Brothers in Arms (2 page)

Jonah spun on his heel and left the room. He sighed heavily, finding humor in the absurd. Damn babysitting duty. Just what Jonah joined the Marines to do. As evening set in and temperatures dropped, or so the thermometers said, Marines began to shake off their torpor and take up various activities. Some cleaned weapons, others sparred, and still others tried to write letters home.

Jonah called some of his men over to his area of the barracks room. Steves, Garcia, and Shankman had been with Jonah during the first months of Operation Iraqi Freedom. They were better Marines now than they had been back then, especially Shankman.

Martinez, Renz, Trujillo, and Sergeant Nolan Roner were newcomers to Jonah’s time in theater. Still, he’d worked with them enough to know they were good Marines and could handle this task. Trujillo, already bilingual, had picked up the language readily and had proven to be a more accurate translator than many of the locals they’d recruited.

“At zero-six-thirty tomorrow,” Jonah began his briefing, “we’ll break off from the rest of Second Platoon and take on a Dignitary Protection detail at the direct request of State.”

He watched his fellow Marines become more alert and interested. As distasteful as babysitting was, Jonah had to admit it was a break in the frustrating monotony of their daily patrols.

First Recon’s current mission in Iraq was to do what
should
have been done during Jonah’s initial mission. Thoughts of that first mission always stirred something inside of him. Thoughts led to memories and those memories always turned toward Kellan, and Jonah didn’t have time to dwell on that right now.

“Our subject’s call sign is ‘Grizzly,’” he continued, reading from the memo Hoegerl had given him. “We might be given his full identity at the time we take over protection.”

Jonah looked from one attentive face to another as he spoke. “He’ll be with us approximately forty-eight hours. Our mission is to escort and protect as he progresses through his itinerary and then hand him back over in one piece for transport out of here. Captain Hoegerl will forward any additional details as he receives them. Questions?”

“Logistics?” Sergeant Roner asked.

Jonah had selected Roner for his skill as a Team Leader, and for the way he, like Martinez and Trujillo, managed to rise above the smack talk for which Steves and Garcia were known.

“Three Humvees,” Jonah explained. “I’ll be in the lead vehicle with Shankman and Martinez. Steves and Garcia will take the second Humvee with our VIP, and Roner will take Renz and Trujillo in the third.”

There were nods of understanding all around.

“Get some rest, gents,” Jonah concluded. “We’re gonna have a long forty-eight. Dismissed.”

Immediately, Jonah could feel the excitement level throughout the barracks rooms ratchet up a few notches. The Marines who made up Jonah’s team began their preparations and everyone else, who stayed stuck on patrol, enviously begged for details on the shiny new mission.

Jonah sat with his weapon in his lap, back to the wall, watching his ‘kids’ and their usual antics as he broke down the M4 rifle and cleaned it, yet again. His Beretta sidearm was next.

Third Platoon, Slayer-Two-Three came back from patrol, replaced by Slayer-Three-One. When they got word of the special babysitting mission, even their exhaustion couldn’t suppress their excitement and envy.

They could have the fucking mission for all Jonah cared. He’d execute it with his very best effort, even as he longed for the silence and precision of a traditional recon mission.

PFC Corey Yarwood of Slayer-Two-Three sat cleaning his gear, listening to the bullshit his fellow Marines were spouting. He laughed in the right places but didn’t contribute much. Jonah always felt a sharp twist in his chest when he saw Yarwood. The kid resembled Kellan. Jonah had thought Kellan looked young all those years ago, but Yarwood—Yarwood looked so young, he made Jonah feel
old
.

§ § §

At 0630 the next morning, Jonah, his men, and three Humvees were at the airstrip, watching a C-130 land. The aircraft was surprisingly graceful for so large and lumbering a plane. The rear ramp deployed, and several members of a Delta Force company escorted a civilian to the tarmac. Jonah assumed the civilian was “Grizzly,” and it was clear how he came by the call sign. His barrel chest, thick arms, and ham fists made Jonah think of an oversized bulldog. His face bore a serious expression. He wore khaki trousers, a short-sleeved shirt, and lug-soled boots of the same nondescript tan.

Jonah watched the man walk confidently down the ramp; he carried himself like someone who had served in the armed forces in some capacity. He certainly had the physique of a stereotypical Marine.

Just what Jonah needed: a civilian with military service telling him how to do his job.

The Delta sergeant approached Jonah. “Gunnery Sergeant Carver? I’m Sergeant Lucas. I have orders to hand over Grizzly for your safekeeping.”

