The Return of the Marines Trilogy

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  As the noise from the aircraft reached them, Bong looked up. A look of hope came over his face.

  Asad reached down and picked up his AK. Could the Americans be mounting a rescue attempt? If so, then Asad was happy they had moved. It had all been part of the overall plan, Taban had told him. The two men had been dressed in the burkas the Arab women wore when they were taken from the ship to the first house, but that was not intended to fool anyone, only to make sure certain eyes saw them.

  The badaadinta badah knew there were traitors in the country, willing to sell out their brothers. And there were only so many places to take hostages. So the two men were taken to their first stop and hustled inside. Then, at a specific time told to them by one of the foreigner men who supported them, they took the two hostages out to the roof, ostensibly to bathe them. Asad wasn’t sure how some sort of eye-in-the-sky could spot them. Maybe they had trained birds? But he took his leaders’ word for that.

  Then, at night, again at a specific time, the two prisoners were placed into large barrels, and along with five empty barrels, were taken by donkey cart to their present position. Only Taban, Ghedi, Korfa, (the man who could speak English) and Asad came into the house, and their weapons stayed inside. Nothing was shown to the outside world. Aziza, an older women, stayed downstairs and fixed their food, but she never came upstairs where they kept the prisoners.

  Asad thought all the subterfuge was silly. What could the Americans do? There were thousands of men in Hobyo, warriors. He couldn’t believe that they would risk any more men just to rescue one of their own when only a payment would get him back. For such a rich country, such a payment was like the bite of a mosquito, nothing more.

  Asad was young, but he had been taught about the Battle of the Rangers. It was true that over 1,000, maybe 2,000 of his people had been killed in Mogadishu on that day, but they had shown the Americans that the Somali scorpion had a fierce sting. Surely they wouldn’t try anything like that again.

  Some of the aircraft noise started getting louder. He could begin to make out a thwok-thowk-thowk sound. He rushed over to look out the window. He couldn’t see anything at first, but then a huge shadow passed directly over his head. It was low and loud. It flew down 100 meters or so, then hovered over the intersection just barely within Asad’s field of view. Ropes came out, then men started sliding down the ropes like water drops sliding down a stalk of grass. As soon as the soldiers reached the ground, they ran off and out of sight. Within moments, the Black Hawk, for Asad could not mistake the distinctive shape which had been plastered on t-shirts for years and which played a role in the movie readily available throughout the country, rose and flew away. Another Black Hawk flew in, and more soldiers came sliding down ropes. It too flew away, and suddenly, all was quiet. People who had been on the streets below only two minutes earlier had seemingly been swallowed up by the city.

  Asad was amazed. True, any country which could make such an amazing weapon of war had some power. He had to admit that seeing the Black Hawks in person was different from seeing the movie. And they looked much more powerful than the small helicopters used by the government. But his people had shown that they could bring them down. Why would they come again? Wouldn’t it be much easier just to pay their fine, the ransom, to get their man back? And did the Philippines have the same power? Could they be involved, too?

  He looked back at the two prisoners. Craig was asleep, or perhaps unconscious. Bong, though, he was smiling at him. He seemed pretty satisfied. Asad had an urge to go over and hit him. Those were American soldiers, not Philippines soldiers. So they wouldn’t help him. He wanted to smack that smug look off his face.

  He sat back down, AK cradled in his lap. He watched his two prisoners, suddenly wishing he was someplace else. If the Americans found them, what would happen to him? He didn’t want to wish anything bad to Ghedi, but he wished this had happened yesterday when he was off. But he had until nightfall until he would be relieved, and he had to stay put.

  He kept jumping back up, looking out the window opening. But he couldn’t see anything. That didn’t relieve him. He could not see the street directly below him. But he could imagine. And he imagined soldiers, hundreds of them gathering outside the door ready to break in and take back their countryman.

