He released the magnets holding his arm secure to his chest. The pain was so severe as he arm drooped free he feared he was going to pass out. The doctor took his arm and slowly rotated it up. The pain grew worse and worse. Dean couldn’t help but moan, luckily he switched off the external speakers so the doctor wouldn’t hear him whining. Then suddenly, he felt a small pop in his shoulder, the pain flared white hot for a split second, and then vanished. The absence of the pain was such a relief he felt giddy.
“Better?” she asked.
“It’s amazing,” he said.
“You should still keep it secured for the next several days,” she explained. “The joint is swollen and it might take several days for it to be truly secure. If you exert too much force it can pop loose again.”
Dean immediately secured the arm against his chest again.
“I would need to remove your armor to clean and stitch the wound in your bicep,” she said.
“There’s no need,” Dean replied. “Our battle armor exudes a sterile gel that disinfects wounds and stops the bleeding.”
“It will still need stitches,” she replied. “Perhaps physical therapy to strength the arm once it is healed.”
“I will have it seen to once I’m on board the Charlemagne. Why don’t you go up and check on the Pope while I have someone take you down to the bunker to check on the injured.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“The Swiss Guard were using lethal force in their efforts to stop us,” he explained.
“That is their calling,” she explained. “Do not mistake my medical care for approval of your presence or tactics, Captain.”
“I don’t think that’s something we need to worry about, doctor.”
She turned on her heal and went straight to the elevator.
“Adkins, D’Vris, the doctor is headed your way to check on the Pope,” Dean said.
“He is praying,” D’Vris announced.
“He’s sleeping,” Adkins argued.
“He is kneeling at his prayer bench,” the frenchman insisted.
“And snoring,” Adkins said, jovially.
The command channel beeped and Dean switched the frequency on.
“Wolfpack, this is command. Do you read, over?”
“Command this is Wolfpack, we read you loud and clear, over.”
“Wolfpack, is the Papal Palace landing pad operational, over?”
“Affirmative Command, the landing pad is clear and we hold the palace, over.”
“Excellent Wolfpack, Major McDowell has ordered Hell Hounds platoon to reinforce your position. You are to hold the Pope’s compound. Secure the area and ensure that none of your Specialists venture out. We have enemy forces moving your way. Reinforce and prepare for a possible assault on your position, over.”
“Command, we are to hold the compound at all costs,” Dean repeated the orders. “All EsDef personnel are to be inside the compound. Assault readiness is recommended. We have received and understood all orders, over.”
“Major McDowell will contact you once things settle a bit. Great work, Wolfpack. Command, over and out.”
Dean felt better, but he was still exhausted and he knew his troops were as well. They needed a short break and a chance to eat something. Dean was glad that help was on the way, but he wasn’t thrilled to know he had to recall Cat and Chavez from the hospital outside the compound. He switched from the command frequency to his platoon channel.
“Chancy,” Dean said. “Update us on Chavez and Cat, please.”
“Cat is out of surgery. They had to remove a section of her bowel, but she’s expected to recover fully. Chavez is still being operated on.”
“We have new orders, Corporal,” Dean said. “We need you all back at the compound ASAP.”
“Cat and Chavez won’t be able to fight,” Chancy grumbled.
“I am aware of that, Corporal. Your job is to get them here, as quickly as possible. Do you understand your orders?”
“The doctors won’t want them to leave,” Chancy argued.
“Damn it, Chancy. Get Cat and Chavez stabilized and back over here. We have enemy forces inbound. The last thing we need is to give them hostages. Now, is that clear enough for you Corporal? Get your ass back here as soon as possible.”
“Fine,” Chancy said.
“Excuse me Corporal?”
“Yes sir!” he said angrily.
“Ghost,” Dean said, trying to let go of his anger with Chancy, “what’s the status on the weapon round up?”
“We’re almost finished, sir,” Ghost replied. “Tallgrass found us some rolling carts. We still need to gather the weapons of the guards that we took out up on the roof of the storage building.”
