Pointblank, p.27
Pointblank, page 27
“Yes. Well, the admiral has been able to launch a partial string-of-pearls, so we now have some satellite surveillance capability, uh, thanks to your work knocking out those laser guns, Wilson. So. I need you to do two things. First, request Admiral Hoi give us his latest SOP data on the Gilbert’s Corners area, and then I want you to take this”—Billie handed Wyllyums another crystal—“memo for the record, sign it, and put it into your system.”
“And what does it say, sir?”
“Well, Colonel, er, General, hah, hah, takes some getting used to, don’t it? Did me too, when I made my first star. Ah, it comments on General Cazombi’s recommendation. Your private comments, Wilson, not for me, just for the record, you understand. I want you to keep this between us, of course. The rest of the staff does not need to know about your private reservations. In the MFR you endorse Cazombi’s plan, naturally, but you also have reservations about casualties and you mention how reluctantly I approved the plan, my own concerns about harm to civilians being paramount. Read it. It’s all in there. Then sign it. Can you do that for me, Wilson?”
“Oh, er, yessir! Certainly. At once.” So that was the old fox’s reason for calling me up here, showering me with a decoration, a promotion, this stinking cigar, Wilson thought. Billie was hedging his bet on the raid’s outcome. He was asking Wyllyums to request the surveillance, to make it look routine, so nobody would know that Billie was having second thoughts about its success. And no matter how the attack on Gilbert’s went, old Billie would come out smelling like a rose. And to make sure, he would have the satellite surveillance beforehand, to make his own assessment of the raid’s chances of success. But if, as Billie hoped, the raid went wrong and axes fell, he, Wyllyums, with this MFR in the system, would keep his promotion. All he had to do was—was betray Cazombi and the Marines.
Intelligence Division, Confederation Army HQ, Bataan
At first Sergeant Craiggie did not notice the two silver stars on Brigadier General Wyllyums’s tunic, but when he did, he jumped up from his desk. “What in the—?”
“Never thought you’d see them, eh, Craiggie? Well, neither did I, Sarge, neither did I.”
“Sir, what—how—?”
General Wyllyums reached absently for the packet of Capricorns he kept in a tunic pocket, shook one out, and Sergeant Craiggie leaned forward to light it for him. “What did I have to do to get it? Well, I have to eat shit, Sergeant. By the way, I’ve just come from personnel. Now that I’m a flag officer I’m authorized a sergeant major on my staff. I put your name in. I’ll have the orders to you in a few minutes. Congratulations.”
“I guess we should have some of this, then,” Craiggie produced his bottle of bourbon.
“Yes, Sergeant Major, we should, we should. I need something to wash down the nine yards of shit I am about to swallow.”
“Ah, sir,” Craiggie said philosophically, “everyone’s gotta eat some sometime or another. There’s two kind of people in this army, those, like you and me, who do it because we got to, and then there’s those who do it because they like the taste.”
“Sergeant Major, that’s the problem. I think I’m beginning to like the taste.”
Only at that moment did Sergeant Major Craiggie notice that General Wyllyums’s tunic was buttoned up tightly.
CHAPTER
* * *
THIRTY
Headquarters, Fourth Force Reconnaissance Company, on Board the CNSS Kiowa
Commander Obannion and his staff met again in his office the next afternoon, but not before Obannion received a message from Rear Admiral Hoi:
“1. It’s as I expected, Commander. General Billie has declined to mount an assault on Gilbert’s Corners. He has, however, authorized a raid by Force Recon. The raid has the endorsement of Lieutenant General Cazombi, Brigadier General Thayer, and Colonel Wyllyums, who are respectively Billie’s deputy commander, G3, and G2. Show me your plans as soon as they are ready.
“2. My congratulations to your hunter-killer teams. Thanks to their efforts, enough of the Coalition laser guns have been destroyed that the starships of Task Force 79 were able to launch the string-of-pearls during the third watch, and most of the string is still in orbit.”
