09:50 (Afghanistan Time)
Sunday, July 22, 2001 ‘C’
Air control bridge of the battlecarrier U.S.S. NEPTUNE
On station in the Sea of Oman, south of the Iranian coast
‘’HILLER SKYTRUCK IN SIGHT AT FIVE O’CLOCK, LOW, SIR!’
Captain (Navy) Peter Sandoval, Commander Air Group (CAG) on the U.S.S. NEPTUNE
pointed his binoculars in the direction indicated by one of his air watchmen and nodded his head on seeing a growing dot low on the southeast horizon.
‘’Got it! You have good eyes, Petty Officer Sunnyvale. Hmm...this SKYTRUCK
sure looks a lot like our own PELICANs, but bigger. Mind you, both were designed along similar lines. AIR CONTROLLER, TELL THE SKYTRUCK TO LAND ON THE
AFT PORTION OF OUR PORT SIDE RUNWAY.’
‘’YES SIR!’
Going to one of the internal telephones on the air control bridge, Sandoval called the Combat Information Center, or C.I.C., where he knew that Vice Admiral Benson was, getting him in seconds.
‘’Admiral, this Sandoval, on the air control bridge. The SKYTRUCK we have been waiting for is now in sight and on approach for a landing on the aft part of our port runway.’
‘’Excellent! Our marines in Afghanistan were getting anxious about finally getting their support vehicles. I will go up on the flight deck to greet the crew of that
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SKYTRUCK: I really want to see from up close that new aircraft and I could also use some fresh air and real sunlight for a change.’
Sandoval chuckled at that admission.
‘’We all could, Admiral.’
Putting down the telephone’s handset, Sandoval returned his attention on the approaching VSTOL transport, which was now less than a mile away and slowing down.
It definitely looked like a PELICAN on steroids but it did have a few distinguishing features, starting with its two groups of three turboshaft engines glued to each side of the wing profile-like fuselage. He watched it with interest as the aircraft pivoted its four ducted propellers to a near horizontal position as it transited from conventional flight to vectored flight. Another minute and the big aircraft, measuring nearly forty meters in length and thirty meters in total span, including the ducted propellers mounted on its sides, landed smoothly just where it had been told to land.
‘’Nice, smooth landing. That pilot is a pro. I am going down to go talk with the crew. Lieutenant Wissmeyer, you have the air watch.’
‘’Aye, sir!’ replied the young female officer.
Going to the cage containing the downward spiral staircase and one elevator lift, Sandoval decided he needed the exercise and started climbing down the spiral staircase, doing so at a quick pace but also while holding one hand to the safety rail. He actually arrived at the level of the flight deck at about the same time as Vice Admiral Benson, meeting him as the latter emerged from the elevator cabin.
‘’The SKYTRUCK landed only one minute ago, Admiral. I must say that it is quite an impressive aircraft. If it is as good as they say it is, then it will prove tremendously useful to our marines in Afghanistan.’
‘’Agreed! It was high time that we found a way to get those vehicles to our marines. Is it a Navy or Air Force crew which is piloting it?’
‘’I think neither, Admiral: it bears a civilian registry and is painted with the logo of the Hiller Corporation. They must be company pilots working for Hiller, sir.’
Benson nodded his head on hearing that.
‘’Then, they are quite balsy to have accepted to fly into a war zone like Afghanistan. We can’t count anymore all the times our aircraft have been fired at with all kinds of guns. Remind me from where this SKYTRUCK flew out from to join us.’
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‘’They left their airfield near Seattle early yesterday and flew West, with refueling stops in Guam, the Philippines, Jakarta and Mumbai, sir.’
‘’Hell, that’s quite a long trip, especially in a propeller aircraft. This crew must be dead tired. I will make sure that they are assigned cabins, so that they can rest before loading up their aircraft and flying to Afghanistan.’
‘’Their aircraft will also need a thorough maintenance inspection check after such a flight, Admiral. Thankfully, this SKYTRUCK uses the same type of turboshaft engine than the one we use in our PELICANs, but uses six of them instead of two.’
Before going outside on the flight deck, the two officers put on safety helmets equipped with ear protectors, then stepped out of the central superstructure of the battlecarrier and onto the vast, 39,500 square meter surface of the flight deck. Those who first saw the tremendous size of the U.S.S. NEPTUNE always wondered why it was made this huge.
To that, Sandoval could answer with a few points. First, while the NEPTUNE looked much bigger than the previous models of American nuclear carriers, its mass was actually only slightly higher because it was mostly a large, empty steel box built around its vast internal aircraft hangar, which was capable of accommodating over a hundred aircraft. In contrast, the hangars of the earlier models of carriers were less than a third in volume compared to the one in the NEPTUNE. As a result, those carriers had to keep up on their flight decks the majority of their aircraft, leaving them exposed to the elements. With its huge hangar space, the NEPTUNE could and did in the past sail straight through a typhoon without fearing for its embarked aircraft. To the argument that the NEPTUNE must have cost a lot more to be built because of its apparent size, Sandoval would respond that it actually cost no more than that of a previous model, due to its hull beeing built mostly with flat steel plates, rather than with the curved plates used to build earlier carriers. Curving thousands of thick steel plates to build a classic monohull carrier necessited a lot of work by highly-paid shipyard workers, which meant more construction time and higher costs. The mostly flat, inward-inclined hull sides of the NEPTUNE, apart from being simpler and cheaper to build than a conventional hull, also had the added tremendous advantage of making it a stealthy ship, with radar waves boucing away at angles rather than bouncing back towards the emitter radar. Lastly, the huge size of its flight deck had a good reason to it. Its two 470 by 30-meter parallel runways were long enough to allow most of its embarked aircraft to fly off without the need to use one of the NEPTUNE’s catapults. Being much longer than the oblique flight deck of conventional carriers, its two runways also allowed for much safer, less stressful
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landings by jet aircraft, thus saving a lot of wear and tear to those aircraft and drastically reducing the landing accident rate compared to a conventional carrier. Another way used to lower its construction cost had been to make it capable of fully independent operations by giving it a powerful armament of its own, thus rendering the usual escort flottila of a carrier unnecessary. The money saved by not having to build as well an escort force of two cruisers and six to seven destroyers and frigates was actually enough to pay for a second battlecarrier. Those Russian and Chinese fleets which had tried to sink the NEPTUNE in the past wars of the 1990s had learned the hard way that an unescorted NEPTUNE-Class battlecarrier was no vulnerable big target, contrary to its appearances. The fact that its main battery was made up of vertical-launch missiles, whose launch silos were hidden under its flight deck, had fooled many of its enemies into grossly underestimating its firepower, a mistake that had cost them dearly. Those same enemies would be shocked if they ever learned that the armament of the NEPTUNE had recently been upgraded and reinforced by adding newer types of missiles to its vertical-launch battery, by replacing its single 127mm gun turrets with new twin 127mm gun turrets and by adding two high-power laser turrets, which greatly enhanced its close protection against missiles and aircraft and which could also deal with swarms of small motor boats. All in all, the NEPTUNE was fully worthy of its name as King of the Seas, in Sandoval’s opinion.
As they approached the Hiller SKYTRUCK, which had landed on the aft-most quarter of the ship’s port side runway, both Sandoval and Benson were able to appreciate the size of the big VSTOL transport, which made the ship’s own Hiller PELICANs look like its little children. However, the similarities in design concepts was clearly apparent. Seeing a large aft cargo ramp open, the two Navy officers walked towards the rear of the big aircraft and arrived at the foot of a five-meter-wide cargo ramp as a group of six women were walking down the ramp. Benson noticed at once that all six women wore old-style Air Force pilots’ brown leather jackets with unit patches and name tags stitched on them. He then had to stop dead in his tracks on recognizing the young woman leading the group of female aviators.
‘’Holly shit! It’s General Dows!’
He then promptly came to attention and saluted Ingrid, imitated by Sandoval.
‘’Welcome aboard, General! I was not expecting you as part of the crew of this aircraft.’
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‘’I designed this prototype, so who else would be more qualified to pilot it into a war zone, Admiral Benson?’ replied Ingrid while returning the salute. ‘’At ease, please!’
Lowering his right arm, Benson then eyed the round, colorful unit insignia stitched to the leather jackets worn by the six women.
‘’The Fifinellas, the 99th Composite Wing? But it was disbanded a few years ago, when the need for an exclusively female air unit was deemed to be superfluous.’
‘’You are correct, Admiral.’ replied Ingrid, some bitterness showing in her tone.
