The Return of the Marines Trilogy

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  More shots rang out, then an explosion. Gunny put his hand on the door as if that could help him see how Ramon and the major were. Part of him wanted to rush out and join them, but it was too late for that. He could not leave even if he wanted to without jeopardizing those left inside the vault.

  The president and Loralee came up to join them at the door. They stared uselessly at it. They could not see anything, they could not do anything, yet the four of them stood there.

  Another set of explosions could be heard, fuzzy and muffled as if they were far, far away, then some shots. And incredibly, seemingly a voice yelling out. They could not quite make out what was said, but it sounded like Ramon. A few more gunfire reports, then nothing. The vault became silent, only their steady breathing sounds making their presence known.

  Was it over? They looked each other in the eyes, that thought weighing heavily on each of their minds. Suddenly, a low rumble filled the air and the vault shook, items falling off the racks. Loralee fell to one knee, and Van Slyke quickly reached down to help her back up. Gunny took an involuntary breath, afraid there would be no oxygen, but the seals on the vault were good.

  “That’s them! We just need to hold out a little longer.”

  There was a palpable sense of relief among themselves.

  “Van Slyke, come here. Let’s clear this other table here and use it as a barricade in front of the door.”

  Both of them started shoving electronics and manuals and extra weapons off the table onto the floor where it joined the items already shoved there by Major Defilice and those which had been knocked down by the explosion. They started shoving the table into place when a set of hands joined them to help. The gunny looked up into the president’s eyes.

  Between the three of them, they managed to jam the table around a rack and into place on one edge in front of the door.

  “OK, let’s see what we can pile up in front of this,” Gunny said as he started rummaging through the electronics, books, and other odds and ends.

  As Gunny lifted two heavy pieces of some sort of testing equipment over the edge of the table, the president asked “Why not put those on this side of the table? That makes more sense to me.”

  “Well sir, if we do that, and if a round penetrates through the table, then all of this can become shrapnel. All this glass and metal and plastic, well it can just fly around. On the other side of the table, most of that should be stopped.”

  Loralee nervously chuckled and said, “He’s got you there!”

  The president almost seemed to begin to glare at that, but he suddenly relaxed and laughed. “I guess you’re right. And maybe he should be making the decisions here, not this dumb California boy.”

  It really wasn’t that funny, but all four of them broke out in laughter. In the stress of the situation, the knowledge that they may be the only ones left alive, and now the hope of a possible rescue, well there was sense of hysteria to the laughter.

  “Peter, cover the left side of the door there,” Gunny said.

  PFC Van Slyke merely nodded, his swollen face too mangled by now to say much.

  “Loralee, if I can ask you to sit here in back of this table and cover the middle, and I’ll take the right.”

  Still chuckling, Loralee got between the two Marines.

  “What about me?”

  Gunny felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Sir, maybe you should just move to the back of the vault over there and get down. We’ll cover you the best we can.”

  “Do you really think that will make any difference if they get in before our people do?” the president asked.

  Gunny had to agree and shook his head.

  “Then I’m going to join you here. I’ve got this rifle here, and Peter has shown me how to fire it.”

  “Roger that, sir. I guess you’re right, and the more firepower we have here the better.”

  He moved over a space to let the president move in between him and Loralee.

  “Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant,” the president said sincerely.

  Gunny placed his weapon butt on the deck and took the president’s M18. He hit the magazine release and caught the falling magazine, checked it, and slid it back into the weapon. He pulled back the charging handle and released it before handing the weapon back. He took another full magazine out of his pocket and handed it to the president as well.

  “It’s on safe now, sir,” he said, pointing. ”Push it up, and you are hot. Pull the trigger when you have a target. You’re good to go.”

  The president nodded and slipped between Loralee and the gunny. They stared at the door, listening for any sound.

  “Why did they do that?”

  The other three looked at the president. “Why who, sir?”

