Casserine

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Casserine Page 13

by Bernard Lee DeLeo


  “Aye, aye, Sir, anything else?”

  “Nope. I’ll hook up with you later for the briefing. See you then.”

  Tokoru hesitated for a moment. “General, I think you should reconsider leading tomorrow’s mission.”

  “I’m going.”

  “In that case,” Tokoru smiled. “Can I have your quarters?”

  Jake was still laughing over Tokoru’s parting shot thirty minutes later as he went over the details for the recon mission. A knock sounded on the door to the wardroom, and then PFC Charlie Mercer came through, marching up to where Jake sat at the conference table. Mercer was approximately Jake’s age, with about the same bulk, and only a few inches shorter. He was one of the few men Jake knew who had been born on Earth. Mercer, born in Cleveland, Ohio, originally came out on a transport with his family, immigrating to Alpha Colony. He enlisted in the Marines only six weeks after Jake. Mercer served with Larsen in Jake’s squad during the whole campaign on Omaha. Mercer didn’t even bother to salute. The two men embraced as brothers who had been separated for many years.

  They stepped back moments later, and Mercer began poking one ebony finger in Jake’s chest, while he tilted his head to one side, appraising his friend. “Well, well, well, Jake Matthews, the scourge of Omaha.”

  Jake laughed appreciatively, noting Mercer had fresh scars running back from his hairline to the nape of his neck. They stood out palely on Mercer’s dark complexioned scalp. “I see you have a few new scars, Charlie.”

  “You should talk,” Mercer retorted, sitting down in the chair Jake motioned him to. “I heard you’re goin’ down to Bougainville tomorrow. That why you wanted to see me?”

  “Partly,” Jake admitted. “I wanted to see you face to face, and find out how you feel?”

  “I want payback,” Mercer said through clenched teeth. “What I don’t want is to see any more of my old friends get sliced to pieces, so you ain’t goin’, brother.”

  “I’d heard you had developed a selective memory concerning the chain of command,” Jake sighed. “Are you planning on leading this mission yourself, Private Mercer?”

  “Don’t bullshit around with me, Jake. You’re a General, for God’s sake,” Mercer pointed out to him. “Give me one of these Shavetail Lieutenants in 1st Reg, and I’ll nursemaid him through this recon.”

  “I’m going, Charlie,” Jake said, no longer smiling. “You can go with me, or you can opt out not to ever go. You’ve earned that. I am promoting you to Major by way of battlefield promotion. You can be my right hand man, or you can take over a Company in some Regiment, other than Conger’s. What’ll it be?”

  Mercer leaned back smiling, and putting his hands behind his head, looking up with his eyes closed as if he were sunning himself on a beach somewhere. “Major, huh?”

  After a minute of contemplating it, Mercer sat back up in his chair. “If you’ve got your mind set, Jake, I’ll be coming along with you.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” Jake whispered. “We’ll have a drink together later, after we make things right for Deke, and every last Bug on Bougainville is dead.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” Mercer grabbed Jake’s proffered hand in his own. “When do we leave?”

  “Take this paper down to the Ship’s store, and get some uniforms fitting your new rank,” Jake said, handing him his commission papers. “Then pick out a platoon of volunteers from any where you want, and outfit them the way you want them, armed with everything you think we’ll need. We go tomorrow, so you don’t have much time to get them up to speed. We’ll meet at 0500 tomorrow right here, so I can brief all of you. Any one getting in your way, Charlie, you call me. Those papers transfer you from 1st Regiment to my command.”

  Mercer nodded, and stood up to leave. He walked towards the hatch and then turned back. “Hey, do you have a pilot and deck gunner for tomorrow?”

  “Major Peters is piloting the Drop Ship. He’s the.”

  “Tea, he’s the man,” Mercer agreed.

  “Tim Dougherty’s on the Tennyson, he.”

  “The gunner from Omaha?” Mercer asked incredulously. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this is like old home week. I figured that kid would have gotten himself wasted somehow by now.”

  “Nope. He’s a Chief on the Tennyson, and he’s coming along tomorrow.”

