Going Home (Soldier Up Book 3)

by Steven Linde

  “As of today, Captain Elliot, you are relieved as group commander, and Admiral Walcom will take command. Captain Elliot, per my discussions with the Admiral, you will retain command of the Hornet,” said the General. “With that, I surrender the floor to the new commander of the United States Navy.”

  People applauded as the Admiral stood and thanked everyone. “Thank you for your kind words, General. Captain Elliot, as I recall we have served together and I’m honored to have you continue your leadership as the Captain of the Hornet, and as my Executive Officer.” The Admiral looked around the room. “Thank you everyone else for attending, and from what I understand you all have a briefing for me. Captain Elliot, would you be so kind as to kick it off?”

  Captain Elliot stood, “Thank you, sir, and welcome. We are all happy to have you here. First, to start off, I need to inform you and the General that as of this morning, I have been informed by Commander Cortez that we now have a fully operational Battleship, the USS Iowa.” The conference room erupted in chatter. The General called the room to attention.

  “Excuse me, Captain, do I understand that correctly? How?”

  “Sir as you know, Commander Cortez has been scavenging through the ghost fleet, which he will brief in a bit. He found four ships so far that he believed he could start to restore. He was moving them to the Port of Richmond shipyards. Once there, he found the USS Iowa, who was apparently there from Los Angeles for some work.” replied Captain Elliot.

  “Why did you withhold that information, Captain?” asked the Admiral.

  “Sir, at the time we had no idea the overall status of the Iowa and whether or not she could be full combat operational.”

  “No matter,” said the General. “Admiral, congratulations on your new battleship!” The General laughed.

  “Thank you, General.” the Admiral grinned. “Captain Elliot, let’s take this offline and discuss it after the meeting.”

  “Yes sir, of course.”

  The Captain went on with the rest of his briefing over the next hour. He then gave the floor to the various other ships’ commanders and to Commander Cortez. The briefing was over by 1700. It was a long day, and the Admiral’s head was ready to explode with all of the information. He was going to need the rest of the evening to digest it all.

  Chapter Five

  The Gunnery and Master Sergeants returned happily to the Marine Corps, which was co-located with the Navy for the time being. The senior Marine officer was Major Jack Walker. He was a combat veteran of Afghanistan and had fought in Fallujah. The Major was six-foot four, solid build, with blonde hair cut in the Marine usual high and tight. He was very by-the-book and took a hard line against any Marines for minor infractions of the UCMJ. The men and woman under his command, many of them previously deployed to Afghanistan and Iraq, did not like the man.

  The Major tended not to listen to his NCO’s. This drew the ire of many NCO’s who were tired of his bullshit and wished him gone. Captain Elliot had final say over the Corps, but didn’t interfere with what the Major was doing. The Captain had no idea what Marines were supposed to do. Captain Elliot knew of the complaints by the Marine NCO’s and lower enlisted, which he deferred to the Major, who in turn took it out on those NCOs and enlisted personnel that complained.

  General Watkins had briefed Admiral Walcom on the problems Major Walker was causing throughout the Corps, and that Captain Elliot had turned a blind eye to it all. General Watkins told the Admiral it was up to him how he handled the situation, but he did strongly advise him not to ignore it like the Captain did. The Admiral assured the General he would handle the problems with the Major immediately. He would set up a meeting with the senior NCO’s and get to the bottom of it. The Admiral asked if he had the authority to relieve the Major if need be, and the General responded that it’s his sandbox and he could pretty much do what he wanted to.

  Two days after speaking with Captain Elliot, the Admiral expressed in no uncertain terms that the Captain shouldn’t have punted on the Major Walker issue. He called all Marine Corps Senior NCO’s E-7 and above. For three hours, the Admiral listened intently on the complaints. They voiced that if they went to war today, they believed the Major would plant more than half the men under his command. As embarrassing as it was for them, they admitted they were a lot happier under Army Command then they had been under the Major. At least the Army had competent leadership. The Admiral understood how big a deal this was for Marine NCO’s to admit anything good about the Army; the severity of the situation was apparent.

