A tall, lanky, red-haired Marine rushed forward until he was in front of Ryck.
“Have you two ever heard of the Stinger?” he asked.
“You mean like the hover, sir?” Gupta asked.
“Not that stinger, I mean the weapon. Back in WWII, with the US Marines in the Pacific Theater.”
“No, sir,” the two Marines said in unison.
“Well, this was one of the finest examples of Marine ingenuity during that war,” he started as the others in his staff edged forward to listen in.
“Some of the bombers and scout planes had a Browning .30 cal machine gun for protection from fighters. I forget the designation, the ANM2 or something like that. But planes were shot down, damaged, or whatever, and all of these Brownings were just sitting there. Marines being Marines, they wanted to use everything possible against the Japanese, so men like Private Bill Colby and Sergeant Mel Grevich began to tinker with guns they’d recovered off the planes. They put sights on barrels, M1 stocks on the back, and invented trigger assemblies. They made six of them first, and these were given to the 28th Marines for the assault on Iwo Jima.”
LCpl Gupta wrinkled his brow in confusion.
“Iwo Jima? The seminal fight of the US Marines in the war, maybe in their history? I know you saw a holo of the statue during boot camp, with the five Marines and a sailor raising the flag?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I remember now.”
“Well, anyway, they called this new machine gun the ‘Stinger.’ It was light, and it could fire something like 1,350 rounds per minute. The problem was that it fired so fast, it ran out of ammo quickly. Have either of you heard of Corporal Tony Stein?”
“No, sir,” the two said as several of his staff shook their heads as well as they listened in.
“Corporal Stein had one of the Stingers. His unit was pinned down by a series of pillboxes, so Stein moved forward and while under fire, poured several bursts of fire right through the firing slit of the first pillbox, killing all of the soldiers inside. But he ran out of ammo, so he took off his helmet and shoes, and barefoot, ran back 500 meters to the beach to get more ammo. He did this eight times, each time carrying back wounded Marines to the beach and bringing back belts of ammo. Then he went right back to work until he personally took out each of the pillboxes that had pinned down his unit.”
He couldn’t see Baker’s face inside his PICS, but Gupta was obviously enthralled. Looking back, Ryck could see he had the attention of the others as well. He’d loved this account when he’d written about it for a class assignment while working on his degree, and he was reveling in the chance to retell it to the others.
“Corporal Stein was awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions that day. That’s like the Federation Nova,” he told them. “He never saw it, though. He was killed a few days later,” he added almost as an afterthought.
“The reason I am telling you this is that you two Marines, on your own initiative, have followed in the footsteps of men like those. And I am proud of you. With Captain Attleman’s approval, I’m going to transfer you to the armory, at least temporarily, and I want you to covert the other three chain guns the same way you did here.
“Top Rossini, I want you to give these two all the support they need,” he told his armory chief.
“Roger that, sir. Uh, are we going to be able to try out that bad boy, first, though?” the top asked.
Twelve eager faces looked up at him.
“I think we need to ask Sergeant Baker that,” Ryck said. “It’s his gun.”
Thirteen faces turned to the sergeant, who actually took a step back under the weight of their stares.
“Of course, sir. I can get more ammo,” the sergeant stammered out.
“Well, Top, you heard the man. I suggest we all get in our PICS and meet back here. I was going to say first come, first served, but I think I’m going to pull rank. I’m getting first crack at it.”
“I’m second,” Sandy said, cutting off Sams before the Top could claim second dibs.
There was an immediate rush as thirteen Marines hurried to get in their PICS. Big boys liked big toys, and for a Marine, there wasn’t much that was bigger than something that went bang-buda-bang and destroyed whatever was in its sights.
SAINT PITIRIM
Chapter 20
“Well, my sweet Aunt Glynnis, look who the cat drug in,” the sergeant major said, putting down his beer. “Welcome to the Fuzos, sir!”
Ryck turned around to see Captain Mike McAult making his way to their table. Ryck stood up and took the captain’s proffered hand.