‘’It was disbanded while I was in Space, travelling between Jupiter and Saturn, and I still could kill the asshole Air Force Chief of Staff who took that stupid decision. All of the members of my present crew are veterans who served proudly with the Fifinellas during past wars and I thought appropriate for us to dust off our old unit leather jackets for this new war.’
Benson, like Sandoval, detailed the multiple rows of medal ribbons clipped to the left chest area of the jackets. While Ingrid Dows wore by far the largest number of medals, the five women following her were no greenhorns wen it came to combat, with the least decorated still wearing a triple row of ribbons.
‘’Wow! Quite a crew you got there, General. Uh, your crewmembers are wearing medal ribbons from the First Korean War and even some from World War 2, yet they look way too young to be veterans of these wars. How come?’
‘’They may look young now but the youngest of them is in reality 59. I rejuvenated all of them, the way I was myself rejuvenated. Right now, I would easily fit in a junior college class, yet I am 76 years old. Shirly Slade, to my left, is actually eighty-years-old and was one of my wingmen while fighting as a fighter pilot in the Pacific as part of the original Fifinellas. She eventually retired with the rank of colonel and was in command of a fighter wing. The same applies to Elizabeth Gardner, who is also eighty-years-old and who retired as a lieutenant colonel in charge of a fighter squadron. My flight engineer, Carmen Morena, joined the Fifinellas in the 1960s and fought in the Second Korean War and the China-Taiwan War. I hired her for Hiller when she retired from the Air Force. My assistant flight engineer, Britney Strong, served for 26 years with the Fifinellas and retired when the Fifinellas were disbanded. I recently hired her for Hiller, as I did with my loadmaster, Janet Morton, who worked as loadmaster on about every type of Air Force transport in service during the last three decades. We may not be a proper military crew but we have plenty of war experience in the air to use for this present job.’
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‘’And under what terms are you serving in this war, General?’ asked Sandoval.
‘’A temporary DoD contract?’
‘’Correct, mister! While the Pentagon is renting from Hiller the use of this aircraft, it is also paying for its maintenance, fueling and crew salaries. As for the length of this contract, it is basically for as long as needed to support our troops in Afghanistan, within reasonable limits. I believe that we really shouldn’t stay in Afghanistan for more than a few months at most. Longer than that will mean that we basically failed in our primary mission of destroying Al-Qaeda. Hiller put the Pentagon on notice that, after six months here, the corporation will need us back in Port Angeles, so that we could continue our work there.’
‘’I agree with you that the faster we get out, the better it will be, General.’ said Benson. ‘’Could we see the inside of your cargo cabin, so that we could know how much it could contain?’
‘’Certainly, Admiral. Follow me and I will tell you about the capabilities of my SKYTRUCK while my friends do a quick inspection of our aircraft.’
Benson and Sandoval followed Ingrid up the wide cargo ramp and soon stepped into what could be described as a cavernous aircraft hold. Sandoval couldn’t help exclaim himself while looking around the hold.
‘’Woah! This must be the largest aircraft hold I ever saw. And it is also of respectable length and height.’
‘’The hold of our general cargo pod is seven meters wide by 18.5 meters-long, not including the cargo ramp, and its free height is 3.75 meters. Basically, if a vehicule can legally circulate on an American highway and pass under overpasses, then it can fit inside this hold.’
Seeing that Sandoval was trying to mentally convert her measures from meters to feet, Ingrid crossed her arms and looked at him with sarcasm.
‘’When will Americans learn to use the metric system, instead of this antiquated and confusing Imperial system? The United States must be the last advanced country on Earth to still utilize the Imperial system.’
‘’Hey, you are suppose to be an American, General!’
‘’Born and raised in Germany until the age of fifteen. Even the British saw the light and now use the metric system. Oh well, let’s forget about that. Do you know
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which of the vehicles stored on this ship are the most urgently needed by our marines in Afghanistan?’
‘’We have a priority list written by the commander of our marine regiment, General. What they need the most right now are their command post vehicles, which contain their encrypted radios and satellite communications gear. Right now, they have to make do with an odd assortment of stand-alone radios, something that is impacting on their tactical efficiency.’
‘’Then, we wil start with those vehicles. Once those will have been delivered by us, we will then ferrry the rest according to your priority list. Know that my SKYTRUCK
can carry up to fifty tons over medium distances, taking off in short mode and then landing at the vertical at the delivery point. Your ship’s runways look more than long enough for me to do a short takeoff or landing, and this without the need to use either a catapult or arrester wires.’
‘’That will definitely simplify things at our end, General. However, I suppose that your crew will want to rest a bit after your long trip from our West Coast, before starting to ferry vehicles to Afghanistan.’
‘’You suppose wrong, mister. We have sleeping bunks and a small lounge with kitchenette aboard our SKYTRUCK and we relayed ourselves during our trip. We even have a bathroom with shower stall inside However, we certainly will take the time to have a good, hot meal before leaving. We are getting a bit tired of eating sandwiches and microwave meals. Has Navy food improved during the last five years?’
‘’Not really, General.’ replied Benson, grinning. ‘’However, our cooks are decent at cooking meats, even though I wouldn’t counsel their so-called Beef Bourguignon to you.’
Ingrid shook her head in mock despair at his reply.
‘’When I think that I was eating some of the finest French Cuisine a few weeks ago, while I was attending the Le Bourget Airshow in Paris.’
12:26 (Afghanistan Time)
Navigation bridge, U.S.S. NEPTUNE
‘’HELM, TURN INTO THE WIND! GO TO MAXIMUM SPEED!’
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On Vice Admiral Benson’s orders, the big battlecarrier turned to port while it accelerated progressively to its top speed of 42 knots. Next, Benson called Captain Sandoval, on the air control bridge.
‘’Captain Sandoval, launch the SKYTRUCK!’
‘’Right away, Admiral!’
A few seconds later, the big VSTOL transport, its own engines at full power, released its brakes and started rolling down the port side runway of the battlecarrier, accelerating quickly. Benson nodded his head in approval, impressed, when the SKYTRUCK, loaded with 55 tons of tactical vehicles, lifted off from the runway well before getting to the bow.
‘’A clean takeoff in less than 400 yards... Impressive! Hopefully, these brave ladies will not get fired at once over Afghanistan.’
Benson was however not too optimistic about that. Despite benefiting from heavy air and missile support, the American troops in Afghanistan had been fighting hard and incurring casualties at a mounting rate while pursuing surviving Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters who were using guerrila tactics against the American soldiers. Three of the precious PELICANs originally embarked onboard the NEPTUNE had already been lost to ground fire, with four more damaged to a varying extent. As Benson was reflecting mentally on these losses, an ensign came to him with a message fixed to a clipboard.
‘’Sir, we just got the latest consolidated situation report from Afghanistan.’
‘’Thank you, Ensign!’ said Benson while taking the offered clipboard. He then read quickly the three-page message and frowned when he got to a paragraph describing the latest incidents and American casualties: Four soldiers from the 82nd Airborne Division had been killed and five more seriously wounded when a suicide bomber disguised as a woman had blown himself up at an American checkpoint. This business of suicide attacks was decidedly proving to be both deadly and very difficult to counter and was also hitting hard the morale of the American troops fighting in Afghanistan. While the Taliban and Al-Qaeda were suffering heavy losses to date, they seemed to not care a bit about their own losses or about the Afghan civilians caught in the middle, and continued to play cat and mouse with American soldiers.
15:13 (Afghanistan Time)
Afghan-Pakistan border post west of the Khyber Pass
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During the last thirteen days since she had landed with her platoon at the Afghan border post, Greta had seen the volume of vehicular traffic and number of people crossing the border increase progressively from both sides of the border. While the majority of the traffic coming from Pakistan consisted in trucks loaded with goods intended to be sold in Afghanistan, the traffic from the Afghan side consisted more and more of Afghan refugees fleeing the fighting in their country. Those Afghans typically were packed as whole families in old cars and pickup trucks, while a few used motorcycles or even animal-pulled carts. All the while, Greta and her marines had to deal with all that humanity without the help of a translator and she often had to become creative with her sign language. In return, she had become quite adept at reading the attitudes and reactions of both Afghan and Pakistani civilians passing through the border. She had also learned quickly about some of the local mores and customs and could now speak a very few common words in Pashto and in Dari, the two main languages in this part of Afghanistan. As for the Pakistani civilians she checked out, they thankfully were often able to speak at least some English, especially in the case of commercial truck drivers. Greta was reflecting mentally on all that when one particular person coming on foot from the Afghan side attracted her attention. It was apparently an Afghan woman wearing a Burka, a long and loose robe with closed hood which hid the body and face, with only a small mesh screen allowing the wearer to see. Greta positively despised those burkas, which in her mind were the perfect image of how Afghan women had been treated by the Taliban: as inferior beings with little personal rights and who needed to be accompanied by a male family member if they wanted to get out of their houses. Greta had seen plenty of women wearing burkas pass through but there was something unusual about this one: she was by herself, without a male escort, while walking and carrying on her head a large basket. Looking at Joshua Stern, who was standing a few paces from her, Greta whistled at him to attract his attention.
