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Rites of Passage by Elitehunter676
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Rites of Passage: Part 1
Date: 5 August 2004, 8:57 PM
Authors note
Okay everybody, here goes nothing. I think I may give up my Liberties Bell series for this. This story I'm going to work so hard on, my hands are going to fall off. Code, good spelling you name it, I'll make sure it's here. I'm also going for a better story. So here we go.
Chapter 1
0700 hours, tuesday
August fifth, 2536.
UNSCIndependanceIn low orbit over, Angus four. Lambda Serpentis System.
Admiral William Prescott stared at the main view screen intently. His eyebrow raised as he watched the seven UNSC frigates move into orbital positions near the large, ghostly green, planet of Angus four. "What is going to happen here?" he asked himself quietly, not even realizing he'd spoken aloud.
"Sir,"
The sound of the young navigational officers voice, brought Prescott quickly out of his thoughts, and back to his bridge. "Yes Lieutenant?" he said, turning his attention to the short, red haired boy in the navigation station.
"Sir, Admiral Connely is hailing us from the Titan." the young man said with a steady voice.
"Put it on screen." Prescott ordered gesturing towards the center screen. "Aye sir." the young Lieutenant acknowledged, his hands dancing across the keys at his station as if he was doing it without thought.
Prescott eyed the center screen as it snapped to a new picture. Instead of the seven UNSC frigates, Prescott now saw the outlines of an aged man. The man had sunken black eyes that seemed to pierce straight through Prescott.
"Admiral Prescott," the aged man said with a low voice, nodding towards Prescott.
"Admiral Connely," Prescott replied softly, returning the nod.
"Admiral, let me get to the point quickly." Connely said, a hint of exasperation in his deep voice. "ONI is pressuring FLEETCOM, to take back Angus four, you know this."
Prescott nodded, ONI belevied that it would be unacceptable to lose Angus four to the Covenant, it would kill moral. So in an attempt to boost moral, they'd been throwing a lot of funding and reinforcements into taking back the planet.
"Well, it seems they've got some sort of, campaign, that they want us to undertake." the aged Admiral turned and faced someone off screen, he then nodded toward the screen. The Admiral then stepped away from the screen, and a new man stepped in to face Prescott.
"This is Lieutenant Colonel Smith." the Admirals voice continued though he could not be seen. "He is the commander of the ODST forces aboard my ship. He will be leading a ground op. against the Covenant.
"I see," Prescott said eyeing the man. Smith was tall, with jet black hair, pale blues eyes that seemed to lock with Prescotts. "Do you think your men are ready Colonel? The Covenant have been dug in on Angus for about six weeks." Prescott said still looking the man over.
"Sir, with respect, but my men and I are ready to take that whole damn planet back from those ugly sons a bitches by ourselves if we have to."
Prescott smiled, "Good, that is exactly what I wanted to hear."
Lieutenant Colonel Smith turned away from the view screen, and after a quick word with Connely, entered the turbolift and pressed the button for B-Deck.
The lift decended quickly, and the Colonel braced himself against the guard railing as the lift quickly passed through the two rotating sections of the massive cruiser. There was a quick moment when the Colonels feet left the floor as he floated in zero gravity. But it quickly faded and the Colonel stood straight again.
After what seemed like hours, decending through the ships levels, the lift finally setteled, and the doors parted with a quiet,hiss. The Colonel looked out of the lift, at the huge docking bay.
Pelican dropships setteled on their magnetic claps sat motionless as engineers in the large exoskeletan armour suits outfitted their side pods with Anville two missiles.
Massive Longsword fighters sat docked on the upper decks, waiting to be deployed if necessary. And near the entrance to the troop hold, stood his platoon.
Fourty of the most well trained and lethal soldiers to come out of Reachs' notorious camp Hathcock. He looked them over as he walked towards them. Then one of the Helljumpers stepped forward and approached the Colonel.
The Colonel knew who it was before he even spoke, he knew all of them, as if they were his own flesh and blood. "Sergant Cramer," the Colonel said, acknowledging the man as he neared.
"Colonel Smith" the buff Sergant said, nodding at the Colonel. "Sir they're all preped and ready for your word." the Sergant said, his voice anxious, yet firm.
"Good tell them too......" the Colonels voice trailed off as an alarm blared from the docking bay sirens.
"What the hell is going on?" the Sergant asked looking up at the flashing emergancy lights that had kicked on. Suddenly an artificial voice sounded through the speakers, it must have been the ships AI. "Warinig proximity alert, Covenant ships approaching at high speed.
