“If you go down, Skipper, with all due respect, then the call will be mine. You can’t order me now one way or the other what to do if you aren’t around.”
He’s right. Well, if it gets close to that time, I’d better still be around to make the call.
Esther’s AI screamed out a warning, causing her to instinctively duck. The alarm was only temporary, however, and her shielding only dropped by a few percentage points. Off in the distance, the Karzai had fired. Two klicks in this atmosphere was a long shot even for it. Esther knew that Step Commander Avery was only reminding the Marines of what was coming. The firing wouldn’t begin in earnest until it stopped somewhere around 1200 meters out, 200 meters beyond the range of their Hatchets.
“Let’s see if we can send out an ambush team,” she told the XO. “Let me know what you think.”
“Step Commander Avery, I’d like to propose a 30-minute truce to allow for the recovery of the dead and wounded,” she passed, switching to the universal net.
“So, you have time to get that Wasp here? I don’t think so. The dead and wounded can wait for another hour.”
Hell, it didn’t hurt to try.
She wasn’t surprised that the Amal commander knew about their aircraft issues and knew when they get could the remaining Wasp on station.
Esther spent the next five minutes consolidating her lines. Each fighting position had to be able to support the adjoining positions, and with only 57 Marines left in the fight, the original positions were just too spread out.
The XO reported back to her that the areas forward of the FEBA still had Amal soldiers, so sending out an ambush team to take out the Karzai as it made its way forward wouldn’t work.
She had the company gunny and Doc Deep Strength, assisted by a team of four Marines and the remaining three corpsmen, start triaging the dead and wounded, getting as many of those who had a chance at resurrection zip-locked and in stasis. That lasted for only ten minutes before incoming fire made that too dangerous, and she ordered everyone into their fighting holes. She took her place between Second and Third Platoons, sharing a hole with Sergeant Sripituksakul.
Fifteen minutes after her response to the step commander, the Karzai stopped 1300 meters from her lines and started firing. At this range, it was deadly to the Marines. Four more were lost within moments. Esther knew they needed to keep rounds going downrange, but she didn’t want to expose her Marines to the Karzai’s touch.
The company still had a large number of dunker grenades, and using one of her two remaining drones to spot targets, her gunners could loft the rounds out of their holes. This wasn’t very effective, but it did slow down the infantry advance.
Not slow enough, Esther thought as she checked the time.
There was still 50 minutes before she could expect air. Esther knew that would probably be too late.
“Last chance, Captain. Think of your Marines,” Step Commander Avery passed on the net. Esther ignored him, and a few moments later, he said, “It’s on you.”
The incoming fire increased. What had been an Amal advance to contact was now a coordinated assault with a large base of fire supporting the main assault force. There didn’t look to be any subterfuge; they were planning to simply overwhelm the remaining Marines.
And it was working. With small arms and Karzai fire, Marine after Marine was dropping. There was a wet sound beside her. She turned to see Sri slumping to the bottom of their hole, his head a bloody mess. She shook her head as if that could erase the sight of her dronemaster. She had to remain in control if the company was to have any chance at getting through this.
The company was down to 41 effectives. Chambers was the only other officer still fighting, and she’d lost most of her SNCOs. Esther took a moment to take in the Dragonfly feed. More than a hundred Amal bodies littered the AO, cut down like sheaves of wheat, but still, they came. Again, Esther was reminded of Pickett’s charge, but this time, she thought the attackers would prevail.
With one more look at the time, she knew she’d failed. They couldn’t hold out. She started to call the step commander, but her throat caught. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
But does holding out any longer do us much good? Will it really affect future operations?
She wasn’t sure. Future operations were all well and good, but this was the here and now, and these were her Marines dying around her.
There was the crack of a large gun in the distance, and Esther braced for the shock of incoming.
Great, what else have they brought to the table?
“Skipper, do you see this?” the first sergeant asked, his voice filled with excitement.
