Blood United (The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins Book 5)

by Jonathan Brazee

  Noah looked at the plaque of the line of commanding officers of the First Battalion, Eighth Marines, “The Cutting Edge.” There, the last name on the list, was “Lieutenant Colonel Esther Lysander.”

  Right next to that plaque was another with the line of battalion sergeants major. The last one in that list was Sergeant Major Norman H. Killington. The next spot would be his.

  Noah still wasn’t sure if this was a good move. The Marine Corps had never had siblings at the head of a battalion, and while the opportunity probably hadn’t been too numerous, it just hadn’t been done.

  “Sergeant Major, welcome aboard!” a corporal said, his white duty belt all Noah needed to know that the corporal had the battalion duty, and more than that, that he was expecting him. “The XO told me to fetch you as soon as you arrived.”

  “Lead on, Corporal. What’s your name?”

  “Corporal Spain, Sergeant Major. I’m with Bravo Company.”

  Noah knew that first impressions were important, and almost at the speed of light, Corporal Spain would be letting the rest of the battalion know the new sergeant major had arrived—along with his impressions of him.

  He and Esther had agreed not to advertise the fact that he was only a frocked sergeant major. The senior SNCO’s would be able to figure it out simply by checking the Enlisted Blue Book, which had lineal numbers and dates of rank. Noah would still be with the first sergeants. The junior Marines, enlisted and officers alike, probably wouldn’t bother to check that. If asked, Noah would tell the truth, but he wasn’t about to proclaim to the world that he was only frocked. He wore the star in the middle of his rank insignia, and he needed to act the part, not relying on his lack of time in grade as a first sergeant as any sort of excuse for his performance.

  Corporal Spain rapped on the hatch outside the XO’s office, then said, “Sir, the sergeant major’s here.”

  “Send him in.”

  “Welcome aboard, Sergeant Major,” Spain said as he turned to go back to the duty desk.

  “Welcome aboard, Sergeant Major,” the XO repeated, standing and coming around his desk to shake Noah’s hand. “You checked in OK? I was expecting you a little earlier.”

  “At regiment, yes, sir. Not in battalion,” Noah said, not mentioning that his meeting earlier in the morning with Sergeant Major Upo at division had taken a full two hours.

  It had been painfully obvious that the division sergeant major was not a fan of Noah serving as his sister’s sergeant major. Noah still wasn’t sure if that was because of their relationship or if she was upset that he was only a frocked sergeant major and one pulled from outside of the battalion. If he were a betting man, he’d pick the latter. She hadn’t been antagonistic, per se, but Noah was 100% certain that she’d have her eyes on him, and she’d call him on the carpet the first time he screwed up.

  “OK, no problem. I was just a little surprised. Well, the commanding officer—”

  OK, he sure stressed the “commanding officer,” not “Colonel Lysander” or your sister. I kind of expected that.

  “ . . . is at division right now, but she’ll be back before COB. After we’re done here, you can finish your check-in, then be back here around 1600 to report in to her.”

  “Aye-aye, sir.”

  “And . . . well . . . before that, I just wanted to talk to you a bit. Please, sit down,” Major Frazier said, pointing out the couch alongside the bulkhead.

  He pulled his chair out from behind his desk and positioned it in front of Noah as he took his seat.

  “I don’t have to tell you that your position here is unique, to say the least. And, uh, well, a sergeant major is the commanding officer’s link to the enlisted Marines, and there is a special bond between the two. You, of course, have an open door to the CO. You don’t need anyone’s permission to stick your head in her office for a chat.”

  I know that. So, what’s your point?

  “But, as the commanding officer’s, well, brother, none of us want to see any accusations of favoritism here.”

  “Has there been any mention of that since I’ve received my orders?”

  “No, not at all. The junior enlisted seem to think that it’s pretty copacetic, to be sure. At least from what First Sergeant Khan—the first sergeant’s been acting sergeant major since Sergeant Major Killington was transferred.”

  Fired, you mean.

  “And the senior enlisted?”