“Make it happen fast, Sergeant,” Dean said. “We may have hostile forces on our doorstep soon. Once you get the weapons in the armory I want you to relieve the Triplets at the gate and take their place. Send the HA Privates to guard the armory. Harper, get your AAVs back on the ground. We have reinforcements inbound. No need to take chances of a collision. Can you get Cat’s down too?”
“They’re on a holding pattern, Captain. Just circling above the compound the way they’ve been most of the night. I’ll get them down, but I can only recharge my own.”
“That’s fine, Sergeant. Once you’re done with that, let’s deploy MSV’s all around the compound. See if you get them on the wall with views of the city in every direction.
“Sergeant Tallgrass,” Dean continued, “I want a visual inspection of the wall. We need to know if there are any weak points. Let me know if you find anything, including inside the other buildings.”
“That will take some time, Captain,” Tallgrass replied.
“I know and I know I’ve asked more of all of you than was expected. I’m sorry, but we’ll be able to take a break soon. Good work everyone. Help is on the way.”
Dean made his way down to the kitchen were a group of workers were sitting around a long table. They looked up, fear and stress evident on their faces. Dean raised his hand reassuringly and switched on his external speakers.
“You’re the kitchen staff?” Dean asked the group.
“We haven’t caused problems,” said an older looking man with thin gray hair.
“No, you haven’t and we greatly appreciate it. Would it be possible for you to prepare food for my platoon. The Pope is here as well, and I’m sure he will need something to eat.”
“The Holy Father is fasting until the war is over,” the gray headed man said.
“Well, just my Specialists then. Please.”
“Of course, of course,” the man said standing up and waving to the others to join him. “It is our pleasure to serve.”
“Thank you,” Dean said.
Heading back to the elevator made Dean feel as though a weight were pulling him toward the ground with every step. He wanted to find a bed and fall into it, but instead he rode the elevator to the top floor and went in search of the stairway that led to the rooftop. Once outside, the looked up into the bright sky, but there was no sign of the shuttle with the Hell Hound platoon. Dean ventured over to the snipers who were still unconscious at their posts. He needed to have the men moved, and Ghost had forgotten about their weapons. Dean gathered the rifles and side arms, carrying them down into one of the empty rooms on the top floor of the palace.
When he got to the roof he saw a dark object far in the distance and waited as it came into view. It was a shuttle, similar to the one his own platoon had taken from the Charlemagne down to the surface of Rome Three, only it wasn’t blackened and scarred like their ship had ended up when they finally landed . Dean stood near the doorway of the building, trying not to look as though a stiff breeze would knock him over, even though that was exactly how he felt.
The shuttle circled the palace once, then landed easily. Dean watched as the hatch slowly lowered and a new Recon Platoon exited slowly. Then came their commander, a short man, broad through the shoulders and we
ll muscled. Dean couldn’t see the man’s face, but his rank was clear enough. A single gold bar on his shoulder marked the man as a Lieutenant. In truth, Dean had hoped another Captain would arrive and he could simply hand over command of the compound to someone else, but he was still the ranking officer which meant the responsibility for the success of the mission was completely his.
“Captain,” the Lieutenant said, snapping off a salute. “Hell Hound Platoon, at your service.”
“Good to have you, Lieutenant,” Dean replied just as his TCU synced with the network from the new platoon and Lieutenant Sawyer, Dwight L, popped up on Dean’s battle helmet. “We hold the compound, but we’ve had a nasty fight. My men are exhausted.”
“We can relieve your platoon sir,” Lieutenant Sawyer said. “Just point us in the right direction.
Dean spent the next several minutes outlining the key points of the compound. The new HA Specialists were sent to hold the armory and the Storage room. The sniper and Fast Attack Specialists went to join Ghost and Harper on the main gate. The new Close Combat Specialist and Lieutenant Sawyer volunteered to relieve Adkins and D’Vris guarding the Pope.