Well that wasn't to hard, I just hope everybody else likes it. And I'll do your ODSTs credit Helljumper, I've got nothing but respect for them. If everybody thinks this one is better, I'll quite my Liberties Bell series.
Elitehunter676 out.
Rites of Passage:Part 1:Chap. 2
Date: 9 August 2004, 7:30 PM
Authors note
Okay, I've had some good comments about my Chap. 1. But I don't want to get to thinken I'm hot stuff. So I'm going to pretend they said it sucked and write even better. Hope you like this Chapter to.
Chap. 2
0800 hours
UNSC Independance
In low arbit over Angus four, Lambda Serpentis System.
Prescott turned and faced the holo-tank, his face contorted into a worried grimace. "Leia," he said addressing the small holographic image of an anciet chinese priest.
"Yes Admiral," she replied calmly.
"Leia, how far out are the Covenant ships?" the Admiral asked hastily.
"Sir, Covenant ships are twenty thousand kilometers starboard and approaching at a high rate of speed.
Prescott quickly whipped around and faced the young Lieutenant at the navigational officers station.
"Parker," the Admiral said addressing the young man, "Come about one hundred eighty degrees starboard, and bring up the Covenant ships on center screen."
"Aye sir." Parker replied hastily following the Admirals orders.
Prescott felt the ship move under him, as the ship rotated to starboard. As the ship slowed it's spin, the center screen snapped to view the Covenant ships.
Prescott grunted, it felt as if he had been hit in the stomach.
Before him on the view screen were at least twelve Covenant ships, amongst them were the swollen headed frigates, the long sleek cruisers, and at least three of the lethal predatoral looking destroyers.
"Leia," the Admiral breathed.
"Yes, sir."
"Bring up sensor readings, tell me how many of each class of ship are in that formation."
"Yes sir." Leia said, her image fading from the holo-tank.
"Lieutenant, Peterson."
"Yes Admiral." the more aged Peterson said, turning from his weapons station to face the Admiral.
"Get those MAC guns charged, and give me a firing solution on the destroyers." the Admiral ordered.
"Aye sir." Peterson said, turning back to his station.
"Leia," the Admiral said, his face turning back to the Covenant ships approaching, "Have you got those scans yet?"
"Yes sir," Leias artificial voice acknowledged though her image could not be seen.
"Good, send the scans on the destroyers to Lieutenant Petersons station, then read them all of them off to me."
"Aye sir," Leia acknowledged.
Within seconds her imaged appeared again in the holo-tank. The Admiral faced her.
"Sir, scans have been sent to Lie," "Yes, fine, the scans please Leia." the Admiral interrupted.
"Aye sir," she said, her voice still calm.
"Sir, amongst the enemy formation are, one assault carrier, three destroyers, three cruisers and four frigates.
Prescott, sighed. That was a large enought force to obliterate a standard UNSC formation. This was going to be difficult.
"Sir," Peterson said not looking up from his station, "I have a firing solution on two of the destroyers, and both MACs are at 100%."
"Good," the Admiral replied, "Prepare to fire once in range."
Admiral Connely faced the center screen. The Independance began to move forward, towards the Covenant ships.
Suddenly both it's MAC guns fired. Two huge depleted uranium shells streaked toward the Covenant ships.
Connely followed the projectiles untill both slammed into one of the Covenant destroyers,it's shields flickered, flashed a brilliant white, then faded. The second round pierced the ships hull causing it to spin out of formation and towards the planet.
Connely then shook his head as angry moats of red light began to collect along the lateral lines of one of the remaining destroyers. Connely shook his head, the situation looked hopeless.
"Lieutenant Patterson," the Admiral said calmly.
"Yes, sir?" the young black-haired women acknowledged without even looking up from her communications panel.
"Lieutenant, I want you to send out a fleet-wide distress signal, tell them we've fallen under attack."
"Aye sir, I'm on it." Patterson said, flipping her long dark bangs that were past regulation length out of her eyes.
Connely then turned and faced the center screen as a lethal blade of red plasma streaked through space towards the large cruiser, Independance. He then knew that this was going to be one hell of a fight.
"Sir,"
"What is it, Jacobs?" the hard faced Captain said, leveling his gaze with the Lieutenants.
"Sir, we're recieving a distress call from the cruiser, Titan. It seems they've fallen under Covenant attack.
The Captain sat up straighter in his command chair.