‘’Josh, keep an eye here while I go check something out down the incoming file of pedestrians.’
Greta then flipped off the safety on her rifle while walking towards the woman in a Burka and signaling her to step out of the line of pedestrian and to walk a few paces to one side. As she did so, Greta’s suspicions grew: no man in the lineup tried to accompany the woman, who was quite tall for a female Afghan. Greta then noticed the shoes worn by the woman: they were hiking boots and not sandals or slippers. While her left arm was up, holding her basket in position on her head, her right arm was down along her
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side, nearly completely covered by the long sleeve of her burka. Greta was still able to see that her fist was closed on something, instead of being opened. Now frankly alarmed, Greta motioned to the woman to stop where she was, then stepped in front of her in order to pat her down. Greta had to let her rifle hang across her chest by its carrying strap in order to free both of her hands for the search. That was when the
‘woman’ suddenly raised her right arm while shouting in Arabic in a distinctly male tone of voice.
‘’ALLAH U AKB...’
The suicide bomber, whom the ‘woman’ had to be, did not have time to finish his shout before Greta surprised him by the speed of her reaction. Not having time to grab back her rifle and point it, Greta instead closed her left fist around the bomber’s right hand and pressed hard while putting her thumb across the top, preventing the raised thumb of the bomber from pushing down on what now appeared to be a hand detonator’s button.
Greta was helped in that by the fact that she was actually a bit taller than the bomber and that, thanks to her hard exercising program, she was uncommonly strong for a woman. In turn, the bomber tried to push her away with his left hand but Greta grabbed him with her right hand and glued herself to him, then ferociously bit through the mesh face opening of the burka the nose of the bomber with all her strength. The shout of the bomber then changed into a loud scream of intense pain, also in a male tone of voice.
With the man’s nose still between her clenched jaws, Greta then kneed the man hard in the groin with her right leg, making him bend his knees from the pain. Once the man was down on his knees, Greta, who was still pressing closed his right hand and biting his nose, leaned hard against him, making him fall on his back while his legs were still under his torso. With the man now in a very difficult posture and still unable to detonate his bomb, Greta unholstered in a flash her personal pistol, which was on her right hip, and pressed its muzzle against his throat, firing once. The 9mm bullet went clean through the man’s throat, exiting via the back of his neck after severing his spinal chord and killing him instantly. Her heart now beating furiously from the sudden flow of adrenaline that had shot through her veins, Greta opened her jaws and let go off the man’s nose, which she had nearly cut off with her teeth, then used both of her hands to very cautiously open the dead man’s hand and take away the hand detonator, revealing in the process a wire that ran inside the burka’s right sleeve. She had the detonator in her own hand when Joshua Stern ran to her and stopped next to her, mortally worried.
‘’You’re okay, Greta?’
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‘’I am...now. However, I came this close from getting blown away by this suicide bomber. I now have control of his hand detonator. Pull up his burka and find his bomb, then disconnect the detonator wire from it.’
Seeing that two other marines were running towards her, Greta shouted at once at them.
‘’STAY AWAY! THERE IS A BOMB HERE!’
She then watched on as Joshua pulled up the burka worn by the bomber, revealing a camouflaged uniform under it, along with a vest strapped to his torso. A good dozen blocks of plastic explosives were contained in pockets of the vest, with each block having a detonator stuck in it and with wires connected between the detonators and the main ignition wire. Joshua pulled one by one the detonators from the blocks of explosives before pulling on the main ignition wire, pulling the detonators out of the dead man’s sleeve. Greta then gave him the hand detonator she was still holding and watched with immense relief as Joshua walked to a safe distance before putting down the collection of detonators behind a large rock. As Joshua was coming back towards her, Greta let out a deep sigh of relief and wiped the cold sweat on her forehead, then got on her feet. She found that her legs were now shaking, thanks to the nervous shock caused by her desperate fight.
‘’God! This was a close one, Josh.’
‘’How did you get suspicious about that man, Greta? And how did you manage to prevent that suicide bomber from detonating his explosive vest?’
‘’When I saw a lone woman wearing a burka and apparently unescorted by a male relative, that triggered suspicions in me. As to how I managed to prevent him from triggering his bomb, I used a trick my Krav Maga18 instructor, who is an ex-Israeli paratrooper, described to me about how to deal with a suicide bomber. His trick worked, so I guess that I will owe him a beer...or twelve beers.’
Joshua stared at her for a moment with what appeared to Greta to be complete and utter admiration.
‘’Greta, you must be the toughest and bravest woman I ever met.’
‘’Thanks for the compliment. Now, let’s drag that piece of shit away from the road, so that we can continue our work.’
She then looked at the Afghans pedestrians and vehicle passengers, who were frozen by stupor while staring at her.
18 Krav Maga : Israeli form of martial art invented by an Israeli soldier and adopted by the Israeli Defense Forces.
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‘’ALRIGHT, THE SHOW IS OVER! CONTINUE TO PROCEED TO THE
BORDER POST.’
Hiding the fact that her legs were still shaky, Greta then helped Josha pull the body of the suicide bomber away from the road.
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CHAPTER 16 – UPWARD MOVE
09:03 (Washington Time)
Thursday, August 9, 2001 ‘C’
Office of the Commandant of the Marine Corps
The Pentagon, Arlington, Virginia, U.S.A.
General Joseph Shumann, Commandant of the
U.S. Marine Corps, slowly put down on his work desk the report he had just read, thoroughly impressed.
‘’Damn! How could I not approve this?’
He then grabbed his pen and wrote a line at the bottom of the report before signing it, watched by his aide, who was standing at attention in front of his desk. Shumann stared for a moment at the document he had just annotated and signed, then took a decision and handed the report to his aide.
‘’Make sure that this is actionned in a speedy fashion, Major. Also, arrange for a transport for me to Afghanistan for next week. It is high time that I visit our brave marines who had been fighting there for a month now. By the way, has the Hiller Corporation’s SKYTRUCK completed the deliveries of support vehicles between our carriers and our marines in Afghanistan?’
‘’It is still flying delivery missions as we speak, sir. Even though its transport capacity is impressive, we had hundreds of vehicles of all types stuck aboard our three carriers and seven amphibious landing dock ships. Unfortunately, the refusal of Iran to allow us to land those vehicles by sea and then drive them to the Afghan border threw a big wrench in our logistical support plan. We still have to deliver by air directly into Afghanistan all the supplies and equipment needed by our troops there and the Air Force is running ragged trying to keep up with the needs of our field units. We certainly could have used a dozen or two of those Hiller SKYTRUCKs for this operation but only one of them, the prototype is in service at this time. A second prototype is being built and should become available in a couple of weeks.’
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‘’A couple of weeks... Long enough for us to suffer more casualties in combat.
Those fucking Taliban and Al-Qaeda bastards may have been hurt badly by our initial strikes but they are nothing but resilient. Very well, Major. Have this actionned at once.’
‘’Yes, General!’
18:18 (Washington Time)
Friday, August 10, 2001 ‘C’
‘The D.C. Five’ mansion, Woodland Drive Northwest Washington, D.C.
Sarah Weissmann, who was watching with Nancy and the rest of the band the evening news on television, quickly noticed the somber expression on the face of her band leader.
‘’Is something wrong, Nancy?’
‘’Yes, Sarah: our brave troops are fighting and dying in Afghanistan, while I am here, living in peace and comfort. Even my mother is over there, doing her part by ferrying vehicles and equipment to our marines while taking big risks to her and her crew.’
‘’But, what could we do, Nancy?’’ asked Carmen Estrada. ‘’We are musicians, not soldiers.’
‘’What we could do is to help the morale of our soldiers, Carmen. Right now, we don’t have any major concert scheduled for this month or for the first half of September, as we are presently concentrating on practicing our tunes and writing new songs. I have in mind of going to Afghanistan and sing to our troops. I would immensily appreciate if you girls would accept to accompany me there, so that we could do full-fledged concerts.
