The Return of the Marines Trilogy
Page 55
Cpl Holleran was in the other chair while the rest of the team was sitting on the floor, eating the chow the Filipinos had given them. Rank had its privileges, and as the two senior Marines, he and Holleran had proper chairs.
Of course, “proper” was all subjective, just as calling this a control tower was perhaps a little generous. Oh, it had a radio for communications with incoming flights, and it was the tallest structure on the island and so had views down to the runway, but without any sort of radar or other more modern equipment, it seemed like some kid’s treehouse, more than anything else. Even the rusted, flimsy ladder they had to climb up to get into the structure at the top seemed less-than-permanent.
At least the windows that gave the tower a 360 view were in good shape and nominally clean. Jay took another sip from the coke as he glanced around the waters surrounding the island. As soon as the others finished eating, they would take over the watch.
In back of him, away from the runway, the heavy jungle that covered the northern 2/3’s of the island looked inviting, like some sort of resort. That was a far cry from reality, though. The dense brush was almost impenetrable, and Jay still had gouges where the branches had stabbed him as he had made his way through it.
LCpl Maus burped, then got up and went out the back door to the metal grill platform that connected to the ladder. He stood at the low rail, then casually started to unbutton his trousers.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Maus?” Jay called out.
The lance corporal spun around, confusion on his face.
“I’m taking a piss, sergeant,” he told him, stating the obvious.
“Not here you’re not. Those are civilians down there, and they don’t need to look up and see your dick flapping in the breeze. Besides, you’d probably splatter all over the ladder, and I ain’t going to be putting my hand on that when I climb down. Get your ass down the ladder and go use one of the heads.”
Maus had the grace to look sheepish as he buttoned back up. He went to the ladder and started making his way down. Cpl Holleran caught Jay’s eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Mighty Maus was actually a gung ho Marine, but sometimes, he just didn’t think.
“Police up your trash,” Holleran told the others, handing out a plastic bag.
LCpl Brugal dumped his trash in the bag, then stepped out to the railing, stretching. He stood there, taking a smoke break. Jay wasn’t a smoker and didn’t understand why someone would smoke right after eating, but better on the railing than inside the tower proper.
Jay looked back down to the runway. There was a fishing boat tied up at the pier on the far eastern side of the runway, the same boat the Chinese had used to first get on the island. A few smaller boats were there as well. In the middle of the runway, right where the open area and the lone road had been cut to lead from it to the town, the Osprey sat like some sort of huge insect. The back ramp was down, and Jay could see the figures of two Marines lying back on it, out of the sun.
“Hey, what kind of ship is that?” Brugal asked to no one in particular.
Jay turned around, looking to the waters surrounding the north side of the island. He didn’t see anything, so he got up and stepped outside.
“Where?” he asked.
“Look, over there,” LCpl Brugal responded, pointing to the west.
Jay refocused his line of sight, and there, in the distance, he could make out the large grey shape of a ship. It wasn’t a merchant ship, that was for sure.
“Is that the Makin Island?” asked Cpl Destafney, stepping beside the two of them.
It was hard to see, but it kind of had the same general shape. But it couldn’t be.
“No, the Makin Island won’t be here until sometime tomorrow, and I don’t think the Filipinos have anything like that,” Jay responded.
It seemed to register with all of them at the same time.
“Shit, I bet it’s Chinese,” Destafney said for all of them.
Jay stepped back into the tower, then grabbed the landline they had installed, picking up the phone Sgt Steptoe had given them. He keyed the handset twice, then listened. He keyed it again. Nothing.
Stepping back out, he turned towards the rest of the buildings and screamed out, “Steptoe, get on the hook now!”
Chapter 30
Pagasa Island
Sgt Steptoe was leaning back, almost drowsing. The fried chicken the Filipinos had given them hit the spot, and the lack of sleep lately was catching up to him. The skipper and the first sergeant were conferring, so it didn’t seem like his services were in high demand at the moment.
“Steptoe, that recon sergeant’s yelling for you,” Sgt Isaac’s voice woke him up.
“What?” he asked stupidly.
“Up there, in the control tower. That recon team leader. He’s yelling for you to get on the phone.”
Steptoe shook his head, and only then faintly heard the buzzing of someone wanting to be heard on the phone. He got up and went to the table where he had set up his phone handset.
“Yeah, this is headquarters, over.”
“It’s about time. I think we’ve got company. There’s a big ship coming, and I think it’s Chinese, over.”
“Are you sure?” Steptoe asked, forgetting the “over.”
“No, I’m not sure. I don’t have Wiki imbedded in my brain. But it ain’t American, and I don’t think it’s Filipino. That leaves Chinese, over.”
“OK, let me get the skipper. Wait one, over.”
He put down the handset and rushed out the door. Capt Niimoto was with 1stSgt Davidson, deep in discussion. Steptoe ran up to them.
“Skipper, I think you need to talk to McNamara. He says there’s a Chinese ship coming.”
Sgt Steptoe expected the captain to come back to the phone. Instead, he took off for the control tower, the first sergeant with him. Steptoe had to agree that made more sense, so he took off in trace.