  Mercer whistled happily. “We are sure goin’ to have some fun tomorrow. I can’t wait to see that psycho Dougherty again after all these years. Remember that dance he used to do while he was blastin’ away?”

  “Man,” Jake said, laughing. “I had forgotten all about that. I guess we’ll see if he still does it.”

  “Indeed. Catch you later, General,” Mercer said on his way out.

  “Until then Major, until then,” Jake replied quietly.

  Chapter 12

  Practice Run

  Jake saw Sara Corey walk in the wardroom with Jason Peters. It was 0430, and Jake worked on the terminal in front of him, checking for any flaw in the recon mission plans. They approached him together, coming to a halt in front of him and saluting. Jake returned their salutes, and gestured for them to sit down.

  “Hello Sara, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I want to co-pilot for Jas .. I mean Major Peters,” Corey replied.

  “I don’t think I want to risk two of my experienced pilots, who have seen these things, on the same first mission,” Jake reasoned.

  “No disrespect meant, Sir,” Major Peters replied, “but do you mean like risking the Mission Commander on a recon mission makes more sense?”

  “I deserved that,” Jake sighed. “If you want this Sara, you get the go. I plan to make this the safest Bug mission for military personnel of all time, but anything can happen.”

  “I heard it won’t be so safe for our civilian guests,” Corey put in.

  “No,” Jake admitted. “Thanks to their own stupidity, we will be using them as an object lesson, to be projected throughout the quadrant, and eventually to Earth. We’ll get as many out as we can, but there will be casualties amongst them.”

  Newly promoted Major Richardson entered the wardroom, after a brief identification process with Corporal Mendoza at the entrance. Jake waved him right over, indicating his desire to skip the formal salutations.

  Richardson nodded at Corey and Peters, before sitting on the opposite side of them.

  “All set, Nick?” Jake asked.

  “It’s ready to rock, Sir,” Richardson affirmed. “Tim can fire the dual particle beam cannons from his usual perch in the bubble, and he has a target acquiring screen for the new MAG50 launcher down below. I went over it with him in detail. Captain Corey already took him out for some target practice, when she updated Major Peters. He knows better than to open up with that MAG50 too close to the target.”

  “I also have the armored hovercraft you requested,” Richardson continued. “It’s outfitted with a MAG50, regular warhead, with widespread pattern. I also mounted a particle beam cannon too. It will hover at about three feet over the surface.”

  “Just high enough to be a tasty treat,” Jake observed.

  “It’s impervious to anything short of a MAG50 blast,” Richardson laughed. “It’s the only craft we have, capable of handling as many people as you had indicated you will be taking, and still move hell a fast.”

  “Sounds right, Nick. The Marines, my newly commissioned adjutant has picked for this recon will be here soon.”

  “We heard you promoted Charlie Mercer,” Corey added. “God, I remember you guys that last time on Omaha, when he and Larsen dragged your sorry corpse back out of that hole.”

  “Uh, I might remind you Captain, I was still alive,” Jake replied. “Anyhow, Charlie will be here with his men for some final briefing before we load up to go. Anything you want to ask before the grunts get here?”

  “Do we have back up on this, Sir?” Corey asked.

  “You bet,” Jake replied. “Three Drop Ships, led by our only other Omaha vet
, will be waiting off surface for the Bug response to our interspecies’ get together. Once we have lured as many of the things as we can onto our Epoxy LZ, we’ll get the hell out of there, and then.”

  “Bug soup,” Richardson cut in.

  “Bug soup,” Jake confirmed. “The Epoxy based LZ will be near the Colony habitat, at least as near as we can get, and still have a surface with a hundred yards in all directions around the Drop Ship. We should be able to lure a hell of a lot of Bugs out before we spring the trap. The satellite sensors will be in place to monitor the Queen’s reactions to the type of losses we will be inflicting. We will be recording everything, and finding out if the bitch has anything surprising in store for us.”

  Colonel Tokoru entered, with his briefing pad. He skipped the formalities, as Jake had requested since picking him as his Executive Officer. Handing his pad to Jake, he walked around to take a seat next to Richardson, after shaking hands with his fellow officers.