"That's Admiral Connelys' ship. What are their coordinates.
"Sir, the Titans coordinates are, one, five, seven, zero, one, zero, two.
"Jesus, that's close to the Covenant lines. What the hell are they doing out there?" the Captain asked to no one in particular.
"Sir, should a broadcast the signal fleet-wide?"
"What? Oh yes, and bring us into close orbit, I want to use the gravity field to move in quicker." the Captain ordered standing from his chair.
"Let's not miss a chance to stick to those alien bastards."
Prescott, watched the center screen as the two menacing plasma projectiles streaked through space toward his ship.
"Parker, reroute all power to port thrusters and set them to maximum burn."
"Yes sir," Parker said as he quickly typed in the proper commands."
"Sir," Leias' calm voice said. "The Covenant formation is begining to break."
"What?" Prescott asked astonished. A small formation like that wouldn't just break off. At least not untill they'd destroyed all the human ships.
He faced the screen and sure enough, the Covenant frigates began to break formation and proceed at high speed toward the UNSC frigates that had taken up positions in orbit.
Prescotts features contorted into a confused frown, which quickly faded as he noticed one of the deadly plasma torpedos graze the ship.
Hope you liked it, please post comments.
Rites of Passage:Part 1:Chap. 3
Date: 12 August 2004, 8:58 PM
Authors note
Ok, here's another one for you guys, and I hope you like it.
Chapter 3
0830, tuesday
August fifth.
UNSC cruiser, Titan.
Engaging Covenant ships in low orbit over Angus four.
Admiral Connely watched the deadly red torpedos graze the lateral line of Prescotts cruiser.
Fire spouted from the gash the plasma left, as it sliced through the lower decks before it finally exited near the ships rear engines and into space.
"This wasn't supposed to happen." Connely said to himself shaking his head. "How could this happen?"
"Sir," one of the Lieutenants said from his station. The Admrial didn't have the will power to look up and see who it was.
"Yes, what is it?" he asked exsasperated.
"Sir, the Covenant ships seem to be braking formation."
This got Connelys' attention. He quickly looked up at the center screen, and watched the Covenant ships brake formation and proceed towards seperate targets.
"What in the hell are they doing?" Connely asked.
"Sir, I don't know sir." the Lieutenant replied with the best answer he could manage.
"Well, I guess we don't need to find out." Connely said to the whole crew in general.
"I think Prescott could use a hand." the Admiral said turning to face the active holo-tank.
"Kahn," Connely said still facing the holo-tank.
"Yes, Admiral." said a calm yet strong voice. Then a stocky yet agile looking figure appeared. The figure wore the ancient armour of the samuri.
"Kahn," Connely said to the AIs' figure, "Set a timer for eight seconds."
"Aye, sir." the figure said bowing, it then dissappeared.
"Mickerson," Connely then said, turning to address his seniour weapons officer.
"Yes, sir?" Mickerson replied.
"Get me a firing solution on the nearest Covenant desroyer, then charge both MAC cannons to 100%, and arm archer missile pods A-1 to C-12. Once you get within range of the alien son of a bitch, you fire just one of the MAC rounds, then when Kahns timer hits zero, you fire all the archers. Understood?"
"Sir, understood sir."
Connely knew he had just put a lot of pressure on his weapons officer, but it had to be done. And plus, Mickerson wasn't going to be the only one under pressure.
"Alan," he said directing his attention to his navigational officer, "Bring us about, I want to be facing the entire Covenant formation.'
"Aye sir." the short blonde-haired women replied as she typed in the coordinates.
"Alright, now I want the call sighns and names of those frigates down there." Connely said pointing towards the center screen and at the seven UNSC frigates there.
"Aye sir." the rest of the bridge crew said in unision.
"Kahn, is that timer ready?" the Admiral asked taking a seat in his command chair.
"Yes, sir," Kahns calm voice said over the bridge comm system, "It's been ready."
Connely looked at the center screen. In the lower right corner was a small timer that read, 08 sec.
"Good, activate it as soon as the first MAC round is fired." Connely said leaning back in the chair.
"Aye sir." Kahn acknowledged.
Connely watched the center screen. The Covenant ships began to slowly seperate and move off in differant directions. Except for one of the destroyers, which stayed, and prepared to fire another plasma round at the Independance
Prescott stumbled backwards as the ship rocked under the force of the plasma torpedo.
"Damage report!" Prescott shouted to Lieutenant Hilson at tech station.