  “Well . . . ah . . . there’s been a little pushback. Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure, but you can imagine . . .”

  Yeah, I can.

  “Well, anyway, back to what I was saying. You’ve got an open door, of course, with the CO. But for a while, at least, I’d like you to come to me first, with anything major.

  I don’t have to do that, Major. You know that.

  “You don’t have to, of course,” he said as if reading his mind. “But First Sergeant Khan and I think it might be a good idea, you know, to keep us in the loop.

  Not going to happen, Noah said to himself. Damned right Khan would want to “keep in the loop,” but he’s not acting sergeant major anymore, and he’s going to have to learn that quickly and focus on Alpha Company. As far as you, Major, well, I’ll just have to see.

  “When appropriate, I sure will inform you, sir. You’re the XO, after all,” he said instead.

  That seemed to mollify the major somewhat. Esther had been full of praise for the man, and Noah didn’t want to come in as an adversary. Still, he wasn’t going to change the way the Corps ran because the XO and Dylan Khan were worried. Either Noah was the sergeant major or he wasn’t. From his perspective, he was in the billet, and he’d served as expected of a sergeant major.

  The major then switched to small talk for five minutes, most of it going in one ear and out the other. Noah was relieved when the man stood up, shook his hand once more, and told him he could finish checking in.

  As he walked back down the passage to the S1 and personnel, he mulled over what the XO, said, and perhaps more importantly, how the XO spoke. He didn’t see any underlying resentment in the man’s tone, but reading between the lines, he did reveal that there might be resentment with First Sergeant Khan. Noah was determined to come in strong, but he didn’t want to alienate the battalion’s SNCOs, particularly the Alpha Company first sergeant. Everything was a balancing act, and Noah had to navigate that without falling off.

  Welcome to the battalion, Noah. Welcome to the battalion.

  Chapter 4

  Esther

  "How's he doing, Mark?” Esther asked her XO.

  She didn’t have to specify to whom she was referring.

  “Not bad, I guess, ma’am.” Major Frazier said, sounding almost reluctant.

  “Forget he’s my brother for a moment. You can be straight with me.”

  The major hesitated as if couching his words, before finally saying, “He’s a little headstrong. First Sergeant Khan has been offering his assistance, but your brother, I mean, the sergeant major, he doesn’t seem too inclined to take it.”

  Not surprising, Esther thought as she tried to keep a smile off of her face.

  She knew Noah, and he’d be trying to establish himself, particularly with his sister as the commanding officer. He’d been doing that his entire career what with their father’s place in the Corps.

  “You still think this was a mistake, don’t you?”

  “It was your call, ma’am. Not mine.”

  “But you think it was a mistake. What I did.”

  Major Frazier nodded his head, then said, “Yes, ma’am, I did. Not because I think the sergeant major can’t handle the position, but only because of your relationship. I told you that before, and I still believe it.”

  “And I appreciate that. I value that you aren’t a yes-man, like Major . . . uh, well, better left that unsaid.”

  She’d been about to call out Major Marcy Holdenstaff, Carol Depepe’s XO over at 3/9. That smarmy major was the ultimate yes-man, and she was doing
Carol no good at all. Esther thanked her lucky stars that she had Mark Frazier, who besides being damned competent, was brutally honest.

  “I think you’re wrong, though. I think my brother will do fine in the billet.”

  Am I really sure about that? Just because he’s my brother?

  Bringing Noah in had been a calculated gamble. Esther understood risk, but she’d fenced with the devil before and so far come out victorious each time. Was she tempting fate here, however? Was there even a payoff for bringing Noah in?

  Noah had a way of relating to his junior Marines, and that was a valuable trait for a sergeant major. But there were other sergeants major with the same trait. No, what Esther valued was the firm knowledge that Noah would have her back, no matter what. That was what gave her the confidence that she’d made the right choice.

  And he’d let her have it with both barrels if he thought she was wrong. With Major Frazier’s blunt honesty and Noah’s lack of hesitation in calling her out, she had two sounding boards.

  If I’ll listen, that is.

