“And when we land 60 seconds after impact, we won’t be affected?” the colonel asked.
“You shouldn’t, sir. You should be fine.”
“ ‘Shouldn’t.’ I like that, especially when it is our asses on the line,” Col Linaeu said, eliciting a general chuckle around the space. “And what about the hostile-types who aren’t in the grounds when your bomb goes off?”
“Well, sir, the attenuation won’t be perfect. Anyone near the walls might become casualties. Even if they are not, they certainly won’t be combat-effective for at a little while, at least. They should be rather dazed.”
“OK, I am going to take your word on it. I do have another saved round, though,” he said, looking up at the admiral, who nodded.
“I understand the need for us to limit bystander casualties. But I’m pretty nervous on shutting off the Big Eye for two minutes only ten minutes before we hit the LZ. Isn’t that going to make us pretty vulnerable?”
The Air Force liaison, Maj Godwin, jumped up and said, “I’ll take that one, sir.” He moved to the podium. “I am not an expert on all the black box toys, but you understand how the Big Eye is going to work, right?”
Col Lineau gave a half-hearted shrug.
“Well sir, the Big Eye is going to basically block all electromagnetic emissions along a set path. This one will be about 100 miles wide by 200 miles long and will follow you along your route as well as cover the CAP. While you’re in this path, nothing can see you except eyeballs on the ground. And if eyeballs see you, what can they do about it? They can’t call anyone. But the Big Bird can somewhat regulate the type of electronics it will jam. So, we are going to keep all military detection equipment jammed hard, but we’ll open up the telephone frequencies. That will allow us to get a warning out for people to clear the area as well as warn the president and your Marines to get as deep in the embassy as possible.”
“And you think the Indians will have stopped jamming the embassy themselves?”
“There is a good chance they will. We don’t believe they know about Big Eye’s capability, and they shouldn’t know anything is being employed. If they lose their own signals, we think they’ll assume that it is their own jamming equipment, and they are going to turn it off. They need to communicate too.”
“OK. Thanks. Give me a rifle and a target. All this other stuff is magic, as far as I am concerned,” he said as another laugh swept the space.
“OK people, let’s get this thing refined. CAPT Ngata, how about . . .” the admiral looked at his watch, “another brief at 1100?”
“No problem, sir,” the captain said as he gathered his papers, motioned to his combined planning staff, and left the space.
The two friends sat there for a moment before the admiral asked, “What do you think, Jeff?”
“Well, it isn’t too refined, but a gorilla with a club is not too refined, either, and I wouldn’t want to face one of them.”
”Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “I guess you’re right. You’ve got your Marines bedded down?”
“My commanders are getting briefed now, but yeah, the troops are trying to grab some z’s. Hey, that Big Eye drone is something, isn’t it?”
“You bet. Have you even seen it? It is not very big, about the size of a Viking. But it can paralyze a small country, and it can stay on station forever.”
“How did you get it anyhow? That’s a strategic asset. You don’t have them in a carrier battle group.”
“Ah, it’s all who you know. You remember that Air Force firstie, the wrestler, the one who caught me in the third period after I was leading him and pinned my ass? Back when we were second classmen?”
“You mean the guy who knocked you out of Nationals?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, that asshole. Well, we’ve kept in touch, and he is STRATCOM now.”
“One year ahead of us and he is a four-star? Fucking Air Force pukes!” he said without real conviction.
“Yeah, well he’s actually OK, all things considered. I called him up and told him he owed me for that match. Well, actually I just told him we needed it and not to ask questions. And he came through. Not bad for a bus driver who needs an entire airfield to land an itty-bitty plane,” the admiral said.
There was a knock on the hatch, and before the admiral could respond, the Com O and SJA came rushing in and said, “Sir, we’ve got another message from the president. The Indians tried to blow the embassy doors, but you have to read this.”
He handed the admiral a slip of paper.
Rear Admiral Conners read the paper, then passed it to Colonel Lineau. He looked back up to the SJA.
“So, the President of the United States has given an executive order to the military to use all available means to affect a rescue. Am I reading this right?”
A broad smile crossed the SJA’s face before answering, “Yes Admiral, you are. And that just might be your out.”
“Do you think that might hold up?” the admiral asked.
“It might sir, it just might. Probably, in fact, if I had to bet my pension on it.”
The admiral turned and said with faux formality, “Well, Colonel of Marines, it seems like the situation has escalated. Do you think we should obey this executive order?”
“Damn right I do!”
“My feelings exactly,” he said.
He turned to the SJA. “Please inform Captain Ngata that no further refinement is necessary. We are going with what we have.”
His then tone took a serious bent. “I want the first launch of the Ospreys and Col Lineau’s Marines in 30 minutes. Make it happen.”
He looked at Col Lineau and said, “It’s showtime!”
Chapter 42
Thursday Morning, US Embassy, New Delhi
Since the blast, Sgt Niimoto almost forgot his thirst. He scanned the crowd below. Groups of men had come over the wall and up to the embassy building and back, some glassing the embassy through the gate or from makeshift stands that allowed them to look over the wall. Men had gone into the consular building as well.
