If I was honest about the whole thing you would have to wonder. Wonder who or what we fought for this time as it was no secret that Republic Puerto Oro Peoples Socialist Revolutionary Front or PSRF were a bunch of extremely violent revolutionary ass hats, but every mission so far had centered on protecting the Oil fields [ a strategic asset of the country managed by…yes US corporations, who were, you know, just trying to help]. While 82nd Airborne ‘protected’ the Capital and the currently non democratically ‘elected ‘, ‘ tin pot ‘ leadership council. Their National Guard had stemmed the tide but bordering Costa Verde [ha doesn’t that sound like paradise?] has been funneling Soviet era and Russian made kit along with rumoured Intelligence Officers and advisors to assist the PSRF. So are we propping up a dictator and keep gas prices low at home, or serving humanity. Ahh shit who cares.
So, yeah…a proxy war. See if it was my war, I’d drop 82nd Airborne in to Costa Verde after we bombed it back to the stone age. That my friends is how you deal with the fricken locals here. Massive fire power. That gets you mucho respecto in my version of the world!
What the hell could the Russians do from ½ a world away? If we are not interdicting drugs its fighting these proxy wars that never really happened. Though this particular shitshow just got very real. We are ‘In it to Win It’ said the President….Great. Rangers Lead the Way…rah, rah. Anyway, after 4 days in the jungle, sweating my ass off up to my pits in swamp that is what I think.
It’s odd but right now all I can say is the best damn thing going is this Navy shower on board the US destroyer Farragut is feeling pretty damn fine. It’s important you know just how good the shower is because what’s about to happen is going to ruin my day. Nah don’t worry it’s not more politics. It’s the Colonel. For three weeks now this new routine has settled in. My squad or our Platoon returns and he tracks me down to tear me out of this fine ass shower and put me in harm’s way too soon. Something about Operational tempo needing to be maintained. I need hot water, and rack time, my stitches taken out from the last mission etc.
So after 3 days in AO Yankee [ no one said Army was creative did they?]…anyway AO Yankee was filled with alligators and infested with snakes, covered in smelly muddy swampland, marsh land and fetid jungle. Perfect for Spec Ops. I had been leading half the platoon on a 2 day mission that blew into four days and were finally back on deck, for a much needed shower, real Navy Food [Oh My God they live like kings] and some refit. Our recent op had some issues, we had to haul ass for 24 hours thru swamps to evade capture or more likely killing and torture by the local PSRF who were on us and busted our mission.
So you can now imagine how my body must stink after being up to my elbows is swamp, feet a mess, hungry and bone weary, leeches…leeches, I fucking hate leeches. This shower was steaming up real nice, my facial hair finally softening up and I shaved and lathered. That’s when the aforementioned day ruining event presciently occurs. The door flew open with a resounding metallic clang.
I prompted the sailor, ‘ yes this stall is taken , no you can’t wash my back sailor boy. ‘
A voice rumbled clearly thru the steam ” your 18 hrs late, where the hell have you been”. I need you in the OpCenter in 5.”
The colonel spun on a heel, and left leaving the door wide open and allowing my steam to escape. ‘Asshole’ I called out. ” I heard that “… ahh the colonel makes me laugh. I’d kill him otherwise.
10 minutes later I saunter into the Ops center in clean pressed fatigues and dry warm socks and boots. After snapping a sloppy salute I hit the coffee and plopped down. ‘ who wants to hear what happened to me?’ I asked everyone. The colonel ignored me, the Naval officers slack jaws snapped shut. They were probably wondering just who the hell I thought I was. Sometimes I wonder who I am too.
‘Nobody? BUEHLER? ANYONE?’ I say. “Listen Colonel we got OPSEC issues. Our mission was blown and…”
It was then I saw the satellite images of AO Yankee on the live stream screen. “WHAT THE F#@K!”
Blue dots blinked on the map, that was the other half of my Ranger platoon who should have been back before me…. something was going horribly wrong in AO Yankee.
The Colonel raised a hand with a chopping motion, catching my attention. “Lt Barese we now know, that we have an INTEL/OPSEC issue. It’s got to be the Russians and it must be a recent development. Second Platoon in AO Sierra was barely rescued. We lost a lot of men Lt. 3rd Battalion is hurting and the rest of your boys are on the run.”
Data flashed up on the screen, it was my turn for the jaw to drop. The casualty list was huge. I listened dumbstruck as the colonel continued “You and your platoon are the only full strength units we now have to slow down and thwart the PSRF. We cannot escalate to all out war, and your men are running for their lives. I need you back in there, are you and the boys up to it?”
“Rangers lead the way sir.” I said, all cocky pretense dropped we were not doing the usual debrief. Hell I was about to drag my men back into.. into what?
“Lt I need you & your Bravo squad back in the AO asap. Alpha AND Charlie are on the run. I need you to confirm targeting on an enemy comms station. It seems their friends are loaning sophisticated comms array and tech to them. I need eyes on it, with a grid for a strike. But we need to have you well away from the area and radio silent unless you really need it. Then burst us the grid and Navy air or this very ship will wipe the site IF it’s the one. The good Captain here assures me he can wipe it out with a flick of a switch. ”
What are we doing about Alpha and Charlie? I said.
You find that comms array. It’s hacking our encrypted comms and causing havoc. That’s why A&C are on the run and every op is getting blindsided.”
I’ll need a bit of time to work up the plan I told the Colonel but he knew that. We will do an abbreviated opord and finish up in transit. We needed fresh kit too.
The colonel gave a rare grunt of acknowledgement, “thanks Lt. Knock out the enemies comms and I can bring all of you home. Oh and Lt don’t be late to my meeting next time. You will have time to shower when you retire. ”
I laughed, saluted and hustled to our zone on the USS Farragut.