“Sure Sergeant.”
He could hear Rodriguez relay the message and Sgt McAllister’s acknowledgement, then he heard fading footsteps as the PFC ran down the passage.
Sgt McAllister came on the line and asked, “How’re you hanging, Korea Joe?” concern evident in her voice.
“I’m OK. Could use a little drink of something though.”
“I hear you, buddy. Oh, here’s Gunny,” she said before handing the phone off.
“What do you got this time, Tony?”
“Well, there’re three guys at the door. I can’t see what they are doing.” The light was getting brighter, but it was still hard to make out. “They’ve got a bundle that they are putting down at the base of the door, right in the middle. Now they are . . . shit they’re running! Get back Gunny, I think they’re trying to blow it!”
He could hear the Gunny react, yelling at everyone to get back. The seconds seemed to drag on. Sgt Niimoto crouched with just the top of his head over the edge of the cupola wall. What if he was wrong about that? He felt dizzy and lightheaded and wondered if he was thinking straight. A huge blast, felt more than seen, exploded against the embassy doors. Sgt Niimoto was flung down, a huge hand pushing on his chest. He sat stunned for a moment, then scrambled up, rifle ready to take out anyone trying to enter the embassy.
As he peered through the settling dust, he could see the door standing as normal, nothing out of place. He let out a dry chuckle. He guessed that was why they called them blast doors. He crawled to other side of the tower and looked down on the angrily gesturing men who perched on the wall and seemed more than a little peeved that their entrance had not been blown.
“Better luck next time, Mowgli,” he muttered with a smile on his face.
Chapter 39
Thursday Morning, US Embassy, New Delhi
The blast was a muffled thud that barely shook the security door. A little dust fell from the overhead, but that was about it. Heads began to appear from where the mad scramble to get out of the way had taken everyone. Gunny, Kramer, and Steptoe had ducked in back of Post 1, and now they stood up, along with Sgt McAllister and Rodriguez who were inside the post. LCpl Saad and Sgt Chen had made it further away and were now getting to their feet a good fifteen meters past Post 1 down the north corridor.
Gunny turned around to see PFC Ramon standing in the stairwell, putting down her hand to MAJ Defilice, who smiled and took it, standing up. Drayton was in there as well, a look of unadulterated excitement on his face. He looked like he was at some sort of amusement park.
Down the south corridor, toward the ambassador’s office, PFC Fallgatter still lay prone, his arms over his head.
“Hey dipwad, you want to join us?” Kramer shouted at him as everyone gathered in front of the door.
They could hear PFC Van Slyke yell a slurred “Everything all right?” from the admin office where he had been left with the president and Loralee. Gunny stepped back to look down the passage where he could see four anxious faces peering back at him.
“Steptoe, go down and let them know everything’s fine, and ask the president to get back in the office. We don’t need him to start wandering around.”
As LCpl Steptoe ran down the passage, they all stared at the door.
“Man, that is some damn good door,” Sgt Chen exclaimed as he stepped up and gave it an experimental shake.
Gunny slung his weapon and put his hands on his hips. “Well, I guess their intent is pretty clear. I think it is time we moved the president. Major, if you wouldn’t mind, would you please get him and Loralee and escort them to the vault?”
“Sure thing, Gunny,” he said as he slung his weapon and started down the passage.
“And let’s get SSgt Child down in the vault, too, while we have chance. Kramer and Chen, can you get him there? Wait a minute, though, before you go. LCpl Steptoe, you take Fallgatter and go into the Cultural Affairs office. I know that is a change, but it is closer to the stairwell than the ambassador’s office, and you might need to beat a hasty retreat. Keep your eyes peeled and let us know what’s going on. Everyone else, into the stairwell. We’ve got McAllister, Rodriguez, and Kramer as the fire team at the top of the well, then Chen and Saad at the bottom with Steptoe and Fallgatter when they get there. The rest of us will be in vault. OK? Just like we planned. Right?” He looked at Little Mac, still inside Post 1. “Give Korea Joe a call and let him know what we’re doing.”