  Esther had a habit of thinking she was always right. It would be a sea change for her, but it did her no good to have the major and her brother if she didn’t make use of them. Right then and there, she swore that she’d heed their advice.

  Chapter 5

  Noah

  “They’re part of your force, Colonel,” Noah said, keeping his voice steady when all he wanted to do was to yell at his sister. “Use them!”

  Esther looked up from her display, a look of annoyance Noah recognized from their years together.

  She looked at Major Kurtzman, her S3, for a moment as if couching her response, then said, “Sergeant Major, I think you’ve got armor on your brain. You even agreed that this is not armor territory.”

  “Not great armor territory, ma’am, but that doesn’t mean armor can’t function. We know they’ve got a tank platoon, and our Aardvarks’ 20mms are our most effective anti-armor weapon we have at the moment.”

  Esther seemed to gather herself, then said, “Which they can’t get to us, Sergeant Major. Bringing the Mamba’s forward will make them vulnerable to infiltration, and we’re going to need our tracs when we displace.”

  The words may not have been overly confrontational, but Noah could hear the steel in her voice. He might want to yell at her, but he also knew she was about to blow up at him. Around them, the rest of the CP kept at their stations, but he could almost see their ears perk up as they listened to see what happened.

  In the two months since Noah had reported aboard, this was the battalion’s first action, and for all the “Of course I’ll listen to you, just as I do all my staff,” Esther didn’t seem to be hewing to that concept. He was about to erupt in frustration, but that wouldn’t do anyone any good. The bottom line was that Esther was the battalion commander, and it was her battalion to command, not his.

  “Aye, aye, ma’am. I understand. I’m going to check the perimeter,” he said, wheeling about and stalking out of the CP.

  Esther, like many officers in the Corps, was too focused on infantry. In her case, her small-unit predilection was even more pronounced with her time in recon and lack of service even with PICS. The infantry was the Corps in many of their minds, and it was certainly the way to climb the command hierarchy. To many of them, the supporting arms, and even more so with logistics, were there merely to serve at best, almost being distractions at worst.

  Until you need that arty or tank support, or you need a resupply of munitions.

  Noah slowed his breathing as he made his way to the fighting holes. As the sergeant major, Esther had tasked him to assist Captain Peaslee, the headquarters commandant, form the battalion staff into a defensive perimeter. When the Marines, officer and enlisted alike, were not actively fighting the war, they slept, ate, and shit in fighting holes that put them into a position to defend the CP from attack. Not all battalions did that, preferring to use a rifle squad or even a platoon, but Esther believed in putting her fighting strength forward, something to which Noah heartily agreed. She didn’t want to waste manpower by holding part of it back.

  Not that the CP was in the best position, in his opinion. The SOP was to have the headquarters commandant and a rep from comms physically select positions for the CP. However, with changing battle conditions, this procedure usually fell by the wayside, with the S3 picking a position simply based on a map study. The current position was good in as far as limiting enemy surveillance, but if attacked, it was not very defensible.

  “You OK, sir?” he asked Captain Tranh, the S4, as he walked up on the man’s fighting hole.

  “Sure thing, Sergeant Major,” the officer said as he squeezed more F-rats out of the tube.

  From the expression on his face, Noah thought the man actually liked that crap. They were all eating F-rats on this mission, but they were merely fuel to be able to fight, not something that actually tasted good.

  “I’m going to catch a few Z’s here in a few moments so I’ll be ready for the displacement this evening, but don’t worry,” he said, patting the stock of his M90, “I’ll keep on eye open in case the bad guys come.”

  Noah knew that some of the officers thought it was a waste for them to spend time in fighting holes. While no one had challenged the CO on that, he could sense their disapproval. Captain Tranh, however, didn’t seem to mind at all. As with all things, the Captain seemed to embrace life as a Marine, even if that meant sleeping curled up in the muddy bottom of a hole.