“Gentlemen,” Obannion said, “I have just heard from the admiral. First item of business, the navy is now able to sustain a nearly complete string-of-pearls. The Admiral offers his congratulations to Force Recon for making that possible.”
The small office reverberated with cheers and the thumps of backs being slapped.
“Get it out of your systems now,” Obannion said loudly enough to be heard over the congratulations being shouted back and forth, “because now we have very serious business to conduct.
“As we expected, General Billie has declined to mount an assault on Gilbert’s Corners. However, he is authorizing Force Recon to mount a raid. So, Captain Wainwright,” Obannion said with a nod, “if you can brief us on whatever plans you have for a Force Recon raid…” He gestured for Wainwright to begin.
“Before I begin, sir,” Wainwright said, “I think we need to hear from Captain Gonzalez about transportation, as that has had considerable bearing on my planning.”
Obannion made a gesture for the logistics officer to speak.
“Thank you, sir, Captain Wainwright,” Gonzalez began. “The first thing I did was ascertain just what transportation is available to mass the company, or just a platoon, within striking distance of Gilbert’s Corners. I believe everybody knows that we have been exclusively using the Admiral Stoloff ’s AstroGhost to move our squads to and from planetside, and to change their positions planetside. It turns out that the Admiral Stoloff has the only AstroGhost in all of Task Force 79.” He paused to let that sink in. “The Kiowa herself has more than sufficient Essays to land the entire company in one wave.” He paused again, then turned to Wainwright. “Do you want me to continue, or would you rather pick it up here yourself?”
“I’ll take it,” Wainwright said. “Sir, to beat the obvious, if we make planetfall via Essay, there is little chance the Coalition will not detect our landing. The only way to avoid putting the garrison at Gilbert’s Corners—not to mention the members of the Committee on the Conduct of the War—on notice of our arrival is to make planetfall at a considerable distance, perhaps as far as a thousand kilometers, from Gilbert’s Corners. If we do that, we then have the problem of moving the company into strike position. Over that distance, it’s unlikely that vehicles could reach the vicinity of the objective without being discovered. Which leaves puddle jumpers for transit. And puddle jumpers simply don’t have sufficient range to go that far; the company would have to rendezvous with the AstroGhost three times to replace the puddle jumpers. Also, even though our Marines are effectively invisible in their chameleons, the exhaust from the puddle jumpers isn’t, so there is a high risk of discovery if we attempt to move the entire company that distance via puddle jumper.
“Alternately, we could have the Essays make planetfall in different locations, dispersing the company from the beginning, thereby reducing the chances of detection during movement to the objective. But, since the AstroGhost would have to make several widely spaced stops on each of its puddle jumper resupply runs, that resupply would take longer, further delaying rendezvous at the objective and increasing our chance of discovery.
“Another option is to have the AstroGhost assemble the company in waves, which would be time-consuming.”
As soon as he’d heard Captain Gonzalez say there was only one AstroGhost available in the entire TF79, Obannion knew all the problems in landing the company that Wainwright had brought up. He’d let his operations officer run through them in the hope that he’d come up with a solution to the problems, or an objection to which he saw a solution. That didn’t happen.
“Does anybody have a solution?” Obannion asked. When nobody did, he slapped his palms on his desk and stood. “All right, then, focus on a one-platoon raid. Captain Qindall, contact the squads in the vicinity of Gilbert’s Corners and instruct them to gather intelligence on the entire perimeter. I want them to focus first on patrols, secondly on lines of defense—and I’m particularly interested in the area west to south. I’m going to inform the admiral.”
Command Information Center, Task Force 79, on Board the Kiowa
“Why am I not surprised, Commander?” Rear Admiral Hoi Yueng said when Commander Obannion told him a company-size raid wasn’t feasible. “My apologies, I should have realized that you needed AstroGhosts to make your planetfall and that the Task Force only has one. Is there anything you can do?”
“Sir, I’ve got my staff working on an operation plan for a single-platoon raid,” Obannion replied.