“We have MSV’s all around the compound,” Dean explained. “We should be able to see anyone approaching.”
“Sounds like you have things in order here, Captain,” Lieutenant Sawyer said. “Why don’t you get some rest and we’ll keep an eye on things.”
“I was just going to deliver a meal to my platoon, then I’ll happily take you up on that offer, Lieutenant.”
The shorter man just nodded and Dean turned to head back down to the kitchen. He felt almost giddy at the thought of going to sleep. His body was sore, his eyes burned with fatigue, and his mind felt cloudy. All he needed was a couple of hours uninterrupted and he would feel much better, but he forced himself to take the food out to his troops. Only once that was done would he rest.
Chapter 29
In the kitchen the staff had made sandwiches on long loaves of french bread. The sandwiches were wrapped in transparent plastic wrap, and Dean could see the ham, turkey, and roast beef in a thick stack, along with a bright layer of vegetables and cheese. Just the sight of real food made Dean’s stomach growl. He had only been on the Charlemagne a few days but it was long enough to miss the taste of fresh food and the variety he was accustomed to on earth.
The kitchen staff gave Dean a basket and he gathered ten sandwiches to take to his platoon. There were more of the succulent looking sandwiches and Dean opened a comlink channel to Lieutenant Sawyer.
“LT, there are sandwiches in the kitchen,” Dean said as he made his way across the grand reception room toward the front doors. “You’re platoon is welcome to them.”
“Combat is no time for a picnic,” the Lieutenant replied in what Dean thought was a mocking tone.
He wanted to look up and see if Lieutenant Sawyer was watching him from the third floor landing, but he forced himself to keep walking as he crossed the Grand Reception room. The new platoon wasn’t Dean’s responsibility. He would get the food to his Specialists and then get some rest. That was the order of business at the moment, then he would be ready if the compound was attacked.
Adkins and D’Vris had moved down to the small foyer by the big palace doors. They both looked tired, but they snapped to attention as Dean approached.
“At ease,” he told them, handing each a sandwich from the basket.
“Permission to remove our helmets,” D’Vris said.
“Granted,” Dean replied. “Eat, then rest wherever you can.”
“That won’t be a problem, Captain,” Adkins said as he pulled of his helmet.
“Real food at last,” D’Vris said happily.
Dean left the two HA Specialists in the Papal Palace and walked slowly down the wide steps toward the plaza to find the rest of his platoon. Every step was a struggle. Dean felt as if his arms and legs were barely connected to his body. Every step seemed awkward and his chest was aching from the shotgun blast he had endured. At the storage room Dean found Wilson helping the new HA Specialists pile more items and debris in front of the hole in the wall. Dean gave the private a sandwich, then ordered him to eat and sleep until he was called on.
The walk to the armory took less than three minutes but it felt like half a day’s journey to Dean. He handed out more sandwiches to Privates Carter and Kliner, and gave them the same orders as he had given Wilson. Finally, Dean marched to the main gate of the compound. It was a massive structure. Ghost and Harper were on the fighting platform above the huge doors of the gate.
Dean slowly climbed the stairs, sipping from the internal bladder that was part of his armor and trying not lose his breath. Normally he could run for miles without getting seriously winded, but he had been awake for nearly forty-eight hours and the injuries he’d sustained had robbed him of any stamina he had.
At the top of the Gatehouse Dean gave out more sandwiches, leaving one for Sergeant Tallgrass who hadn’t completed her survey of the compound’s wall. The Specialists from the new platoon were keeping watch, so Dean joined Ghost and Harper sitting with their back to the wall. He removed his helmet in order to eat his own sandwich. Chancy returned with Cat and Chavez in an emergency medical transport just as Dean was starting to eat.
“Captain, open the gate. I’ve got Cat and Chavez here in the ambulance.”
Dean brought up the feed from the MSV that was sitting on top of the wall over the gate. It’s camera was pointing down at the wide plaza where a boxy looking medical transport sat idling.