“Uh, Gunny? Rodriguez and me, well, we’ve been thinking. Post 1 has the best fields of fire. We sort of think we need to stay in here,” Little Mac said.
“Pat, we went over this. If anyone stays inside Post 1, well, they won’t be able to retrograde to join us. They’ll be cut off.”
“Fifth General Order, Gunny,” she reminded him.
Gunny let out an exasperated sigh and said, “I am properly relieving you.”
“How about if me and Rodriguez just wait here a little longer? I mean, look. It is what, ten, twelve meters to the stairwell. If we have to get there, it’ll take us a second or two, especially if the rest of the team covers us. Besides, the door is holding, so there’s no rush now.”
Gunny hesitated. He had made his plan, and he really wanted it to unfold as he envisioned it. But he also did not want to have any dissension now, so he decided he could adjust a little here.
“OK, stay here for now. But when you get the command, fall back to the stairwell immediately. You got that?”
“Sure Gunny. Do you think we want to get our asses shot off? Kramer, just don’t you go and plunk us when we come to join your own sorry ass,” she said.
“I would never do that to a Sergeant of Marines! Now a PFC, however . . .”
Kramer started.
The group broke out in laughter.
“OK, our fun meter is obviously pegged. Let’s get going. We know what we have to do, and if anyone really insists on inviting themselves in for tea, well, we’re just going to have to dissuade them,” Gunny said before tunring and starting up the passage where the president, Loralee, and Mr. Dravid were being escorted down the towards him.
“Gunny, the president needs to report this escalation. Where is Steptoe?” MAJ Defilice asked.
“LCpl Steptoe, get out here!” Gunny shouted, his words echoing down the passage.
After a moment, LCpl Steptoe stuck his head out the Cultural Affairs office.
“Front and center, Steptoe. The president needs to use the com again. How’s it looking?”
LCpl Steptoe grimaced, then said, “We are almost out of juice. The battery may have recharged itself a little after we last powered down, but there isn’t much left.”
“There is no getting around that now, soldier. I want to get back to DC now,” the president said as he came up to stand beside Steptoe.
“Marine, sir, Marine,” muttered Gunny.
The president obviously heard him but chose to ignore the comment as LCpl Steptoe powered up.
“I am going to give it right to you, sir. No use me wasting any juice on this,” Steptoe said.
He watched the small screen for a moment and handed it to the president, who put the earbud in his ear. The rest crowded around to listen.
There was a short wait, then his eyes lit up and he started, “This is President Eduardo. Give me the vice-president.” There was a very short pause, and then evidently the vice-president answered. She must have been right there. “OK, OK, wait there. I don’t really care now who gave whom the OK to negotiate with anyone. None of the negotiations have worked. We’ve got people trying to blow up the doors here to the embassy, so I think they’ve made their intentions clear. Has there been any movement on the Indian government’s part?” The president paused, nodding as he listened.
“Then what about the military option? What is going on with that?”
He paused again.
Suddenly he shouted into the PDA, “I don’t give a good goddamn about that. This is already an act of war, or hadn’t you noticed
? We’ve got a number of people here who have to be evacuated now! I am making an executive order here, Vice-President Wright. Let me be clear. All US military forces are to take whatever action they can to rescue us immediately. Am I clear?”
The president’s face was getting red as he shouted, and specks of spit flew out of his mouth. He listened for a few seconds.
“No excuses, just do it. I know the Reagan… the Reagan… hello? Hello?”
He looked at the PDA which had suddenly gone dark.
“Shit!”
LCpl Steptoe grabbed the PDA and looked at it, hitting a few buttons.
“That’s it sir. It’s dead.”
The circle of people crowded in a little closer, staring at the PDA. Their last window to the US had just been cut off.
Chapter 40
Wednesday Evening, The White House, Washington, DC
Vice-President Wright was beside herself. Just who did this arrogant piss-ant ambassador think he was talking to? She looked around the table where no one seemed to want to catch her eye.