“About time you made it, young captain. We’ve got only one more day here on The Pit before we’re back patrolling the mighty void,” Ryck said, not really drunk, but feeling a bit on the happy side of the scale.
“I got hung up on S253, waiting to transfer, sir. But I’m glad I made it. I’m happy to be here,” Hog McAult said.
Ryck motioned the waitress for a beer for his new Fox Company commander. Saint Pitirim was an industrial world, but with all the shipping coming in and out, “The Pit” had more than its fair share of nightlife, and living, attractive waitresses were one of the reasons that Marines and sailors appreciated the city of Kloster as a liberty port.
The battalion had spent almost a month longer on Gaziantep after the battle before re-embarking aboard the Derne, and after three more quiet, but boring weeks, the ship had pulled into orbit above The Pit. All the Marines had been granted liberty while the ship went on minimum manning to let the sailors get two of the three days in orbit off as well.
Hannah had not been able to make it out, which disappointed Ryck, but he’d still enjoyed the downtime. It wasn’t as if he’d done much, but the large hotel room at the W had been a nice change of pace, as was a full day at one of the many spas outside the city. He’d hit the gym twice, and he’d spent a very rewarding two hours spanking Sandy on the Five court, which did his ego good. The rest of the time had been spent goofing off or enjoying a brew or two with either his staff or last night, with CAPT K, the ship’s XO, and Sandy at a decidedly higher end club. Ryck had bought one round of drinks, and the price had shocked him. He and Sandy had made their excuses before it came back to them for another round.
“Well, now that you’ve decided to join us, let me make the introductions. You know Major Peltier-Aswad,” he said as Sandy lifted his beer in a toast. “And Sams and the sergeant major. That big guy there is our S3, Captain Proctor Cristophe, who isn’t a bad guy considering he’s a tanker. Captain Justice Freebottom’s our S4, and our token pilot, Captain Gandy “Flounder” Bodanski is the well-groomed guy with the scotch in his hand. That’s Top Rossini, and finally, our own Mongol horde, Captain Naranbaatar Bayarsaikhan,” Ryck said, careful not to stumble over the name.
“Hog and I know each other, sir,” Genghis said with a smile. “You should ask him about his Nancy Pellington impression sometime, sir.”
“The actress? I’m not sure I want to see that. But as the deployment drags on, who knows, maybe I will!” Ryck said as the others broke out laughing.
“OK, I didn’t know you two were bosom buddies. But for those of you who don’t know him, as you heard, this is Hog, Captain Mike McAult. He was with me with Charlie 1/11, and now he’s taking over Fox. Gents, we’ve got,” Ryck said, looking at his watch, “eight hours before we need to head back. So, I’m going for dinner after Captain McAult drinks his beer. Any of you are welcome to join me, but don’t feel you have to. I am not going to monopolize your last night here.”
Ryck thought he detected a slight expression of relief coming over Captain Bodanski’s face. Flounder had somewhat of a reputation as a skirt-chaser, and The Pit was a target rich environment. He was sure the captain would excuse himself soon, and with his good looks and charisma (and maybe his wallet), he’d probably find what he sought.
That thought brought back memories of his first liberty port, on Vegas. He’d been a private first class, still with farm dirt under his
fingernails, and he’d been fascinated with the blue-skinned bar girl who had started chatting him up. He’d hesitated to tell her what ship he was on, remembering his all his classes on opsec at boot camp and was shocked when she knew more about ship schedules than he did. He still remembered her name—well, her working name: Purety. He’d spoken with her for only five or ten minutes before the unit had been recalled to the ship, but just her exotic differences from all he the girls he had known on Prophesy had made an impact on the naïve young boy he had been at the time.
Things had changed since then, a lot. Who would have guessed that he’d now be a lieutenant colonel, a grubbing battalion commander by now? Married to a wonderful wife and with three great kids? He’d even been featured in a major studio flick, for Pete’s sake.