The skipper was already halfway up the ladder by the time Sgt Steptoe got to the base of the tower. He climbed up, wishing he had some gloves. The rust bit into his hands as he climbed.
The railing alongside the back of the control tower was crowded by the time Steptoe made it up. The skipper was looking through a pair of binos off to the west.
He slowly brought the binos down before saying, “Yea, it’s Chinese. I can make out the flag. We have to assume it’s not coming to apologize. First Sergeant Davidson, let’s get all the actuals together right now. I would guess we’ve got 40 minutes, maybe more until it gets here. I want to make sure we all understand our missions.”
He spun around, pushing past Steptoe to head on back down the ladder. Steptoe turned to follow him as the 1stSgt clapped McNamara on the shoulder.
“Good job, Jesus. Keep an eye on him and let us know what he’s up to,” he told him.
Sgt Steptoe knew that the 1stSgt and McNamara went back to their time on the Dunham, but it still sounded weird to hear McNamara called “Jesus.” He was “Jay” to pretty much everyone else. Jay or Sgt McNamara.
Steptoe got to the ground and ran after the skipper, who was shouting for all the principles.
“I want the mayor, too,” he added, trusting someone to get the man.
Steptoe was puffing by the time he reached the city offices. The building had been pretty shot up, but it was still solid and offered some degree of shelter.
The skipper was already giving orders, or more specifically, reiterating what he had previously ordered. He was not going to get caught in the same trap as the Chinese had. The buildings in the town had no strategic value. There was no reason to stay in them, becoming known targets. He was going to use the jungle to defend the island, to make it difficult for anyone to pry them out.
They weren’t going to give up a toehold, either, like the Japanese did on so many islands during WWII. Second Platoon would occupy the tree line on the east half of the runway, Third Platoon the west side. First Platoon and Weapons would occupy the tree line to the south of th
e town, providing cover and support as the two platoons pulled back or to reinforce either of the other two platoons in the offense. No one mentioned that this was an awfully large frontage for the company.
“Mr. Mayor,” he said, as that worthy came up. “It looks like the Chinese are not done with us. An amphibious ship is bearing down on us, and they could have between 1,000 and maybe up to 2,000 soldiers on board. I want you to evacuate as many of the women and children as possible on that fishing boat. That boat can easily make it to the mainland. I want your Filipino soldiers to escort them, “ he said, nodding to the Filipino lieutenant who had just arrived. “and for those who can’t fit in the boat, they need to get into the jungle, as far north as possible.”
“That’s not going to happen, captain,” the Filipino lieutenant told him.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve got twelve of us who are ready to fight. This is our land, and we’re not leaving.”
Capt Niimoto looked at the defiant lieutenant. Sgt Steptoe knew he was weighing his options. The skipper knew what his Marines could do, how they would fight together. These Filipinos were an unknown factor, and if they could free up Marines by escorting the civilians, then all the better.
“I think that you would serve best by protecting your fellow citizens, and as the commanding officer here, I think …” the skipper started before being interrupted.
“With all due respect, sir, you hold no authority over me. This is the Philippines, and you are here are our guests. Welcome guests, but still guests. Technically, I’m in charge here, not you, not Mayor Lopez. So no matter what you’re saying, we’re staying. We can fight together or separately, I don’t care. But fight we will.”
Steptoe knew the skipper was a pragmatic man. So he was not surprised that he accepted the lieutenant’s ultimatum.
“Fine, we’re happy to have you with us. If you can augment Second Platoon in the initial defense, I would appreciate it.”
The lieutenant nodded, then saluted. Marines don’t normally salute indoors, but Capt Niimoto returned the salute.
“Pete, in that case, I want you to escort the civilians down to that boat and get them underway. But this has to be done now. There isn’t a reason to think that the Chinese will fire upon a fishing boat, but we don’t know what’re their orders. The island should mask the boat from the Chinese, but for how long, I don’t know. So get it done now,” he told Lt Van Slyke.
The recon lieutenant nodded, then hurried out the door and in the direction of the community center.
“We’re pretty sure the ship can’t approach from the west, right?” he directed the question to the mayor.
“Yes sir, that is right. We still have wreckage there of one of our Navy ships. If it’s a big ship, that leaves only the south and the southeast corner.”
“Then again, sir, just because the ship can’t approach doesn’t mean its landing craft and air can’t hit us from anywhere,” the first sergeant put in.
“Landing craft, and any kind of boat, would have to come in from the runway areas,” the mayor responded. The reefs and jungle would be almost impossible for anything to land anywhere else.”
“OK, good point, but the first sergeant’s got a good point, too. We cannot assume anything. We’re oriented to the south now, but we need to be flexible and to keep our eyes open.
“Captain Nance, I don’t want your Osprey a sitting duck. Can you get up and around, off the runway?”
“No problem. I don’t want to be a sitting duck, either. I think we can fit right in the boat basin. It’ll be tight, but I’ve already had a look there” the pilot answered. “Between the trees and the drop into the basin, that should keep us out of sight until we take off.”