  “Yuri here will conduct the briefing,” Jake explained, as he touch-screened his way through Tokoru’s notes, and then nodding, he handed the pad back to Tokoru. “He will be our mission liaison with the Gallant. Since there will be no secrets on this recon, everyone on board will have a front row seat.”

  Mercer led a platoon of forty Marines into the impromptu briefing room. Jake and the rest of the Officers stood to exchange formal greetings with the group. A holographic projector had been set up in the middle of the room, with the Marines’ seats grouped together opposite of Jake’s conference table. Mercer ordered his men into their seats, before coming over to shake hands with the Officers around the Command table. Corey brushed his hand away and hugged him.

  “Jesus, Charlie, it’s good to see you. I haven’t seen you since Tarawa.”

  “Likewise, Ma’am,” Mercer grinned down at her, as he held Corey at arm’s length. He nodded at Peters with a smile. “Nice to see you in on this, Major.”

  “The General could not have picked a better adjutant, Major Mercer.” Peters smiled as he shook Mercer’s hand.

  Tokoru signaled the start of the holographic presentation. Everyone turned their attention to the images of a landing zone, projected next to the Bougainville habitat. The Drop Ship landed in the middle of the landing zone, after which the hovercraft disembarks from the Drop Ship, proceeding to the far end of the Epoxy landing zone. Thirty people leave the hovercraft and walk out to the end. Simulations of the Bugs from Starship Troopers disgorge out of the ground, immediately attacking the civilians, who streak back to the hovercraft.

  As soon as the simulated attack began, the particle beam turret mounted cannon on the hovercraft opened up, covering the civilian retreat. At the same time, the platoon of Marines fans out from the Drop Ship, guarding the retreating hovercraft. The deck gun on the Drop Ship opens up at the horde of Bugs pursuing the retreating hovercraft. The hovercraft loads into the Drop Ship, along with the perimeter guard. The Drop Ship lifts off only as the Bugs close in from all sides. The backup ships move into position. All open up with the new MAG50 warheads, staying well away from the blast zone. The holographic presentation ends in cheers from the Marine Platoon.

  Tokoru stood up. “Any questions? I know it looks too simple, but it will go down exactly as projected if everyone concentrates on their job. If you do not mind your business, we will all be in trouble. These things may pour out of the ground all around the LZ at once, in which case you will open up with everything you have. The LZ must be kept clear at all costs for at least fifty yards.”

  “Sir,” one of the Marines stood up at attention in the front.

  “Yes, Corporal,” Tokoru gestured.

  “No disrespect intended, Sir, but why not just abandon Bougainville?”

  “I’ll answer that, Colonel,” Jake said, coming forward. “Thanks for the realistic presentation. It was perfect.”

  Tokoru nodded with a smile and sat down.

  “Corporal, we extend our perimeter in space in direct proportion to the amount of fuel cells we produce. Colonies act as our supply lines to exploration. After the mining ends on Omaha, a fully functional, and self sufficient Colony will still be there. Omaha already boasts the most up to date fuel cell processing plants anywhere. They also have landing zones, complete with warehouse facilities, capable of docking the largest Cruiser we have. All of this, not counting the atmosphere, which thanks to this quadrant’s fireball, approximates that of Earth.”

  “Remember too, this quadrant also hosts the Tarawa Jump Gate, and we are still at the very frontier of exploring what lies beyond. Without our constant improvements in fuel cell technology, and plentiful supplies, we would eventually be cut off from one another. We can’t simply blow the crap out of the ground too far below the surface either, because of the volatility of the crystals we mine. Marines do not abandon valuable assets Corporal, we protect them.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” the Corporal said smartly, before sitting down.

  “Sir?” another Marine stood up a row back.

  “Yes, Private,” Jake answered.

  “We’ve heard these things can communicate with each other, and may be able to communicate with us. Is there any truth to that?”

  Jake smiled. “Well, you have pretty good intel as far as their capabilities to communicate, even between worlds, and we do not know how they do it. As to our communicating with them, we have about thirty volunteers ready to put that to the test later on today. It may even be possible sometime in the future, after we have already exterminated their race from the quadrant, we will inadvertently discover a way we could have communicated with them. Well, too bad for them. Any more questions?”