  He was pretty wound up, and when the door burst open, he would have shot Taban if his safety hadn’t been engaged. Taban merely scowled. He had brought his weapon with him, which was against their plan of no weapons on the street, so things must be getting tense.

  “The Americans are down the street, only 100 meters away. But they don’t seem to be moving. The other ones, they attacked the false house. But now, they are all just sitting there, doing nothing. We’ve got people moving around, gathering others. We’re going to get them into the street. Once the Americans see we are serious, they will leave. But if not, then we’ll make the Battle of the Rangers seem like child’s play.”

  Asad nodded. Fighting? He hadn’t thought it would come to that.

  “You need to stay here. Watch the prisoners. Even if we chase out the Americans, we’ve lost if we don’t have them. But, if the Americans come in here, you need to kill them both. We need to show them the only way to get people back is to pay their fines like civilized people. Let the insurance companies pay. It is not even the shipping line’s money. But if they come in like this, well, the price they will pay will be in dead men. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Can I count on you?” He looked over at the two men.

  “Yes, you can. I will do my duty.”

  He slapped Asad on the back. “Good boy. I knew it. I need to go help gather up the people. We’ve got different clans here, and we disagree often, but we need to unite against the Americans. It won’t be long until you hear our roar.”

  He turned and left the room.

  Even with two other men in the room, Asad suddenly felt very alone.

  Chapter 23

  Hobyo

  Private First Class Mason Shuga hunkered down with the rest of his fire team at the end of Route Denver, or Denver Road, or something like that. At least that’s what Sgt Stanhope had called it when they received their OpOrder. He wasn’t sure why the Somalis would name a street after a city in America here, and he never saw a street sign with that name. In fact, it was just a dusty, dry street, and it was getting hot as hell.

  They were supposed to be on the ground for only 10 or 15 minutes, but it had already been 30 minutes, and where the streets had been abandoned as soon as they fast-roped in, there were now small signs of activity. He had glimpses of people looking out of windows and once or twice, scurrying across the street up ahead. One man had looked out over a roof at them, cell phone in hand.

  He could tell Cpl Kim was getting antsy, too. He had called back several times to their squad leader, trying to find out what was going on. Mason and LCpl Kropkowski, the team’s automatic rifleman were on one side of the street, Cpl Kim and PFC Rossi were on the other side, taking cover behind a box of some sort. “Krop” was there to lay down a base of fire, if necessary, and Mason was there to keep bad guys off of him. Both were in the shadows made by the buildings, but soon, the rising sun would have them all lit up.

  He looked ahead down the street. There weren’t any crowds of chanting locals, but there was an undercurrent of movement, of tension. It wasn’t something he could put his finger on, merely a feeling.

  He caught some movement about 50 meters ahead. It was that same raghead they’d seen a few minutes earlier, the one who’d dashed into one of the buildings. As he came out, though, this time, Mason caught the unmistakable sight of a rifle strapped to the man’s back. The man glanced down towards them, but as he was standing in the direct sunlight, he didn’t seem to see the four Marines lying in the dust. The man looked back at the building for a minute, seemed to shout something, then hurried off.

  “Did you see that?” he asked Krop.

  “Yeah, I saw him,”
came the reply. “Just another idiot out for his morning constitutional.”

  “No, I mean, he was armed.”

  “No shit? Are you sure?”

  “Fucking right I’m sure. I saw it.”

  “Damn! I could have lit him up!” He turned his head and quietly called across the street to where their fire team leader lay, “Cpl Kim, Shuga here saw a weapon on that guy who came out of the building there.”

  The fire team leader scooted out a bit so he could see around the box.

  “That building?” he asked, pointing to the only two-story building down the road in front of them.

  “That’s the one,” Mason replied.

  “You sure about that?” came over Mason’s earphone. “Remember what they told us about civilians and our ROE. “

  “Positive. And he was looking back in that building as he left, maybe calling out. There’s gotta be someone still inside.”

  Cpl Kim scooted back behind the box. He looked back over his shoulder to where the rest of the squad was deployed.

