The Return of the Marines Trilogy

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “You’ve got balls, Pat. You too Jesus.”

  He turned to the others and ordered, “All right, let’s move it.”

  LCpl Kramer and PFC Fallgatter picked up Sgt Chen and carried him to the ladderwell and down below. LCpl Steptoe wiped up a few drops of blood dripped from Chen to the deck. Gunny Mac turned to look one more time at Post 1 before closing the hatch, but both Sgt MacAllister and PFC Rodriguez were attentively watching the embassy door. The hatch swung shut, cutting off his view of them.

  He hurried down the ladder, a two flight set of stairs with a landing between. When at the bottom, he could see the first floor hatch by looking up the middle between the sets of steps. Gathered at the bottom was the rest of the party, everyone except for the two in Post 1. They all looked to him.

  “Well, they’re almost in. I don’t know how long we can keep them out, but we are sure going to try. Sgt McAllister and PFC Rodriguez have volunteered to stay at Post 1.” He could see Loralee quickly lower her head in prayer. “Frankly, I don’t know how long they can hold out, but it’s a good position.”

  “Well, we can keep them under observation, at least. So we know,” Major Defilice said, looking at the gunny.

  “What do you mean, sir? How can we do that?” Then it dawned on him “Yes! The auxiliary security closet.”

  He rushed down the passage almost to the vault and opened a small room full of monitors. This was a redundant monitoring station that monitored inside various embassy spaces. It was not under Marine control, so it had slipped his mind. Others following him tried to crowd inside, but the space was too small.

  “Sgt Chen, take Kramer and Fallgatter and take a position at the bottom of the ladder. We need to hit them if they get that far.”

  Everyone else crowded the best they could to get a view of the second monitor, the one which showed inside Post 1. Both Marines were alert and ready. Sgt McAllister had her hand on Rodriguez’s shoulder. Inside the space it was silent, the only sound the breathing in and out of nine sets of lungs.

  Suddenly, Rodriguez pointed. The monitor had no sound, but his shout was evident. Both Marines put the muzzles of their weapons out the document slots and pulled the triggers. The reports could be heard in the distance, coming past the closed hatches, then down the ladder well and passage. They could hear the answering fire as well.

  The glass of the post seemed to shudder as Rodriguez first ducked, then straightened up and reloaded before firing again. A sound of an explosion reached the watching group. A grenade must have been employed, but the Post was pretty strong.

  “How long can they last?” the president asked, concern evident in his voice.

  To Gunny, it seemed like the concern was actually for the two Marines, not for his own personal safety.

  “I don’t know, sir. It depends on what weapons they have.”

  “Shouldn’t we go do something?” It was Ramon, who sat clutching her M18, looking oversized in her grip.

  “No Ramon, we shouldn’t. If we open the hatch, they’ll know where we are, and that’s that. Those two Marines have pretty good protection now. And they knew what they were doing. We won’t John Wayne it and let their decision go to waste.”

  Talking ceased again as they watched the screen. Coolly, Sgt McAllister and PFC Rodriguez took turns firing out the port. It looked like they were on the range without a care in the world.

  Gunny’s pocket started to vibrate, an awareness that crept up on him, so intent he was on the monitor. Puzzled, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It was ringing as if nothing was wrong. The incongruity struck him.

  He flipped it open and said, “Hello?”

  The woman’s voice on the other end seemed frantic. “Gunny McCardle, is that you?”

  “Yes it is. Who is this?”

  “Hey, I’ve got somebody,” he could hear her shout to someone else before she came back to him. “Gunny, this is Major Rogers. Is the president with you? Is he OK?”

  “Yes ma’am, he is. As far as OK, well, we’re under attack right now, and frankly, I don’ know how long we can hold out.”

  He knew the major, of course. It was a small Corps. And the voice did sound like hers.

  “Gunny, we don’t have much time. I’m surprised we got a hold of you as it is. You’ve got to hold out longer. “In . . .” There was a pause, then, “ . . . in twenty-two minutes, the Navy is going to drop a big-ass bomb on the embassy, danger close. This is a Mk402, and it won’t destroy the embassy but it will mess up anyone outside and suck up a lot of the oxygen. Get everyone as close to the center of the building as possible. We’ll be there right after that, so get ready.”