  The major, Major Defilice, and that woman Marine, Ramon. I don’t understand why they did that,” he said, looking confused.

  Loralee elbowed Gunny McCardle, raising her eyebrows. She was a civilian, but she understood. Perhaps it was because of her brother, or perhaps it was just her makeup.

  Gunny looked over at the president and said, “Mr. President, I really don’t know if there are words to explain that. It’s almost something you have to feel, and in order to feel it, you have to experience the same training, the same camaraderie, the same feeling of family we have. You would do anything to protect your kids, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, but that’s different. They’re my flesh and blood. Any animal will protect its offspring. That is nature. But those two and the sold- . . . uh, Marines who went upstairs, and the two in the guard booth, they aren’t family. They aren’t flesh and blood. But none of them hesitated. And that little Ramon, she is just like some of the high school girls I remember. You were going, and she backed you down. She went. And the major went with her.”

  “Yes, they went. But you’re wrong sir. We are flesh and blood. Maybe not by genetics, but we are family. Our bonds are greater than mere genes. And Major Defilice? OK, he isn’t a Marine, but we’d be damn glad to have him as one. He understands what it’s all about.”

  Some voices came through from the passage. Did they sound Hindi? They seemed right outside the door. Everyone froze, then relaxed somewhat as the voices seemed to fade away.

  The president picked it back up, “But they must have known they were going to die, right?”

  “I imagine so, Mr. President. But they both, well, all of them, Major Defilice, PFC Ramon, Sgt McAlister, PFC Rodriguez, Sgt Chen, Drayton Bajinski, and probably the three who went above decks as well, they knew they probably would not be making it. To be honest, I don’t know if we are going to make it. But Marines do their duty, no matter what.”

  Loralee added, “My brother Ian, the one I told you about, the Marine who lost his legs in Afghanistan? You now, all he tried to do was to go back. He kept appealing his decision, trying to show that he was every bit as able as any other Marine despite his two prosthetics. He had a 70% pension, tax-free, and VA benefits, but could he stop and move on? No, he had to get back with his unit before their next deployment. It was his biggest regret that he didn’t make it.”

  There was a small thud against the door. Then some voices. The four froze, not moving a muscle. A soft glow appeared on the door, then a puff of smoke followed by a stream of sparks. An acrid cloud of smoke came into the vault and eddied around the ceiling.

  “Get down!” Gunny ordered needlessly.

  All four crouched behind the table, protected from the steady stream of sparks shooting into the vault. There were four simultaneous clicks as four safeties were flipped to “fire.” Sweaty hands nervously gripped the weapons.

  While the vault door was a pretty heavy alloy, it was not made of the same material as the embassy security doors. The torch being used made pretty good progress. They watched the cut line get longer and longer around the lock as whoever was doing the cutting tried to isolate it. When the lock was completely cut, it still did not budge, so after a moment, the cut line started to descend betwee
n the door and the vault wall itself. As the lines of the cut met, the locking mechanism fell away, leaving a small gap in the door. PFC Van Slyke started to raise his weapon but Gunny pulled it down and motioned for all four to get down. As they crouched behind the table, they could hear Hindi voices at the small opening as if someone was looking in.

  The torch started up again, and a cut was being made at the very top of the door, cutting through the heavy steel bar there. After a moment, the bar was cut, and the torch shifted to the locking bar on the floor.

  There was a shout of triumph, then gloved hands came in to grip the door at the new opening. Gunny motioned to the other three, and they came up, weapons aimed. As the door was pushed open a crack, Gunny opened fire, followed by the other three a split second later.

  At least one set of hands was hit as the other two sets jerked back. There was some furious shouting down the passage and footsteps running from further down toward the other offices. They could hear an excited exchange right outside the door. A hand appeared around the edge of the partially opened door and threw in a round object.

  “Down!” shouted Gunny as the four crouched behind the table.