He took another sip of his beer and looked around the table. Genghis, Proctor, and Hog were deep into a conversation, which didn’t surprise Ryck at all. Hog was a social creature with a compelling personality. Sandy and Hecs had their heads together and were discussing who knows what. With those two, it was probably Marine Corps-related. The others were either sipping on their drinks or watching the waitresses walk back and forth on their rounds.
This wasn’t the same as marching into battle. It had none of the rush, none of the excitement. But it was a slower, quieter well of emotions. Maybe it needed the danger of combat as a catalyst, but this was bonding just the same.
Ryck would be the commanding offer for about two more years, but this deployment could be the only time the unit would be this close. Back on Tarawa, there were wives, kids, mortgages, loans, getting a new car, dinner with the neighbors. There would be things pulling at each of them vying for their attention, taking part of their focus away from the battalion. As it should be. Ryck loved his family, and he missed them. He’d be happy to get back to them.
But right now, without those distractions, the men in the battalion were there for each other. Everything they did centered on the battalion. And Ryck reveled in that. He’d never get closer to this group of men than he was right now.
The deployment was scheduled to end in three more months. Ryck intended to hold on to this feeling, to embrace it as much as he could until then. He was going to make the most of it, and then keep the memories of that feeling, of the brotherhood, with him forever.
FS DERNE
Chapter 21
“Back to Gaziantep?” Sams asked. “But on the other side now? I don’t get it.”
“That rather sums it up, Top,” Ryck said. “But not just on the side, as you put it, of Cennet. We are supporting all the Federation members: Néa Athí̱na, Asgard, Biarmaland, and yes, Cennet against Ataturk aggression.”
“So two months ago, we were protecting Ataturk from Cennet. Now we’re protecting Cennet from Ataturk,” Sams persisted.
“In a nutshell, yes. As I said, Hodges Retreat, backed by Ataturk, and with units of Sylvington, has essentially taken over the two main industrial complexes on Freemantle. We are on our way back to Gaziantep where we will form a security barrier protecting Cennet until the rest of the Marine Expeditionary Brigade arrives. We are merely the forward element. After we’re formed up, who knows?”
But Ryck did know. Once the brigade was formed, it was going to take back Freemantle, but he was not at liberty to tell anyone that just yet, not even Sandy.
“This is just a head’s up. The Two and the Three will work up a more detailed brief that will be given just before arrival. Gunny Jones, I want to see your debark plan by, say, 2000 tonight. Other than that, folks, let’s get going. We need to be ready to go after we reach orbit. XO and Two, stay put. The rest of you, you’ve got work to do. Dismissed.”
Sandy and Lieutenant Quincy Reisling moved closer to Ryck and sat down. Ryck waited until the wardroom was clear before he started.
“Quincy, I want full brief ready, in detail for the entire Babbit Association. Also the standard regimental package for Sylvington. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. No problem.”
“OK, then get at it. I need to talk to the Three.”
As the S2 left, Sandy looked to Ryck, his eyebrows raised. “A Sylvington regiment? That’s what they have?”
“I don’t know, but I just want to be prepared,” Ryck said, trying to sound as if it was merely a precaution.
“What’s going on? We’re not just going there as a shield, are we?”
Sandy wasn’t stupid, and he had gone with Ryck to the Captain’s stateroom to get the initial message but had been asked to leave. He knew something was up.
“Right now, we’re just to wait. I’m sure we’ll get more when the brigade command gets here,” he said, which was not exactly a lie.
Sandy raised his eyebrows even higher, if that was possible. “OK, sir, if you say so. But a Sylvington regiment? No wonder the Corps is standing up a brigade. Does Colonel Miller have command?”
“No, this isn’t a regimental combat team. There will be three more battalions: 2/4, 1/12, and 3/7. And a full air squadron and an artillery platoon.”
“3/7? The other assault battalion? This is big, isn’t it?”
“Nothing is for sure, so don’t start going overboard, OK?” Ryck told him.
“And what about equality? A regiment and a brigade?”
“Which are within parameters,” Ryck told him.