  He was a little confused, and he asked, “You’re coming?”

  “I’m out to sea, but the Colonel has every swinging dick he could find and they’re coming in to get you. Look, we’ll be cut off any sec. Where do you have the president?”

  “On the lower level, in the vault.”

  “OK, I’ll tell them, if I can raise them. Get in that vault and hunker down.”

  The line was cut.

  “Who was that? I thought the phones didn’t work,” LCpl Steptoe asked curiously.

  Gunny stared at the phone for a second. He couldn’t believe it. Rescue?

  “Everybody, listen up. The ’Dant is coming to get us. I don’t know how. But that was Major Rogers on the phone. So all we have to do is hold on a little longer, and we’re home free.”

  There was a sudden explosion of sound as everyone tried to talk at once.

  “Quiet everyone!” he shouted. “We need to move back to the vault. They’ve got some sort of bomb they are going to use to prep the place.”

  He thought of the two Marines in Post 1. He hoped the Post would protect them from the bomb. They just had to hold out a little longer. If they could, then this was going to work. He looked back up the monitor. McAllister and Rodriguez were still calmly alternating their shots, one covering the other while that Marine reloaded.

  His hopeful optimism fell as on the screen, they could see Sgt McAllister fall back, hand to her throat, then drop out of camera range to the deck. There was a collective shout in the closet. A seeing eye round must have found its way through the slot and into the post. They could see PFC Rodriguez turn around and look down at her, then they could see him shout and move to the slot and empty his clip. As he fumbled with this clip to reload, he looked up and out the post glass, yelling. Several barrels poked into view, through the document ports, and muzzle flashes filled the screen. They could faintly hear the gunfire above them as they saw PFC Rodriguez fall back.

  There was muffled shouting in the deck above them, celebratory shouting.

  The president seemed shocked as he said, “They’re gone! Just like that!”

  Gunny tried to think. He needed time, and he had to act now. He grabbed LCpl Steptoe and Saad and rushed back down the passage to the ladderwell. He looked at the three Marines there.

  “Look, Post 1 just fell. But the ’Dant is coming with the rest of the Marines to get us out of here. We need time, though. In about twenty minutes, there’s gonna be one mother of a bomb landing on us, but it isn’t going to bring the place down. So we need a diversion.”

  He looked at Chen. No, Chen couldn’t run.

  “Kramer, Steptoe, Saad, I want you to quietly go up the ladder. Go to the second deck. If and when these yahoos open the hatch, light them up, then run like hell. Keep them chasing you. We’ve got three more decks up there, make them chase you. But in seventeen minutes, get into a closet or head in the middle of the building and hunker down. Keep them away from the president. You got it?”

  All three nodded.

  “Then go. Quietly now. Remember, they’re right outside that hatch there.”

  The three Marines started carefully up the ladder.

  “Sgt Chen, you take Fallgatter here and cover the bottom of the ladder. And keep quiet!”

  “I think I’ll join them here. It sounds like fun,�
�� said Drayton smiling, but his hands were trembling and his face pale.

  Gunny clapped him on the shoulder. “Roger that.”

  He ran back down the passageway and called out, “Mr. President, I have to insist on you getting into the vault now. You too, Loralee.”

  “Where did those three soldiers . . . sorry, Marines go?”

  “Sir, we need more time, so they’ll draw anyone to the upper decks and away from you.”

  “So they are sacrificing themselves, too?” he asked, seemingly distraught.

  “I hope not, Mr. President. I hope they buy us all enough time to get out of here.”

  “Gunnery Sergeant!” said Mr. Dravid.

  Gunny Mac kept forgetting that he was around.

  “You need these attacking men to go upstairs?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, ran down the passage.

  Gunny instinctively brought up his weapon, but realizing that fire would draw attention to them, he held off. He tried to signal Sgt Chen, but by that time, Mr. Dravid was already climbing up the ladder. Gunny rushed to look up, but Mr. Dravid passed the first deck hatch and kept on up. Gunny hoped that was a good sign.

