The Next Warrior

Disembarkation - Part 14

The tiny fleet's disembarkation from the Tripoli was two and a half hours ago. The sounds of battle persisted as the vessel continued on what seemed like an endless trudge to shore.

Romero could still hear the firing of cannons from the heavy support ships and the bombardment of shells careening into the sands. The bursting bombs sounded the cadence of the coming battle clearer than the echo of mighty war drums. Every explosion crept closer and closer, filling the landing vehicle as each mighty wave of raw force rode out across the water and reverberated through the metal shell. From the sea and the walls, the wave finally found its way into their chests, filling every Marine with the tremble of earth, echoed in the violent pounding of their own hearts. It's curious that a term like "softening" really means utterly demolishing. The only difference between those same reverberating detonations and those of two hours ago, Romero realized, was the intensity. Though the ships and the shore had not moved, he was now much, much closer to the barrage and the exploding shells point of impact, and therefore, much farther away from the relative safety of the fleet.

Those who had taken the initiative to sleep were fully awake now. The command call went out alerting the companies in the landing force that they were near the enemy shore and to make final preparations for the beach landing.

Kaiser's leg steadily bounced on the ball of his foot nervously. His head was rocking back and forth, as if attempting to hold on to a song, or a motivational mantra, or whatever other ritual was his for preparing himself mentally for the moment they flooded out of the fortified carrier and into the open air. Romero was surprised to see him so aroused. He thought nothing could break Kaiser's facade of coolness. Of course, this wasn't any ordinary moment. This was what Marines existed for. Not even he, it would seem, could ignore the energy in the atmosphere of that ship and the warriors within it.

Suicide, however, was still the picture of calm. The level headed LCpl Fannon primed his gear in one last systems check of the night, before the team burst through the rear hatch once they made landfall. It was a subtle reminder to Romero not to lose his head, and to do the same. It was a good thing too. He'd forgotten to chamber a round in his M-27. Had the moment come when he needed it, he would have simply pulled it up and clicked the trigger of what would have amounted to a very large, very empty paperweight. He pulled the charging handle of his automatic rifle, chambering the first round.

Williams took a hard look at Romero. Through the visor, Romero could never see his Fire Team Leader's piercing glare. "It wasn't important," Williams thought. The Marine eyed one then the other, then finally Romero, each member of the team placed in the Corporal's charge. It was a final systems check of a different sort for the veteran warrior, as well. Seeing that the Marines were readying themselves, Cpl Williams did the same, loading not only the M-4, but also loading a magazine for the attached M-26 Shotgun System mounted to the M-4. They'd be heading into the deep forest soon. "Mag pouch 4. Flechettes."

Yafante, eldest of them all, took this last minute of relative calm. He took a deep relaxing breath, situating his focus on the night to come. He opened his forward most magazine pouch, removed his first thirty rounder. Coolly and methodically, in the motion he had performed ten thousand times in training, and more times in combat than one could remember, as well, seated the magazine into the magazine well. With any luck, this nation would know what was good for it and he wouldn't need to reach back for a fresh magazine any time soon.

Outside, what felt like a few intermittent detonations become dozens. The volume of the blasts rose to a fiery crescendo, appearing instead to be more like thousands. Their fires in the night shone through the turret gunner's look out. The flames glared and raged like a storm of dry lightning backlit by hellfire. They each looked back to one another, peering through the dimly lit visors to the men and women behind them, each displaying their own look of awe at the spectacle.

The calamity apexed, when in a moment, the roar of the barrage fell away. A few last shells blew on the beach, probably duds that cooked off from the heat of nearby fires. Seconds went by and then there was nothing – nothing besides a calm stillness that then seemed foreign to the Marines. Such a calm, though they had known it only a few minutes before, seemed as if it were something that belonged in memory alone. The flames of the beach glowed brilliantly in the silence. The luminous effect filled the cabin with the echo of the burning light, illuminating the olive drab green and their woodland camouflage with a vibrant orange, red, and golden highlight. This too slowly faded as the fires on the beach far beyond died to fainter hues of orange and red, until finally darkness and starlight could be seen through the open porthole.

Seeing the fires fade to the dark reminded him of a sermon he had once heard on the nature of Hell. It seemed Christians were torn between a Hell of fire, torment, and the eternal suffering at the hands of malicious demons, while others advocated that Hell was just the eternal nothingness of separation from God; a black pit of eternal void. Romero was no theologian, but seeing the crackle of bursting bomb blasts, the fiery inferno, and the descent into darkness, he knew enough to question which Hell he and the other Marines were about to enter into.

Hyper-vigilant, the Marines sat in utter stillness, now keenly aware of nothing but the sound of the engine of the ACV. Suddenly the vehicle lurched. It no longer carelessly rocked with the rhythm of the waves of the sea. It trudged steadily, never ceasing, never faltering. It was the bittersweet moment that Nathaniel had both longed for and dreaded over the last three hours. The vehicle's tires caught a foothold on the shore.

The Marines had made landfall.