“And I know how much more than you do, Sheila?” Staff Sergeant Barnard said. Hoag was off duty and they were close enough in rank for her to use first names. “We’ve waited seven months. We can wait one more night to find out.”
“Nice Christmas present, though,” Sheila said.
It was a lot like waiting for Christmas morning. The sun set with the quick finality of the tropics and then it seemed like the real party started. All the gunboats and accompanying yachts had their lights cranked up to full and were booming music. It could be heard all the way to their position when it was to windward. Every group seemed to have a different playlist. People were dancing on the deck and drinking. Oddly enough, all the ships and boats anchored away from the land were nearly blacked out.
“I so need to be on that side of the zombie wall,” Sheila said.
Staff Sergeant Barnard was off duty by that time as well and was leaning on the edge of the roof, watching the party.
“Same here,” Barnard said. “With any luck, tomorrow night. I’m hoping we get some time off.”
“That would be nice,” Sheila said. “This has been downtime and it hasn’t. I could use some real downtime.”
“Staff Sergeant,” Colonel Hamilton said. “A moment of your time?”
“Yes, sir,” Barnard said, coming to the position of attention.
“Please, Staff Sergeant,” Hamilton said. “Rest. Tomorrow morning I want the flag raised at the moment of dawn. Oh Seven Zero Three. When we evacuate, we’ll leave it up and ensure at least a small team of Americans maintain it. I’m aware that the communicator was, ostensibly, a Navy captain. However, he may or may not be aware that if everyone evacuates Guantanamo Bay, even for a moment, it automatically reverts to Cuban hands.”
“Yes, sir,” Barnard said.
“The main point is that the flag go up precisely at dawn,” Hamilton said. “I am not sure if we and the squadron have the same interpretation of ‘dawn’ but I would like to ensure that if so the flag goes up as the assault manifests.”
“Yes, sir,” Barnard said. “I’ll ensure the flag goes up at dawn, sir.”
“Sir,” Hoag said. “Permission to speak.”
“Of course, Sergeant,” Hamilton said.
“Sir, I know that Captain Smith ordered no break-out before ordered, sir,” Sheila said. “But the infected are clustering towards those boat lights and the music, sir. I think we probably could make it to the docks right now. If we signaled for pick up…”
“You’ve seen Marine uniforms aboard, Sergeant?” Hamilton said. “I think they are there for a reason. And, yes, the infected are clustering towards those boats, Sergeant. Those boats with fifty-caliber machine guns apparently converted to water-cooled, meaning they can fire continuously as long as they have ammunition, Sergeant. The average trawler that size is capable of carrying about one hundred thousand pounds of cargo. That translates to three hundred thousand rounds of fifty-caliber BMG, Sergeant. I rather think that Captain Smith has the infected exactly where he wants them. And if they detected us breaking out, they would no longer be where the captain wants them. I have no desire to offend a Navy captain. So we shall stay where the captain wants us, Sergeant.”
“First call, Lieutenant,” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said, shaking Faith’s shoulder.
“Finally,” Faith said. She’d barely managed to get to sleep last night. Her cabin was fairly sound proofed but the party had been in full swing until late and she had an early first call. Then there was the fact that today they were going to take and hold a position. Gitmo was going to be taken and it wasn’t going to be handed back to the infected when they left.
“Apple juice, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, handing her a cup.
“Above and beyond, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said, taking a big gulp. It was about the only way for her to wake up in the morning and actually worked a bit better than coffee. “Time to go kill us some infected. It’s a glorious day to be in the United States Marine Corps, Staff Sergeant.”
“Glorious indeed, ma’am,” Januscheitis said.
Sheila had pulled her battle rattle back up to the roof and slept there. And she did get some sleep. The distant music didn’t affect that. It was better than the zombies howling.
She woke immediately when her shoulder was shaken, though, and started pulling on her battle rattle.
She was up and observing the squadron before the first touch of light. There were people moving around the gunboats and some out on the decks of the bigger boats. And she was seeing more uniforms, now. Not everybody was in them but the gunners and some of the people at helms were in NavCam.
There had been various songs playing in the different groups but then they all shut off, some of them in mid tune. There was a moment of silence, then a piano started playing, apparently from all of them.
She could barely catch the tune but she knew it. “Homeward Bound” done by the U.S. Navy Sea Chanter’s Choir.
“Marine Staff Sergeants are not supposed to cry,” Staff Sergeant Barnard said. “Flag party, TEN-HUT!”
“In the quiet misty morning,” Faith sang in a high perfect soprano, counting off the Marines boarding the Zodiac. “When the moon has gone to bed…”
“Look at the liner,” Petty Officer Granson said, pointing.
Sheila stopped waiting for the gunboats to open fire and looked at the liner. In the predawn light it was apparent that Marines in battle rattle were boarding Zodiacs off the cruise liner.
“I’ll be homeward bound again…” she sang as the music died.
“God, I’m glad we’re in a harbor this time, staff sergeant,” Faith said, taking her seat and not even bothering to strap in for once. “Coxswain, we’re in.”
“Okay,” the coxswain said.
“That’s a way of saying ‘let’s roll,’” Faith said, sighing. “Navy!”
The song died on the last ping of piano and was replaced by a bouncy J-Pop sounding tune Sheila didn’t recognize.
“Oh,” Granson said, laughing. “Somebody has a sense of humor.”
“You know it, PO?” Sheila said.
“Andrew W. Kay,” Granson said. “‘Ready to Die.’”
“This is your time to pay,” Faith sang. “This is your judgment day. We made a sacrifice, and now we get to take your life…Lock and load!”
“All boats, prepare to open fire,” Sophia said, over the freq that was not being used to carry the combined broadcast.
Her division had been “augmented” by the Golden Guppy and the Wet Debt and assigned “Radio Point” just off the main piers area. Into which the infected had clustered nicely. And it was almost time to send them beyond the veil.
But Da wanted every gunboat to open fire at once.
She knew the words to the song…
“…it’s just a thing we like to do…FIRE!”
“YOU BETTER GET READY TO DIE!” Faith caroled as just about every Ma Deuce in the bay opened fire simultaneously. “You better get ready to kill! You better get ready to run ’cause here we commme….”
The bouncy J-Pop sounding tune had shifted to thrash metal. Sheila couldn’t quite catch the words but she did hear intercoms all over the bay suddenly boom “FIRE!” It seemed like the back of every gunboat exploded as the .50 caliber rounds started shredding the crowded infected. Zombies were being blown in half by the concentrated fire and she found herself screaming “OOORAH” at the top of her lungs. But she was drowned out by the rest of the Marines. Sheila looked over her shoulder from the beautiful sight of a dozen gunboats hammering the infected into so much meat and the flag had just reached the apex of the pole. It was officially the dawn of a new day.