  “OK,” he told his team over the radio. “I’m going to send this up. It could be important, but that’s for the lieutenant to decide. Good job, though, Shuga. Way to keep focused.”

  Chapter 24

  Hobyo

  2dLt Tony Niimoto peered through his binos at the nondescript building a mere 50 meters down Route Denver.

  “So, do you think it’s anything?” he asked his platoon sergeant.

  The wooden box which had provided concealment for Cpl Kim and PFC Rossi was nowhere near big enough to do much for those two, Sgt Stanhope, SSgt Davidson, and him, so they really weren’t even trying to remain hidden. They just got as close to the wall of the building beside them and hoped for the best.

  “Well, sir, I don’t know what it is, but my spidey sense’s tingling. I think something’s up there. But it’s your call,” was SSgt Davidson’s response.

  “I know what you mean. My spidey sense is tingling, too. But what if that guy was just coming back to check on his wife and kids before taking off. I mean, we just landed with well over 100 Marines. I would take precautions, too. And if we went in just to find out that a family is in there, well, harassing the civilians is out of our mission statement. We do not want to instigate anything here.”

  “Sir, you’ve seen this place. Do you really think if we break in on some Somali momma that she’s gonna be calling up CNN to complain about it? But like I said, it’s your call.”

  “Well, let’s wait for the overhead view and then decide. And we’ve got to clear it with the skipper, too.” He looked around at the five of them there. “And let’s get a bit disbursed. One grenade is going to take all of us out.”

  The helos had taken off and were on station offshore, so Tony had called for one to fly overhead and take a look. It should only be a minute or two more. He kept his position while Sgt Stanhope and his fire team moved back a bit, clearly uncomfortable about leaving their platoon commander and sergeant forward. Tony knew that the two of them shouldn’t be together up there as well. If something took him down, then he needed SSgt Davidson to take over. But he wanted to bounce his thoughts off of someone, and the platoon sergeant was his best sounding board.

  They lay there in silence, watching the heat waves radiate off the quiet street. He wondered what the local name for it was. “Denver” seemed too grandiose for the dusty road. Tony was from another coastal town, Pacific Beach in San Diego, but this coastal town might as well have been on another planet. The eerie silence contributed even more to that disjointed sense of being totally out-of-place.

  The silence was finally broken, faintly at first, but then with more strength as the whup-whup of the Black Hawk approached and the huge-looking bird shot over the building of interest.

  “Did you see that?” SSgt Davidson asked excitedly.

  “Yeah, I saw him.”

  While watching through the binos, he had seen a head poke out one of the glassless windows on the second story of the building. And with that head was the unmistakable silhouette of an AK47. The head swerved to follow the path of the Black Hawk before disappearing back inside.

  “Still think that was daddy checking on momma, sir?”

  “No, I guess I don’t. What that is, though, I still don’t know. Let me call up the bird and see what they saw.”

  He motioned to Cpl Steptoe, who was in the doorway of a building on the other side of the street.

  “Get me the air. I want to find out what they saw,” he told his radio operator as he hurried over to him.

  He waited while Stepchild made the connection and handed over the handset.

  “Jedi One, this is Bravo-Eight-Victor. What’d you see, over?”

  “Bravo-Eight-Victor, the house itself looks clear, but there is single rifleman on top of the building across the street, coordinates to follow. Two-zero-zero-nine, zero-six-zero-eight. I say again, two-zero-zero-nine, zero-six-zero-eight. The rifleman is oriented towards your position, over.”

  “Roger that, I copy two-zero-zero-nine, zero-six-zero-eight, one rifleman, over.”

  He quickly plotted it on his satellite photo of the town onto which the grid system had been superimposed. He wished the Black Hawk crew had given a 10-digit coordinate, but with a 10m margin of error, it should still be good enough to identify the house.

  “Bravo-Eight-Victor, be advised that there is movement down by the docks. People are gathering there, and some looked to be armed, over.”