“Grizzly is now under the protection of the United States Marines,” Jonah said as one of the Delta guys handed off a large duffle to Garcia. That would be Grizzly’s personal gear.

“Good luck,” the Delta Sergeant said, sketching a casual salute that Jonah returned.

Jonah held open the door of the second Humvee for Grizzly, while Garcia secured his gear on the back of the vehicle. “I’m Gunnery Sergeant Carver. I’m in charge of your protection detail during your time here.”

Grizzly extended his hand for Jonah to shake. “Gunnery Sergeant, call me Grizzly.”

Jonah met Grizzly’s eyes steadily. He could see he wasn’t going to be given much more information on his VIP than he already had been.

“You’ll be riding with Corporals Steves and Garcia,” Jonah explained. “We’ll meet with Captain Hoegerl when we reach firm base.”

Jonah closed the door of the Humvee when Grizzly was settled. He slid into his own vehicle, and they left the airstrip just as the C-130 began to turn and taxi for its return flight. Whoever Grizzly was, he had enough juice to be a solo mission for a large, expensive-to-fly airplane.

Shankman kept to a steady fifty miles an hour back to firm base, and, per Jonah’s orders, the other two Humvees maintained a standard dispersion. They were all vigilant for IEDs, RPGs, and anyone who appeared to be armed. Jonah’s field of vision was severely hampered by the metal plating installed in his window. It was his own personal shield against bullets and shrapnel but was constantly in the way of his ability to be effective in combat situations.

In some ways, Iraq was more dangerous now than it had been during the initial invasion. The Iraqi people had grown indifferent to the US presence in their country. Most times, Marines couldn’t tell an Iraqi national from a Syrian insurgent until it was too late. Even roadkill could be fatal if it turned out to be an IED. When they reached the firm base, Jonah, Trujillo, and Garcia took Grizzly to stow his gear in one of the barracks rooms. Garcia returned outside to the team and the Humvees, while the rest of them met with Captain Hoegerl.

After brief introductions, including Trujillo, who would serve as the mission translator, the captain began to fill Grizzly in on the arrangements that had been made for his mission.

“Leading your protection detail is Gunnery Sergeant Jonah Carver, whom you’ve met,” he said. “The sergeant’s my most experienced Marine. He was part of the team that provided the diversion during the invasion back in oh-three.”

Grizzly gave Jonah a meaningful look. “Oo-rah, Gunnery Sergeant.”

“Oo-rah,” Jonah returned. Grizzly had been a Marine. He wondered if Grizzly had put in his twenty and retired, or if he’d done a tour in Desert Storm and gotten out when he’d realized his path lay elsewhere. Like Kellan had done, after they’d secured Baghdad.

Jonah brought himself up short with that thought. Twice in two days, thoughts of Kellan had snuck up on Jonah. It wasn’t as if he never thought about Kellan at all. He did, actually, a lot; just, not quite
this
frequently.

“Do you have a list of locations or persons of interest to visit?” Jonah was dragged back into the present by Captain Hoegerl’s question.

“I do,” Grizzly replied. “Which I can’t share. I’ll provide GPS coordinates your men can translate to grids en route.”

Jonah had led missions that didn’t even exist on paper, but some POG in an office somewhere decided he wasn’t “need to know.”
Officers and bureaucrats, they lived to fuck with grunts
. Jonah sighed inwardly. Some things remained the same.

“Understood,” Hoegerl said.

“Your translator’s after-action reports can only be seen by you, before you send them up the chain.”

“So I’ve been informed.”

“I’d like to get started right away, if that’s possible,” Grizzly announced.

“Gunnery Sergeant Carver and his team are at your disposal.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Grizzly said as he shook Hoegerl’s hand and turned to leave the room.

As they stepped outside again, Jonah’s men went from casually alert to standing at attention. When they reached the Humvees, he made quick introductions of the remainder of his men to Grizzly.

“Give my guys your GPS coordinates, and we’ll do the rest,” Jonah said, heading toward his own Humvee. “And if the shit hits the fan, you do as we tell you.”

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant,” Grizzly replied dryly.

He wondered if Grizzly realized, if it came down to a choice between this mission and his men, Jonah would happily club Grizzly into submission himself.

§ § §

“Yo, Gunnery Sergeant Carver,” Corporal Shankman said from the driver’s seat of the Humvee. “Whatcha think of our VIP?”