I know that there will be substantial risks for us by going to Afghanistan but I believe that we need to do our part in helping our country in this war. Besides, while this is not a factor for my decision to go, the publicity our band will gain by visiting our troops can’t hurt. So, what do you say, girls?’
Taken a bit short by this, Sarah, Carmen, Erika and Lucy looked at each other, finally coming to a silent consensus.
‘’We will be glad to go with you, Nancy.’ said softly Lucy to her sister by adoption. ‘’How will we go there, though? Commercial flights to Afghanistan are presently suspended because of the war there.’
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‘’I think that I will enlist the help of someone I know at the Pentagon, in order to get seats for us in one of the military transports ferrying supplies to our field troops. I however intend to do this without asking for a paid contract by the DoD. We will do this strictly as an unpaid gig and we will only ask the Pentagon to provide for our transportation, food and lodging. And if lodging in Afghanistan means a tent, then I will happily live in the same conditions as our soldiers do.’
16:29 (Washington Time)
Wednesday, August 15, 2001 ‘C’
The D.C. Five’s mansion, Washington, D.C.
‘’GET READY, GIRLS! OUR TRANSPORT TO ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE
IS HERE!’
As her shouted announcement made her band members scramble to get their pieces of luggage, Nancy went to the main entrance door and opened it as a young Marine Corps lieutenant in camouflaged uniform was climbing the steps of the porch. Behind him, in the driveway of her mansion, two big militarized four-door GM pickup trucks with covered rear boxes were parked, with two marine drivers waiting beside their vehicles. Both vehicles also towed covered trailers, making Nancy nod in appreciation: those would be more than enough to carry all the band’s musical instruments and acoustic amplification systems in their transport chests and protective cases, plus the band’s personal luggage. She then smiled to the young marine lieutenant now facing her.
‘’Welcome to our mansion, lieutenant. All our things are packed and ready to go.
Could your two drivers come and help us carry out our stuff? By the way, I am Nancy Dows, the leader of the D.C. Five band.’
‘’And I am First Lieutenant Jeffrey Kyle, sent by General Shumann to serve as your military liaison officer and guide during your tour in Afghanistan.’
Nancy’s smile widened at those words: the young officer was very handsome and having him with her band for the duration of her tour would be nice. The two drivers were also young and fit marine enlisted men. All in all, a nice start to what was in her mind an important trip. Turning around briefly, Kyle waived to his drivers to come join him in at the door, then faced back Nancy, hiding with difficulty his admiration at the incredible beauty of the singer he was assigned to help and escort.
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‘’Being a musical band, I supposed that you have plenty of musical instruments to carry to Afghanistan, Miss Dows.’
‘’We certainly do, along with audio amplifiers and speakers, but your trucks and trailers should easily contain all of our stuff. But please, come in, you and your drivers.
Our luggage and instruments are in the main lounge, to the left down this hallway. We will help you carry them to your trucks.’
‘’No need for that, miss: we can handle them by ourselves.’
‘’Wait until you see what we have with us, Lieutenant. We even have an upright piano in the lot. And don’t think of us as weak girls: we are accustomed to carry our instruments around while on tours. My own strength could surprise you.’
Kyle gave her a cautious look, understanding that she was referring to one of her superpowers as a half-angel, something widely known for years now by the American public. In fact, it was hard for him not to feel humble in front of such an exceptional being. However, Nancy did her best to make him relax by widening her smile and stepping out of the way to let in the three marines, then escorted them to the vast lounge of the mansion, where a large pile of suitcases, musical instrument cases and carrying chests occupied the center of the room. Nancy then quickly presented her band members to the marines.
‘’Girls, this is Lieutenant Jeffrey Kyle and his two drivers. They were sent by General Shumann and will accompany and escort us during our tour in Afghanistan.
Lieutenant, may I present my band to you? From left to right, you have Lucy, my sister by adoption and band violin player, Erika Lang, our drummer, Carmen Estrada, our guitarist and dancer and, finally, Sarah Weissman, our pianist. Alright, let’s move this stuff out, people!’
Kyle quickly saw that Nancy had not exagerated about her physical strength, as she more than helped him and his two drivers to carry out the band’s piano with the help of a hand truck. As they were loading the luggage and instruments on the trailers and trucks, Kyle saw that a police patrol car had parked along the street facing the mansion, with the two policemen inside looking at his group.
‘’Uh, is there a reason for those cops to observe us like this, Miss Dows?’’
‘’They are actually here at my request, Lieutenant. I advised the local precinct that we would be absent from Washington for a couple of weeks and asked them to check regularly on our mansion, in order to deter possible burglars while we are gone.’
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‘’A most reasonable precaution, miss: there has been a lot of house burglaries in the Washington D.C. area during the last few years.’
‘’And I plan to be cautious as well while in Afghanistan, Lieutenant. I hope that General Shumann will not object to us carrying concealed pistols during our time there.’
‘’Uh, I don’t believe that he will mind that, although this is a bit of a surprise to me. How proficient at pistol shooting are you, miss?’
‘’We were all trained by my mother, retired General Ingrid Dows, who has quite a few firefights under her belt, so no need to worry about us, Lieutenant. We also packed five rifles with our instruments, just in case. We are more than capable of defending ourselves, Lieutenant, but your presence and that of your drivers is still welcomed during our tour.’
As she spoke, Nancy single-handedly lifted the big, heavy crate containing her upright piano and put it on the trailer’s rear gate, then pushed it inside, where one of the drivers finished placing it in the back before securing it in place with a movers’ strap. Kyle had difficulty not to let his jaw drop wide open at this incredible demonstration of physical strength. Nancy then grinned to him.
‘’As you can see, we are not exactly defenseless young women, Lieutenant. I killed my first enemies, a bunch of mafia thugs who had kidnapped a school friend, at the age of five. As for my four band members, while they don’t possess superpowers, I did awake in them the souvenirs from their past incarnations and all of them were warriors at one time or more in the past.’
‘’Uh, I see, miss!’ said Kyle, quite overwhelmed by now. A few minutes more and everything had been loaded and secured in either the trailers or the back boxes of the trucks, allowing the group to get in the vehicles. Nancy and Lucy got aboard the pickup truck carrying Kyle and one of his drivers, while Sarah, Carmen and Erika went into the second truck. Erika Lang, sitting next to the driver of her truck, couldn’t help shout out as they started to roll.
‘’AFGHANISTAN, HERE WE COME!’
After some 35 minutes of driving through Washington, the two pickup trucks arrived at one of the access gates of Andrews Air Force Base, where armed military policemen systematically checked their papers before letting them enter the base. As it was the base where the presidential air transport fleet was located, Nancy could easily understand the reasons for this tight security, especially now, with the country at war
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with Islamist terrorists ready to conduct suicide bomb attacks. She smiled to herself when she saw the big jet cargo aircraft they soon approached.
‘’A good old Douglas C-152G GLOBEMASTER, a fine and efficient transport aircraft.’
‘’You do know your aircraft recognition well, Miss Dows.’ remarked Kyle in response.
‘’I’d better do, Lieutenant: my mother helped design this aircraft, along with nearly all our first generations of jet aircraft. The ‘G’ is the latest variant of the GLOBEMASTER, right?’
‘’Correct, miss. While its basic design has not changed over the decades since it first came into service, its engines and electronics were upgraded a number of times as it went. The C-152G is still the workhorse of the Air Force when it comes to general air cargo transport. By the way, you will be travelling to Afghanistan with General Shumann and his work party, along with a small pool of reporters who will cover his visit to the marines fighting in the country.’
‘’Do you think that we could be allowed to accompany him during his tour, Lieutenant? My band really wants to help support the morale of our troops, all over Afghanistan.’
‘’I will pass your request to the general, miss. Your sense of patriotism and support of our troops is to be commended. Our first destination in Afghanistan will be Jalalabad, where the command post of the Sixth Marine Regiment is operating from.
Then, General Shumann plans to visit the command post of the First Marine Regiment, in Herat. Afterwards, I will arrange for your band to visit the 82nd Airborne Division troops in Kandahar, the 101st Airborne Division troops in Kabul and the 10th Light Infantry Division troops in the North, in Mazar-I-Sharif. If I may give you a word of caution: be careful when you will be in Kandahar. It is the spiritual birthplace of the Taliban and was the capital of their Emirate before we came in. Much of the toughest fighting has been in and around Kandahar. Also, know that the Taliban had banned public music, so, as female musicians, you will constitute a clear target of choice for them.’