  After speaking with the NCO’s, he called the Major into his office to hear his side of the story. The Major didn’t take anything the Navy said seriously and was insubordinate towards the Admiral.

  “Major, do you understand why I called you in here?” asked the Admiral, showing great concern.

  “No sir, I don’t.”

  “Major, I’ve spoken to General Watkins, Captain Elliot and all of the Senior NCO’s. According to them, your command has been considerably less than stellar.”

  “Sir, this is a Marine Corps problem, not Navy.”

  The Admiral stared at the Major, hard. “You do understand that I’m your Commanding Officer?”

  “No sir, you’re not. My Commanders are at Camp Pendleton.”

  “You’ve been talking to the Commanders at Pendleton?”

  “No sir, of course not, you understand what I mean.”

  “Are you telling me, Major that you refused to obey my orders and those of the Generals?”

  “Sir, I only answer to Marine Corps Commanders.”

  “Thank you Major, would you please step outside for a moment?” The Major nodded, turned, and walked out without acknowledging the order or saluting.

  Admiral Walcom picked up the telephone, an old rotary telephone that only worked on post, and called the Provost Marshall. Within ten minutes four MPs showed up in the Admiral’s Office. Once they were there, he called Major Walker back into his office.

  “Major Walker, you are relieved of duty and being placed under arrest for insubordination, conduct unbecoming, all—all in a time of national emergency.”

  “You can’t relieve me! You don’t have the authority.”

  “MPs, please handcuff the Major.”

  “You can’t do this! I’m an Officer in the United States Marine Corps, not the Navy!”

  The MPs piled onto the Major, held him down on the ground, and pulled his arms around him, successfully handcuffing him. The MPs pulled the Major up onto his feet, “Major,” the Admiral said, “This can go down easy or hard, it’s up to you. You are an Officer in the United States Military. Your oath states that you will obey all orders of those appointed over you, regardless of service branch. Take him to the brig.”

  Major Walker was led away in handcuffs. Admiral Walcom immediately got on the horn to General Watkins office and let him know that he had relieved Major Walker

  “Good. Do you have anyone in mind to run the Corps?”

  “I have a few ideas, sir. I expect to have a candidate by the end of the day, is that alright?”

  “Like I said Admiral, it’s your sandbox.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your support.”

  The General chuckled into the receiver. “No problem, Admiral. Welcome aboard.”

  He hung up. The Admiral called in his administrative assistant Chief Petty Officer Renaldo O’Brian. “Please send a runner over to the Marine Barracks and have Captain Jason report to me.”

  “Yes sir,” said the Petty Officer and left the Admiral’s Office.

  The Admiral leaned back in his chair and looked out the large window facing the Hornet. Looking out towards the Hornet and the other ships docked around the harbor was a beautiful sight to this Navy veteran. Once he retired he never thought he would be back in uniform. ‘Shit happens,’ he thought to himself.

  Ten minutes later there was a loud rapping at his door. “Enter.”

  Captain (promotable) Mark Jason, out of breat
h from running over marched to the front of his desk, stood at attention and saluted. “Sir Captain Jason reporting as ordered!”

  Admiral Walcom returned the salute while seated. “At ease Captain. Please take a seat.”

  The Captain dropped his salute and sat in the chair behind him. “Captain, how would you like take over Major Walker’s duties?”

  “Sir?” said Captain Jason, stunned. “What happened to Major Walker?”

  “Not important right now Captain, but he’s currently cooling his heels in the brig, indefinitely. What do you say?”

  “Sir, I’m not sure I’m qualified.”

  “I’ve read your service record, well what there is of it. You’re a combat veteran and have seen more combat and led more men then Major Walker ever did. You were awarded two purple hearts, Bronze Star with V and a Silver Star, as well as the Navy’s Meritorious Service Medal. I’d say you’re more than qualified to lead them. Of course it comes with the automatic promotion to Major.”