“Hmm. Well, I believe one Force Recon platoon, inserted surreptitiously near its objective, can do as much damage as an army battalion landing team, and do it in less time and with fewer unnecessary casualties.” Hoi looked at Obannion for confirmation. When the Force Recon commander agreed with a thank-you, Hoi said, “So go get them.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Headquarters, Fourth Force Reconnaissance Company
Captain Qindall followed Commander Obannion into his office. “Got some good news, Walt,” he said when he’d closed the hatch behind himself.
“Give it to me, Stu, I could use some.”
“Two more squads were close enough to Gilbert’s Corners to join in the recon by sundown, local time. Three others can get there by tomorrow afternoon local—if the AstroGhost can rendezvous to replace their puddle jumpers. I’ve arranged for the replacement.”
“Which squads?”
“Seventh squad from first platoon and third from fourth platoon are on their way to help with the recon. I’ve given the go-ahead to sixth squad, first platoon, and fifth and eighth squads from third platoon. All are moving to meet the AstroGhost.”
“How long have they been planetside?”
“They can use the head on the AstroGhost,” Qindall said with a grin. Force Recon Marines took the adage “Leave nothing, not even footprints” seriously—they not only brought all their trash back with them, they held their bowels for the days of a mission.
Obannion took a deep breath. “Thanks, that is good news—we’ll be able to use more than just one platoon; if we land an entire platoon, we’ll have three whole sections for the raid.”
“Suggestion?”
“You don’t have to ask permission to make a suggestion, Stu, you know that.”
“Use second platoon.”
“They conducted the company’s last platoon raid; shouldn’t we use somebody else for the main force?” Obannion knew the answer to that question, but he wanted to know if his XO had other reasons—pro or con.
Qindall snorted. “Second’s the only full platoon we have. All the others have squads either still out on other missions or en route here after returning to Camp Howard from other missions. The AstroGhost can easily take the three squads we have aboard and pick up the other three when it makes planetfall. Besides, most of the intelligence we have on the Gilbert’s Corners defenses will come from second platoon.”
“Do you think Lieutenant Rollings is ready to run a platoon raid, much less a platoon and a half?”
“Come on, Walt. He’s as ready as any of the other platoon commanders, even if he is the newest of them. The only officers in the company who have experience with platoon-size raids are you and me. Unless you want to go yourself…?”
Obannion smiled. “I’d like to, you know that. And so would you. But we can’t, we have to use one of the other officers.” He leaned back for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then sat straight again. “What do you think about Pter? He’s drawing the OpPlan.”
Qindall laughed. “That would certainly inspire him to make the best plan he could—as if he wouldn’t anyway.”
Obannion nodded. “Get Pter and Kady in here. Morrie too.”
Ten minutes later, Captain Qindall was back with Captain Wainwright, Lieutenant Rollings, and Sergeant Major Periz.
“We have a slight change of plans, gentlemen,” Obannion told them as soon as Periz closed the office door behind himself. “We’re using second platoon for the raid, reinforced by first and sixth squads from first platoon, fifth and eighth from third, and third squad from fourth platoon, one squad more than a platoon and a half. Captain Wainwright, would you like to go planetside and run this operation, with Lieutenant Rollings as your number one?”
Wainwright’s face split in a grin. “Damn, and here I’d thought I’d never again be allowed planetside on an operation. Thank you, sir.” He reached out and shook hands with Rollings, who also beamed at the opportunity to go planetside on a raid. “It’s like getting to be a sergeant again!”
“Except that you’ll have fifty-six Marines and a corpsman under your command, instead of just three Marines.”
“Sir, when you think you’ve been relegated to a desk for life, you take what you can get.” That drew a laugh from Obannion, Qindall, and Periz.
“If I may, sir,” Wainwright said when the laughter died. “I’d like to bring Lieutenant Rollings into the planning. And let me have”—he paused to think of which squads he had—“Staff Sergeant Keen as the third section leader—his section is the only one that has more than one squad designated for this mission.”