When she had heard that the ambassador from Thailand had initiated negotiations with the Indians, she demanded to know who had authorized that. No one seemed to have an answer for that, so she had Dr. Ryan contact the US ambassador to Thailand who told her that he had spoken to the Thai ambassador to India. Dr. Ryan reported that back to the vice-president who then demanded that the ambassador be put on the phone. She ran that into the speakers. Now, the ambassador, Case, his name was, was calmly acting like nothing was wrong.
His voice came over the speakers, “As I told you, Madam Vice-President, this was an act of a sovereign nation which was further acting on a request from the rest of ASEAN. We had nothing to do with that.”
“And once again, ambassador,” she said, making the word “ambassador” sound like a pejorative, “do you think the Thai government should be representing us, representing us without us even knowing he is doing so?”
“Technically, he is not representing us at all. He is representing ASEAN and the Royal Thai government,” the ambassador patiently explained.
“But you spoke to him, didn’t you, before he got in to see the minister?”
“Yes, Madam Vice-President, I did.”
“And if this is solely an ASEAN matter, why would you speak to him first?” she asked, lookning around the table in triumph.
“Madam Vice-President, according to the US-Thai Cooperation Treaty, I am bound to inform the Thai government of the presence of any operational forces in Thai territory. I merely informed Ambassador Suphantarida before he met with the minister so he would not be taken by surprise should that fact already be known.”
No one could see the ambassador, but the exasperation was beginning to show in his voice.
“The Reagan Carrier Group had been cleared a month ago to pull liberty in Thailand, so I don’t know why you would have to call to inform him about that,” she said, genuinely looking puzzled.
“I am not talking about the Reagan. I am talking about the Marines who transshipped through here.”
“What do you mean, the Marines?” she asked.
The vice-president looked over at General Litz who looked up with a confused expression on his face.
“The 100 or so Marines who flew in to U-Tapao and then flew off for destinations unknown, Madam Vice-President.”
She reached over and hit the speaker mute.
“General Litz, what’s this about?”
She thought about it and realized that there hadn’t been a Marine guard outside the conference room as normal. A Secret Service agent was now taking that duty.
General Litz looked over to the three other four-stars in the room, none who seemed to have anything to say.
“I am sorry Madam Vice-President. I don’t know anything about this. But I will find out,” he said, motioned to one of his aides. “COL Shriver, call down to Col Lineau at Quantico and find out if any of his Marines flew into Thailand.”
The vice-president turned off the mute.
“Ambassador, I’ll be getting back to you. Remain accessible to this phone,” she said, hanging up before there was a reply.
“I want to know what’s going on. With the president out of the picture, I am in charge. Is that clear?” she demanded.
There were nods around the conference table.
“And in order to be in charge, I have to know what is going on. No half-baked cowboys doing things their way,” she said as she glared at the others, slowing taking each person in, focusing her anger.
The person manning the com link to the President suddenly stood up and said, “Yes sir, Mr. President,” and flipped the switch which brought the president to the speaker. “Madam Vice-President . . . ?” he looked over to her.
She quickly moved closer to the intercom on the table in front of her and spoke into the mic, “Mr. President, this is the vice-president. How are you, sir? And let me assure you that things are progressing, but we are trying to figure out who authorized the Thai government to negotiate for your release and return—”
“OK, OK, wait there,” the president interrupted. “I don’t really care now who gave whom the OK to negotiate with anyone. None of the negotiations have worked. We’ve got people trying to blow up the doors here to the embassy, so I think they have made their intentions clear. Has there been any movement on the Indian government’s part?”
The president’s voice sounded strained.
“We have not been able to get a meeting with anyone other than their ambassador, and he doesn’t seem to be in the loop. The Arab League has been able to see the key players, but nothing concrete is getting done,” she told him.
“Then what about the military option? What is going on with that?”
She looked around the room again before answering, “We have the Reagan Carrier Group close to India now. And we have our forces on alert in Korea. But we don’t want to provoke anything with a rash act.”
