Ron's Worst Nightmares
The Devil Dogs' Kennel Run, pt 1
By Pat Squared
Using his field glasses, Lieutenant Vasilii Boiarskii, USMC examined the approaches to the town of Château Thierry. Battalion wanted Alpha Company to conduct a sweep of the community.
Lots of the history of the United States Marine Corps was tied up with Chateau Thierry and nearby Belleau Wood. Ninety two years and 14 days ago, Captain Lloyd Williams, USMC, when advised to retreat, replied, "Retreat, Hell! We just got here." Captain Williams did not live to see the end of the battle of Belleau Wood. Gunnery Sergeant Dan Daly gave the wood the quote, "Come on ya sons-of-bitches, ya want to live forever?" Six hundred fifteen enlisted marines and nineteen officers fertilized this battlefield with their blood. Here was where the German high command dubbed the United States Marines die Teufelshunde, or Devil Dogs.
Today, another generation of Marines was called upon to fight in what would soon be dubbed by the media and military historians as the Devil Dog's Kennel Runs.
Next to Lieutenant Boiarskii was Staff Sergeant Johnny Reyes, his platoon sergeant and confidant. Reyes was an embassy marine prior to being deployed with the 45th Regimental Combat Team (Joint). Reyes was the only one in the platoon who knew that Boiarskii was only a Marine for the past seven months and that Boiarskii had some severe confidence problems. He was also the only one who knew that Boiarskii was addicted to painkillers.
"Sir, coast is clear."
"Thanks, Johnny."
Boiarskii popped a pill and then took a swig of water from his canteen. He did not look at Reyes afraid to see the contempt of Staff Sergeant Reyes.
Reyes did not hold his lieutenant in contempt. If anything, Boiarskii was too willing to risk his neck. Reyes had been on the wrong side of an Iraqi ambush in Hussein's hometown of Tikrit and had to spend a couple months weaning himself off of the pain killers after he recovered.
However, the men could and would never know Boiarskii's weakness. Boiarskii was the lieutenant. For the unit to be effective the men had to believe that he was the avatar sent to lead this band of marines on the Marine Corps path to victory. As far at the men would know the only reason that Lieutenant Boiarskii did not walk on water was that he did not want to get his boots wet.
Reyes considered Boiarskii a friend, but the rules of command prohibited them from acting buddy-buddy in front of the marines. Boiarskii was dedicated to the welfare of his marines and would do anything he could to keep them alive yet accomplish the mission.
"Sir," Lance Corporal Derrick Meador, the unit's signalman yelled, "Captain is having an officer call in fifteen at the CP."
"Tell him that I will on the way, Corporal. Reyes, have the LAV gunners use their thermal optics and scan the windows. Also, have most of the marines stand down and let them eat and rest. I have a feeling that someone up high is calling for an assault soon."
"Aye, aye sir."
Boiarskii hosted his rifle and started walking to Alpha Company Headquarters. In peacetime, officer calls usually meant officers only, but in wartime, it meant all the platoon leaders and some of the company's more senior NCOs'. Unlike in peacetime, the CO did not call them for kicks or socializing – Everyone was far too busy for that kind off stuff. Whatever it was, odds were 10 to 1 in favor of some really bad news and whenever there was bad news it usually was dumped upon Boiarskii's platoon.
Ron Stoppable wondered what happened. One moment, the captain was yapping about battalion's plan to sweep the town. The next Ron found himself lying on the ground in the middle of dead bodies and blood. He knew that his mind was missing some pretty major events, but he was too stunned to figure out how or what just happened.
Everyone else nearby was dead or dying. He staggered up as the medics came and started doing their thing. The Captain and Lieutenant Grade were dead. The company sergeant would, if lucky, be sent home missing his limbs, and the company radiotelephone operator was literally vaporized. They will have to officially identify his remains via the dog tags inserted into the soles of his boots.
