Chapter 36 – Choices
Area Command Headquarters, Los Angeles Theatre of Operations
"So you have a plan?" one of the area operations officers responded to Captain Blatchford's declaration skeptically.
"Yes Major Cramner as a matter of fact I do," she shot back, not giving any ground.
"So now you're a tactics expert too," the Army officer retorted. "Sir," he turned to General Daily, ignoring the Reserve officer, "no disrespect to Ms. Blatchford but that's not her role. She's a newspaper reporter. The Ops group will take the intel she's brought back and have a working solution for you within 24 hours."
Daily watched the career officer huff at the confident female Captain. "You know what Major?" he responded evenly but firmly, "this reporter has given us solid intel right from the start. And now to boot she goes and does a recce of the site on her own. I think she deserves to be heard and I for one would like to hear her plan."
Blatchford beamed appreciatively to the commanding officer but also smirked obviously at the perturbed staff officer. "Thanks for the vote of confidence sir. It's really quite simple. The squids have reinforcements coming so we have to get them before they get us. We need to break their line, deny them a fallback point and eliminate their ability to reinforce."
"Oh that's brilliant!" Cramner snorted sarcastically. "It's just that simple huh? Break the line, deny reinforcements. Do you know how hard that would be?"
"Go on Captain," Daily ignored the tantrum of the Major. "Let me hear how you plan to do that."
"I know it won't be simple," she shot back to Major Cramner, but then to General Daily continued, "they're thick at the front and have a small reserve. I've seen it and we can confirm this both by drone flyovers and satellites. We also know they've reinforced through Terminal Island. But they've concentrated everything there. I've checked, they don't have any other staging areas and very little held back. Everything has been thrown into this offensive."
"Yea, because they have a shield over top of it and we can't hit them," Cramner pointed out, "or did you forget that?"
"Major, stop interrupting," Daily cut the man off threateningly. "I want to hear what she has to say. Keep going Captain because I know you're heading somewhere."
"I am," Blatchford confirmed, furrowing her brow. "If we could break their line they'd fall back all the way to the Island I believe. That's been their tactic thus far when pressed: consolidate in a position of strength."
"Okay, but they fall back and then what? They reinforce and push out again like just happened," the General mused.
"That's just it. This time we deny them the opportunity to fall back. WE cut off their safe haven."
"You don't mean…,"
"I do. We drop troops behind enemy lines as the main assault commences and hold the two bridges denying them the opportunity to fall back to their shield. We set up several kill boxes out front and pound the crap out of it when they get there," Blatchford declared with a grim look on her face.
"It's risky for the troops at the bridge," Daily pointed out.
"True," the Captain agreed readily. "They'd need to hold until the main attack can get to them but I bet they'd only need to do it for a few hours."
"You ever see the movie 'A Bridge Too Far'? Ever study the World War 2 campaign at Arnhem? Its suicide," Cramner countered fiercely.
"It's a calculated risk," Blatchford countered. "Sir, we can't sit back and we can't afford to trade blows with them anymore. Times running out. We need a bold stroke and this could be it."
All eyes turned to General Daily who was obviously mulling the idea over. He folded his hands behind his back, deep in thought, as if playing it out in his mind. "What about the shield?" he asked, showing the plan had captured his attention.
"While the main force holds the bridges Special Ops teams would move across onto the Island to find and destroy the generator. It'll be guarded but I would suspect the force would be manageable."
"Hmm…it might just work," Daily mused.
"Sir, this is crazy," Cramner pressed doggedly. "Even if this was viable, which I still don't think it is tactically, we don't have the manpower for a thrust that'll break their line let alone troops to drop behind lines."
"It shouldn't take more then a battalion to hold sir," Blatchford added trying to catch the man's eye. "We have the airlift capacity between the Ospreys and Blackhawks here to drop them in."
She saw Cranmer open his mouth to rebut but cut him off. "I checked to make sure. We have just enough operational to do it."
Daily took several paces away from the two officers who glared at each other. The remaining staff gave the man his distance knowing the weight of decision on his shoulders. The Marine officer rubbed his eyes then looked up at the ceiling as if saying a silent prayer. He nodded his head as if he'd made a decision.
"Okay, I like it," Daily held up a hand to silence the coming protest of Major Cramner. "Its risky but we don't have time to pussy foot around. Its time to go for the end zone. Captain Blatchford, I want you to co-ord this idea with the ops team and come up with a working plan. You've painted a good picture but I want to see some flesh on those bones. I want to see timelines, troop movements, logistics, C and C, all of it and I want it in 12 hours. Got it?"
"Yes sir!" Captain Blatchford agreed, beaming.
"But what about the troops we need?" Major Cramner asked, knowing he'd been defeated. "Even if we put the plan together we don't have the manpower and we're desperately short of armor support after the alien's attack to pull this off."
"You leave that to me. I'll get us troops even if I have to go to Washington and kick some Pentagon arse myself. You get me that plan in 12 hours, I'll take care of the rest but first I need to get some sleep."
For the first time since the surprise alien counter-attack Daily felt like he could allow himself that luxury.