“You’ve got him. Does Doc Natron meet with your approval?”
“He’s a damn good corpsman, I’ll be glad to have him aboard.”
“All right. XO, inform Staff Sergeant Keen and Doc Natron—and their respective chains of command. Now, does anybody have anything to add?”
“I do, sir,” Wainwright said. “The squads reconning Gilbert’s Corners report that the heaviest patrolling is to the northeast and east of the village. It appears that they’re providing a screen to detect an attack from Bataan, or an amphibious operation from the coast to the east. Their patrolling is lightest on the west side.”
Obannion nodded sharply. “I had a feeling that would be their thinking. Pter, I want the OpPlan on my desk when I come in tomorrow morning. Take the latest intelligence from the squads reconning the objective into consideration and plan to hit it from the west.”
“Aye, aye, sir. By your leave?”
“Go and do it.”
Periz opened the door for Wainwright and Rollings to leave. Wainwright was filling the junior officer in on the plans before they made it out of the office.
Periz made sure nobody was near the door before he closed it. “Sir,” he said, “do you think it’s wise to send your S3 planetside to run an operation like this?”
“Do you think he can’t do the job?” Obannion asked seriously, surprised by the question.
“Not at all. I think he’ll do an outstanding job. It’s just that he’s the S3. If he becomes a casualty, we’ll have to slot someone else into that position.”
“Petr knows the OpPlan better than anybody else. And it doesn’t matter who’s in command planetside. If the commander becomes a casualty, just as with any other Marine, somebody else will have to be slotted into his position. That’s the way war works, Sergeant Major.”
“Thought that’s what you’d say. Just wanted to make sure.”
“My conscience,” Obannion said ruefully.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Obannion dismissed the obvious: that if Wainwright as the commander of the raiding party was replaceable, so would he or Qindall be replaceable.
The plan was waiting for Commander Obannion when he arrived in his office the next morning. His staff, bleary-eyed from having spent the night working on it, filed into his office behind him. The company commander had one question before he examined the plan:
“Ten of the fourteen squads in this mission are already planetside. How will they be briefed?”
“Sir, if you’ll be so good as to put on your helmet,” Captain Wainwright said, “I can demonstrate at the same time I brief you on the plan.”
Obannion reached behind himself to an apparently empty stretch of wall and plucked his chameleoned helmet from the peg on which it hung. He put it on and strapped on his comp, which he pulled from another stretch of seemingly empty wall.
The other members of the staff were already wearing their comps and carrying their helmets. When Obannion’s head disappeared, they donned their helmets. The office now looked as if it were inhabited by six headless men, one of whom began tickling his own solar plexus.
Nobody spoke, nobody had to say a word. Captain Wainwright’s fingers danced over his comp, tight-beaming the operation’s plan to Commander Obannion. Words scrolled across Obannion’s heads-up display, describing the objective of the raid, the company elements involved, everything that was known about the enemy forces in place, known defensive works, the topography of the terrain in which the Marines would be operating, the layout of the village and its newly constructed suburbs, and the likely numbers and locations of reinforcements available to the enemy. Passwords and countersigns were given, along with rally points, the extraction point, who would have what weapons, the chain of command, and one by one, each squad’s mission in the raid. The words were accompanied by maps whenever and wherever the visuals were useful. And a timeline accompanied everything. The briefing took half an hour.
“The squads planetside will get a somewhat abbreviated version of that,” Wainwright said when the briefing was over.
“Two assault guns and sufficient blasters for everybody planetside who is only carrying a sidearm are already stowed aboard the AstroGhost,” Captain Gonzalez said.
“We are ready to launch on your command, sir,” Wainwright finished.
“Gentlemen,” Obannion said, “you have done an outstanding job. I will take this to the admiral, and as soon as it has his approval, it’s a go. Now get some sleep—especially the two of you who are making planetfall.”
Commander Obannion didn’t give Rear Admiral Hoi the full treatment that he’d gotten, but rather a shorter verbal briefing. The admiral approved the raid as planned.