Someone popped some mortar rounds at the worst possible time. Bud luck happened, but in war there were no coincidences, just opportunities taken or let go - Somewhere nearby there was someone acting as a forward observer calling in the location of the company command post.
Then it clicked in. Ron was now the commanding officer of Alpha Company and had to deal with the tactical situation now. He looked around and spotted a US army corporal who looked stunned. Thankfully the corporal was a signalman and had a radio set on the company frequency. Ron grabbed the stunned signalman and started walking deeper into the woods to avoid any additional barrages.
"Alpha company, this is Tramp actual. CP has been hit and hit hard. I am assuming command at this time. Platoon NCOs' are hereby brevetted to butter-bars (second lieutenant) and given authority to brevet anyone necessary to fill in the holes, pending an order to the contrary. Reyes is company XO and he gets a silver bar (first lieutenant). Any order from him is one from me. I want everyone to take Chateau Thierry east of Avenue de Soissons and north of Rue Charles Martel. Wily Coyote will provide direct fire support. Thumper will follow everyone in and set up to provide fire when its time for the big push. Road Runner will follow along ASAP. Tramp is to detach third squad, and send them over to meet me. Lieutenant Reyes, I am fifty meters, black two from the CP. It's time to hunt ourselves a forward observer."
"Wily Coyote, ready to get it on, sir!"
"Tramp, aye, aye, captain!"
"Lady, we'll enjoy a little smash and blast, sir!"
"Thumper, we deliver death on time or the next round is free."
Ron handed the handset to the Corporal.
"Get battalion on the net."
"Yes, sir."
The young corporal dialed a knob and handed back the handset.
"Tramp Actual to Royal Honey. Alpha Company CP hit by mortars. Two officers, One EM - KIA, Three EM's – WIA – We lost one humvee. Tramp Actual assuming command. Have brevetted all platoon sergeants to second lieutenant and Staff Sergeant Reyes to first lieutenant and XO. I am allowing them to brevet whomever necessary to fill in all the holes. Alpha company is assaulting Chateau Thierry. Am taking northeast section bordered by Rue Charles Martel and Soissons Avenue. Warning – Enemy FO in area. Will call when dealt with otherwise do not stop on the outskirts of town. Am going hunting, out."
Ron tossed back the handset.
"From now on this is the only radio in Alpha Company that transmits on the battalion net. It selectively receives radio traffic from battalion only when I say it receives. Is that clear, corporal."
"Yes sir."
Ron could hear his battalion commander demanding more information.
"Wait here for the squad. I will be with you in a second."
Ron walked to the other side of a convenient tree and heaved his guts out.
"Goddamn Jarhead!"
To say Lieutenant Colonel Mark Kramer was upset was an understatement.
He and his staff had painstakingly crafted a plan to take the town and now Second Lieutenant Boiarskii, USMC, was messing up his big play.
As a captain and a major Kramer was given similar performance reviews. He was marked as an excellent staff type, but not a natural combat commander. His evaluators told him and the world that his inability to risk everything on a calculated throw of the dice was unacceptable. With those reviews, he was shunted from the fast track to general to being relegated to the ranks of staff pukes. He knew that the powers that be would not give him another command. He watched as a great number of his West Point classmates made it to colonel and two even made it to brigadier general already.
The war with France was a godsend for the career minded officer.
Lieutenant Colonel Kramer got a battalion that he would have never received in peacetime. If he did well the evaluations would be overshadow by his combat record. He would have show that he matured into an excellent combat commander. In doing so, he would be given a regiment and have stars in his future, as long as he did not drop the ball again. He vowed to do whatever he had to do to never be viewed as just another staff puke. However, it had to be him associated with the victory. Not some suicidal, crazy jarhead and his platoon of gung ho Marines.
However, he knew that regiment would want some action and answers. Colonel Diego was one of those officers who everyone knew would be wearing four stars someday. Diego was action oriented and hated staff pukes. He tolerated Major Kramer,
If Lieutenant Colonel Kramer delivered, he figured that he could ride Diego's coat tails to at least one star. Brigadier General Kramer, Retired looked a lot better on a resume than Lieutenant Colonel Kramer, Retired when it came to returning back to the civilian world looking for employment.