The Inferno, Refugee Encampment and Military Command Los Angeles rear area, somewhere outside LA
Michele pushed her way through the pulsating crowd at The Inferno moving steadily towards the dancing pair who were unaware of the coming confrontation. There was no doubt or hesitation in her mind. She was a warrior on a rescue mission, not the timid, scared woman who had walked into the hedonistic place. Though her heart raced in anticipation of what was to come she stayed calm.
Michele had no clue what would happen; he could laugh at her for coming, or worse, declare once and for all he no longer cared about her. She could be humiliated and left alone in this place but that didn't stop her. She had faith, as crazy as it seemed that some force was rooting for them in the Heavenlies and in the end it would work out.
Libby spotted her first. The nurse's eyes bugged out in shock and her body tensed up involuntarily which Mike felt.
"What's the matter?" he asked, picking it up despite the fog of alcohol on his brain.
"Nothing," she responded tersely, her mind already starting to work. The clever woman knew this to be a threat so needed to respond accordingly.
Then Mike spotted Michele coming through the crowd towards them, a determined look clearly etched on her expressive face.
The pair spontaneously stopped dancing despite the others gyrating around them, waiting for the arrival of this unexpected visitor.
Michele spoke but the loud music drowned her out so what she said couldn't be heard. She adjusted to speak again but Libby beat her to the punch.
"Hey Michele, how're you doing?" she greeted the woman in a friendly tone at the same time pulling herself closer into Mike, resting her head on his chest. "I'm surprised to see you here. I didn't think this was the kind of place you and Guy," she emphasized, "would hang out."
Michele ignored the jab of the catty nurse, speaking to Mike instead. "Trust me, it's not. I came to see Mike." She paused, allowing the declaration to sink in. But before Libby could respond she added, "and let me make one thing perfectly clear to both of you: Dr. Chevreau and I are not a couple."
"Really?" he responded in hazy surprise. His mind though began to put the pieces together. "And you came to see me? Why?" Then his mind seemed to shift. "Hey, would you like to dance?"
"What?" Libby shot back in surprised outrage pulling back to glare at the man.
"Sure, why not? We've been dancing the whole time, maybe she'd like to."
Michele couldn't help but chuckle. Despite the fury she felt at seeing him here and with this woman, the boyish look on his face touched her heart. "Maybe. But that's not why I'm here. I wanted to see if you were okay. I thought that maybe with everything going on in the war and you still being here away from the front you might be feeling bad or maybe left out and unappreciated. I just wanted to see if you were okay and if there was anything I could do to help."
"You?" Libby snorted. "He's fine and he's with me," she emphasized, rubbing his chest with her red painted nails.
"I think that's for him to decide, not you," Michele retorted, standing her ground. As much as Libby infuriated her and seeing Mike allowing this woman to hang all over him angered her, something stronger then that was at work. While part of her screamed to ditch the guy another part began to grow, a part that was seeing this differently. Mike was lost, like a man without a compass, and he needed to be found. He'd spent his whole life trying to help other people in need now he was the one in need even if he didn't acknowledge it. No, she was seeing things with new eyes, eyes of revelation, which gave her a strength and resolve she'd been seeking her whole life but have never attained. It seemed as if she had finally gone through that intersection of life and now was on the right road.
And she knew she wanted to share that road with Mike Nantz.
"Well I think its pretty clear who he's chosen," Libby hissed, intertwining her body around his even more.
"Has he?" Michele responded coolly. "Why don't you let him go and see?" Then she turned to the man she hoped to spend the rest of her life with and told him, "Mike, I care about you, I love you. I've not shown that and I've not been there when you've needed me. I'm so sorry." She paused to allow the apology to sink in before continuing. "I've been afraid to let myself go and fully commit but if you'd give me a chance I'll be with you the whole way from now on."
Libby smirked at the bold and vulnerable declaration while continuing to rub Mike's chest as he stood seemingly transfixed. "Nice speech. Are you done now so we can get back to having fun? No one wants you around."
"You don't have to settle for this," Michele declared, "you can have so much more."
"Why you little slut!" Libby huffed.
"Me?" Michele shot back. "I'm not the one who looks like they should be on a street corner."
Libby's eye's bulged in rage. Swiftly she uncoiled herself from Mike while balling her fist and threw a punch at Michele's face. The woman recoiled from the coming blow but couldn't get out of the way.
Quick as a flash Mike's hand shot out and he caught Libby's punch in mid-swing. "Don't do that," he said in a commanding tone holding her hand fast as the nurse venomously glared at both of them.
Michele felt her heart sing. He'd come to her defense. There was only one more thing to do. "Listen, I'm going to leave because I don't want to cause more of a scene. But Mike, I want you to know how much I care despite some of the things you may have heard about me. I will admit I was confused for a bit but I'm not anymore. There's no one else in my life and I'd like to be in yours if you'll allow me."
She turned and walked away, melting into the crowd. Still holding Libby's fist Mike stared in disbelief while the enraged nurse unintelligibly called something out that was lost in the noise of the club.