While not legally binding, the major governments had somewhat of a gentlemen’s agreement on the size of opposing forces. It didn’t matter when going up against criminal elements such as the SOG, and it was completely thrown out the window for major conflicts such as the War of the Far Reaches, but when possible, opposing interests matched force size against force size. Mercenary units liked it as it allowed them to keep their forces leaner, thereby saving money. Smaller planetary governments liked it because they had smaller forces to begin with. And the larger governments liked it because they felt their better technology would carry the field.
“When possible” really wasn’t that often, though, Ryck knew. The bottom line was that organizations wanted to win, and if that took putting in more forces, then that was what they were going to do. Equality got lip service, but it was not law.
“Look, I wanted to talk to you. Proctor is the Three, and I don’t want to be standing there looking over his shoulder. But I want to make sure our initial live order is done right. Give him a hand. I don’t want you putting the order together, but I want you to give him some guidance and be there to answer any questions. OK?”
“OK, sir, I understand. I’ll help him out,” he said.
He was quiet for a moment before asking, “So who’s going to be the brigade commander?”
“Colonel Nidishchii’, from the Operations Directorate.”
“Woah! Your godfather? Our old recon battalion commander?” Sandy asked, surprised.
“He’s not my godfather. We’re just, you know, we’ve got a history,” Ryck snapped.
“Sorry, sir, no disrespect intended. He’s got a good rep. I didn’t really know him one-on-one in the Raiders, but I talked to him during the inspection, and I think he’ll be a fine commander.”
He suddenly stopped, and Ryck could see the gears turning in his mind.
“He came out for the inspection, and that got him pretty familiar with the battalion. Now he’s our commander? Is there more to this than meets the eye, sir? Has this been in the works for awhile?” Sandy asked.
“I don’t see how. I mean, how would we know Hodges Retreat would go into Freemantle?” Ryck replied with his own question.
“I, uh, I don’t know. I guess so,” Sandy said.
Except that Ryck had been asking himself the very same question, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that.
GAZIANTEP
Chapter 22
Ryck stared across the valley toward the border with Ataturk. It had only been a short time ago that he’d been on the other side in the assault. He transposed himself into the mind of his St. Regis opponent for a momen
t, visualizing the Federation tanks and Marines in PICS relentlessly advancing on his position. It would not have been an enviable position.
His thoughts drifted another 10 klicks, over the slight rise to his one o’clock, where the suicide rocketeers had hit his Armadillos. Right over there, somewhere, 30 Marines and three corpsman had died, including Liam Stilicho.
What a fucking waste, he thought, feeling the sense of loss that still snuck up on him at times and hit him hard.
“Colonel, sir, they’re here. The sergeant major told me to get you,” LCpl Luther told him.
Ryck slowly turned around and said to Hec’s new go-fer, “OK. Tell the sergeant major I’ll be there shortly.”
He’d heard the trucks arrive, so he knew the rest of the brigade was arriving, but he had wanted a few moments alone. Lord knows he wouldn’t have many more of those in the foreseeable future. He took one last look at the valley spread out before him, then made his way down from the roof on the squat building that served as his headquarters. The front wall of the two-story house had been blown away during the battle by one of the battalion’s tanks, but his Marines had managed to cover over the opening so the house was now enclosed. It wasn’t beautiful, but Ryck was not going to spend time and effort making it more permanent. He had no idea how long they were going to remain in Cennet, but his gut told him that their presence here was only a message. There weren’t any Sylvington forces in Ataturk, so there wasn’t much of an enemy facing them. The IGA security forces had put a platoon-sized unit at the school that had been the battalion’s camp only two months ago, but they were hardly a threat. He knew the real mission, if the trigger was pulled, would be on Freemantle, so all of this was temporary.
Ryck walked over to the open area that served as a staging area for the busses and trucks that were bringing in the rest of the brigade. Their camp was a good two hours from the nearest spaceport, and it would take at least two days to offload and transport the entire brigade to the location. Ryck thought it would have made better sense just to stay at the spaceport, but the Federation obviously wanted the brigade to stare down the Ataturk government, even if their capital was almost 5,000 klicks away from the border.
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