Esther had been focusing on the area right in front of the FEBA. She zoomed back out, and a wonderful sight greeted her. Not the burning Karzai, although that was great. But four Marine M1 Davis main battle tanks rushing into the AO.
She cleared her display and stood out of the hole to get a real view. The tanks had come over a rise and were now deploying, guns blazing. She could see them tear up through the rear of the lines.
A round glanced off her helmet, and she ducked down, but still stayed high enough to watch. It took the Amals a moment to realize what was happening, but not before 20 or 30 of them had been killed. Esther could almost feel the panic set in.
Not all the Amals panicked, though. One of the tanks stopped dead as smoke began to rise from its rear.
“Golf Company, let them have it,” she passed on the company net.
With a roar, the remaining Marines rose up and rained death among the Amals. With the tanks bearing down on them, Amal soldiers started to break off and flee. Those who stayed to fight were killed.
Another of the four tanks was hit and ground to halt, but it never stopped firing. Esther had ridden in a Davis before as part of her orientation, and she’d even fired a round at the range, but until this moment, she never really grasped how much firepower one of the big beasts had.
“Step Commander Avery,” she passed on the universal net, “I will accept your surrender on the same terms you proposed to me.”
There was no answer, not that Esther expected any. Esther didn’t have enough troops to pursue what was still a much larger force, and tanks, while they could wreak havoc, were not made for chasing down infantry.
What had been a trickle of Amals fleeing became a torrent. Step Commander Avery had evidently ordered her soldiers to retreat.
Esther tried to call the tank platoon commander, but there was no answer. She was able to reach the CO, though.
“The attack has been broken,” she passed.
“What’s going on? We’re getting conflicting reports,” he demanded.
“The tank platoon arrived, and it kicked Amal ass, sir.”
“The tanks? Where have they been?”
“I don’t know, sir. I can’t raise them on the comms.”
With the Amals fleeing, the firing petered out. One of the two mobile tanks approached the lines. It stopped, and Esther could see one of her Marines pointing in her direction. The tank smoothly pivoted, then drove along the lines to her. Esther got out of her fighting hole and stood waiting.
The Davis stopped in front of her, and Esther could read the name painted on the main gun barrel: Anvil II.
Her mouth dropped as the hatch opened and a familiar head popped out.
“I heard you needed some support, Captain,” Staff Sergeant Noah Lysander, UFMC, casually told his speechless sister.
TARAWA
Chapter 1
Noah
“Did you have a good time?” Noah asked Shiloh as he drove into the base housing complex.
“Yes, Daddy. I liked the penguins.”
“The penguins? That’s what you liked?” he asked shaking his head. “They were people in penguin costumes. What about the sharks? We’re they rigid?”
“Uh, that’s rabid, Dad,not ‘rigid,’” Hannah said with all the gravitas a twelve-year-old could muster.
“Rigid, r
abid . . . how about riiiibetttt?” Noah asked, making a frog croak.
Hannah rolled her eyes, but Shiloh laughed, which warmed his heart. He loved hearing his youngest laugh. He looked up in the rear-view mirror, but his oldest, Chance, hadn’t looked up, his head buried in his PA, much as it had been all afternoon at the aquarium.
“How about you, Chance. Did you have a good time?”
Nothing.
Noah gave up. At fourteen, Chance was no longer the little boy he’d been even a year ago.
Where have the years gone by?
Except, he knew where the years had gone. Wayfarer Station, Alexander, a year on Hodgkin’s Retreat, and more deployments that he could remember. He’d missed so much in his children’s life. At least here on Tarawa in a shore billet, he could spend more time with them. Shiloh was still his little girl. How much longer, he didn’t know, but he planned on enjoying every moment he could with her.
Noah almost grabbed the manual control as the Evo turned left instead of the right into Basilone Village, the married SNCO quarters and where the family had lived on Gallipoli Lane for a year. With a rueful grin, he sat back in his seat, letting the AI drive into Espinoza Village.
