Glen Tate - 299 Days - The 17th Irregulars

“Who are those guys?” Grant whispered to Ted.

“They’re cool. You’ll see,” Ted whispered back. Grant was completely mystified why the Arabs were there.

After about one minute, most people stood up abruptly. Grant looked around, saw them standing, and did the same. He didn’t know why they were standing until he saw Lt. Col. Hammond walking in.

Hammond went up to the podium and said, “Please be seated.” Everyone sat. The room was silent.

“I am Lt. Col. Hammond, commander of the Free Washington State Guard’s Special Operations Command. I’m in charge of things like our irregular units, which are led by Special Forces personnel. This meeting is about the irregular units.”

Hammond continued, “At the outset, let me say that irregular units are essential to our strategy for victory. These aren’t bands of poorly trained, poorly equipped ‘bubbas.’ There are some of those and we’ll use them effectively, but not as irregular units. No, the kind of irregular units we’re talking about tonight are trained and led by FUSA Special Forces personnel with whom I formerly served at Ft. Lewis. Our SF Irregulars will be, for the most part, tying down the Limas in their rear areas. Attacking strategic assets in Lima territories. Eliminating Lima officials. Stealing supplies from the gangs and getting them to our units and the people. Causing maximum chaos for the Limas, and thereby requiring them to siphon off their regular units to deal with our little, elusive, irregular units. This means they’ll have fewer regular units to deal with our regular units, which gives our regular units an advantage. And that is what our irregular unit strategy is all about: giving our regular units an advantage.”

Hammond looked at the audience and smiled, “This strategy of using SF-trained irregulars as a force multiplier to tie down lots of enemy regular units has worked in every part of the world it’s been tried.” He knew because he’d done it.

“Many of you came from long distances,” Hammond said. His voice was loud enough to be heard in the hall without a microphone but he wasn’t yelling. His voice projected strength and competent leadership.

“You came through dangerous territory to get here,” Hammond said, “so I’ll be as brief as possible and get you back on the road or water, or in one case, air, so you can travel back in the dark.”

“The purpose of this meeting tonight is to get all the irregular units together, get some basic briefing, let you meet each other, and get your quadra,” Hammond said.

Quadra? What was that? Grant wondered.

“This will probably be the first and last time we’re in the same room for the whole war,” Hammond said. Then he smiled and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll have a nice party when we win. One hell of a blowout.” Most people smiled at that.

Hammond turned to a subordinate and said, “Captain, have them count off.”

The captain said, “I need a representative of each irregular unit to come up to the podium and form a line from left” he pointed, “to right.”

Grant looked at Ted who said, “You’re the representative, Lt. Matson.” Ted motioned for Grant to get up and go to the podium.

Grant reluctantly did so. As he was standing up and looking clueless, he realized that he still thought of Ted as being in command of the unit.

That needed to change, at least for things like this meeting. Grant needed to accept that he was the officer for the unit, but that Ted was the day-to-day and battlefield commander. Grant needed to start working on his command presence. He was being properly humble by acknowledging that Ted was the real commander, but he needed to have the rest of the world know that he was the lieutenant. It was understood that a lieutenant, while technically in command, wouldn’t know everything; the highest ranking sergeant would. In the two seconds it took him to finish standing, Grant became confident about his new role. He strode up to the podium with command presence.

Grant walked up the front of the room and stood next to some others. There were about two dozen, including two women. Nearly half were in military uniforms, two others were apparent civilians in tactical clothes like him, and the remaining half or so were civilians in purely civilian clothes.

Grant looked into the audience and saw Ted and Sap and similar FUSA military-looking guys. Most of the audience seemed to be Special Forces trainers, like Ted and Sap, with some regular military walk-on guys sprinkled in. The audience was smiling, like they knew the people at the podium were about to get an award or something.

Once all the representatives of the various units formed into a line at the front of the room facing the audience, the captain said to the first person, “Count off.” The first person said, “One.” The second said, “Two” and so on. By the time it got to Grant, he said, “Seventeen.” The counting ended at twenty three.

Hammond looked at the men and women in the line at the podium and smiled. “Welcome to the Special Operations Command, ladies and gentlemen.”

The audience clapped. They seemed to know what was going on.

Hammond said, “The number you have is your unit number.” He let that sink in. “So you, Lt. Shaddock” he said pointing at the person who said “one” “are the First Irregulars. You, Lt. Potach,” Hammond said pointing at the person who said “two,” “are the Second Irregulars.”

Grant had called out “seventeen” so he must be…the 17th Irregulars. Grant thought about it. He was the commander of the 17th Irregulars. Wow. This was for real. Commander of the 17th Irregulars. He let that sink in.

Grant looked out at the audience. Everyone was smiling and clapping. Now he understood why. This was a big moment. These would be the unit numbers described in the history books…if the Patriots won and got to write the history books. If they didn’t, then these unit numbers would be used in indictments and military tribunals for treason. That was a dark thought. Grant felt, when he first told Ted and Sap at the yellow cabin “I’m in,” that he had committed to the cause. Now he really felt like he’d committed, in a very no-going-back way.

Grant looked side to side and saw his fellow commanders. They started shaking hands and grinning. This was something to be proud of.

Hammond let the commanders shake hands and exchange pleasantries, but needed to keep this meeting moving. They had to be out of there soon to get back home by dawn.

Hammond looked into the audience and said, “Now I have something to tell you that none of you saw coming.”

“Ashur, could you come up here?” Hammond said to the Arabs in the back of the room. One of the Arabs, the oldest one of the group, came up to the podium. He looked like an elder and was dressed in American clothes, but he looked like he should be dressed like a Saudi prince.

“Everyone,” Hammond said, “I’d like you to welcome Ashur and his family.” Hammond pointed to the back of the room and said to the Arabs, “Please stand up gentlemen.” They did. The audience started applauding. The new lieutenants at the podium had no idea why, so they politely clapped, too.

“Ashur and his family are very special people and will help us a lot,” Hammond said. “A whole lot.” He looked at the group of Arab men and smiled. He was obviously very happy they were there, like it was a triumph that they were in this room.

Hammond continued, “I can’t provide the details, but suffice it to say Ashur and his family speak a very, very rare language. No one else in this state other than his extended family speak it. One of his family members will be assigned to each of the irregular units as a code talker.”