(“Duh,” Troy had whispered.)
The island’s code name was Lifeline.
When the graphic went up, Hector leaned forward, trying to peer around the guy in front of him for a better look. It stretched southwest to northeast, shaped like a long turd. It didn’t look that big, but even smaller islands lay off to the east and north.
The colonel turned the brief over to a major. She said, “The Navy is carrying out attacks at two other points, starting now. And we have a submarine blockade between Lifeline and the enemy coast. So we don’t expect major reinforcements for the enemy, by either sea or air. The battlefield is isolated; he’ll have to fight with what he has. We’ll have the advantage of surprise and numbers.
“On the other hand, this is an over-the-horizon assault, with multiple repeat sorties by Osprey, helo, and LCAC to get the first echelon ashore. Since shipping will have to stand off, due to area-denial missiles, this will slow the buildup and place heavier demands on the lead assault elements.
“We’ll get to the enemy order of battle in a moment. But I wanted to discuss the geography first, because we’ve discovered difficulties that may not have been appreciated when we were assigned this mission.”
An aerial photo, looking down onto an undulating green carpet fringed with black rock. “Lifeline is eighteen kilometers long and roughly five kilometers wide. It is dominated by two volcanoes, Riposet, in the southeast, and Karaboban, to the north. Both are long extinct. Riposet, at a two-hundred-seventy-meter elevation, dominates the island and the airfield. Whoever holds it, holds the island.”
“Our first two objectives,” the colonel put in, “are the airfield and the commanding height to the south. We have a cruel and determined enemy. Cruel — judging from his conduct in Korea. Determined — he will not surrender easily. In China, defeated generals are shot.
“But Marines have always accomplished the mission. I have no doubt you’ll make me proud.”
He nodded to the major. She picked up, “Now, enemy forces. Based on all-source intelligence, we estimate Lifeline is occupied by approximately four thousand Chinese.”
The marines stirred. Hector didn’t like that number either. There were only about two thousand men and women in the whole Second Regiment. Weren’t you supposed to land with more guys than you had opposing you?
As if sensing their unease, she said, “But most of the occupiers are not fighting troops. Many are construction crews and civilian contractors, resurfacing and extending the airfield for the next phase of their offensive. Taking it won’t just screw up their plans, it’ll position us for our next step.
“In two days, at an H-hour of 0400 local, following preparatory strikes by Tomahawk, UAV, Marine and Navy air, and naval gunfire support, Nine MEB will carry out a two-pronged attack. The Ospreys will vertical-envelop at LZ Mallet, which I am indicating with the pointer.”
The major hesitated. “It was difficult to select a landing point for the element conducting the frontal assault. The coastline is formed by steep cliffs. Rocky. Precipitous. There are only four places at all suitable, only one is on the eastern coast, and it has no beach suitable for LCACs. Actually, there aren’t any ‘beaches,’ in the sense of a shallowing hydrography shading up into a gradually climbing coastal terrain.
“To be honest, it took us a long time to figure out the best way to get you in, aside from a pure vertical assault, which wouldn’t give us a rapid enough buildup or the logistic foothold needed for resupply.”
“Then how the fuck are we getting ashore?” Whipkey muttered, fidgeting like an eight-year-old.
“Shut up, Troy, and listen,” Hector hissed.
The briefer clicked a laser pointer. “First Battalion, Second Regiment, will land on Red Beach Two. Here.” The red dot pulsated, but Hector didn’t see anything like a beach.
“AAVs, tanks, and vehicles will debark at the foot of an eroded cliff. The incline is about forty degrees. Rough going, but we believe the armor can negotiate the grade. Once the beachhead’s secure, the logistics combat element will sculpt a ramp with dozers. The rubble will form a base for a pontoon causeway, where resupply will come in starting at D plus one.
“Until that happens, though, we’ll have to hold against any counterattack with organic assets, supplemented by drone resupply. The good news is, we’ll have continuous air support from the MAG and the UAV folks. Fifty Stinger teams, antidrone squads, and Navy top cover will further protect us.
“Terrain inland is undulating, with open areas interspersed with scrub jungle in the lower elevations. You will encounter small lakes and watercourses. The former administrating country advises most of the inhabitants have left. For ROE purposes, consider the entire island as a free-fire zone. Of course, try to avoid damage to hospitals and churches, unless they’re being used as firing positions.
“Once ashore, push toward the airfield in accordance with the phase lines shown and link up at LZ Mallet. We should have local-area GPS coverage, but it’s probably better to depend on your compass and map. Push forward as rapidly as you can. Don’t give the enemy time to organize. Second Battalion, landing south of us, will take Mount Riposet. Note this shallow ravine; it will serve as a boundary line. Three-Two will be held in reserve.
“When you make contact, don’t halt. Call in supporting fire, then close with and destroy the enemy. Don’t get ahead of the phase lines. Your prep fires will be going in ahead of you. But don’t fall behind, either. Once fire lifts, the enemy’s going to have his head back up again.”
The colonel interrupted again. “Let me emphasize that: When counterattacks occur, call in support and attrite the enemy.”
His audience stirred, glancing at one another. Hector felt uneasy. If anything went wrong, they’d be stranded ashore without resupply, maybe without tanks.
The major wound up with the repeated assurance that the carriers would have their backs. But most of the marines still looked skeptical.
When she was done, Weapons Platoon went to a corner of the cavernous well deck. They settled between one of the LCACs and the canvas-shrouded bulk of a tank. Hector nodded to the other M240 gunners. He caught Orietta’s grin from the mortar section, Pruss beside her. They’d all be hitting the beach with the first wave, apparently.
Lieutenant Smalls’s usual procedure was for him to call in the three section leaders and the platoon sergeant, Hern, and let them pass the gouge on to the troops. But apparently he wanted them all together for this. “We haven’t been together long,” Smalls started. “Especially our new joins. But you heard what the colonel said. If these guys counterattack, you know where you die. In place, behind your weapon. Taking as many of them with you as you can.”
And they’d all nodded soberly. Accepting it.
It would be up to them.
Now, in the hammering well of the LCAC, deep in the belly of the amphibious tractor, “Five minutes” comes back passed mouth to mouth. Hector tries to wriggle, to stretch cramping muscles. But after so long he isn’t sure he can get up, much less muscle up close to his body weight.
A strange, prolonged groan. A lurch, as if they’ve hit something. He grips the Pig as if it can save him. A distant thud. Then another, heavier, closer. If a shell hits them now, no way they’re getting out. The “L-cack” floats above the water, driven on a cushion of air, but if it loses power they’ll be trapped.…
“Stand by,” Sergeant Hern snarls, ducking to yell back to them. The AAV’s diesel clatters to life with a jolt and a roar. Whipkey and Ramos stiffen as above them a hatch cracks partway. An emergency exit, though every one knows only a few will be able to make it out.