Glen Tate - 299 Days - The 17th Irregulars

It worked. The Team was flattered. They would be a special squad in a Special Forces guerilla group. Their heads were spinning, even the head belonging to wise and mature Grant.

One of them wasn’t flattered, however. “What kind of special squad?” Ryan asked. As a former Marine, Ryan knew “special squad” could be a good thing or a bad thing.

“Well, a SWAT team, basically,” Ted said. The Team was pretty good, Ted thought, but not like the kind of urban-trained military units he had at his disposal when he was in the FUSA Army. The Team was no professional law enforcement SWAT team, but they would have to suffice. This was not to say they sucked; they were light years ahead of a bunch of raw civilians.

“Taking down small facilities,” Ted continued, “especially in urban settings. You know, ’There’s a bunch of Limas in that building. Go get them.’ That kind of thing. You’ll still need to know patrolling, communications, and larger unit movements like everyone else.”

Ryan was nodding slowly. OK, he thought, that would be a good role for them, but he would make sure that “special squad” didn’t mean “run through this minefield and see which ones blow up.”

“I think of your specific role as an MP SWAT team,” Sap said, referring to the acronym for a military police unit. “There are military aspects to MP law enforcement. It’s a combination of a law enforcement mindset in a military setting. You guys have been operating as LEOs for a while now,” meaning law enforcement officers, “So you have the LE mindset,” he said.

This, too, was a little bit of flattery. Sap knew that the Team was not trained law enforcement; they were just some guys who had been doing it full time for a couple of months out of necessity. “We’ll add the military skills and give you the overview of the military setting. You’ll plop your LE skills into that,” Sap said.

“Plus,” Ted said, “You guys will also be a liaison with the locals here in Pierce Point. You know them. They trust you guys. That’s important. And,” Ted said pointing to Sap, “more importantly, we trust you.”

The Team was a little disappointed. They were thrilled to be a special squad, but they had assumed the guerilla unit would be built up around them. That they would be the stars in a sea of untrained civilians. But, now there would be quite a few military people, including infantrymen who knew more than they did.

On the positive side, though, the Team realized that it was good that there would be experienced people around them, which increased their odds of making it through this alive. But, they had to admit, they kind of wanted to be the best trained people in the new unit. Oh well. The fact that there would be real military people in this unit meant that it would be more likely to get some good missions, with lots of bullets flying. That’s what the young guys wanted.

Ted looked at Grant. “And, depending on the mission, the Team will be the core of a civil affairs operation that we’ll be running out of this unit.” Ted knew he needed to sell this mission to the younger guys on the Team who wanted to knock down doors and get in firefights. They were volunteers and could walk away at any moment. Ted couldn’t order them to do things and then court martial them if they didn’t. He had to sell, not order, which was the kind of diplomacy Special Forces employed when organizing teams of indigenous fighters.

The Team looked at each other. They were going from a special squad of MP SWAT to doing pansy-ass paper-pushing “civil affairs”? Ted could tell what they were thinking.

“By ‘civil affairs,’” Ted said, “I mean Grant here will be spearheading some occupation matters for our little unit.” Not only did Grant have a track-record of running Pierce Point smoothly, he was pre-positioned near the city his unit would be taking: Olympia. HQ marveled at their luck of having a guy with town-running skills who was already near the target city. Perfect. In fact, this unit was being built around this civil affairs capability.

Ted continued, “Civil affairs isn’t paperwork, gentlemen. It’s, you know, overseeing the things the civilian population of a city needs. Food. Finding remaining Limas. Seeing if enemy deserters can be trusted, or if they need to be detained. Putting up makeshift detention facilities. That kind of thing. Managing the civilians so the regular military can do their regular military thing.” Ted was gauging the Team’s reaction. He wanted them to be excited about the importance of their mission.

The Team just sat there staring at Ted.

“Well,” Ted continued, trying to fire up the Team, “all this civil affairs shit happens in a very dangerous setting: a city we just barely took a few hours earlier. The situation is still fluid. It’s not like all the bad guys show up in a city park and lay down their arms. There will be pockets of bad guys everywhere.”

Ted scanned the Team to gauge their reactions and then kept going as they appeared to be warming up to the idea. “Pockets?” Ted continued. “Hell, there’ll be buildings and whole neighborhoods that are still chock full of bad guys. They’ll be desperate and they’ll fight like hell, so our civil affairs people need protection. That calls for lots of urban fighting. Small-unit shit. It calls for us to be able to say, ‘Go take down that building and then resume trying to feed these civilians.’ You guys are already a cohesive and well-trained small unit. And Grant’s part of it and he’s the civil affairs guy. You guys should go into combat together. It’s a no-brainer.”

“Sounds cool,” Bobby said. Others joined in.

Ryan was a little skeptical. He’d seen glorious assignments turn into shitty jobs before. He sat back and thought. He was the only one who wasn’t nodding. He saw the wisdom in having the Team perform the MP SWAT/civil affairs role. It was a way cooler mission than most of the irregular units of indigenous fighters would get. But still, that “special squad” thing was concerning to him.

“MP SWAT is a very unusual role for a Special Forces guerilla unit,” Ryan said. “Very unusual.” Ted could tell Ryan was skeptical.

“You’re the former Marine, right?” Ted asked Ryan. He nodded.

“You’re right,” Ted said to Ryan. “The usual mission of a Special Forces-led guerilla unit is to harass the enemy behind enemy lines, but guess what? There are no enemy ‘lines’ in this war. There is just Seattle and, to a lesser extent, Olympia where the old government has hunkered down.”

Ted put his hands up for emphasis. “Civil affairs is very important in this war,” he said. “Those ‘enemy’ people in occupied cities are not Iraqis, Afghans, Russians, or North Koreans, who, let’s be honest, no one sheds a tear if they go hungry for a little while. No, the ‘enemy’ in the areas we’re going into are Americans. We need to treat them as well as possible. They’re our friends and, in some cases, our family. Some are Limas, but others aren’t, and even the Limas are still Americans, so we need to do everything we can to help them. Getting their city back up and running and feeding them is what we need to do. They’re Americans.”

“So,” Ted said to Ryan, “I see why you’re saying it’s unusual for us to be tasking you guys with this MP SWAT and civil affairs shit. It is unusual, but you guys are here near one of the objective cities. I personally know that you’ve got gun fighting experience, and a track record of running a town. It’s a no-brainer.”

“What about me?” Chip said. “I’m too old to do this shit.”

Ted and Chip had been very close friends for years and Ted knew that Chip wanted to go into the city.

“It’s Rich and Dan’s call,” Ted said, once again utilizing the diplomacy he’d been trained in. “I made a promise to them that the internal security of Pierce Point would not be weakened by having a guerilla unit out here. I know you run the day guards at the Grange, Chip, which I think needs to continue out here.” Ted had already thought that Chip wasn’t needed in the guerilla unit, except maybe as a trainer, and he wanted to show Rich and Dan that he wasn’t taking too many guys away.