“Zachary,” the commander said, standing from behind his desk, “we got a blue-flash message from brigade for you to deploy to the Philippines in twenty-four hours.”
Zachary let the statement hang in the air briefly, expecting Buck to follow up with further instructions. He realized that there was an Al Qaeda splinter group in the Philippines and wondered if his mission somehow involved the Abu Sayyaf. He also knew that the Department of Defense had closed Clark Air Base and Subic Bay in the mid-nineties.
“That’s good news, sir,” Zachary reacted. “Do we have any word on the mission?”
“You’ll get a full mission statement at the N+2 meeting.” “N” stood for “notification.” So, Zachary knew he would receive his mission in two hours. “You understand that this is a company deployment?” the commander continued.
“Yes, sir. We’re the quick-reaction force this week for the battalion, so all of my men are within two hours’ return time,” Zachary said, looking at his watch. He cursed beneath his breath as he remembered that the first sergeant had just released them for the day. It was 1700 hours.
“Good. Get back to your unit and start the alert. The bitch of it is that Division’s known about this for nearly a week. Would have been nice to know. The embassy knows you’re coming though. I’ll have a staff meeting set up for you in two hours to determine initial requirements and where your unit stands as far as processing for overseas movement.”
“Thanks, sir,” Zachary said, snapping a quick salute, turning an about face, and exiting the commander’s office before anymore discussion could take place. A week? What kind of bullshit is that, Zach wondered.
He spoke briefly to Glenn, asking him to prepare processing packets for three of his men. Zachary knew that he had three new soldiers enter his unit since he had last processed his company for deployment. Glenn said he would get right on it. Zachary then walked quickly down the steps from the headquarters area into the service road that formed a track on the interior of the quad.
As he walked, he simmered over the fact that Division had held the information, but set aside his anger and made a mental checklist of things to do. They had to be wheels up in less than twenty-four hours. It was a test of his unit’s preparedness; there would not be time to go back and fix things that were broke, either systemic or mechanical. It was basically a come-as-you-are operation.
Reaching his company area, he summoned the first sergeant and the executive officer. First Lieutenant Marcus Rockingham, “Rock,” and First Sergeant Isaiah Washington quickly arrived at the commander’s office, sensing something was happening. Zach closed the door behind the two men and spoke without emotion.
“Good news, guys. We’ve got a blue-flash mission to the Philippines. We have to be wheels up in twenty-four hours. Top,” he said, looking at Washington, “I want you to activate the alert roster. The message is SOP. Just have the CQ say, ‘this is a blue-flash message — report to the unit immediately.’ Write it down for him so he doesn’t mess it up.” The XO and 1SG were frantically writing on hand-size notebooks that Zachary required every soldier to carry.
“XO, I want you to activate the N-hour checklist, ensuring we make all of the proper reports to headquarters. Don’t fudge the numbers, just give the staff the facts. This is no time to try to cover up mistakes. The earlier we identify deficiencies, the better chance we have of making them up before we fly. First Sergeant, as the troops begin to come in, I want them to line their gear up outside in formation and start drawing weapons, night sights, binoculars, and so on. Everything goes, guys. We don’t have any idea what type of mission this is, or how long we will be staying. I’ll be in my office getting my personal gear straight for the first fifteen minutes. Then I’ll be periodically checking company operations and hounding the battalion staff for information.
“It’s now 1705. I have a meeting at 1900 with battalion. I want a quick meeting with you two and the platoon leaders at 1845. At that time everyone should be here, and I want a written, but concise, listing of the number of personnel missing, any problem areas, and issues for deployment. The first thing I can think of right off the bat is that we need maps of the Philippines. Any questions?”
The two simply nodded, salivating to get the train rolling. Both the XO and first sergeant were task-oriented in their own right. Rockingham was a VMI graduate who had starred as a tailback on the football team. He looked every bit the part. Washington had served as a Ranger platoon sergeant during several combat missions and knew how to soldier. They were warriors in the finest tradition.
“That’s all,” Zachary said.
Zach turned to his wall locker, retrieved his duffel bag and rucksack, then walked outside. He placed his gear on top of the letters CO. As commanding officer, he was leading by example by having his equipment ready first.
As he was reentering the headquarters, he saw that the arms room was already open. He walked up to the split door, the top half of which was open, and said to Private Smith, the arms-room chief, “Hey, Smitty, need my M4 and nine mil.”
As Captain Garrett signed for his weapons, an ominous feeling settled over him. He pulled back the charging handle of his M4, looked in the chamber, then slammed the bolt shut.
As he reentered his office, the sound of soldiers dropping their gear in formation resonated throughout the quad.
Chapter 22
The loud hum of the four propellers had kept Zachary awake for most of the flight. With the rush of the rapid deployment behind him, he could contemplate what lay ahead. Bound to his nylon-strapped seat, bouncing with the C-130 as it fought the Pacific trade winds over the Luzon Strait and racing toward the forgotten islands of Asia, Captain Garrett mentally ticked items off his checklist.
He had nearly forgotten to give Riley’s number to Bob McAllister; or perhaps he just loathed doing so. Regardless, his friend said he would “square them away” when they arrived. Whatever that meant.
They were to make two refueling stops, one each at Wake Island and Guam, then land at an old airstrip on the Subic Bay Naval Base. Zachary had been keeping up on developments in the Philippines and knew that there was an Al Qaeda offshoot called Abu Sayyaf, which operated in the island chain. They were closely linked with the New People’s Army, or NPA, many of whose members had seamlessly merged with Abu Sayyaf. As global insurgencies went, Zach surmised, these splinter groups probably wanted to coalesce and tap into bin Laden’s funding stream. He did wish that the intelligence officer had given him a decent update because it wasn’t clear to him whether the locus of the insurgency was on the main island of Luzon, or in the southern island of Mindanao. Furthermore, they had received precious little in the way of maps.
Looking at his soldiers, the weight of his responsibility settled over him with a discernible subtlety. There would be no one to check his decisions or give advice. It was a commander’s dream, yet he felt a bit like he did in his old West Point collegiate wrestling days, when it was him out there to succeed or fail … in front of everyone.
Amidst his tumbling thoughts of isolation and responsibility, it occurred to him that a West Point classmate of his, Major Chuck Ramsey, led a Special Forces A team based out of Fort Magsaysay in the Philippines, and thought perhaps he could catch up with him if time permitted.