‘’I will remember that, Lieutenant. Thanks for the warning.’
The two pickup trucks and their trailers soon were guided inside the large cargo hold of the C-152G by a loadmaster and made to stop in line with five other light trucks,
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one of which flew the pennant of a four-star general. Nancy gave that pennant a doubtful look while pointing it to Kyle.
‘’I hope that General Shumann does not plan to keep flying this pennant while in Afghanistan, Lieutenant. It would be like waving a red cape at a bull.’
‘’Don’t worry about that, miss: General Shumann is no idiot. He flew his pennant in order to go through the Washington traffic but it will be taken off well before we land in Jalalabad. Talking of General Shumann, here he comes, miss!’
Shumann, a big and robust man in his fifties, was smiling widely when he shook hands with Nancy.
‘’Miss Dows, I am sincerely thrilled to see that you and your band volunteered to come support the morale of our troops in Afghanistan. Your courage and patriotism is to be commended.’
‘’My courage is nothing compared to that of our fighting men and women, General. May I ask you if you had a specific reason to go to Afghanistan now? I haven’t seen any of our other generals or of our politicians visit Afghanistan yet.’
Shumann bit his tongue in order not to tell her what he really thought about that subject, instead giving Nancy a sober look.
‘’I do have a special reason for this visit, on top of wanting to meet with my fighting marines. I intend to decorate and promote one of them for bravery in combat.’
‘’Then, I would love to be present when you will do that, General.’
‘’Uh, be aware that I was planning to conduct the ceremony right in the frontlines, at the northeastern border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. It could be a bit dangerous for you and your band.’
‘’We are ready to assume any risks if that means that we would be able to entertain and support our troops, General.’
Shumann slowly nodded his head, impressed.
‘’Decidedly, you are a truly special girl, Miss Dows.’
‘’Of course I am, General: I am a half-angel after all.’ replied Nancy, a grin on her face. ‘’So, how long will be our flight to Afghanistan?’
‘’It will be a long one, miss, as we will have to cross the Atlantic and then make refueling stops in Spain and then Turkey before landing in Jalalabad, in the Northeast region of Afghanistan. Expect a trip of about eighteen hours, including refueling stops.’
‘’I don’t mind that, General. It will give me plenty of time to meet and talk with your pool of civilian reporters. I already know one of them: Miss Christiane Amanpour.
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She interviewed me once in New York a few years ago. But before I do that, I would like to present my band members to you.’
‘’I would be delighted to meet them, Miss Dows.’
Nancy then took a few minutes to present her four band members to Shumann before going to the forward passenger cabin of the C-152G, which contained 36 comfortable airliner-style padded seats. There, she sat next to Christiane Amanpour, who broke into a happy grin and shook her hand.
‘’Miss Dows, it warms my heart to see that you and your band joined this tour of our troops in Afghanistan. You certainly do honor to your reputation as a brave and caring young woman.’
‘’Thanks, Christiane, and please call me simply ‘Nancy’. Talking about honor to my reputation, do you know why General Shumann is the first of our generals to visit Afghanistan and why none of our politicians did so up to now?’
Amanpour lowered her voice before answering her.
‘’Well, while I am not going to accuse our generals of cowardice, many of them say that they are too busy directing and supporting the fighting to take time for organized tours. As for our politicians, let’s say that many of them have mouths larger than their courage, especially our members of Congress. But don’t repeat my words to others: I may get refused interviews in the future if you do.’
‘’I will be mum, Christiane. General Shumann just told me that he is going to decorate and promote a marine for bravery. Do you know details about that?’
‘’Unfortunately, no! When I asked the general about that, he told me that he didn’t want to shine a public spotlight in advance on that marine, as it could put this marine in extra danger from Taliban or Al-Qaeda attacks.’
‘’A sensical enough reason to me. Well, I hope that the Air Force serves edible meals aboard its transport aircraft: I am getting quite famished by now.’
‘’Don’t get your hopes up too much, Nancy.’ replied Amanpour, smiling.
21:20 (Afghanistan Time)
Thursday, August 16, 2001 ‘C’
Passenger cabin of U.S. Air Force C-152G transport aircraft On landing approach to Jalalabad Nangarhar Airport, Afghanistan
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‘’General, ladies and gentlemen, we are now on approach to Jalalabad Airport and should land there in a few minutes. Please return to your seats and buckle your seat belts.’
The pilot’s announcement made Erika Lang sigh with relief as she reached for her seat belt.
‘’Thank The One! This was a really long flight and I can’t feel my bum anymore.’
Christiane Amanpour, sitting two seats from Erika, looked at her with some confusion.
‘’Thank The One? Why didn’t you say ‘thank God’, Erika?’
In response, the drummer gave Christiane a sober look.
‘’Because I believe in ‘The One’, while I believe that the ‘God’ whom all our Christian preachers in the States keep promoting and praising ad nauseam is only a fiction. The proof of what I just said is sitting between us, Christiane.’
Amanpour glanced at Nancy, who was calmly listening on to this exchange. While Erika’s declaration would have triggered a tempest of protestations and insults in the United States, it was hard to dispute its logic or supporting facts. After performing multiple public healing miracles in the United States and demonstrating her supernatural powers a number of times, only the most entrenched religious fundamentalists, be they Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu or of any other faith, still denied that Nancy represented something very special in terms of spiritual essence, while the support base of those fundamentalists was shrinking constantly. However, to her credit, Nancy had not exploited to her personal profit her growing popularity and devotion towards her by the American public and had stayed modest about her reputation, something that had only attracted more public support for her. More importantly, Nancy had steadfastly
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refused to preach in favor of ‘The One’, insisting that her spiritual mentor didn’t want or expect people to pray or venerate him, and that The One’s only desire was to promote compassion, love and tolerance among Humanity. Faced with such a compelling and encompassing message, the leaders of the established churches were having a hard time to keep their faithful. Some of those more hardline religious leaders were still trying to paint Nancy as being some kind of envoy of the Devil sent to trick people into giving their souls to evil. However, the claims from those hardliners were increasingly falling into deaf ears. As for herself, Christiane was increasingly favoring the simple humanist message demonstrated by Nancy’s repeated acts of kindness and tolerance.
The noise from the jet engines of the C-152G, which had diminished while the aircraft started descending, suddenly roared back to full power, while the cargo aircraft banked into a sharp climbing turn to the right, alarming and surprising its passengers.
‘’What the Hell is going on now?’’ wondered General Shumann, sitting in the first row of seats of the forward cabin. ‘’Lieutenant Kyle, go to the cockpit and find out what is happening.’
‘’Right away, sir!’
Sarah Weissman, who was sitting next to a window and was looking out and downward at the Afghan landscape, suddenly spoke out in alarm.
‘’I see explosions on the ground! There must be some kind of firefight or shelling going on in Jalalabad. I can also see some lines of tracer bullets.’
‘’Damn!’ exclaimed Erika in frustration. ‘’I hope that we won’t have to reroute to another airport somewhere else. I really want to get out of this airplane.’
They soon learned what was going on when Lieutenant Kyle came back from the cockpit and spoke to General Shumann.
‘’A salvo of rockets from a short-range multiple rocket launcher was fired at the Jalalabad Airport, General. Thankfully, none of them hit the runway or the main installations and only created a few craters on the ground. The airport was temporarily closed as a result but should reopen as soon as those who fired the rockets will have been hunted down. In the meantime, our pilot was directed by the control tower to circle at medium altitude while waiting for the green light to land.’
‘’So, those damn Taliban and Al-Qaeda extremists can still make a pest of themselves here, hey? Hopefully, we will be able to hunt the remnants of their forces
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down and chase them from Afghanistan soon. Alright, return to your seat, Lieutenant.
We will wait until our pilot gets the authorization to land.’
‘’Understood, sir!’
To everyone’s relief, the authorization to land was received after some twenty minutes of tense waiting and speculations among the passengers. Erika Lang blew air out in relief when the wheels of the cargo aircraft touched down on the asphalt runway of the airport.
‘’At last! I can’t wait to be able to walk out and be on the ground.’
Hearing her, Lieutenant Kyle smiled to her from his seat.
‘’Don’t worry, Miss Lange: there are accommodations waiting for your band, where you will be able to wash and sleep.’
‘’Are those accommodations segregated by sex, Lieutenant?’
‘’Of course! We do have female marines here, after all, and we respect the intimacy of our people.’
‘’Thanks! You do reassure me. What about those reporters and cameramen?’