  He looked at his watch. They had fifteen minutes until the prep fire. He wheeled back and ran as quietly as he could back to the vault. Major Defilice and PFC Ramon were at the hatch. Inside, Loralee had taken an M18 off a table where the extra weapons had been put and was loading it. She looked up and caught the Gunny’s eye.

  “You think I’m just going to sit here?”

  The president looked at her and said, “I think I’ll take one, too.”

  Gunny looked to Van Slyke and told him, “Prep the president on that. Make sure he knows how to use it.” He looked around the vault, thinking. “We need to be ready to pull this hatch shut. I’ll get Sgt Chen to lock it.”

  The vault had a unique safety feature, one which made little sense to the gunny. While it had a safety release inside the vault, it could not be locked from inside. It had to be locked from the outside. So if worst came to worst, and they needed to seal the hatch of the vault, to lock it, then someone had to be outside of the vault to do that.

  A flurry of motion caught Gunny’s eye. It was Sgt Chen, motioning up the ladderwell. There was a burst of fire from above, and then Mr. Dravid’s voice could be heard shouting something. Hindi-sounding voices responded, then there was the sound of rushing footsteps going up the stairs.

  Gunny crept forward. No one seemed to be coming down. He hoped the ploy would work, and he hoped his Marines would survive their efforts. Sporadic gunfire echoed from above. At least they hadn’t been caught yet. He looked at his watch. Eight minutes.

  He moved back to the security closet and looked in, but not much could be seen on any of the screens. A few passing bodies, a few shadows.

  He barely heard a plunk, plunk, plunk as something came down the ladder, bouncing on step after step. He looked up just as a quiet “shit” echoed down the passage. The explosion was deafening in the confined spaces. Shrapnel whined as it flew down the passage towards them. The blast stunned him for a second, then he gathered his wits and looked down towards the ladder.

  Sergeant Greg Chen, Private First Class Michael Fallgatter, and Drayton Bajinski lay shredded at the end of the passageway. PFC Fallgatter gave a moan and moved his arm when a burst of fire ripped into him.

  Gunny whipped around and dived toward the vault. With Major Defilice, he pulled the hatch partway shut. As a shape came into view to inspect the bodies, both men opened fire, and the body fell. Gunny looked at his watch. Six minutes.

  A rifle came around the corner and sprayed down the passage, hitting nothing before being pulled back. Gunny fired on the rifle, but missed. He knew what had to be done.

  He looked around the vault, at each face there. He finally settled on Van Slyke, his face still bandaged. He was a good man.

  “PFC Van Slyke. You and me. We’re going to go out there and secure the hatch.”

  There was an explosion as another grenade was rolled down the ladder.

  “Major, if I can ask you to keep the president safe here. Hopefully relief will get here soon.”

  He got up as Van Slyke came forward.

  “No!” shouted PFC Ramon. She took a deep breath. “You’ve ignored me since I got here, you’ve ignored me for the last two days since this stuff started. I’m a Marine, dammit, and not a ‘Princess.’ Peter can barely see out of his eye, and Gunny, you’re as bad a shot as I am. But you need to be in charge here. It’s the mission that’s important here. Greg and I are going.”

  She indicated Major Defilice, who stood there with a wry look on his face.

  “No Ivy, I want you to stay here. Van Slyke and I will go,” Gunny said.

  “Dammit Gunny, didn’t you hear me? For once, you’ll let me be a Marine!” she shouted, glaring at him.

  “Gunny, I don’t think I’d stand in her way,” said the major. “And I think we need to go pretty quick,” he added as he whipped off another shot down the passage.

  She stared at Gunny for another moment, then swept her arm, clearing off files from a heavy table.

  “Greg, help me with this,” she told MAJ Defilice as she bent over to push the table.

  “Wait a minute,” he told her.