“I think our job is to help him to do his job safely,” Jonah answered. Despite serving together on and off for more than five years, Shankman, like the younger Marines, never called him Jonah. It was always “Gunnery Sergeant Carver.”

“Word, Gunny,” Shankman continued, oblivious to Jonah’s reticence. “But the dawg himself. He seems…awright.”

“I’m sure he’ll be gratified to know he has the approval of Corporal Guy Shankman.” Jonah didn’t hide his sarcasm. “His life was probably hollow and incomplete without your ringing endorsement.”

“Whadya think he’s here ta do?” Shankman pressed.

“Such speculation is, first of all, not what I am paid to do. And second, is beyond my pay grade.”

“Ain’t you even a lil’ curious?”

“Shut up, Shankman.”

He left Jonah alone after that, choosing instead to exchange barbs with Martinez.

Their first stop was in a small hamlet. The huts were small, mud-and-brick affairs. The air was heavy with the scents of livestock manure, human waste, and baking flatbread. Teenage boys and grown men all lounged around the hamlet, while women in heavy, dark burkas worked in small patch-gardens and around the hot mud-baking ovens. Young girls and boys roughhoused, trying to engage the Marines.

Grizzly spoke to several men for long periods of time, each of them individually.

“S’pose he’s CIA, Gunny?” Renz asked, coming to stand next to Jonah.

“Nah, dawg,” Shankman answered before Jonah could. “CIA don’t act so obvious. ’Sides, CIA’d be rollin’ through here with a Delta Force company.”

“Renz, stop annoying the Gunnery Sergeant,” Sgt. Roner called out from the third Humvee, and Renz immediately returned to the vehicle.

“I think he’s some bigwig from Department of Defense or State,” Steves spoke from the turret of the second vehicle. “Lookin’ for somethin’ to take back that shows this
ain’t
a goat-roping clusterfuck.”

Jonah spat a stream of tobacco on the ground several inches from his boot. “They will never admit the rush to Baghdad without securing the outlying villages was anything but a feat of military genius.”

“How’s that, Jonah?” Garcia asked.

“By not providing security and infrastructure, thereby preventing the insurgency, we actually facilitated their success,” Jonah replied.

“I really wish you spoke English,” Garcia said with a laugh.

Grizzly and Trujillo began to follow a wizened old man toward one of the ramshackle huts.

“Heads up, gents,” Jonah called, raising his weapon and stepping forward. “Grizzly’s oscar-mike.” So much Marine jargon was made up of their phonetic alphabet replacing regular words; such as
oscar-mike
standing in for
on the move
.

Just before disappearing into the hut, Grizzly turned. “Gunnery Sergeant, I need you and your men to stay outside.”

“Due respect, sir, it’s hard to protect someone when you can’t see them or any threats coming at them.”

“If it helps, set up a perimeter around the huts. And if anything starts to go down, I’ll give a shout and you can storm the gates.”

As far as plans went, it wasn’t ideal, but Jonah would have to make do.

“Okay, form a loose perimeter around the structures,” he ordered the team. “I want eyes three-sixty.”

When Grizzly was out of his sight, Jonah began to pace a small circle, eyes snapping repeatedly from the horizon to the door of the hut through which Grizzly had disappeared, to the women adhering flatbread to the walls of their mud ovens.

After an interminable time, Grizzly and Trujillo exited the hut. Grizzly carried a small object, wrapped several times in a filthy cloth. Jonah knew asking what it was would be useless.

“Does your package pose any kind of threat or danger to my men?” he asked Grizzly pointedly.

“No, Gunnery Sergeant, not at all.”

Jonah chose to make no comment. He helped Grizzly secure the unknown item inside the second vehicle, and then they were oscar-mike again.

Grizzly’s GPS coordinates gave Jonah a grid location that didn’t make him happy. This was why he hated getting intel at the last minute; it didn’t allow him proper planning. He zoomed in the view on his BLUFOR Tracker, a complex military GPS that showed Jonah the positions of both friendly and hostile troops, as well as the local topography. The Tracker clearly showed him the four-story apartment structure in an urban center prone to violent outbursts.

As Shankman drove the sixty-five klicks to the city, Jonah formulated his strategy. They would disperse the Humvees along the streets around the building. Grizzly was going to have to accept that most of the Marines would enter the structure with him. Jonah knew he would likely demand he be allowed to enter individual apartments with no one other than Trujillo. Jonah and his men would occupy the hallways outside of the apartments and hopefully Grizzly would accept the compromise of leaving doors open for easy and fast entry if needed.