John Ringo - Islands of Rage and Hope

“What’s your plan, Commander?” Hamilton asked.

“Getting the Grace in is out of the question,” Chen said, looking up at the police station. There were survivors. They were up on the roof waving a French flag at the moment. He wasn’t sure if that was an order to stay away or what. Usually people had the sense to wave the American flag when they turned up. The odd part was that they all seemed to be women. “We’ll find channels to get the gunboats in and just continue the plan, if that meets with your approval, sir.”

“Any thoughts on the sweep?” Hamilton asked.

“We’ve swept towns this size in the Canaries just using locally acquired vehicles, sir,” Chen said, shrugging. “This has more people, which may mean more infected. But we should be able to clear it without the five-tons, sir. The other issue is the gunship placement. Governor’s Cove looks like a nonstarter. There isn’t easy enough egress to attract many infected.”

“Recommendations?” Hamilton said.

“We need to look at Baie de Saint Jean,” Chen said. “We’d ignored it since it was on the windward side. And it’s rocky. And even in the satellite you can see submerged wrecks. And their guns will be pointed at, well, us. And there’s almost no channel. But it looks to be the only viable alternative.”

“We need someone competent and responsible with that division,” Hamilton said.

“I’ll attach Chief Schmidt, sir,” Chen said. “He’ll make sure they’re in their fire zones. And there are hills in the way. And I’ll send Div Five. Bowman’s a pretty good boat driver, sir.”

“We’re going to have to take another day,” Hamilton said, looking up at the buildings on the peninsula. “I’m not going to pull up and then sail away. But we need to figure out these channels and pick our way in. That’s a daylight operation. We’ll pick our way in tomorrow, then do the usual zombie pre-wake. Without the party, of course.”

“Of course, sir,” Chen said.

“Get that spread and have Div Five move out as soon as the chief can get aboard,” Hamilton said, watching an infected moving along the wharfs.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Chen said.

“Bonus is it gives the gunny another day to rehearse the landing action,” Hamilton said.

“That would be useful, sir,” Chen agreed.

“What part of ‘keep your barrel pointed at the deck’ was unclear, PFC?” Gunnery Sergeant Sands growled.

“No excuse, Gunnery Sergeant!” Summers said, gulping.

“Why are you still standing, then?” Gunny Sands asked. “FRONT LEANING REST POSITION, MOVE! WHAT? YOU CAN’T COUNT…? THAT GOES FOR THE REST OF THE SQUAD! MOVE IT!”

“How’s it going, Gunny?” Faith said, poking her head in the compartment.

The Marines had been training in the lower deck areas of the Grace Tan . Being a good little lieutenant she had stayed out of it and spent her time continually updating the operations plan when yet another snag was discovered.

“Just fine, ma’am,” Gunny Sands said. “Coming right along.”

“Passing the word that the operation has been put off for a day,” Faith said. “All the harbors and other firing points are choked with wrecks. And we won’t have the five-tons.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Gunny Sands said. “Hear that, Marines? Good news! You get another full day of training! The more you sweat, the less you bleed!”

“I won’t interfere with your fun, Gunny,” Faith said, grinning. “But I’d like them to be able to walk and, you know, hold their arms up, when we hit the beach.”

“They’ll be dialed in, ma’am,” Sands said. “We’ll get it done. RECOVER! Now, try it again, this time WITH FEELING…!”

“I said to port , helmsman!” Chief Schmidt said, pointing. “That’s left , you frigging yardbird!”

Trying to find a way into Baie de Saint Jean was bad enough. There was only one, narrow and twisty, channel deep enough to get the yachts and gunboats into the bay. And it was partially blocked by a powered catamaran that was upside down on the bottom. The “edges” of the channel weren’t just shoals, either. They were nasty, jagged, rocks that were slightly below the low tide line.

Dealing with another undertrained, moronic, child driving a Zodiac was simply icing on the cake.

“Yes, sir,” the Zodiac driver said nervously.

The nearly sixty-year-old formerly retired chief petty officer ground his teeth. Damn that stupid game!

“I am not a ‘sir,’” he retorted angrily. “And do not quote Halo or I swear to God I will throw you to the sharks and drive this boat myself!”

“Yes, si… Okay?” the driver said. “Hey, Chief?”

“What?” Schmidt growled.

“There’s a boat coming this way.”

“What?” Schmidt said. Sure enough, there was a sea kayak headed their way. It was only then that he noticed there were people, survivors, up on the big rock situated by the beach. The “rock” reared ten to twenty feet out of the water and had a cluster of buildings on it. Now there were people up on a balcony waving. About five.

“Away team, be advised, you’re about to have company.”

Schmidt straightened up and went back to the radio.

“Roger, Div Five, got that,” he radioed. “Are we following the Prime Directive, over?”

“Bonjour! Bonjour!” the very tanned man in the kayak said, pulling alongside the Zodiac and grabbing the sponson.

“Hey,” Schmidt said. “Hope like hell you speak English.”

“Mai oui,” the man said. “Yes, of course! Serge Laurent Lamar, monsieur . We are pleased to finally see the U.S. Navy. We had given up hope. You are the U.S. Navy, yes?”

“We are the U.S. Navy, yes. Chief Petty Officer Kent Schmidt with Division Five, Kodiak Force.”

“We are prepared to leave at any time,” Lamar said. “St. Barts is beautiful but it palls after this long.”

“Might want to hold off on that, sir,” Schmidt said. “Although, probably gonna need to evacuate your group. We’re going to be making a mess sometime in the next couple of days. This won’t be someplace you want to stay for a while. But right now, I’m trying to figure out how to get into the bay. You got any clues about a better channel, sir?”

“No,” Lamar said. “This is the best entry. Pour qua do you want to bring your boats in? There is a harbor in Gustavia.”

“There are other boats over there, sir,” Schmidt said. “See the fishing trawlers? They’re gunboats. We’ve got the mission of killing off the infected in this area. Which we do with machine guns. The boats over on the other side of the island will do the same. Then Marines land and sweep the island. Then we leave and you can have it back.”

“Will all the infected be…dead?” Lamar asked.

“As many as we can get in a day or so, sir,” Schmidt said. “After that, up to you. We brought some guns along and there are some survivors at the police station. Presumably some of them are police.”

“Certainement,” Lamar said thoughtfully. “And for us? Our party?”

“When we do this we end up leaving behind a big pile of bodies, sir,” Schmidt said. “You’ll want to be elsewhere since it will have to be on that beach,” he added, pointing to the smaller beach south of the rock. “You won’t want to be around them as they decompose. Even if we can’t get the boats in, we can pull you all out by Zodiac. If you’re ready to go, they can all fit on this one. No luggage, though.”

“Je comprends,” Lamar said, nodding. “Can I ask…How bad is the rest of the world? Have you heard news of France?”

“Gone, sir,” Schmidt said. “What you see here is everywhere. And the U.S. Navy is about a hundred small boats like this. Most of them aren’t even Navy, sir. Gone pretty much covers it, sir. Believe it or not, you’re not in bad shape here. You’re out in the fresh air and sunshine but not on a lifeboat. Most of us were either trapped in compartments on ships, like myself, or on disabled boats or lifeboats. This isn’t actually that bad compared to most of the world.”