  “Jedi One, roger that. Thanks for your help, over.”

  “We aim to please, Bravo-Eight-Victor. This is Jedi One, out.”

  Tony found the building on the photo, then looked up to identify the real thing. He wouldn’t have given it a second glance. It was rather non-descript. Only one story, it would not give extensive fields of fire. But one thing was evident. It could cover the front door of the building that had attracted their attention. That was one more nail in the coffin. There was definitely something up with it. He knew he had to investigate.

  He keyed on the company freq on his personal communications system.

  “Six, Six, this is One, over.”

  “Roger One, what’ve you got, over?” came Capt Svenson’s voice over the net.

  Tony had already reported that the house looked suspicious, and he knew the captain would be waiting for a report.

  “I think there may be something there. The overflight saw a rifleman covering the entrance, and I spotted an armed individual inside. Request permission to investigate further, over.”

  The response was immediate.

  “Roger that. Take all precautions, but check it out. And be quick. We expect a recall at any moment. Report back as soon as you have any information. This is Six, out.”

  That was easy, he thought. He looked over at SSgt Davidson who merely shrugged, then gave him a thumbs up. He had obviously been keyed into the circuit as well and had heard their orders.

  This could be absolutely nothing. But something told Tony that something big was afoot. And there was only one way to find out.

  He moved back and called his squad leaders and platoon sergeant over. He had some awfully quick planning to do.

  Chapter 25

  Hobyo

  Sgt Dailey motioned his squad forward, and they began to move out, hugging the north side of the street. This would keep them out of sight of the sniper up ahead, but might open them up to observation from whomever was in their objective.

  SSgt Davidson might have chosen Sgt Stanhope’s squad for the assault, but the lieutenant assigned First Squad that mission with Second in support. The platoon’s main mission was still in effect, to conduct a blocking position at Elena, the codename for the intersection of Routes Cleveland and Denver, and Third Squad kept that mission. It made sense, leaving Sgt Stanhope in command if anyone. The alternative was for Burke to remain back at Elena, and that dog just wasn’t going to hunt from the gitgo.

  Instead, he was with the lead squad. He figured
the lieutenant wanted some experience at the point, and that was fine with him.

  He glanced over at the building across the street. He knew Cpl Winsome was already up there along with the STA team attached to the platoon. Their mission was to monitor the possible sniper and take him out if necessary. The lieutenant was concerned that Winsome’s team could alert their target, but he figured that the Somalis knew they were there, so if a team was spotted, as long as they didn’t seem to notice whomever was doing the spotting, things would be OK. At least that was the plan.

  Burke would have felt more comfortable with a Ranger sniper, or even a genuine Marine sniper. The Surveillance and Target Acquisition sniper was a Marine with some training, and he had to have qualified expert on the range, but he hadn’t attended the full-fledged sniper course. But with less than 100 meters between them and the potential sniper, even a run-of-the-mill rifleman should be able to make the shot at that range, so a STA sniper should have no problems. He hoped.

  They wanted to move quietly, but speed was more of an essence. There had to be eyes on the street, and a simple phone call could alert their target. So they moved forward in a controlled jog, hugging the buildings.

  On the small alley parallel with Denver, he knew the rest of Second was moving forward as well. They would cover the back of the house. He could monitor their position on his face shield display, each blue triangle representing a Marine. He knew some soldiers and Marines didn’t like the displays as they could interfere with their vision, but for Burke, he was able to focus past the displays and on what was in front of him, much like he could focus past a dirty windshield when driving. He could still see them, but his attention was forward.

  It seemed only a minute or so until they were at the building across the street from their objective. Burke knew the STA team was in place, but he couldn’t help looking back to check them. A Marine, probably Winsome, was kneeling and pointing in the opposite direction. Burke hoped that might draw some attention away from the LCpl Issac, the STA sniper, who was looking right down the street to them.