‘’The female media personnel will share accommodations with your band, miss.’
That seemed to satisfy Erika, who then waited patiently as their aircraft was turning into a taxiway leading to the main tarmac of the airport. When they rolled off the cargo aircraft aboard their pickup trucks, following behind General Shumann’s vehicles, they were met on the tarmac by Colonel Wilkinson and a full platoon of armed marines acting as his security on-call force. As per standard Marine Corps procedures when in a combat zone, both senior officers avoided saluting each other in public, in case of enemy snipers, and shook hands instead.
‘’Welcome to Jalalabad, General.’
‘’Thanks, Colonel! The local welcome was indeed a warm one. What happened exactly?’
‘’Whoever fired at the airfield used a trick that is proving to be quite common with our enemies, General. Basically, they installed a rudimentary mount for a 104mm multiple rocket launcher in the back of a pickup truck, then camouflage it with a tarp.
Once near an objective they want to hit, they then roughly point that MRL mount and fire its rockets, then get the hell out of the area. They are thus very difficult to catch but, thankfully, the accury from such improvised mounts is quite poor. One of our
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checkpoints in town thankfully intercepted the said pickup truck-mounted launcher and killed its four occupants, who turned out to be Taliban fighters.’
‘’Good! Does this kind of attack happen often?’
‘’Yes, General! Such MRL attacks happen at least twice a week in my regimental area of operation and usually target our airports and advanced camps. Light and medium mortars are also frequently used by both the Taliban and Al-Qaida.’
Shumann was about to ask another question when he sniffed a couple of time while turning his head around.
‘’What is that awful smell being brought by the wind, Colonel?’
His question brought a frustrated expression on the face of Wilkinson.
‘’That is the smoke from our burn pits, General. When we arrived here, the local infrastructure proved incapable of supporting the needs of my regimental headquarters and of the airport’s new transient camp. This by the way was a common problem we encountered all over Afghanistan, General. Lieutenant General Brubaker, our overall commander in Afghanistan, then decided that we would get rid of our waste by using what we call ‘burn pits’. Basically, the human waste from our camps and the waste from our field kitchens are collected in large barrels which are then brought to a field where multiple holes have been dug in the ground. The waste and garbage is then poured into those holes, sprinkled with gasoline and then lit up. While they burn, men have to periodically stir the burning waste with long sticks, to ensure that they fully burn. It is both smelly and disgusting as a processus and I protested the use of such a crude and unsanitary procedure but was told by General Brubaker’s staff to putt up and shut up.’
‘’Indeed!’ said Shumann, his expression hardening. ‘’Why didn’t he had our engineers build decent waste treatment plants instead?’
‘’The answer was that our engineers in place in Afghanistan didn’t have the necessary equipment, General.’
Shumann repressed a swear that came to his mind then. Looking in the direction the wind came from, he was able to see in the distance the dots of lights from multiple small fires lit inside the airport’s limits. He then took a decision and turned towards the officer in charge of his small visit party.
‘’Captain Smith, have Lieutenant Kyle escort our musical band and the media pool to their transient accommodations. However, ask at the same time Miss Amanpour and her cameraman to come here at once.’
‘’Understood, General!’
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As the junior officer walked away towards the rest of the group that had left the C-152G, Shumann faced back Wilkinson.
‘’Colonel, know that, before coming here, I consulted our old Athena archives held at the Pentagon and read its files concerning what happened in this war in Nancy Laplante’s world. I did read a couple of articles and reports concerning those burn pits and they stated that their toxic fumes and smoke spreading over our camps caused many of our soldiers to eventually develop pulmonary diseases and cancers. Now that I can see that we are basically repeating the same mistake now, I am firmly decided to put a stop to such negligence on the part of our high command.’
‘’And what are you planning to do about it, General? Lieutenant General Brubaker is our overall commander in Afghanistan, after all, and his staff has refused to budge on this matter.’
‘’What I am planning to do is to light a fire under the ass of General Brubaker, and this with the assistance of our media people. In turn, I fully intend to protest this stupid policy directly with General of the Army Sherman. I will need you to escort me to those burn pits once Miss Amanpour will have joined us.’
‘’With pleasure, General!’ replied Wilkinson, happy to see his commandant support him on this.
A four-door pickup truck soon rolled to a stop next to the vehicles used by Shumann and Wilkinson, with Captain Smith shouting to Shumann from inside the pickup truck.
‘’I HAVE MISS AMANPOUR, HER CAMERAMAN AND MISS DOWS WITH ME, GENERAL.’
‘’MISS DOWS? WHY HER, CAPTAIN?’
‘’SHE HEARD ME TALKING WITH MISS AMANPOUR AND SHE THEN
INSISTED ON COMING ALONG, GENERAL.’
Shumann only needed to think for a second before nodding his head.
‘’VERY WELL: SHE MAY COME ALONG. FOLLOW US, CAPTAIN.’
Led by Wilkinson’s command car, Shumann’ own pickup truck started rolling on the tarmac, followed by the media truck and three trucks full of marines. Using a taxiway, then a secondary dirt road, the small convoy finally came to a halt next to a field where six holes in the ground let out short flames, along with columns of smoke rising in the air, which were then being blown downwind. Shumann nearly gagged when he was able to
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fully sniff one of the columns of smoke, watched by a marine private who had been stirring the contents of the holes with a long stick while wearing a surgical mask.
‘’God! This is positively awful! And our marines have to breathe that stuff every day? That’s downright criminal!’
‘’It certainly is, General.’ said Christiane Amanpour, who had dismounted from her truck and had joined him next to a burning hole. ‘’With your permission, I will now make a short report to my audience while my cameraman films me and those pits.’
‘’Please do, miss.’
Shumann and Wilkinson then stepped aside, to let Amanpour and her cameraman do their report. That was when Nancy Dows joined them to ask something.
‘’General, I would like your permission to heal this poor private who had been stirring this shit.’
‘’Heal him? But he doesn’t appear to be sick to me, miss.’
‘’He is, General, even though he doesn’t know it himself. I can detect traces of toxic chemicals in his lungs, chemicals which will eventually bring on a cancer. I can do this discretely, if you prefer so.’
Both Shumann and Wilkinson stared at Nancy for a moment before Shumann nodded his head once and spoke softly.
‘’You may proceed, miss. Just do it out of the field of view of that camera.’
‘’Thank you, General. I will go with that private behind one of your trucks.’
The two senior marine commanders followed Nancy with their eyes as she went to the marine private, who was filmed for a few seconds by Amanpour’s cameraman, then led him to a position behind Shumann’s truck. A short but bright glow of light then illuminated the back of that truck before Nancy and the young marine returned near the marine general. Shumann looked at the marine private, who appeared understandably overwhelmed by his experience, then at Nancy, whose expression was most sober.
‘’Thank you, Miss Dows, for helping my marine. You are indeed a most compassionate and caring person.’
‘’Unfortunately, he was not the only one exposed to these toxic fumes and smoke, General. Every occupant of this airport and its marine camp has basically been breathing this shit for about a month now. I thus see only one way to take care of this problem. If you will excuse me for a moment.’
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Before Shumann could ask her where she was going, Nancy disappeared from where she stood, leaving the marines who had been looking at her bewildered, including Shumann.
‘’Where did she go? How could she disappear like that?’
He got a partial answer to his questions when a bright white light lit up above the airport area, with a silent wave of white light speeding away from it in all directions, eventually illuminating the whole area in a radius of three kilometers. The white light persisted for half a minute before fading out completely. That was when Nancy reappeared in front of Shumann.
‘’Your marines have been taken care of, General. Now, I will deal with these toxic pits.’
She then looked in succession at each burn pit, with those pits then evaporating in flashes of blue light, leaving a series of large blackened holes in the ground. Shumann and Wilkinson were still staring with bewilderment at the holes as Nancy addressed the Marine Corps Commandant.
‘’May I make a suggestion to you about how to deal with the source of this stupid burn pit policy, General?’
‘’Uh, go on, Miss Dows.’ replied Shumann, now nearly ready to kneel in front of her. He and Wilkinso grinned on hearing what she had in mind.
‘’Miss Dows, I buy your suggestion one hundred percent! Thank you again for your intervention.’
10:03 (Afghanistan Time)
Friday, August 17, 2001 ‘C’
Afghan border post west of the Khyber Pass
Nangarhar Province, Afghanistan
‘’SARGE, A PELICAN IS ON APPROACH FROM JALALABAD!’