The president’s voice screamed over the speaker, “I don’t give a good goddamn about that. This is already an act of war, or hadn’t you noticed? We have got a number of people here who have to be evacuated now! I am making an executive order here, Vice-President Wright. Let me be clear. All US military forces are to take whatever action they can to rescue us immediately. Am I clear?”
Everyone stared at the speaker as if the president was going to climb right out of it.
“Mr. President, perhaps you should rethink that. Do we want a shooting war with India now?” the vice-president asked hesitantly.
“No excuses, just do it. I know the Reag—”
The president’s voice cut off as the speaker went silent.
The com tech jumped up and said, “We’ve lost the signal, the one from New Delhi to Katmandu!”
There was stunned silence in the conference room.
General Kantres broke the silence with, “Well, we heard the man. Can we move the Quick Reaction Force now? We have them standing by, and they can be in the air in thirty minutes.”
The vice-president looked over at David. They had discussed this possible situation.
“General Kantres, we appreciate your Ranger’s readiness. But we need to make sure the president is in the legal position to make valid orders, given his situation. I have asked the attorney general to look into this.”
She looked up at the man, who seemed uncomfortable with the question. Good, if he was uncomfortable, then maybe David’s assessment was correct after all.
There was a general uproar as everyone started to talk at once. The Army colonel who had left came back in and whispered to General Litz. He nodded and looked up.
“Madam Vice-President. It seems that the Marines have left. Quantico is empty.”
A sense of foreboding came over her, and she wasn’t quite sure why. Just what the hell was going on with the Marines?
Chapter 41
Wednesday Morning, The USS Reagan, The Indian Ocean
Rear Admiral C
onners looked up at CAPT Ngata at the podium. “Thanks Ted. I think we can all see that this is a good start, a basic NEO, but we also know it needs lots of refining. So let’s take this bad boy back and iron out the wrinkles we’ve brought up.” He looked around the space. “Any saved rounds?”
Col Lineau cleared his throat before saying, “As you know, the Marines have been out of the ordnance loop for awhile, and I know I should have kept up with innovations on my own, but can someone please go over this Mk402 again? I’m still not quite sure how this is supposed to work.”
CAPT Ngata pointed toward the back of the space and asked, “Commander Scali, would you like to take this?”
Lieutenant Commander Frank Scali, a 35-year mustang and the ship’s ordnance officer, stepped up to the podium.
“Well sir, the Mk 402 is a weapon designed to incapacitate troops in the open with little damage to structures. Upon detonation, it attenuates in applied directions and consumes available oxygen in the fireball while creating an overpressure.”
He paused to look at the colonel.
“Uh, can you repeat that so a dumb grunt can understand?” Col Lineau asked.
“Yes sir.” He paused to think. “OK, the Mk 402 is a warhead on an iron bomb. Prior to detonation, the blast can be sort of aimed to push out in most directions. When it explodes, it burns up all the oxygen in the area and creates a shock wave that can rupture eardrums or even lungs, depending on how close someone is to the point of detonation.”
Colonel Lineau had a visceral image form in his mind of bodies on the ground, their lungs ruptured, a bloody froth coming out their mouths. It did not sound like a good way to go.
“As our SJA briefed, if we can limit the effect on target to only those people and structures that are in the embassy grounds, well, that is an attack on US soil, not Indian. So we think the Mk 402 is the best bet. Because of the embassy building itself, the consulate, and the embassy walls, if we can get a vertical strike in the courtyard, we can ‘aim,’ so-to-speak, the blast back upward, and the embassy structures should work to limit effects beyond the embassy grounds. Anyone in the courtyard or outside the buildings facing the point of impact, well, their lungs are going to burst. Some people in the building itself may lose consciousness due to oxygen deprivation, but the embassy building is pretty strong, so there should be no major damage. If the president is in the center of the building, as we have been briefed, well, the inrushing oxygen should replace the burned oxygen before any permanent damage has been done.”
The Return of the Marines Trilogy Page 18