Kramer had to do something and since he could not slap down the lieutenant, he decided to share in the glory. The entire battalion was going to Chateau Thierry with the soon to be Brigadier General Kramer at its helm.
Now he needed a quote for the history books. He turned to his stunned staff and told them, "Boots and saddles, gentlemen. It's time for us to clean up this French kennel run," thus forever giving historians the idea of calling this area the kennel runs.
"Call Captain Boairskii and tell him to go ahead on the attack and that he gets his railroad tracks. I want the Bravo and Charily Companies to take the northwest side of town with half our tank detachment. Take everything north and west of ..."
Lieutenant Colonel Kramer looked at the map and pointed to a long round that went east to west and then curved south.
"...Nourveau Lycēe. Tell Echo Company and the other half of our tank detachment that they are to flank around to the south side of town. Call regiment and tell them that we have entered Château Thierry and to request that arty be ready for fire missions. Echo Company and the tankers are to stand off and prevent anyone from making a run for the French Rivera."
At the top of his head, Major Kramer came up with something militaristic, something degrading to the enemy, yet politically correct. Kennel runs - He was going grab those damn stars and his place in the history books.
Colonel (Brigadier General Designate) Diego, commanding officer of the 45th Regimental Combat Team was stunned. Kramer actually made a decision, instead of equivocating as he did before the operation.
Damn, he even beat me to the great quote, Kennel runs. Now I got to think of something when we hit Paris. I just hope that this new Kramer is not just a fluke.
With a company decapitated, Kramer brevetted the only surviving officer to captain and had the officer already attacking the enemy stronghold. With a command into the intercom microphone, he had his UH-60L Blackhawk turn towards Chateau Thierry. The regiment turned from the main highway to Paris and headed south toward the Château Thierry.
Vasilii Boiarskii knew that the observer was not in town. If he was, he would not be able to see where company HQ was. It was up to Vasilii, nine marines, and one US Army corporal signalman to locate the threat. Scanning the wood line with his binoculars, he looked for a sign of human presence. He looked for a straight line.
Whoever he was, the guy knew how to camouflage himself.
Vasilii shouldered his old M21 rifle. Made in the late 1950's it was the last wood and metal rifle made in the old Springfield Armory. He tightened the sling and held it so the scope was visible. The bad guy would see what any fighting man feared the most. He just hoped that his marines found the guy first before the guy took him out.
Première classe Felicien Ghislain examined the area with his spotting scope. Sergent chef Gilles Jean-Baptiste called in an effective mortar attack ten minutes ago which forced the Americans to quickly scatter. The vaunted Foreign Legion failed to destroy the logistics of the Americans. Now it was up to units of the regular French army to bloody the American noses.
Felicien resisted the urge to cheer. The American fled, but they fled towards town where the mortar teams were located. Soon the mortar team would have to displace.
Gilles called in the information to the battalion commander. Today would be brutal house to house fighting.
Felicien turned his spotting glasses towards town.
A man with a scoped rifle was making his way toward the woods where the two French solders were waiting.
"Sergeant, the Americans, they sent a sniper after us. No shit ... look."
Gilles slide over to the spotting glasses.
"Damn, damn, damn, and damn. American snipers are damn good. I saw on in Afghanistan hit a man at over twelve hundred yards. Give me a range and azimuth. We got to call in a fire mission on him before he gets us in his sights."
The pair quickly erected the antenna.
Felicien focused his scope on the American. He shouldered his rifle and was aiming it at him.
Felicien dropped into the spider hole. He got our locations. Tell those bastards to drop a ..."
Suddenly a voice backed up by the sight of a muzzle in their faces stopped all thoughts of escape. A squat, thick waist marine looked upon the two French men.