  “Thank you sir for your Confidence, I appreciate it. Do I have a choice, sir?”

  “No Captain, not really, this is all a formality. You will report to Marine barracks and clear all of Major Walkers’ stuff out of your new office. An order has already been issued and is now being circulated that you are the new CO of the Marines stationed here.”

  “Yes sir” said Major Jason, resigning himself to his new position. Secretly he was happy as hell, and happy to be rid of the sadistic bastard Major Walker. “After that, sir, what are your orders?”

  “Get your Marines ready for combat deployment. You have seventy-two hours.”

  “Sir, what happens after seventy-two hours?”

  “The Hornet and what we are calling its battle group are pulling out and heading south.”

  “Yes, sir, is there any more you can tell me?”

  “No Major, not at this time. There will be a command briefing in forty-eight hours, and movement orders will also be issued at that time.”

  “Yes sir.” With that the newly minted Major Jason stood, stepped toward the desk, came to attention, and saluted. The Admiral returned the salute. The Major did an about face and marched out of the office. He had his orders and his new job. He wasn’t going to let the Admiral and the Marine Corps down.

  Admiral Walcom ordered Chief Petty Officer O’Brian to bring his Humvee around. They were heading over for a meeting with Captain Elliot on the Iowa. They had found a Commander with battleship experience, but of course he was sixty years old and had been retired. Commander Wilbur Harper was a veteran of Vietnam, and he was also the executive officer of the Missouri for five years. He retired after thirty years in the Navy, tough but fair old bastard. He knew battleship tactics with aircraft carriers. He was the right man at the right time for the job.

  Admiral Walcom was staying away from Camp Parks. A large radical Islamic group had taken over a good part of the northern Midwest states. There were reports of enslaving and murdering the civilian population and other atrocities prior to the event.

  Regardless, they now had their own mission and it was a big one: they were tasked with finding out what’s happened to the rest of California. It would be a two or three day sail south to Los Angeles. They would send aircraft over the city to see what they could. Marine Force Recon units would be deployed throughout the area, with assistance from the Air Force. As they arrived at the Iowa, Admiral Walcom took in the beautiful lines of the battleship, a fierce piece of ship. It could fire shells as big as a Volkswagen twenty-two miles inland.

  Captain Elliot thought finding the rounds needed for the ship was going to be damn-near impossible, but Commander Harper told him not to worry about it, he would take care of it. The man was true to his word. Two days later, after Captain Elliot conveyed his thoughts to the Commander, the ship was outfitted with proper ammunition for its big guns. Captain Elliot didn’t ask where they came from, and Commander Harper wasn’t offering up any information on them.

  The Admiral and his entourage pulled up to the dock where the Iowa was located at port in Richmond. The Captain and Commander met the Admiral at the top of the gangplank, and Commander Harper shook the Admirals hand, welcoming him back to the Navy and to the Iowa. The Commander asked everyone to follow him to the ship’s conference room for a short briefing.

  As the Admiral entered the room everyone was called to attention. “Carry on.” Everyone took their seats. Once they were seated and it was quiet, the Commander welcomed everyone and began his briefing. The briefing was short and sweet: he briefed them on the crew size, training, fuel, food, water, engines, and ammunition status. The Admiral was proud of what the Commander and his crew had been able to get done in such a short time. He was also proud of what Captain Elliot had been able to put together, told him so. He figured the Captain needed some good news after the ass-chewing he gave him regarding the handling of Major Walker.

  The next tour of the day was the USS Pampanito a Balboa-class subMarine, she was a World War II sub that stayed commissioned until 1971, and after that she was retired, eventually becoming a maritime museum. At the time the ship was re-commissioned, she had some working parts, including one torpedo tube, the periscope, engines, galley, and ice-cream maker. She had 10 torpedo tubes, and it took a lot of hard work to get them all working again. The ship could carry twenty-four torpedoes, and like the Iowa, Captain Elliot had no idea where to get the torpedoes. Again Commander Harper came through, no questions asked.