"Sir, we have hull breaches on decks seven through ten." Hilson said in her soft female voice.
"Vent atmosphere and seal off those deck areas," Prescott ordered regaining his balance, "And evac the crews from the decks surrounding them."
"Aye sir," Hilson acknowledged.
"Sir," Parker said turning his head to face the Admiral.
"What is it Parker?" Prescott asked.
"Sir, port thrusters are overheating at a high rate." Parker said urgently.
"Vent coolant to thrusters, and bring us about to face the Covenant ships.
"Aye sir." Parker ssid typing in the coordinates.
Prescott faced the center screen as the ship rotated. Slowly the remaining Covenant ships came into view. Most had turned and broke formation, but one destroyer remained, and it was preparing a second plasma projectile.
"Sir, sensor warning." Leias' artificial voice announced.
"Sir it seems the enemy torpedo has changed course. It's turning back towards the ship." she said, remaining calm.
"Damn." Prescott cursed. This was begining to look hopeless.
The hard faced Captain McNeal looked down at his navigational Lieutenant.
"Jacobs." he said addressing the man.
"Yes, sir?" the man said turning his head to face the Captain.
"How, far are we from Connelys' position?" McNeal asked.
"Sir, we're at eighty-thousand kilometers and closeing."
Jacobs replied cooly.
"Good," McNeal said standing from his command chair, "Are we within communication range?"
"Sir not yet, but once we reach fourty thousand kilometers we can asstablish radio contact." Jacobs said facing the center screen.
Black space filled half the screen, while the deep green planet of, Angus four, filled the other.
And as the ship moved through the low atmosphere it rounded the side of the planet.
In the distance the Captain could see small dots of light. "It must be Connely engaging the Covenant ships." McNeal said to the crew.
"Jacobs, did you contact the rest of the fleet?" McNeal asked still facing the screen.
"Sir, yes sir. Three more UNSC ships are on the way. The Carrier Mongol, and the two destroyers, Sioux, and Triumph.
"I hope it's enough." McNeal said frowning at the screen as bright dots of light flashed on the screen.
"I hope it's enough."
"Prepare to fire," Connely said watching the Covenant destroyer close in, blue pinpoints of light glowing along it's body as it readied it's pulse lasers.
"Fire!" Connely ordered loudly.
The ship shuddered as one of the massive MAC rounds fired toward the Covenant destroyer. Instantly the timer on the screen began ticking down from eight.
"Come on, come on." Connely whispered watching the massive projectile fly through space towards the Covenant destroyer.
Suddenly, plumes of smoke filled the screen as the archer missiles launched.
Connely watched all of them streak after the MAC round. The Admiral quickly faced the Covenant ship as the MAC round slammed into it.
The destroyers shields flashed a brilliant white, then faded and flickered out as the MAC round was sent tumbling through space harmlessly, but the shear force of the round had sent the Covenant ship spinning to starboard.
"This has to work." Connely whispered to himself again, watching the missiles sail towards the destroyer.
But as the missiles drew near, the enemies pulse lasers fired. The plasma rounds impacted on some of the archer missiles causing them to detonate. But it was to late, more than three fourths of the missiles made it through the pulse lasers and found their mark on the Covenant ship.
Pock marks of fire dotted the Covenant ships outer hull as the missiles impacted.
"Sir," Mickerson said from his station, "Over eighty percent of our missiles hit the destroyer sir."
"Good," Connely said with a sigh.
Connely stood from his command chair, watching the rest of the destroyers hull catch fire, and melt away as enternal explosians damaged the ship.
"But this fight isn't over."
Hope you enjoyed it, sorry if I take to long to get them out.
Rites of Passage: Arrival
Date: 30 December 2004, 9:47 PM
Authors note
Well I think maybe some of you have been waiting (Doughtful) so here it is, Rites of Passage the new version. I've have worked long and hard, reading war book and Halo book alike. I've completely redevoted myself to Halo and the UNSC military.
Hell I even know the name of the Marine Corp issue armour the M52B and the S90 gas mask and the MK71 emergancy food prep. station. And the SL23 field radio and much more. Trust me none of this is made up, it's all come straight from the game and books. Also by using the books, game and websites I've managed to plot out a timeline for the Human-Covenant war. Which I will have to submit sometime.
But until then,I hope you enjoy this story.