“So, what’s next? What do we do next weekend?” he asked.
None of the kids said anything, and he said, “What am I, just a frog?” before letting out another deep ribet.
“No, Daddy, you just look like a frog!” Shiloh said, laughing uproariously.
He reached over to give her side a poke, and she screamed, squirming to get away from his finger.
“Dad, don’t get her riled up,” Hannah said. “Mom’s going to be pissed at you.”
“‘Pissed?’ Did you just say ‘pissed?’”
“Oh, come on, Dad. It’s not like you haven’t heard that before.”
“Maybe not, young lady, but I don’t need to hear my daughter talking like that.”
“Whatever, Dad,” his middle child said, folding her hands across her chest.
Damn, she sure looks like her mother right now, he thought as a small pang hit his heart.
The hover pulled up in front of the house, a needless ding letting them know they’d arrived. The girls immediately piled out and ran to the front door.
“You coming, bud?” he asked.
“Yeah, just a sec,” Chance said, punching madly on his PA in a flurry before slipping it in his pocket.
“You know, those things are voice activated. Modern technology, you know, brand new eight centuries ago.”
“You don’t live with two sisters who pry into everyone’s business, Dad,” he said, hopping out of the hover.
That one hurt, Noah thought as he walked up to the front door just as the girls opened it.
“Evening, Major,” he said to the tall infantryman at the door.
“Evening, First Sergeant. Any problems?”
Noah hesitated, wondering if he should mention Hannah’s “pissed.”
Screw it. I’m not going to be the bad guy.
“No, not a thing. Everyone was on their best behavior.
“Noah?” a familiar voice called out, eliciting the usual heart thumping.
Miriam walked up to the door, wiping her hands on a hand towel. She looked great, as always. More than that, she looked happy.
“Next week, would you mind picking them up at 1400 instead of noon? Hannah Belle’s got a dental appointment, and I wanted to be there to go over the procedure with Dr. Hsung.”
“The palate adjustment?”
“Yeah. I know it’s nothing, but I’d just feel better if I knew exactly what will happen, and I didn’t want to take off work during the week.”
“No, that’s OK. Fourteen hundred’s fine. Uh . . . unless you want me to be there, too?”
“No, it’s OK. Don’t bother yourself. I’ll have her back, and you can pick them up then.”
“Well, OK, then,” Noah said, awkward as always when it was time to say goodbye.
The divorce had only been finalized for a year-and-a-half, and Miriam had been remarried for just six months. That should be enough time to adjust, but in many ways, they were still married in his mind.
“Oh, and say hello to Esther for me. Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t see her today, but we’ll have her over for dinner before she leaves,” Miriam said.
“OK, I’ll tell her,” he said, and when the three adults just stood there, saying nothing more, he added, “I’ll just go, then. See you next week.”
The major nodded at him, then slowly closed the door. Noah stared at the door for a moment before turning around and making his way back to the Evo.
“Tell Ess I’m on my way. I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” he told his PA, then told his Evo to head to the Globe and Laurel.
Fourteen minutes later, he parked in the tiny lot behind the venerable club and entered, eyes searching the darkness for his sister. He spotted her in the back, sharing a cider with two other Marines.
“Hey, Noah, thanks for coming,” she said as she spotted him, standing up and meeting him for a hug.
“We don’t see each other enough, Ess, and with you in town for your conference, of course, we’ve got to meet up.”
“This is First Sergeant Noah Lysander,” she said, turning to the other two Marines who both stood as well. “And this is Lieutenant Colonel Topaz Mendlebaum, 3/6’s CO.”
“Good to meet you, First Sergeant,” the man, whose stocky, no-neck build and accent screamed Rio Tinto, the same homeworld of their old mentor, General Simone.
“You, too, sir.”
“This baby-faced Marine is Lieutenant Colonel Archibald Reasoner, 1/17’s CO.”