Outside the walls, a crowd had begun to gather but were standing around watching while men in civilian clothes seemed to be organizing things. Although their clothes may have been civilian, their no-nonsense air was that of military or police.
A sudden increase in shouting below the tower caught his attention. He sidled over to the courtyard side and peaked over. His heart dropped. About fifteen men were manhandling the Marines’ 106 out of the auxiliary armory.
While the Marines were re-arming after the embassy takeovers, some Army supply officer found the old mothballed M40A2 106mm recoilless rifles. These were ancient pieces, first introduced during the Vietnam War era. The rifle fired a 106 mm shell, either HEAT, high explosive plastic-tracer (HEP-T), or antipersonnel-tracer (AP-T) flechette rounds. The rifle had an effective range of about 2500 meters, but a good gunner could hit targets far beyond that.
The weapon was brought on target by a ballistically-matched parallel-mounted M-8C .50 cal. spotting rifle. The trigger was a round knob. Pulling on the knob fired the .50 cal, and when the spotter round hit the desired target, the knob was pushed to fire the 106 mm round. Theoretically, the 106mm round would impact where the .50 cal round had impacted.
The rifle was recoilless because the recoil was not stopped by the breach. Rather, the gases formed by firing the round were ejected out vents in back of the weapon. During weapons training, the instructors had put a wooden ammo case behind the rifle before firing. The backblast smashed the case into splinters.
The weapon was sort of a dinosaur, but one of the powers that be decided that an impressive piece of what looked to be artillery might someday intimidate a violent crowd. No Marines had had to use one yet, but they stayed in the inventories of some 24 embassies.
The weapons were old, but the rounds had been re-packed into plastic casings. Only the flechette rounds were deemed necessary, and each embassy was given 10 rounds.
The rifles themselves
were too large to be stored inside most embassy vaults, so a secondary armory was constructed at most embassies near the entrances, and the weapon and rounds were stored there. The spotting rifles and sights were stored along with the other weapons in the main armories.
And now, right below him, the men were manhandling the beast into the courtyard. They got the rifle up on the tripod and pointed it at the door. Sgt Niimoto slowly brought his rifle up and sighted on one of the men. But then he thought that if the satchel charge hadn’t damaged the doors, then a flechette round certainly would not. He lowered his weapon and waited, quietly calling in to Little Mac to tell them what was happening.
There was obviously some discussion going on. The Indians probably hadn’t seen a recoilless rifle, and they were trying to figure it out. Loading the beast was fairly intuitive, and without too much trouble, a round was loaded and the breach locked into place. One man seemed pretty adamant that he had found the trigger, and he squatted beside it. Without sight, though, aiming the weapon was problematic.
With a growing sense of disbelief, Sgt Niimoto watched as one man squatted in back of the rifle, using his eyes to take general aim on the door. He motioned right and left, up and down, as the rifle was aimed. Still squatting, he gave a thumb’s up to the gunner who reached out and pressed the trigger. There was a huge explosion and dustcloud, and just like the wooden box back at Quantico, the man in back of the rifle was blown to bits. A mangled torso blew up against the embassy ground’s wall. Some men who had been watching over the wall ducked back at the blast. Now they had looked back over and were pointing at the body below them. Others in the gun team walked over to look at the man.
Sgt Niimoto stifled a chuckle.
“Dumbshits,” he thought.
He looked over to the embassy doors, and sure enough, they seemed fine. There might have been a scuff mark high and to the right, but it was not too noticeable. At least the Indians didn’t seem to notice it.
He really wished he could understand Hindi. The discussion was getting heated below him. The group of men came back to the rifle, and to Sgt Niimoto’s profound amazement, they turned the rifle around so the breach faced the embassy and the muzzle pointed at the wall. They loaded one more round, and a new man stepped up to sight down the barrel and bring the breach in line with the embassy doors. Once everything was aligned, he gave the signal, and the gunner once again pushed the trigger. The blast was just as deafening, but this time the man aiming the weapon took 106 mm of flechette round right below the chin. There was a huge crash as the round continued its course unabated and smashed into the embassy ground’s wall. Chips of plaster and brick flew everywhere, some flying up in the air before falling and pattering around Sgt Niimoto like small pieces of hail.
A sound almost like a donkey braying briefly echoed around the courtyard for a moment. Some men looked up trying to see the source, but in the confusion of the moment, they quickly lost interest.
Chapter 43
Thursday Morning, US Embassy, New Delhi
With a sudden click, the lights flickered on. Air began to move as the air conditioner started up. Loralee Howard groaned with pleasure. Gunny felt a moment of elation as well, but the he realized that this was probably not a good sign. Unless it signaled the end of the siege, the power was on because the Indians needed it for something. And after hearing from Sgt Niimoto about the 106 incident (which brought peals of laughter from the Marines and Major Defilice), it didn’t look like the siege was over.
He rushed up the ladder and went to Post 1. The screens were flickering to life, the security cameras coming online. Both Little Mac and Rodriguez were watching them as if they could will them to stabilize quicker. Images of some feet milling about could be seen at the edge of the front entrance camera’s transmission.