  The major walked up to Ramon and stood her up. He bent down and picked her up, her feet dangling a good eighteen inches off the ground. He looked at her for a moment, then kissed her solidly on the lips. Her arms curled in back of his neck. They stopped, and stared in each other’s eyes for a moment before he put her down. Without comment, they pushed the table out the door.

  Loralee’s eyes glistened, and she quickly wiped them.

  “Well,” was all she could say.

  As the door started to close, Gunny hit the side of his head with his hand.

  How could he have forgotten Tony?

  “Wait!” He grabbed the landline and dialed up Sgt Niimoto. “Come on, answer, answer!”

  MAJ Defilice fired down the passage again. “Uh Gunny, a little urgency?”

  “Yeah?” Niimoto here.”

  “Tony, no time. In three minutes, the embassy is going to get hit with a Mk402. You’ve got to take any cover you can. Any!” The line went dead as the door of the vault was shoved shut, cutting the wire.

  Chapter 47

  Thursday Morning, US Embassy, New Delhi

  The vault door closed with a sense of certainty. Major Defilice put his shoulder to it and hit the keypad to lock it. Somehow, though, PFC Ramon did not feel alone. She looked up at the major and smiled. Well, it was time to get going. She turned around and started pushing the heavy metal table.

  “Ivy, let me push, you cover me,” he told her.

  She was still hyped for standing up to Gunny, and she bristled for a second before relenting. He was right. He could push this easily alone. He bent down, and he pushed the table along edgewise, so the top of it preceded them like a bulldozer blade. It was a heavy metal table, and should stop quite a bit of anything thrown at them.

  Ivy followed, weapon at the ready, pointing over the table. Twice, she fired as they made their way down the passage. When they were almost there, a grenade bounced down the steps.

  “Down!” she shouted.

  The impact was loud and the shock wave actually moved the table a few inches. They both instinctively stuck their heads over the edge to check it, but nothing penetrated the heavy tabletop. They smiled at each other with relief and started moving again.

  As they approached the opening, they both sidled to the front wall. An arm came around the corner with a rifle, and Ivy snapped off a burst, surprisingly hitting the arm. With a shout, the arm was yanked back while the rifle it had been holding fell to the ground, bouncing until it came to a stop on top of Drayton. Ivy felt a little gorge rise in her throat as she looked at the four men lying there, the three Americans and one Indian gunman.

  Greg looked at her, grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. Despite th
e intense circumstances, she felt a wave of affection roll over her.

  He positioned the table and gave her the signal to cover him. She stood up and fired up the ladder while he pushed the table out to block the bottom. Sgt Chen’s body served to help anchor it in place. It may not have been much of an obstacle, but maybe it would stop the grenades from being rolled down on top on them.

  There was a shout from above and a thud of descending feet. Greg stood, cool as a cucumber and fired. Ivy ducked under his arm and fired her own burst. Two bodies fell to the landing, just a couple feet away from them. They both ducked back as return fire peppered the ladderwell. The burst stopped and was followed by a small cascade of spent brass, which bounced down the stairs.

  There were some voices from above, then the plunk, plunk, plunking of a falling grenade. They both leaned back as the grenade lodged against the table and detonated. Except for her ringing ears, Ivy was untouched.

  She could feel Greg’s big body lean against her, hard and powerful. This was a man. She looked at him and knew then that this was the man for her, the one who could meet her expectations. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

  There was another mad rush down the stairs. Again, they both popped out, one low and the other high. Again, they forced the retreat.

  The major looked down at the private first class, smiled, and said, “Some fun, huh?”

  They could hear discussion in Hindi going on above them. As it stopped, several grenades came bounding down the stairs, exploding against the table. As soon as they detonated, a bum’s rush of steps came rushing downat them. They both struggled back up to engage, firing up the ladder. Without a sound, MAJ Defilice fell back, rifle falling from his hands. Ivy stopped and looked. A round had hit him high on the forehead. His eyes were open, but looking at nothing. Just like that, he was gone.

  More men rushed down the steps firing into the major’s prone and unmoving body. A sense of rage engulfed her. Even here, even now, she was being ignored. She turned and fired into the mass of men, dropping two of them.