The Next Warrior

Disembarkation - Part 13

A red light blinked in Lt. Colonel Iron's view screen; an incoming transmission. Irons looked to his Comm Chief.

"Master Sergeant, push the uplink."

On the deck where the Marines were gathered, section chiefs cried out, "Prepared for incoming Tee-CUD!"

The Marines knew this to mean that a mandatory command message was being pushed to the entire unit simultaneously and that they had to don their Tactical Command Heads Up Display, known as the Tee-CUD, immediately to receive the message. "Tee-CUD up!" they each echoed out down the ship.

The units they were dawning, the Tee-CUDs, were built into the kevlar helmets to provide communications for the Marines in the field. Onboard cameras and various additional sensors provided enhanced visual aides by projecting holographic layers onto the specially designed ballistic visors. The Tee-CUDs were also wired to the ANPRC – 197, a man portable radio system capable of relaying both voice and data, which every Marine carried. Together, they allowed any unit commander to communicate with any Marine, including the ability to push any transmission those same commanders deem mission essential, streamed directly into the helmet of their troops.

With this ability, the Tee-CUDs had become the preferred means for commanders to communicate with their troops. With only a small camera on their desk or held by another Marine on location, the faces of commanders could be beamed directly to the eyepiece of every Marine in their charge, no matter where they were or what they were doing. They could give direct instructions to each unit, complete with maps, graphical instructions, timetables, and upload complete copies of the entire mission order or intelligence file available. The whole thing could even be replayed, in a small way helping to guarantee troops have every opportunity to not miss any vital instructions, or at least mitigate how often they would screw it up. The Tee-CUD uplink was a commander's dream.

The battalion stood by as the countdown to instruction began. All the Marines now had their headgear on and were awaiting the incoming communication.

A voice came over the earpiece as the image came into focus.

"Attention to Orders: The President of the United States of America."

The Marines were in shock. None had received direct communication from the big office before. It suddenly dawned on them the gravity of what they were about to be a part of.

"Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines of Operation Preserving Purity, I thank you for your commitment to duty and your service to our country. On this night, you will be tasked with ensuring that the initial blows of this engagement between Coalition forces and the rogue state of Venezuela are detrimental to that regime and its ability to maintain its stranglehold on Venezuelan democracy..."

The speech went on. For some, it was a moment that would define their lives, one which no other moment would ever surpass. For others, it was another well written set of words, by another politician, this one just so happening to be their boss. For yet others, like Romero, it was an awakening. What he was doing was, at that moment, the most important thing happening on the face of the planet Earth. He was about to go to war. This moment was real. No other moment had ever been more real to him than this man speaking to him, as if to him alone, on the eve of battle.

After continuing with the speech, the President closed with final words of encouragement, and a reminder that behind him were the hearts and prayers of three hundred and fifty million Americans. With these final words, the broadcast was transferred to unit commanders. The Commander of II Marine Expeditionary Force gave a full outline of what the Marines were to be responsible for, ranging from the taking of beaches, to spearheading assaults and acquiring assets like airports, highways, government headquarters, forward fighting positions, and depriving the enemy of the same. The plan specified how the other branches' combined force would be called into play. Before they landed, bombers and naval gunfire would soften the landing zone for the Marines. It all seemed so simple. It made sense. It would surely work.

Next was the CO of the MUE, who outlined what the 22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit's area of responsibility would be; a large portion of the shoreline reaching inland several hundred miles. When he was done, it came down to the battalion commanders. These were the officers that the Marines knew well. These were those they saw every day. They were greeted by the roar of their own Lieutenant Colonel Irons.

"Ooooooo-rah Marines! Who's ready for the big show?" He laid out the general plan for each company for the rest of the night, first Headquarters and Service Company, and their expected place of operation, followed by the outlining of Echo company, then came Fox company. This was Romero's company. They would be making a straight inline into the country. Then came Golf company heading to the South East and Weapon's Company, serving as reserve with the Headquarters element. Further individual instructions would be communicated down by the company and platoon commanders once on route, but this was what they needed to know now.

"Boys and girls. You've trained well. You're the best at what you do in the world. There is a plan in place and we are going to win. All that's left now is for you all to go out there and make it happen."

With his final words, he gave the direction for the Marines to prepare to disembark.

The time was 0001, on the 23rd of July, 2026.

The Venezuelan government failed to meet the international investigation committee's terms, to the surprise of no one, nor did their President peacefully turn himself over to UN custody. That was it. There was nothing left to do. Phase 1 of Operation Preserving Purity had begun.

By 0030 the Marines were loaded into the amphibious landing vehicles. Romero, was already loaded into one of the unit's ACV troop carriers when the boom of the first supersonic aircraft was heard passing overhead. Once secured in the tiny craft, the Tripoli's ballasts were filled and the carriers descended into the murky midnight waters of the Caribbean. As the watercraft floated off into the waters, Romero reflected on the surreal.

"So this is it?" he thought. "This is war. I am really going to war."