Lieutenant Colonel Reasoner had quite a reputation, both as a military genius and as an old Corps stalwart. He’d earned four Silver Stars climbing the ranks to gunny before accepting a commission.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Noah said, meaning every word of it.
“The honor’s mine, First Sergeant,” the lieutenant colonel said, and he seemed just as sincere in his words as Noah had been.
Which was surprising to him. He’d had a successful career so far, all things told, and while he was his father’s son, his career had had none of the flash as his sister’s.
Introductions made, Noah stood awkwardly for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to join them or not, but Esther came to his rescue by saying, “Why don’t you and I find a corner,” then “I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.”
“We’ll be waiting. The next round’s on you, and you can’t skip out on that,” Lieutenant Colonel Reasoner said.
Esther caught the eye of the young waiter and signaled him to bring another round to her friends, then looked around for a table. As usual, the weekend crowd had the place fairly full, but she spotted an empty spot, and they walked past hundreds of flats and holos of hundreds of years of notable Marines as they made their way to it. Their father had his own wall-holo, but it was along the back wall of the main room of the tavern, along with all the former commandants.
“How’s Miriam? The kids?” she asked as they sat down.
“They’re fine. I took them to the aquarium today.”
“And Chance?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
“He was just along for the ride. He had his nose buried in his PA for the whole time. Shiloh liked the penguins, though.
“Miriam says to tell you she wants you to come for dinner before you leave.”
She hesitated, and Noah could see her gears turning, before she said, “Maybe Wednesday. They’ve got us pretty well shepherded for the entire conference.”
Every year, the commandant hosted a battalion commander’s conference, and unless a battalion was in action, it would take an act of God for anyone to miss it. This was Esther’s second conference, having taken over 1/8 15 months prior.
“So, what’s up, Ess? Just a social call? I’d be happy if it was that, but you’ve got something on your mind.”
Despite the time and
separation, twins were connected in ways that other people just couldn’t understand, and Noah knew that she was going to ask him something. He just couldn’t figure out what it could be.
She smiled, leaned back, and said, “Well, yeah, now that you mention it. Do you know Sergeant Major Killington? Norm Killington?”
“Your sergeant major? No, not really. He’s got a reputation for being somewhat of a hardass, but that’s about it.”
“My ex-sergeant major. I fired him just before leaving for the conference.”
“No shit,” Noah said, shocked.
A sergeant major was the highest rank an enlisted Marine could achieve, but there were still career paths forward within the rank. A battalion sergeant major was a boot sergeant major, if the term could even be used in conjunction with E9. A successful tour with a battalion, then it was upwards and onwards to bigger and more prestigious units, culminating in the very top as Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps. Any sergeant major who said he or she didn’t aspire to that position was either lying or afraid of failure, and sergeants major generally weren’t afraid of anything. By shit-canning Killington, Esther had essentially stopped his career.
Esther could be a hard-ass, too, but she wouldn’t have taken such a drastic step without good reason and without weighing her options. Noah looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate.
“Let’s just say we had differing opinions on how the battalion should be run, and he decided to try and bypass me to get things done his way.
Dumb move, Killington, Noah thought.
His sister had mellowed over the years and was no longer the self-centered, career-driven Marine she’d been. But she was still a force to be reckoned with, and Noah wouldn’t want to cross her paths with her. If Killington was trying to work behind her back, simply getting shit-canned was probably the least Esther would have done to him.
“Well, it’s your battalion, Ess. If you had to fire him, then that’s your choice. Uh . . . how did the division sergeant major take it?”
“I told her right after I told the CG. She wasn’t happy, to say the least,” Esther said with a rueful sounding chuckle. “But like Colonel Falstaff and the CG said, it was my call. Sergeant Major Upo asked me who I wanted to take Killington’s place, and I told her I’d let her know when I got back.”
Blood United (The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins Book 5) Page 4