  Noah left the captain to his mashed turkey ala king and made the rounds. With a third of the battalion staff with the XO and the Bravo Command, with most of the Alpha putting in long hours, and with most of those out in the perimeter sleeping, the effectiveness of the defense was shaky at best. But it was better than nothing, and it had the added benefit that if the CP were hit, not everyone would be taken out.

  “Disbursement, disbursement, disbursement,” he muttered as he walked the line.

  Corporal Ikimura almost jumped out of her skin when he walked up on her, swearing that she wasn’t asleep. Noah had to assure her it was OK. The corporal monitored the logistics net while on the job, and after 12 hours on duty, this was when she was supposed to sleep.

  It didn’t take long to make his rounds, and he started back up to the CP before he realized that wasn’t a place he wanted to be at the moment. Looking back down the slope to where it dropped off into the dry river bed, he decided to head on down. The 90mm mortar section was an organic part of the battalion, after all, and the armor section was attached for the duration of the exercise. They were his responsibility just as much as the rifle companies were.

  “I’m going down to the river bed,” he told Ikimura. “Don’t shoot me when I come back up.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Sergeant Major,” she protested in earnest.

  I’m not serious, Corporal, he thought as he raised one hand in acknowledgment as he started down the path.

  He probably shouldn’t be wandering alone between the positions, but he wasn’t in the mood to pay attention to SOP at the moment. Esther was sure that their CP was secure, so if she were right, he’d be safe as well.

  Ten minutes later, he reached the bluff over the river bed. The battalion’s eight 90 tubes were arrayed in the near bed, out in the open to surveillance, but able to range the battalion’s entire AOR. The armor section was along the near bank, getting as much cover as possible. Four Marines were visible—the rest of the crews were probably in their tracs.

  “Who goes there?” a voice called out from some scrub in the best tradition of centuries of movies and flicks.

  “The Sergeant Major. Ping me, uh, Lance Corporal Hiapez,” he said after checking his own display.

  “Uh, yes, Sergeant Major, I have you confirmed.”

  “Keep alert, Hiapez. It might not be me next time.”

  The bluff at the edge of the river bed was a good three meters high. Too far to jump, Noah half-slid down, using his ass as a brake.
He hit the bed itself hard, but none the worse for wear. Brushing himself off, we wandered over to the first Aardvark. First Lieutenant Hep Constantine was on the ramp, leaning back, half asleep.

  “Keeping busy, sir?” Noah asked.

  “Right, Sergeant Major. Bus drivers always keep busy, right?” he said, not moving and only one eye opened a slit.

  Noah knew what he meant. Sure, the Aardvark was a personnel carrier by designation, but it was also a fighting vehicle. All four of them were armed with the 20mm chain gun as their secondary armament: two were armed with the M717 plasma cannons in air defense modes and two had Weapons Pack 1, carrying the M905 70mm smoothbore cannon. Between the two M905’s and the chain guns, they constituted the battalion’s best anti-armor capability, and here they were, waiting in the riverbed for the next displacement of the CP.

  Esther had been right in that the AOR was prime infantry country, not particularly conducive to armor, but the enemy had Mambas, the small lightweight tank that had greater maneuverability. Noah had plotted several avenues of approach to the CP that they could probably navigate, and even as a light tank, they could wreak havoc in the CP. The makeshift defensive perimeter wouldn’t be much of an obstacle, but the Aardvarks would at least have a fighting chance against the tanks.

  If they were positioned to be used against them, not simply parking in the riverbed.

  “You know how it is, sir . . .”

  “Yeah, after two months with the platoon, I’m beginning to see that,” he said. “Sergeant Major, you’re in armor. Is it always like this?”

  The lieutenant had served his first tour as a grunt, like most officers, and had very little time in the fleet in armor.

  “No, not really. It’s just that this is primarily an infantry operation. You know, the terrain and such,” Noah said, hating the fact that he was spouting the party line.

  The lieutenant opened both eyes and stared up at Noah before saying, “I know you spend most of your time with Davises,” referring to the Marine’s heavy tank. “I may be with the ‘Varks,’ but I can see more than a few ways to cause hate and discontent with light armor.”