“Look, I don’t know how much time we have. And I don’t know how many Chinese are coming. But we know our mission, and we’ve been trained well. Let’s show them what the Marines can do!” the captain extolled them.
A chorus of “oorah’s” greeted him. They were all ready for whatever was coming.
Chapter 31
Pagasa Island
Pete Van Slyke had already passed the word to the Filipinos, and he was surprised at how quickly the people had dropped what they were doing and were getting organized. One man had run off to get one of the island’s trucks, another had volunteered to pilot the boat and had taken off on a small motorcycle to get it started up, and the rest were prioritizing just who would be leaving. It was women and children first, of course, but still, people were being quickly given numbers.
Pete had told them they had ten minutes, something he hadn’t dreamed could happen, but as the old truck pulled up, children were already being loaded into the bed. Capt Niimoto came in along with the mayor to check on the progress.
“Sir, what about them?” the XO asked, tilting his head to indicate the prisoners.
Pete had actually forgotten about them, despite the fact that they were sitting in plain sight in the back of the community center. Some of them looked nervous, aware by the bustle of activity that something was up. Their captain didn’t look nervous, but concerned might fit.
Captain Niimoto walked over to the seated prisoners and thought for a bit.
‘Leave them here. Keep them restrained, but just leave them.”
“Sir?” the XO asked. “But they know about us,” the XO persisted.
“If it gets to that, then I think the folks on that ship are already going to know what they need to know,” the skipper replied, mind made up.
“Captain, if I may,” the Chinese captain asked from his sitting position. “I appreciate your treatment, but I would hate for there to be an accident, shall we say. I am sure you have taken our national flag as a trophy, but perhaps you could see to raise it over this building? I don’t want our own forces to cause unnecessary casualties.”
Pete thought that the Chinese captain had a lot of gall to ask that. His own side was about to attack, to try and kill Marines, and he wanted this favor?
“Captain, as one Asian to another, I ask this of you.”
Capt Niimoto actually took a step forward.
“If we want to bring in race, your people tried to invade my ancestor’s home more than once, only to be turned back by divine intervention,” he said with some force. “And now, I am a fourth-generation US citizen, born and raised. So don’t presume to think my racial background gives you and me any degree of kinship.”
The Chinese captain blanched, obviously knowing he had overstepped.
“However, as an American Marine, it is my duty to protect my prisoners. When we prevail, I can come back and retrieve the flag. If by chance we don’t prevail, well, I guess won’t matter much then, will it?”
The captain looked relieved, and he nodded his understanding.
“Thank you, sir, …” he started, but Capt Niimoto had already turned away.
“Gunny, get the flag out and put in on top of the building. Do it quick, though, then get out of here.”
He turned to Pete.
“You’ve got to get going. I don’t know how much time we have, but it can’t be much. Get these civilians out of here.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” he replied as he rushed outside.
The truck was packed, and Gunny Sloan had commandeered a pick-up. Pete jumped in and told the gunny to take off, motioning the bigger truck to follow. They had to keep the speed down. The truck behind them was overloaded, and an accident would be catastrophic.
Still, it only took a minute or so before they reached the runway, then it was a straight shot down to the boat basin.
He looked to the west as they drove. The Chinese ship was much closer, but still quite a ways out. Pete could just make out the red Chinese ensign, though, with his naked eyes.
They pulled up to the pier, jumping out to help the civilians get off the truck. The children were essentially manhandled onboard. Some of the children were laughing at the new game, but others started to cry. Women tried to hush them.
The Filipino on the helm called out, saying that they shouldn’t take any more, that they would be dangerously overloaded. Pete called to stop the loading and told the man at the helm to pull out.
He was surprised then when one person jumped off the boat and back onto the pier. That surprise turned to concern when he realized it was Analiza. He rushed up to her.
“Why’d you get off?” he asked.
She looked flushed, but her reply was calm and collected. “I only wanted to help the kids get settled. And there’re others who really needed to be on that boat, mothers of the kids, you know.”
The boat was already pulling away, so nothing could be done about that. Some of the men, though, were going down to the small fishing boats that were tied up in the basin. They were going to head out, not to the mainland, but to some of the neighboring islets until it would be safe for them to come back.
“OK, but go with one of them, then,” he implored.
“Sorry, Pete, but I don’t like small bangkas. They make me sick. So I’m staying here,” she firmly told him.
One of the aircrew came riding up on a very small, beat-up motorcycle.
“Get these boats out of here, now!” he shouted.
Coming down the runway, hugging the trees, but not airborne, the Osprey was making its way to the basin. There was a flurry of activity as the small fishing boats cast off and got underway.
Pete looked around. There were about 15 Filipinos left, and he knew there were another 30 or so still back in the town. He was supposed to take them into the jungle and out of harm’s way.
“Gunny, let’s get these people back. Load them back up.”
As gunny shouted out orders, he took Analiza by the arm, pulling and pushing her up into the pickup’s cab. He jumped in as it took off, pulling the door shut as gunny swung the truck around. They rocketed down the runway, the Chinese ship looking huge as it moved closer, but still a couple of miles out.