Then Michele was gone and the remaining pair turned to look at each other.
Defensive line, Alhambra, near the Santa Monika Freeway
The Marines had fought off another aggressive alien attack. They'd been doing this all day but finally had a respite. The drones who had initially caused a lot of damage had finally been countered and pushed back beyond their line which the soldiers holding the human position was told was only about a half mile away. Things were quiet for the first time in hours. But they knew it wouldn't last. After nearly two months of seemingly half-hearted effort the aliens had not only been reinforced but reinvigorated in their campaign.
For the Marines of the 2nd Battalion 5th Regiment it couldn't have come at a worse time. They had finally been rotated off of the front line after fighting nearly for the whole war. They'd only had three days away, just enough to relax and let down their guard. The unit had lost nearly half its men over the course of the campaign so replacements had started to be slotted in but had yet to be integrated. That would have been fine if they'd been allowed the promised month off. But then the squids attacked and everyone, including the 2-5, had been rushed to the newly-formed defensive line.
The soldiers of Lt. Gordon's platoon of E Company found themselves holding a position guarding the I10's South Atlantic Boulevard off-ramp over to South 9th Street.
At this hour of the day the streetlights would have been coming on, kids would be getting called in for bed and people would be settling in for the night after another busy day of carrying on with life.
But not any more.
It had been months since this neighborhood had been abandoned. There was no power for streetlights and no one around to enjoy the calm of night. No one other then the Marines and they were far from calm for they knew night brought increased risk.
Lockett and Imlay slumped down in their improvised shelter at a cabana of a home's pool about 50 yards back from the main defensive line to tear into a couple of MRE's. They'd checked their troops to make sure they had good cover and understood their arcs of engagement before finally getting a breather.
"Everything square here?" Ollie Horton, their new platoon Sergeant asked as he trotted up the driveway past an abandoned sports car still covered with a blue tarp. The Reservist from the 14th Marine Regiment out of Spokane Washington had just been moved up after the recent alien surge.
"You should stay low Sarge, kind of bob and weave as you move in the open," Lockett suggested as the replacement came into their position. "Don't move in a straight line. Even though the Squids have pulled back they usually keep a few back looking for targets."
"Thanks," Horton responded, appreciative of the suggestion. "You sound like Gunny Nantz when he was prepping us for the front. I never thought there'd be so much more to learn and I've been to Iraq and Afghanistan."
"Aw, don't worry about it Sarge, you'll get it," Lockett encouraged him.
Gunny Nantz?" Imlay asked, picking up on the name. "You don't mean Mike Nantz do you?"
"Yea, he was our training Sergeant before we moved to the front."
"Mike Nantz?" Imlay confirmed.
"Yes and he did a great job too. But it was a crash course so I'm still trying to process everything," Horton confessed.
"What's he doing in the rear area?" Lockett asked. "I thought he was with G Company. And when did he get promoted?"
"I don't know about any of that," Horton responded, a bit confused. "He was heading up a training unit prepping NCO's for the front."
"Wow, I can't believe they took him out of the fight." Imlay shook his head sadly in disbelief.
"That's got to be hard," Lockett agreed. "Give the guy a promotion and then keep him from doing the very thing that got him promoted. That would suck."
"Right on brother," Imlay added.
"Sorry, I don't get what you mean," Horton confessed, not on the same page. "Anyway, you guys good up here?"
"Yea, we're good Sarge," Lockett replied, dipping his spoon into the container of chili and macaroni he'd chosen to eat, "good lines and good fields of fire. The guys'll hold as long as need be."
"We could use a resupply though," Imlay added. "I'd like us to overstock on grenade rounds for the M203's plus extra boxes of ammo for the SAW. If we get into a firefight like today I want to make sure we can keep up the heat."
"Make's sense," Horton agreed. "I'll take care of it. All right, get some rest but stay alert." The Sergeant prepared to move to the next position.
"Thanks Sarge," Imlay said. "I'm glad you're with us."
Horton stopped. "What do you mean?"
"Well..," Imlay suddenly felt awkward so stopped what he was going to say.
"What do you mean Corporal?" the Reservist demanded.
"We've had some troubles getting a new platoon Sergeant," Lockett explained. "So it's nice to have you here. We think you're doing a great job."
"Thanks. But why the trouble?" Horton asked. "Lt. Gordon seems like a good officer."
"He is," Imlay confirmed. "It's just we've seen a lot of combat and have lost a few platoon senior NCO's so it seems like guys have been avoiding us."
"Really, so you're the ones," Horton replied a bit nervously. "I didn't know that." Then he shook his head as if trying to get rid of growing fear. Then getting back on track he changed the subject, "That's a load of crap. It's just an old wives tale…doesn't mean anything. Anyway, take it…"
A familiar whistling sound filled the air.
"RPG!" Imlay screamed. "Find cover!"
The pair and the others around them scrambled but the new Sergeant froze for a moment, unsure where to go. Too late he tried to dive to the side. The alien grenade landed a short distance from the man and exploded on impact shredding his body.