  A horrible four or five seconds followed, which stretched for an eternity. There was a deafening blast as the grenade detonated. Gunny and Van Slyke immediately sat up, weapons over the edge of the table. Three men tried to rush in, but their concerted burst dropped all three in their tracks.

  Gunny looked down at the men, one in plain view, the other two partially obscured by the door. He has just killed a man, maybe more. He was glad the man in front of him was face down. He didn’t want to see him, to form any feelings for him. The two other bodies jerked as they were dragged out of sight, but one in front of him stayed, a testament of some sort.

  “Good shot, you two. Thanks,” Loralee said, coldly looking down on the gunman.

  The voices outside stopped. Gunny knew they were regrouping, ready to try and end it all right there in the bottom deck of the embassy.

  “Do you despise me?”

  Gunny looked to his left in surprise at the president. The president had his weapon pointing up, and there was an almost sorrowful look on his face.

  “Sir?” he paused for a few seconds, not expecting such a question at a time like this and not quite knowing how to respond. “With all due respect, I am kinda focusing on the next few minutes. I don’t think this is a good time for a retrospective.”

  “No, I really want to know. I need to know. You’ve been telling me for the last two days about the Marine Corps, how important it is to you, to them,” he waved his arm as if to encompass the entire embassy. “Now all of them are dead. And I’m not stupid. We can’t hold out here much longer. And we can’t hope for rescue. So now, I want the truth. I was the one who took away your Marine Corps. Me. Michael Antonio David Eduadro. So I am asking you, do you despise me?”

  Both PFC Van Slyke and Loralee sucked in their breath. Gunny turned to look back at the small opening in the door. He thought for a second or two.

  “No sir, surprisingly I don’t. Oh, I was pissed when you wouldn’t let us fly the Corps colors for your honor guard two days ago. That was plain disrespect. But about our Corps, I guess you did what you thought was right at the time, and you can’t fault a man for following his conscience. Not that it makes much difference now.”

  There was some gathering noise from out in the passage. All four turned to the opening and raised their weapons.

  “Thank you, Gunny. And for the record, I think now I may have been wrong. I can see that sometimes, government is not all about dollars and cents. It’is about heart and soul. And I know this may mean nothing, but if by some chance we get out of this, I’m going to bring back the Corps. I swear it.”

  “Mr. President, I appreciate that. But I’m afraid you just might not get that chance. Here they come!”

  Loralee Howard, diplomat’s wife and sister to a Marine, Private First Class Peter Van Slyke and Gunnery Sergeant Jacob McCardle, United States Marine Corps, and Michael Eduardo, President of the United States of America, lifted their weapons and faced their incoming fate.

  Chapter 52

  Thursday Morning, 1000 Meters From the US Embassy, New Delhi

  Sitting in the jump seat, Col Jeff Lineau could see the first Osprey flare out and land in the embassy courtyard some 1000 meters ahead. There had been some discussion about FAST-roping, but he had decided that letting the embassy walls protect the debarking Marines was more important. Well, Marines and Navy. There had been some last minute additions to the mission. A SEAL team was included in the first bird. They were going to take position in the bell tower as a sniper team and cover the operation from there while Captain Kreig’s 3d Team secured the courtyard.

  There were some other additions as well. Each bird had a corpsman from the Reagan to supplement Doc Hollister, and both the Colonel’s bird and Capt Mahmoud’s had a flight surgeon as well. There were two Indian-American sailors with them who could speak Hindi and Urdu. Each bird had a Navy “co-pilot,” pilots who had at least flown rotary wing planes before, and each door gunner was a Navy gunner’s mate, freeing up four Marines to join the others entering the embassy. There were also two deck controllers or “yellow shirts.” The Ospreys didn’t have enough seats for all the pax, so some had sat on the deck between the sling seats for the entire trip. Hopefully, more people would have to sit that way on the way back.