Alerted by the shout from one of her marines, Greta ran away from the border chicane, where she had been supervising the search of vehicles crossing the border, and posted herself on one side of a dirt and rock field her platoon had been using for weeks to accommodate the aircraft and helicopters which regularly resupplied her small unit. That field had been swept clean of all rocks except for gravel-sized ones, in order to make it
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safe to use by visiting aircraft. Greta then positioned her arms to guide the pilot of the incoming PELICAN as he descended toward the field for a landing.
‘’I wonder what this is about.’ She asked herself. ‘’Normally, they advise us in advance before sending a resupply aircraft here.’
The answer came quickly enough after the aircraft landed at the vertical, once a group of persons, some in uniforms and others in civilian clothes, walked down the aft cargo ramp of the PELICAN.
‘’General Shumann and Colonel Wilkinson? Shit! Talk about a surprise V.I.P.
inspection! I hope that Ramsay shaved his beard properly this morning.’
It took her a conscious thought to remind herself not to salute Shumann and Wilkinson in full view of the Afghan and Pakistani civilians being processed across the border at this time. Instead, she came to attention and presented herself to Shumann.
‘’Staff Sergeant Greta Visby, temporarily in command of Third Rifle Platoon, Bravo Company of First Marine Battalion, sir! Welcome to the Khyber Pass border point, sir!’
‘’Thank you, Sergeant. Could you have your available marines not involved at this time in watching the border point assemble here for a moment?’
‘’Of course, sir!’ replied Greta before turning around and shouting at her marines.
‘’ALL MARINES EXCEPT THOSE MANNING THE CHICANE ARE TO
ASSEMBLE HERE AT THE DOUBLE!’
With ten of the marines staying to man the chicane, the sixteen other marines who were not sleeping came it at a run, to then hurriedly line up behind Greta. With that done, Greta faced back Shumann and Wilkinson, seeing then that half a dozen reporters and five media cameramen had positioned themselves behind and some ten meters to one side of General Shumann. There were also five young civilian women present in the reporters’ group. General Shumann didn’t give her much time to wonder about the goal of this surprise visit before speaking to her.
‘’I know that you are kept quite busy controlling this border point, Sergeant, and I also don’t want to attract any extra undue enemy attention on you by my visit here, so we will do things short and sweet.’
Shumann then nodded to Colonel Wilkinson, who shouted out loud at the marines standing some distance behind Greta.
‘’MARINES, ATTEN...HUT!’
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The marines present immediately stiffened at attention, afther which Shumann started speaking in a strong voice, in order to be heard by all nearby, including the reporters and their cameramen watching and filming him.
‘’STAFF SERGEANT GRETA VISBY HAS BEEN FIGHTING AND DIRECTING
HER PLATOON HERE IN AFGHANISTAN FOR FIVE WEEKS NOW. DURING THOSE
FIVE WEEKS, AFTER REPLACING QUICKLY HER PLATOON LEADER WHEN THE
LATTER WAS KILLED ON THE VERY FIRST DAY, STAFF SERGEANT VISBY
DEMONSTRATED A RARE LEVEL OF LEADERSHIP, ALONG WITH IMPRESSIVE
BRAVERY, COMPETENCE IN COMMAND AND COURAGE. ON TWO OCCASIONS, HER ACTIONS BROUGHT SIGNIFICANT SUCCESSES TO OUR MISSION AGAINST
TERRORISM, ACTIONS IN WHICH SHE BOTH DISPLAYED OUTSTANDING VALOR
AND LEADERSHIP. SUCH OUTSTANDING VALOR AND LEADERSHIP COULD NOT
IN MY MIND GO WITHOUT PROPERLY REWARDING THEM. AS A RECOGNITION
OF HER OUTSTANDING BRAVERY IN COMBAT DISPLAYED BY STAFF SERGEANT
GRETA VISBY, I AM THUS HAPPY TO AWARD HER THE BRONZE STAR.’
Blood rushed to Greta’s brain at that announcement: the Bronze Star was the fourth highest award for bravery a U.S. marine could aspire to receive and was thus a most significant award for her. She stayed at attention as Shumann took a small medal handed to him by Wilkinson and then pinned it to the left chest area of her camouflaged shirt. Shumann then shook hands with her while handing her at the same time a small box containing the dress ribbon for the Bronze Star.
‘’Congratulation, Staff Sergeant Visby. You are an inspiration to your men and to the whole Marine Corps.’
‘’Thank you, sir!’ replied Greta, her voice nearly choking up. She then expected to be dismissed but her Commandant surprised her by speaking further.
‘’Please stay on your present spot, Staff Sergeant: I am not finished yet with you.’
Shumann then raised his voice again after taking one step back from Greta.
‘’DURING THE LAST FIVE WEEKS, STAFF SERGEANT GRETA VISBY
DISPLAYED A LEVEL OF LEADERSHIP AND COMPETENCE IN COMMAND
INCOMMENSURATE TO HER PRESENT RANK LEVEL WHILE LEADING HER RIFLE
PLATOON THROUGH COMBAT ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS. THE UNITED STATES
MARINE CORPS NEEDS SUCH LEADERS AS HER, THUS I, AS COMMANDANT OF
THE U.S. MARINE CORPS, DEEMED THAT A PROMOTION WAS IN ORDER.’
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‘Hell, here I go for becoming a Gunnery Sergeant after only six years in the Corps. I will create quite a few jealous marines with this.’ hought Greta.
Shumann then unpinned her present rank insignias of staff sergeant (
) from the collar
of her combat shirt, something normal prior to pinning new rank insignias in place.
Taking another small box offered by Wilkinson, Shumann then took out of it an insignia consisting of a single golden bar ( ) and pinned it to the right corner of Greta’s collar.
Greta felt another rush of blood to her brain on understanding that she was being commissioned in the field to the rank of Second Lieutenant. Commissioning in the field from NCO to officer rank was extremely rare among the American armed forces and only rewarded the most conspicuous examples of leadership in combat. She was nearly wobbling while at attention when Shumann spoke out loud again.
‘’BY HER OUTSTANDING LEADERSHIP DEMONSTRATED IN ACTIVE
COMBAT, STAFF SERGEANT PROVED TO ALL THAT SHE IS TRULY MADE OF
OFFICER QUALITY MATERIEL. I THUS PROMOTE HER IN THE FIELD TO THE
RANK OF SECOND LIEUTENANT. SHE WILL NOW CONTINUE TO COMMAND HER
RIFLE PLATOON AT HER NEW RANK LEVEL.’
Shumann, imitated by Wilkinson and by the marines watching the ceremony, then applauded briefly before shaking hands with Greta.
‘’Congratulations, Lieutenant Visby. You amply deserved this.’
‘’But, don’t you need to hold a bachelor’s degree in order to become an officer, sir?’
‘’Yes, you do, Lieutenant. However, in the case of commissioning in the field, you will be allowed to keep your new rank despite your lack of a college degree. Once your operational tour in this war zone will be finished and once you will return to Camp Lejeune, you will then have two years to enroll into a college studies program in order to eventually get a bachelor’s degree.’
‘’Will I have to get my degree at the Navy Academy or will I be allowed to study at a civilian college or university of my choice, sir? Excuse my language but I am not hot about studying with a bunch of young turks with zero experience and who already think of themselves as kings of the hill.’
Both Shumann and Wilkinson had a chuckle at that, with Shumann answering her with a wide smile.
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‘’Spoken like a true seasoned NCO! Yes, you will be able to choose where you will study and in which field, as long as your regimental education counselor judges that the college program you want to follow is an appropriate one for a marine officer.’
‘’And what if that counselor nixes my choice of studies or college, sir?’
‘’Then, you will have the right to appeal directly up to your divisional commander, Lieutenant. However, be assured that I will mention your case to Major General Lambert once I will have returned to the States. Thus, don’t be afraid to ask for what you really want to do.’
‘’Thank you, sir: you are most kind.’
‘’I am the one who needs to thank you, Lieutenant, for the shining example you present to our marines and to our nation. I will now leave you free to return to your duties, before my presence here could attract mortar fire on this place. You may now salute me this time: I think that everybody can now understand that I am a big cheese around here. Have a fine day, Lieutenant.’
As told by him, Greta saluted Shumann, who saluted her back before pivoting around and returning to the waiting Hiller PELICAN, followed by Wilkinson and the group of reporters, cameramen and civilian girls. Greta watched the big aircraft lift up in a cloud of blown dust and sand, then turned around and joined her marines, who mobbed her at once, patting her shoulders and congratulating her. Greta actually felt even more pride at being complimented by her men than at being complimented by her Corps Commandant: after all, they all depended on each other to fight and to survive this combat tour.
