trust her. OK, where does that leave us? Where is the Reagan?”
PFC Ramon nudged MAJ Defilice at the mention of the Reagan, and he looked down at her and nodded. Gunny wondered what that was all about.
“And Paul Lefever and General Litz both agree about keeping the Rangers in Korea?” He looked up at the ceiling. “Well, I am not sure I agree, but unfortunately, I am sort of out–of-the-loop here, so I will defer. If their ambassador is being kept out of the loop, so be it. But keep Pitt working it so . . .” another short pause “He what? When were you going to give me that gem of information?” He stretched out his legs and let his hand drop for a moment before bringing the PDA back up to his mouth. “OK, OK, it may do some good. This is his environment, let him earn his pay today. When does he arrive?” He looked at his watch. “Will he have an audience with the PM?”
LCpl Steptoe was watching the PDA, and as a red light started flashing, he frantically tried to signal the Gunny. He caught the Gunny’s attention and pointed at the PDA, drawing his other hand across his throat. Gunny Mac stepped up.
“Mr. President, the power on the PDA is failing. I strongly advise you to close this call now,” he said.
The president looked up at Gunny with annoyance clear on his face. Then he sighed and said, “Jennifer, I need to go now. We are running out of power for this thing. Let’s skip the next scheduled call and pick it up again on the next one, OK? But if anything happens between now and then, we will initiate a call at that time.”
He took the earbud off his ear and handed the PDA back to LCpl Steptoe who hurriedly powered it down. He sat there for a moment in thought.
“Well. Are you going to keep us in the dark?” Loralee asked. When there wasn’t an immediate response, she added “It is not like anyone here is a security risk.”
At that, the president actually smiled. “I guess you’re right. Well, the Indian ambassador seems to know nothing and can’t speak to anyone back here. Secretary Pitt decided that he needs to come to defuse the situation. He should arrive here in another four hours or so. The USS Reagan will be off the coast in another ten hours as well. We have a Ranger battalion Quick Reaction Force in Korea, and I though
t it was going to move to Diego Garcia, but it seems our friends in DC think that would put on a too aggressive face on us. Don’t want to upset the Indians, after all.” He chuckled wryly, and the others joined in. “No one of any weight is talking to any one of us, nor to the UN, nor NATO. So it looks like we wait it out for a while longer. And pray for Secretary Pitt.”
He slowly got up and walked out of the office. No one followed him. They turned around to watch the line of men going back and forth between the embassy wall and the consular building, each lost in his or her own thoughts.
Chapter 30
Wednesday Morning, The White house, Washington, DC
“Well, if the president doesn’t make it, do you think we can use that to leverage the Indians to open up their financial markets?” Secretary of Commerce Ron Mason asked while looking around the room.
General Mark Kantres, the Army Chief of Staff, broke his pen in half and threw it on the conference table while the Secretary for Homeland Security, Phil Mitchell, leaned forward on his elbows to stare at Mason with a look of incredulity.
“Oh come on, people! Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking of what we can do if this all plays out poorly. We’ve been trying to get our banks into the Indian market for decades, and they keep blocking us. That means American jobs and American profits. Of course I hope things work out well, but if . . .”
Vice President Wright looked carefully around the table, noting reactions to Mason’s comments. General Kantres was a man of action, so his reaction was not surprising. Same with Kai Yen Lin. She was the president’s woman, after all. Phil Mitchell was somewhat of a surprise to her. She had rather thought he was not a strong supporter of the president. Paul Lefever was stoic, no expression on his face. But it was surprising that so many others were either stone-faced like Paul or actually seemed to be listening to the Commerce Secretary. Was there an opportunity here?
The Return of the Marines Trilogy Page 15