“Sgt McAllister, get me Niimoto,” Gunny said.
She pressed the code and handed the phone through the window slot.
“Tony, we’ve got power now. What’s happening out there?”
“Gunny, they’ve brought in some heavy duty stuff there. It looks like a huge cutting torch.”
On the monitor, a group of men appeared, pushing a huge cylinder forward. One man put on a welder’s helmet and lit a torch. A jet of fire appeared on the screen, a jet of pure white. He raised it up, but as he moved it towards the door, he went out of camera view.
“Maybe it will be as ineffective as the last attempt,” the president said from the ladderwell in back of them.
“Sir, I really need to ask you to get back down below. Let’s see what this situation will bring,” Gunny told him.
All eyes turned toward the door. The tensions seemed to ease somewhat until a small puff of smoke appeared inside the entrance.
“Shit,” someone said. Gunny wasn’t sure who it was.
Gunny picked up the phone again. “Tony, what can you see?”
“I can’t really see what the cutter is doing, but I can see people clapping each other in the back. It doesn’t look good. Do you want me to take them out?”
“Not yet. I need you up there. And that cutter might give out. If they make an entry, we’re going to engage. So wait until we tell you or you hear our shots, then engage them. Try and hit the tank and see if you can get it to blow or something.”
“Aye-aye, Gunny. Can do,” Niimoto said.
Gunny Mac turned around to look at his Marines, then said, “OK, it looks like they might have figured a way in. Sgt Chen, get Steptoe and Kramer. Major Defilice, can I ask you to go down to the vault and stay with the president? Van Slyke, you and Ramon go with him.”
The major shrugged and went down the ladder with Van Slyke following. PFC Ramon looked daggers at the Gunny before following.
“What the fuck’s with her?” he wondered.
Oh well, he had other things to worry about.
“Pat, you and Jesus, there, watch that monitor. We need to know how many are out there and where.”
As Chen returned with the other two, he turned to them and said, “Sgt Chen, take your team and get a good angle. If they open up a hole, fire through it, take them out.”
A grin spread over Chen’s face. “Gotcha, Gunny!”
He began to place Steptoe and Kramer, trying to figure out the best positioning.
“Fallgatter and LCpl Saad, join me here in the ladderwell. We are the covering fire,” Gunny told the two other Marines.
Everyone moved in position and slowly fell silent. The waiting began. Despite the air conditioning coming back on, sweat began to trickle down Gunny Mac’s back. Another puff of smoke appeared. Then a dull orange glow began to diffuse around that spot.
Suddenly, a spark shot through the door and bounced around the deck before fading. PFC Fallgatter let out a yelp, drawing glares from the rest. He looked sheepishly down.
More sparks started shooting in, a steady stream of them. Sgt Chen looked back.
“Gunny!” he shout-whispered, “I can almost see outside. I’m going to engage!”
“That’s your call,” Gunny told him, tightening his grip on his weapon.
Sgt Chen crept forward. He looked at the monitor through the Post 1 window, noting the position of the men outside the door. He made a mental adjustment and moved to the left, angling his M18 toward the right. He pushed it forward and blindly fired a three-round burst through the sparks. The sparks suddenly ceased.
There was a whoop from inside Post 1. “You got one of them Chen!” shouted Little Mac. And the rest are clearing out.”
There were a few shouts from within the embassy, and LCpl Kramer slapped Sgt Chen on the shoulders.
“Quiet everyone. They’ll be back, so let’s not get too carried away with ourselves. Nice shot, though.”
Gunny wiped the sweat from his brow. He knew they would return.
Chapter 44
Wednesday Night, The Whitehouse, Washington, DC
The vice-president rubbed her gritty eyes. She felt disgusting and could really use a shower. She
looked around the conference room. Empty coffee cups littered the place, and a steward was bringing in yet another tray of sandwiches. Small groups formed, broke, and formed again, like shoaling fish, discussing, yelling even, pointing at computers or printed reports. For the moment, she was a spot of calm amid the chaos.
She caught the eye of Arnold Hatch, the president’s chief of staff, and nodded slightly. He was the only other person seemingly alone at the moment. David had been slowly pushing him aside as events progressed, and no one seemed to notice. No one except for Arnold and the vice-president, that is. Arnold just stared at her for a moment, then looked away.
General Litz, General Kantres, Admiral Mike Keogh, the Navy CNO, and General Stacy Johnson, the Air Force Chief of Staff, were the center of a group of mostly uniforms in the midst of an animated discussion. General Litz forcefully pointed at the CNO who shook his head, pointing at a printout. The chairman kept glancing up at her, then back at the people surrounding him. He called out to Paul Lefever, who came to join them, and handed him the printout. The secretary started to read the printout when a look of shock came over his face.
“Well, this can’t be good,” the vice-president thought.
With a little hesitation, the secretary made his way to her followed by the flags. He handed the printout back to General Litz, offering him the floor.
The Return of the Marines Trilogy Page 19