I was seventeen when I joined the Marine Corps, extremely naive, and dangerously close to competence in several fields of endeaver that served absolutely no purpose: football, baseball, and basketball. Obviously I was in no danger of being classified a genius. I remember sincerely fearing that the war would be over before I got there. Like I said, in no danger of being a genius.
Four days after I sighned the enlistment papers, me and a bunch of kids about my age were herded onto a huge, (This was before I saw a UNSC crusier.) fleet ship and taken to Reach for a fun filled year of basic training. But it wasn't until the day me, and the rest of my training platoon was shipped off on a UNSC troop ship to a colony in the heart of the Colons sysyem that that "Oh no, what have I done?" feeling hit me.
You know, the feeling you get deep in the pit of your stomach when you step in a pile of dog crap and don't realize it until you've walked across the living room carpet. I didn't smell anything, but my stomach said "check your boots" as the pelican dropship left the docking bay of the troop ship and headed for the large green globe of Draco 3.
The one comforting thought was that I wasn't alone. The pelican bulged with young Marine Corps faces. Private first class Richard Chang was the only one I knew very well. We had been together since Camp Smitherson, one of the hundreds of Marine Corps training camps on Reach.
We couldn't get away from each other. Bunkies at Smitherson, bunkies at ITR (Infantry Training Regiment) School, bunkies at warfare school in Camp Tampa, another training school on Reach and now we sat next to each other on a pelican landing at Trenact airbase on Draco 3.
The blistering sun stung my eyes as I steped off the rear ramp of the pelican. I tried to be ready to duck. The pilot had hollered back during the approach that one pelican load of Marines had gotten hit on landing pad, but I couldn't hear any gunshots or plasma fire, just a moronic sergeant screaming, "Move it! Move it! Move it!" By the time my feet touched the solid ground my eyes adjusted enough to see a hot blue sky without a single cloud. A sleek impressive jet-black Longsword fighter-bomber floated down onto the landing pad nearby with a loud whine. Missile batteries launched deadly payloads of artillery into the sky nearby. The Marine in front of me whistled. "Man! They mean business." God, I thought, this is the real thing. I'm in a war. I mumbled a quick prayer, something I hadn't done since I was fourteen.
A second pelican floated down one hundred meters to our right. Except this pelicans stubby wings were equipped with Anville 2 missle pods, and it's 70mm auto cannon had two foot longer barrel for higher accuracy. The roar of another Longsword streaking through the sky snatched my eyes as it climbed sharply above the steep green moutains surrounding Trenact.
We double-timed over to a processing area. It was a couple of hundred yards away, but by the time we stopped, I was dripping wet. The pilot of the pelican said it was 119 degrees. I'd thought he'd been joking.
The battle for Draco 3 was in full swing, luckily for us all the major fighting was consintrated around a place called Liberty City. It had been the top story on Reach for weeks, on TV the urban fighting looked like old World War 2 documenteries.
Chang stood in front of me in the alphabetical line of Marines filing past a loud dispersing officer. Each man handed him a set of orders which he grabbed quickly and stamped with a big rubber stamp as he screamed, "Fifth Marines!" I tapped Chang on the shoulder.
"Why's everbody going to the Fifth Marines? They can't need this many replacements."
Chang looked over his shoulder with one of those "Boy have I got news for you" looks. "Oh, I think they might have accomidations for us. That's the one of the regiments that's fighting for Liberty City.
"Thanks, buddy," I said with a hard slap on his back. "I can always depend on you to find a bright spot in all this."
"Move it! Move it! Move it!" shouted the sergeant.
A moment later the big rubber stamp came down on my orders like the authority of God. "Fifth Marines!"
Authors note
Well I hope you enjoyed it, and yes I know it was boring but the begining of stories always are. But don't worry it will get better.
Rites of Passage: Into the Frying Pan
Date: 7 January 2005, 9:30 PM
After recieving our orders we marched to a large dusty tent that was surrounded by a four foot wall of sandbags. As a darkly tanned corpral called out names, each man stepped into the tent. Inside, a corpral with a huge black mustache handed me an MA5B assault rifle, five magazines, and two bandoliers of ammuntion. One of the men got a rifle with a huge plasma burn on the stock. When they gave the same guy a helmet with a plasma burn across the side of it, he nearly came unraveled.
Twenty minutes later we were herded into a waiting Pelican dropship for a short flight to a town called Darrisville, it was a small town, one of the many suberbs on the outskirts of Liberty City, and according to our knowledge, one of the only ones left standing after the Covenant attack. The flight would have been more comfortable, if not for the cramped space and rifles sticking in my ear. One guy said we were taking the long way, around the moutains and such to avoid potshots by Covenant anti-aircraft weapons. I wanted to be mentally ready for being shot at, but there was a fine line between ready and panic.