  Laughter erupted at Jake’s nonchalant death decree for the Bug population of the quadrant.

  “If that’s all,” Jake continued, “let’s lock and load. A ship has already been creating our landing zone, even as we speak. We will leave here at 1100 hours. You’ve all seen the infamous movie, which features a pretty damn good look at what these things do. Let me add a character line from that movie: ‘Everyone fights, nobody runs’. Is that clear?”

  The guttural affirmation, passed down through the Corps from its inception, rang out from every Marine.

  “Very well,” Jake acknowledged. “I will see you all on board.”

  Mercer dismissed his men. Peters, Corey, and Richardson walked out with them. Tokoru remained behind with Jake and Mercer.

  “I still believe I should be the one on the hovercraft, Jake,” Mercer complained.

  “I must second the Major’s suggestion, Sir,” Tokoru added. “It’s one thing to lead, and another to risk your life needlessly.”

  “Gentlemen, I have no intention of risking my life. The Bugs may get all of the civilians before I can burn a space between them and the Bugs. Mendoza will be at the controls. He knows when I say go, I mean go. We need to get our feet wet, and generate some action from the Queen. Now let’s stop rerunning this over and over. Anything other than my involvement is up for discussion. If that’s all you’ve got, then let’s quit wasting time.”

  Both Mercer and Tokoru snapped to attention, and saluted, which Jake returned in kind.

  As they walked to exit the wardroom, Mercer leaned over to Tokoru. “He was the same obstinate Jarhead when he was on Omaha.” “I heard that,” Jake called out, as Tokoru laughed. Jake reran the holographic images through once more after he was alone. He smiled grimly at the ending. As he stepped out of the wardroom, he nodded at Corporal Mendoza as the Ship’s Marine fell in behind him. “Bob,” Jake said over his shoulder. “Yes Sir?” Mendoza answered.

  “Are you sure you have experience driving a hovercraft?” Jakeasked.

  “Of course, Sir,” Mendoza answered.

  “How long have you been rated on a hovercraft?”

  “How long have you been a General, Sir?”

  Jake whipped around to find Mendoza at attention, a smile playing at his mouth. “That was a joke, Sir.”

  Jake threw his hands up a
nd began walking again. “Great, another smart ass.”

  Peters and Corey waved from the cockpit of the mission Drop Ship. They saw Jake go by with Mercer, and Mendoza, as they followed the Marine Platoon from the personnel entrance to the rear of the ship. Jake smiled and waved back. Mercer hurried over to where Tim Dougherty stood near the ladder to the deck gun. Tim saw him, and stuck out his hand. Mercer shook his hand enthusiastically.

  “Hey, big guy,” Tim greeted him, “long time, no see.”

  “Glad you’re workin’ the gun, Psycho,” Mercer grinned. “Just remember, when you get to shootin’, we’re the ones without the mandibles.”

  Tim looked around as if he were looking for something. “Where’s my pad. I have to enter that, thanks Charlie. Let’s see now, don’t shoot the ones without mandibles. Got it, anything else buddy?”

  Mercer was already laughing, as the other Marines in the platoon looked at each other uneasily, having overheard the conversation. He clapped Tim on the shoulder affectionately.

  “Good luck, Squid.”

  “Semper Fi,” Tim said with a wave, as he climbed up behind the deck gun, and strapped himself in for the journey down to Bougainville.

  Drop Ships were not given names, only designations when on a mission. Jake’s temporary command ship was Drop Ship Alpha. They held three companies of Marines comfortably with the addition of a hovercraft. The backup ships carried a full contingent of five Marine companies in case something went drastically wrong on the landing zone. The Marines and civilian group were strapped into jump seats all around the hull of the ship, as Peters and Corey guided the Alpha ship down to the surface of Bougainville.

  The new Epoxy landing zone gleamed like a smooth lake in the middle of the rocky terrain. Peters landed on the middle of the platform. Jake met with the nervous group of civilians, as Mercer’s Platoon of Marines double-timed to their ready station. Jake and all of the military personnel were wearing helmets and armor. They each carried a particle beam rifle, and four in the platoon, one for each squad, carried a standard warhead MAG50 with mounting tripod.

 

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