“Open the gate,” Dean ordered.
Ghost and Harper got to their feet and went to the manual controls. Normally the gate was operated with electric motors that swung the huge doors open and closed, but with the electricity out across the city, and the Pope’s compound on emergency power, the gate had to be opened manually. The controls were really just a large wheel that could be turned using the long, wooden dowels. Ghost and Harper were about to start pulling on the long wooden poles when the sniper from the Hell Hounds platoon approached them.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked in a heavy accent that sounded German.
“We’ve got injured Specialists coming in,” Harper said.
“I have orders to hold this gate. No one comes in or out,” he said.
Dean sighed and got slowly to his feet, putting his battle helmet back on. His comlink was on his platoon’s frequency, so he switched over to the open channel so that the Hell Hounds could hear him. The Sniper’s name popped up on his TCU as Dean approached the group.
“Sergeant Fischer,” Dean said. “That’s our Demo Corporal down there. He’s escorting our CCS Staff Sergeant and FAS Corporal who were injured in battle. Let them through.”
Another voice broke into the conversation.
“Captain!” Lieutenant Sawyer snapped. “We have orders to hold this compound at all costs. No one in or out. Did you not get the message from Major McDowell?”
“I got my orders the same as you, Lieutenant, but these are my people. They’re coming into the compound.”
“Then may I suggest you have them brought in without that transport. For all we know it could be loaded with explosives.”
“Lieutenant, I don't want to argue with you. My Staff Sergeant and FAS Corporal were injured during the fighting. Both have just undergone surgery. We can search the transport, but I’m not going to move my injured Specialists carried from the gate to the Palace on gurneys.”
Dean turned back to Harper and Ghost.
“Get it opened. Sergeant Fischer, go down and check the transport for explosives.”
“LT?” the sniper inquired.
“Go ahead, Fish, but be careful,” Lieutenant Sawyer said.
Dean opened a private channel between himself and Sawyer.
“Lieutenant, please do not challenge my orders on an open channel again,” Dean said. “This compound was won by the sweat and blood of my platoon.”
“More like
ly your inexperience got two of your Specialists injured,” Sawyer replied. “I know who you are Blaze. You’re a PR stunt playing soldier boy.”
“Lieutenant,” Dean warned. “You are out of line.”
“No, sir, you are. You have very specific orders which you are breaking because you sent your Specialists to the local hospital in combat conditions. I’ve been in OWFR for nearly ten years. I’ve successfully completed three off world tours. So don’t try to tell me or my platoon what to do.”
“I am your superior officer, Lieutenant. I don’t give a damn what you think of me, or how I made rank. What I do care about is maintaining order and discipline in our platoons. I care about getting my Specialists the support and care they need, along with an environment that encourages them to thrive. If you continue to disrupt the chain of command, or micro manage my platoon we will have problems.”
“Captain, with all due respect, you are the problem. You’re disregarding orders so that you can feel better. A leader has to make hard decisions. You have to be willing to put every member of your platoon in harms way to complete the mission.”
“Lieutenant, thank you for your point of view. I respect your experience and expertise. But as this is still my operation to command, and it was my platoon who cut the power to Vatican City that stopped the jamming of our frequencies, and allowed your platoon to be rescued,” Dean said the last word with every ounce of contempt he could muster. “And further, it was my platoon who fought our way into this compound, incapacitated the Swiss Guard and captured the Pope, you can shove your opinion of me up your ass. Do not challenge my orders again.”
Dean didn’t wait for a reply, but cut the comlink and made his way down to the emergency transport. Chancy was leaning against the side, looking angry as Sergeant Fischer finished his inspection.
“Anything out of place, Sergeant?” Dean asked.
“No sir, it’s clear.”
“Get in and stay with the driver until he’s back out of the gate,” Dean ordered Chancy. “Then get up on the gatehouse.”
Welcome To The Wolfpack Page 18