  The CO of the Pampanito was Lieutenant Commander Eric Washington. He looked very young, one of the few black Commanding Officers they had. Commander Washington wasn’t really in the area himself, he was in Sacramento when the 11th ACR came rolling through leveling everything in their way. One day the Commander made his way to one of the 11th ACR units and identified himself, quickly moved to the units CO, then his CO and so on, finally landing at Camp Parks under the Command of Captain Elliot. Fortunately for Captain Elliot, Commander Washington was a Submarine Officer his entire career. The submarine had a contingent of ten officers and seventy enlisted.

  The weeks and months passed, more and more Navy personnel made their way to Camp Parks. Many were retired and some prior service, meaning that they had served in the Navy but didn’t do their twenty years. Some were no longer fit to serve because of physical problems, and others were found mentally unfit. The Navy personnel service was able to sift through it all and recruit thousands. Word had spread throughout Central and Northern California, parts of Oregon, Nevada, and now Arizona. They had no shortage of personnel.

  The same thing was happening with the Marines. Since they didn’t have their service jackets, the next step was their DD-214’s, and hard to believe many had them and showed up with them. If the DD-214 was good, the next thing was the physical, and if they passed that they were welcomed back in.

  The Admiral and his staff made their way up the gangway, where they were met by Commander Washington and escorted down into the submarine. They were ready for an inspection, the Admiral could tell. It wasn’t the reason he was here, but he could tell they had worked very hard getting this old World War II Sub back up to speed. It was immaculate. He would follow through with an inspection, not to let the men and women down. He was led by the Commander and his Executive Officer through each area of the boat. The Admiral stopped and spoke with the Sailors as he went through each area. It was always good for moral to stop and acknowledge the Sailors and their work.

  After the inspection, he was led to the conference room, where he was told everything he wanted to know about a World War II sub that had been brought back to life. All-in-all it took three hours to complete the inspection, and the briefing an hour longer than he had planned.

  Chapter Six

  Two days after the event, Tijuana Mexico erupted into chaos all the way down to Ensenada. The police, who were corrupt prior to the event and in many cases worked for the cartels, were the only ones armed, besides the cartels themselves. Certainly few law enforcement
officers cared about the health and well-being of the general population, and overall most of them were only out for themselves. Since they were armed, they got most of what they wanted. They ended up with the food, water and fuel. What the police didn’t take, the cartels did, and the military tried to figure out what to do. The Mexican Military was less fortunate. Most of the leadership wasn’t even qualified, by US military standards, to be in the positions they were in.

  As food, water, and fuel quickly disappeared in the city, the masses began to move north into San Diego. As the first week of the event passed, Mexican nationals spread into San Diego to find supplies. The Tijuana Police, Mexican Federal Police, and cartels recognized that much of South San Diego was open for the taking. There was a big difference between US and Mexican citizens, though. San Diego was a bastion for conservatives who believed in the right to arm themselves.

  It proved difficult and dangerous for the Mexicans to move into some areas, especially those areas that had a heavy military presence. The first confrontations between the Mexicans and the US Navy proved to be a hard pill for the Mexicans to swallow. They took heavy losses fighting the Navy gun-to-gun. After two or three more of those confrontations, they steered clear of those areas. They felt there were plenty of other areas they could exploit.

  Thousands upon thousands of Mexicans poured over the border looking for whatever they could get from the Americans. The Mexicans ended up having to fight Americans who had weapons, their own law enforcement that were robbing the Americans, and the cartels that wanted it all. On the flip side, there were activist Mexicans that believed California and the US Southwest belonged to them anyway and it was time to take it back. Many of these people were in the Mexican military, and this was the real reason why the Mexican military was taking so long to get into the game. There was a fraction within that wanted California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas back, and they felt it was their time to do it.