"You're good. Until Junior over here bumped your spotting scope, we were on top of you and did not even see you. You are lucky that we got to you. If we did not, that sniper over there wants to set a new world record. You are out of the war. Haut. Mains haut. Raise your hands."
Felicien and Gilles raised their hands. Their war was over.
Boom. Crash.
The tanks of 1st platoon blasted a hole in the wall and provided cover fire with their Browning M2HB .50-cal machineguns as the marines of 2nd platoon and the soldiers of 3rd platoon cleared the structure. The 60-mm mortar teams of 4th platoon were laying smokescreens and occasionally lobbing high explosive shells whenever they had a for sure target.
Just blasting always all structures would only produce rumble. If there was anything more difficult than prying the enemy out of house was prying them out of ruble.
For the past ten hours, Rattenkrieg was the order of the day. No one walked down the streets. It was blast your way inside of one building. Blast into the adjoining buildings making man-sized rat holes everywhere you go. Clear the building. Repeat building to building until you have cleared a city block. Then have the tanks blast a hole in the next block, dash into the holes, and repeat.
Ron wanted to be up front with his men, but someone had to coordinate the movements between his platoons and between Alpha Company and the rest of the battalion. He was stuck at the company HQ on the corner of Grande Rue and Lecart, just a block south of the church. The Air Force was doing precision strikes, but even for the best pilot in the world, bombs were not Mrs. Dr. P's surgical scalpels.
In twenty four hours, the battalion cleared the entire town save for the island. The rest of the regiment was ordered to continue on the route to Paris, but Alpha Company with some reinforcements from Charley and Echo Companies were tasked with clearing out the island. Although junior by rank, he was de facto the commander by virtue of having command of the majority of the task force.
Enemies were on an island on the Mame river. The bridges that connect Rue Carnot with the northern and southern branch of the Mame were blown by enemy combat engineers. The sewers were deliberately flooded so that Alpha Company could not come in from below. The enemy was doing everything to prevent the engineers from building a bridge.
It was now 2234 and there were tracer fire from both sides of the river. One side would fire. The over side would fire. Then the tanks would fire. Then their artillery would fire. Then Regiment would have the multiple rocket launchers play counter-fire with the enemy artillery. Then things would die for a short time and the whole vicious circle would start again.
The only people sleeping in town were the dead.
Yori Yamanouchi screamed in pain as she pushed the first of her twin daughters into the world.
She had let Ron go out into the world and she had wept when he died. She knew that Kim Possible was also carrying his child. Just because you were a ninja and lived in the mountains did not mean that you did not read the tabloids.
Alone save for the midwife helping her with the delivery, she had suffered. Knowing tradition, there were no ninjas in earshot of the birthing cabins. Knowing her father, he was breaking all the traditions and waiting nearby. If Ron was alive and knew, he too would be nearby.
Most mothers cursed out the father during the delivery. However, Yori did not. She did not want to drive always his spirit from her.
Yori had chosen this path when she got Ron drunk and slept with him all those nights during those two weeks of training. She had affirmed her choice when she ignored everyone but her father's pleas to have an abortion. She accepted her choice, knowing that she would never have a husband to be by her side.
Ron's spirit would not go on in the afterlife forgotten and forced to wander aimlessly. His spirit had three anchors to the future. With a future there was a chance that his spirit would know peace. He would know that his life meant something more than pain and heartbreak.
Yori let out a scream as she pushed out her eldest daughter out of her womb and into the world. Yori knew that she would have to push out another daughter.
The birth was difficult. Unlike the red hair gaijin, Yori did not have the wide hips for child bearing. Being a small petite girl, mean that giving birth would be difficult.
Yori had to live. She had to teach her daughters that their father was more than some guy would just lucky, scored, and left their mother behind. She had to teach her children that blinding doing what everyone expected was not living.
Yori lived more in three weeks than she did in the previous twenty years. She did not want her girls to live a life that they never really lived. Yes, there was duty, but there was compassion and love.
Yori heard the holler of her eldest child and prepare to bring forthher youngest child into the world.