  Peering through the Osprey’s windshield, he could see the tell-tale flashes of the door gunner engaging something, then the big bird almost disappeared behind the distant wall. He started a mental count. Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds. He wished his comm worked, but the area was back under blackout. Suddenly, the first bird rose fully back into sight and pulled away, just as the second bird, with LtCol Ricapito’s team aboard, flared in from the other side of the embassy for a landing on the roof.

  As they flew closer, he glanced down through the windows beside the co-pilot’s feet. There were quite a few people down there on the street, many of them pointing up at them. For the hundredth time, he hoped that none of the people besieging the embassy had anti-aircraft weapons. At this height and speed, his bird, in particular, due to its approach lane, was pretty vulnerable.

  As they came up to the embassy, the second bird pulled up and out. In the light’s angle, he could clearly see the newly painted “United States Marines” and US flag, which had been hastily applied to cover the Indonesian markings. His own Osprey rushed in, ramp already down.

  Col Lineau quickly unbuckled and followed the rest of the Marines out, his headquarters on the heels of Major Roberto’s team. As soon as his foot hit the courtyard deck, the Osprey jumped into the air to go and take its place in the orbiting station above the embassy.

  The embassy grounds looked surprisingly in good condition. The various plants and trees had obviously suffered a big force, and the embassy itself looked a little scorched and had some broken windows above the first deck, but frankly, he had expected worse. There were, however, quite a few bodies, perhaps thirty or more, lying motionless around the courtyard. As he ran up to the embassy’s front door, he passed several bodies that had blood froth coming out their mouths. Not a pretty way to go, he thought.

  He looked up into the bell tower to see the SEALS getting in position. Capt Kreig already had most of his Marines up on the wall, weapons pointing out, but no one was firing.

  The fourth and final Osprey took off after debarking Capt Mahmoud and 1stLt Hoins. Capt Mahmoud quickly moved his Marines out to the consulate building to keep anyone there from coming over to the embassy itself. Hoins just as quickly took her team up to join the colonel at the steps to the embassy.

  There was a flurry of shots from inside the embassy. He rushed up to the front door itself when LCpl Neller, 1st Team’s runner came bursting out the door from inside.

  “Sir! We’ve run into some bad guys in there when we tried to clear the first deck. Major Roberto th
inks we can take them, but that’s gonna keep us from checking below for a few minutes. He wants to know if Colonel Ricapito can get there.”

  The plan had been for the Major Roberto to sweep in the embassy from the front, then rush down the main passage to check the two offices where the president was last known to have been. He was then to send a team down to the lower deck to check out the vault where there was also a possibility they had holed up. He wished he had been able to get confirmation on where they were from Major Rogers. He wasn’t all that confident that the major would have even been able to reach them during the break in the jamming, though.

  LtCol Ricapito’s team was to land on the roof and blow an opening there, then make its way down, clearing the building and then covering the retrograde from that vantage point.

  There was a rattle of fire and a few rounds pinged around them. Col Lineau swore and spun around to see most of Mahomoud’s Marines and some of Kreig’s firing en masse into a broken window on the consulate building.

  Just then, there was a blast from somewhere above him on the embassy roof. He looked up to see a Marine leaning over the edge, waving small green flag. Colonel Ricapito was in, but how fast could he adjust? He needed to get the word, then move down five decks.

  He looked to Capt Mahmuoud, but he and his Marines were engaged with somebody, and with the people he saw outside the embassy grounds, he wanted Kreig’s presence on the walls keeping them back.

  “Neller, tell Major Roberto that he has to get into those offices now. Whatever it takes. If they’re clear, he needs to check all the others. We’ll take below decks. McNair, get over there and tell Captain Mahmoud to give me ten Marines. Have them meet us below on the bottom deck.”

  As PFC McNair took off across the courtyard, the colonel turned to the lieutenant, saying, “It’s us Stacy. Let’s get your team down the ladder in there and do a search. They could be anywhere, but the vault is our best chance.”