15:11 (Afghanistan Time)
Monday, August 20, 2001 ‘C’
Office of the Theater Commander, American Forces in Afghanistan Kabul International Airport
The young army captain serving as aide to Lieutenant General Harold Brubaker shot up at attention from behind his desk when General Shumann stormed into his anteroom, closely followed by two marines carrying an apparently heavy and large covered bucket.
‘’General? We were not expecting your visit today.’
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‘’Is General Brubaker in his office, Captain?’ replied tersely Shumann, making the junior officer nod his head.
‘’Yes, General! Do you want me to...’
‘’Forget it, Captain!’ said the Marine Corps Commandant before nearly crashing open the door to Brubaker’s office and then charging inside, still followed by the two marines and their bucket. Lieutenant General Brubaker, understandably shocked by such an entrance, nonetheless got up from his chair and saluted Shumann.
‘’General Shumann? Why such a brutal entrance in my office?’
Shumann quickly looked around the rather posh office, which had belonged to the director of the airport, then looked at his two marines.
‘’Alright, men: proceed as discussed!’
The two marines, grinning with anticipation, removed the cover of the bucket they had been carrying, then lifted it over Brubacker’s desk and flipped it upside down. A nauseating, semi-liquid brown mass splattered on top of the work desk while also splashing drops on the front of Brubacker’s uniform, making him scream in protest.
‘’ARE YOU CRAZY? WHY...’
Shumann didn’t give him time to finish his sentence, cutting him off while pointing an index at Brubaker.
‘’Why? Because you were exposing our fighting men and women to the smoke produced by burning this toxic brew, Brubaker, all this while you worked in comfort from your nice airport office. Be assured that I will report your stupid and uncaring decisions to General Sherman. Have a nice fucking day, asshole!’
Shumann then walked out of the office with his two marines, who left behind the now empty bucket.
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CHAPTER 17 – A BLAST OF A CONCERT TOUR
09:45 (Afghanistan Time)
Saturday, August 25, 2001 ‘C’
Kandahar International Airport, 17 kilometers southeast of Kandahar Kandahar Province, Afghanistan
‘’Thanks for the lift, Mother. You were really helpful to us.’
‘’Bof!’ replied Ingrid, waving her hand in dismissal. ‘’What is a mother for, if not to be helpful to her daughters and their friends?’
Nancy kissed Ingrid on her cheek before getting in one of the two pickup trucks used to transport her band around. She however asked one question through her opened window before the truck could start rolling out of the hold of the Hiller SKYTRUCK.
‘’Are you going to haul vehicles and supplies for the marines for long still, Mother?’
‘’No! In fact, this is my last trip to the NEPTUNE. After getting on it, me and my crew will rest overnight and do a thorough maintenance check of our aircraft, then will fly back to the States. With all the vehicles and field equipment which were on our ships now in Afghanistan, my contract with DoD is coming to an end. Besides, I have important things to take care of at the Hiller plant in Port Angeles. Please be careful during the rest of your tour, you and your band members.’
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‘’We will, Mother! The real question is: will the Taliban and Al-Qaeda cooperate?’
‘’True! Still, be careful and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
‘’Hell, then I will get in trouble: there isn’t much that you actually don’t do.’
On that last quip, Nancy’s truck then rolled off the aft cargo ramp of the SKYTRUCK, followed by the second truck of the band. Ingrid watched the two pickup trucks drive away on the tarmac of the Kandahar International Airport, which served as the main base for the 82nd Airborne Division in Afghanistan. She felt a pinch in her heart at thinking about all the dangers her two daughters, Nancy and Lucy, were still going to face during their concert tour made in benefit to the American troops. She then signaled to her loadmaster, Janet Morton, that she could raise and close the cargo ramp, so that they could fly out and return one last time to the battlecarrier NEPTUNE.
After rolling off the SKYTRUCK, Lieutenant Jeffrey Kyle directed his driver to go to the main passenger terminal, where he stepped out of the pickup truck and went inside, promising to Nancy that he wouldn’t be long in finding out where their lodging for the night would be and where and when the band would give its concert. As Nancy, Christiane Amanpour and her cameraman were waiting for Kyle to return, the cameraman, a thin but tall man named Paul Swenson, wiped with one hand the sweat on his forehead.
‘’Damn, it is really hot!’
‘’It is effectively hot, Paul: it is over 95 degrees Fahrenheit today. This place is after all in a hot desertic climate zone.’ replied Christiane Amanpour, a seasoned traveler. ‘’It however doesn’t help that our vehicle is not equipped with air conditioning.
Don’t hesitate to drink plenty of water, Paul: you must avoid dehydration. Here, use my bottle.’
Swenson took the bottle of water offered by Christiane and took a good swig of it before giving it back. Christiane then took a swig herself before offering her bottle to Nancy, who also drank a bit of water. Looking out through her window, Nancy eyed the vast camp of tents standing next to the airport proper and surrounded by a low wall of large canvas bags filled with dirt and topped off by rolls of barbed wire.
‘’Our soldiers are truly living it rough here in Afghanistan, on top of fighting a fanatical enemy. I am happy that my band can help their morale a bit.’
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‘’Your band is doing a lot than just helping a bit, Nancy.’ replied Christiane.
‘’From interviewing I took with soldiers from all ages and rank levels who watched your concerts, I can say that you are considered to be a real benediction for them, you and your band. I also got word from CNN headquarters that your band’s reputation and popularity has been significantly boosted by the reports about your tour in Afghanistan.
Someone in Atlanta even told me that you are shaming many famous artists who still are not ready to risk a visit to Afghanistan.’
‘’Yeah, I can imagine why: too many risks for too little money.’ said Nancy in a bitter tone. ‘’They would rather go give shows to some millionnaire Arab sheiks than sweat it out for our fighting troops. So much for superstars! I compare that to the time in 1953 when Marilyn Monroe went to visit our troops in Vietnam and, in the process, ended up as backseater for my mother when Ingrid was called to go help one of our destroyers which had been torpedoed by a Soviet submarine in the Gulf of Tonkin.
Marilyn had started that flight as a simple passenger during an open day given in Da Nang by my mother but, when the call for help came and Ingrid was about to refuse the call because of the presence of Marilyn in her fighter aircraft, Marilyn insisted that Ingrid go help our sailors in danger and said she was waiving the risk liability about her. She ended up actually flying into combat with Ingrid against Chinese fighter aircraft and torpedo boats. Now, that’s what I call dedication to our troops. By the way, did you know that Marilyn Monroe actually fought in World War Two as part of the Fifinellas, the combat air wing my mother formed in 1942? The great Katharine Hepburn also fought with the Fifinellas in that war.’
‘’Uh, no: I was still quite young at the time. And how old exactly is your mother now, Nancy? She presently looks like a college girl.’
‘’She certainly does, Christiane, but she is in reality 76-years-old and about to turn 77.’
‘’Wow! Eternal youth certainly looks nice.’
Those words actually made the smile on Nancy’s face partly fade.
‘’It may look nice, but it is not for everybody, Christiane. Right now, Ingrid herself doesn’t know when she will start to age again at a normal rate and that really worries her. She adopted her first child, Hien, in 1953, when Hien was six-years-old. Now, Hien is 54, married, and has two children of her own. Yet, Hien could now easily pass as Ingrid’s mother or even as her grandmother. Ingrid’s fear is that her children, except for
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me, will all die of old age before her. By the way, I say this to you in confidence. Please do not repeat this to anyone. The same goes for you, Paul.’
‘’I will be mum, Nancy.’ promised the cameraman.
Lieutenant Kyle ended up returning to their truck some 26 minutes ago and gave an apologetic look to Nancy and Christiane.
‘’Sorry about the wait, ladies: I hit some paper-bound idiot of an administrative officer who insisted on following every rules in his book before he would assign us a place to sleep. However, the entertainment officer proved a lot more helpful. You will be able to start your concert outside of the main cafeteria of the divisional camp at eight tonight.’
‘’Good! Let’s see now what kind of palace they are providing us for the night.’
Her sarcastic remark made Kyle roll his eyes: up to now, they mostly had to be content with hot and dusty tents and with minimal hygiene facilities. Their driver, a young marine corporal, chuckled at Nancy’s remark and at the reaction of his lieutenant to her words.
22:19 (Afghanistan Time)
Parade grounds next to the main cafeteria’s tent complex 82nd Airborne Division’s Kandahar Camp
