“Rack your stuff,” Staff Sergeant Barnard said. “And get the lead out. We’re supposed to observe the initial engagement against infected this evening, then catch chow. Then rectify the remaining items on gear. Lights out at twenty one hundred. First call is zero four thirty. You will be fully prepared for the lieutenant’s inspection at zero five thirty. Then the op. So fall out on the quarter deck to observe Navy operations against the infected.”
“Permission to just get chow now, Staff Sergeant?” Sergeant Smith said. “Been there, done that. Seen one slaughter on the beach, you’ve seen ’em all.”
“Was not a question, Sergeant,” Staff Sergeant Barnard said. “It was an order.”
“Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant,” Smitty said.
“Holy crap,” Sophia said as a slow thundering, bass guitar riff echoed across the darkened bay. “Your colonel listens to Sentenced?”
“I was unaware of the colonel’s taste in music, Ensign,” Faith stated. She’d caught a Zodiac over to the Bella Senorita for supper since despite her usual and standard problems with her sister she was sick and tired of dealing with Barnard for the day. Sophia’s shit was kind of relaxing. And Batari was a really good cook. “As he is my superior officer, oorah, I will neither approve nor disapprove, oorah?”
“Sis, I get why the colonel told you to talk like that,” Sophia said. “But it is just fucking weird.”
“An officer and a lady should maintain proper military decorum at all times, oorah?” Faith said. “Which includes, oorah, use of…oorah…crap, not good…improper, oorah? Which includes use of…improper language, oorah?”
“Were you trying for ‘indecent’ there, Sis?” Sophia said, laughing. “Does ‘crap’ count?”
“Oh, hell, I don’t know!” Faith snapped. “I’m just making this up as I fucking go, ok—Oorah?”
Faith pulled on one last strap, stepped back, tapped PFC Robert Lee Edwards on the shoulder, then marched back to her position at the front of the formation.
In this inspection she’d concentrated on ammo and other consumables. And she’d found a few things that still didn’t satisfy her. The Marines all had all their ammo and it was in good condition. But some of the batteries she’d checked were bad and a few of the NCOs had missed a shipping clip on their grenades. She’d wordlessly handed off all the “stuff” she found to Staff Sergeant Barnard. Who had already done a preinspection and missed them.
The Marines were back on the quarter deck for this formation, facing forward. The Grace Tan had massive sodium arc lights that gave more than enough light in the predawn for Faith to perform the precombat inspection.
When Staff Sergeant Barnard approached, Faith simply checked her watch and said: “Post.”
When the staff sergeant was at the rear of the formation in her position, Faith looked around at the Marines.
“In about ten minutes the sun will rise on the island of Anguilla,” Faith boomed. “At that point, the Navy gunboats will lay waste to every living infected in view, oorah. We shall observe this operation until we get orders to board Zodiacs, junior personnel first, by teams. At the colonel’s command, we shall then take those Zodiacs to this fine and beautiful beach to begin clearance of the island, oorah? When you exit the Zodiacs, spread out just up from the water and take a knee, oorah? You have free fire authority to engage any remaining hostiles in view. Once we are sure the area is secure we shall secure the pier and begin off load of the five-tons. We will then take the five-tons to sweep the island, oorah?
“This is a really simple operation, oorah? There’s light infected. Should be a walk in the park. Just remember you can get mugged on a walk in the park, oorah? Don’t let your guard down, pay attention to your sectors, obey your orders and we’ll all get home in one piece, oorah? At my command, fall out on the aft rail to observe Naval gunnery engagement.”
“This is light infected presence?” Sergeant Hoag said.
Dawn comes swiftly in the tropics. In northern climes there is a long period of gradually lightening darkness, the “blue time” of Before Morning Nautical Twilight. The Caribbean had the same but instead of twenty or thirty minutes it seemed to pass in seconds, going from nearly pitch black to bright. And as it brightened it revealed a scene from a Durer engraving.
It seemed like there were hundreds of infected on the beach, most of them feeding on the bodies hit by previous fire. During the night there had been occasional shots from the dual water-cooled .50s on the gunboats. They would wait until a group of infected found one of the bodies, then add to the piles. Eventually, there was enough infected food in scattered groups along the beach that between the available resource, the lights and the music, zombies from throughout the island came for the party and stayed for the banquet.
“Yes,” Sergeant Smith said. “If you think about it, there were a lot more at Gitmo. Worst I ever saw was Tenerife. At least on the ground.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Hoag said.
“And this time we’ve got multiple divisions firing from multiple points,” Smitty said. “That spread ’em out.”
The music, which had been a really eclectic mix of death metal, thrash metal, operatic rock, ’70s rock and roll—the colonel was apparently a big Doors fan—and even classical, paused. There was a brief moment of silence on the bay as the light brightened, then it started up again with “Anchors Aweigh.”
“Really, Colonel?” Hoag said. “The Navy anthem?”
The guns opened fire as the introductory flourish ended.
She’d previously watched the slaughter of infected they’d grown to know and loathe from a rather distant warehouse. The Grace Tan was anchored a bare two hundred meters off the beach. It was different from this angle.
“Oh, yeah!” “OORAH!” “Go, Navy!”
The big dual, water-cooled fifty-calibers were shredding the infected. Bodies were being blown in half. Some of the brighter ones started to run. The Navy gunners were having none of that. The sound track had segued to another metal piece after the Navy anthem, then into the Marine Corps Hymn.
“At ease!” the lieutenant bellowed. “That’s our cue. Board the boats, by teams, junior first. Time to go take that beach, Marines!”
The Navy gunners had been careful to keep the “bait” away from the cargo pier which was the center of the landing operation. The Zodiacs drove their bows ashore and the Marines clambered over to…silence. The tropical wind was blowing, there was a bit of a smell of carrion, there were some long burnt out buildings and, that was it. That and the wrack and ruin.
“Force Ops,” Faith called, looking around. “Marine Team is calling this zone clear for off-load.”
“Roger, Marine Team. Stand by.”
“Already there,” Faith muttered. She was slightly back from the line of Marines, standing a bit over ankle deep in green tropical water and watching a coconut palm waving in the trade winds. “Why is it that we keep ending up in such great looking places and never seem to get any shore leave?”
She didn’t seem to notice that there was a skull right by her left foot.
“Aren’t there remaining infected on the island, ma’am?” Lance Corporal Saul asked.
“Oh, yeah, that,” Faith said, shrugging. “One of these days, Lance Corporal, we are going to clear something thoroughly enough we can have some damned shore leave. I may even be forced to drink something with an umbrella in it.”
She leaned down and picked up the skull.