Darrisville was the base camp for the Fifth Marines, that is, those that weren't already in Liberty. It didn't look like a dangerous place, aside from some of the buildings that were pock marked with bullet holes and plasma burns, it looked fairly civilized. Large stone and wooden houses with shingled roofs and air conditioning.
Sandbag bunkers dotted the town and everything was colored beige from the dust of tanks and vehicles rolling through the dirt streets. I soon found out that the civilized part of Darrisville belonged to the officers and pilots. The infantry area was all tents, large box-like things made of a canvas material, all with zipper flap doors hanging wide open to catch what little breeze there was. Damn brass and flyboys anyway.
Darrisville sat fifteen miles from Liberty city. Just a quick ride north on the lone, paved road would take me to Liberty. Another little longer ride in the opposite direction would take me back to Trenact.
We were taken to a large tent where an old, crusty looking master gunnery sergeant with a giant silver handlebar mustache screamed, "Attention!" The chattering tent went silent.
"I am Master Gunnery Sergeant O'Connel. I will help you in your indoctrination on the Fifth Marine Regiment." The old sergeant gave his great mustache a slow proud twirl and turned to a large blackboard behind him. "This is the most decorated regiment in the UNSC Marine Corps." He spoke as he wrote "UNSC Recomindation" at the top of the blackboard. "Some of you may remember hearing about this in boot camp. The Fifth Marines are the only Regiment allowed to wear anything but standard issue, you are allowed were this pin on your dress uniform, he gestured toward the words on the blackboard. The Fifth Marines fought in South America during the Rainforest Wars and on Mars during the Martion Campaign both against Kolsolvic. We have also fought in every major ground engagement against the Covenant since Harvest."
He put his hands on his hips, standing with his boots more than shoulder width apart. He beamed with pride as he stuck out his barrel-shaped chest. "We have the highest kill ratio on Draco 3 so far. The Colonel does not intend for that to change.
Thoughts of all kinds scrambled through my mind like a blender. I felt scared and excited and lonely at the same instant, but mostly excited. I couldn't wait to write a letter home and tell everyone all about it. I didn't know a bloody thing about it yet, but I knew I had to keep a few girls worried to make sure I got a lot of mail.
After the indoctrination, we were led to a small firing range where we got a chance to make sure our weapons worked, a small item I hadn't given thought to. A sunburned sergeant began shouting. "The first ten in colum spread out facing the targets at the ready position. Feet spread! Rifles at the ready! Move it! Count off!"
"Nine!" I shouted as my turn came to jog into a position facing ten large black-and-white bull's-eyes staked to the side of a fifty-foot long by ten-foot tall mound of dirt. The targets looked about one hundred meters away, just inside the barbed-wire perimeter surrounding Darrisville.
"Lock and load!" I checked my magazine and flicked my rifle off safety. "Step two of the prone position! Drop to the knees holding rifle securely! Drop to your stomach breaking your fall with the butt of the rifle!" I dropped to my stomach and took aim at the bull's-eye straight ahead.
"Aim and fire!" shouted the sergeant, and I did. Nothing! I squeezed the trigger again. My weapon sent out a harmless click amidst the continuous firing from the other nine rifles. My stomach churned as I looked past the targets to the unfriendly moutains beyond.
The sergeant quickly found me a rifle that worked, but the broken firing pin left me with serious doughts. "Check your boots," my stomach said.
Now that my confidence was thoroughly shaken we were led back to a large row of dusty tents. A voice shouted to get in formation so we did. An M12 TC (Troop Carrier) drove by with a full load of Marines, covering us with a solid layer of dust. The men in the warthog howled with laughter at us. Some shouted friendly insults about our new uniforms and clean boots. We stuck out like big green thumbs. Every person we'd seen so far was dressed in Marine battle utilites, armour, combat boots etc.
The men in the truck looked hard. Their uniforms and armour were tattered and torn. The men hadn't shaved in a long time, their skin was dark from the Draco 3 sun, and they looked lean and mean like Marines are supposed to look. We looked like fat, happy kids, clean-shaven, with side-walled haircuts and spit-shined stateside boots. But I had a feeling that all that would change.
I hope everyone enjoyed this one as well.
Rites of Passage: We Stand Alone Together
Date: 14 January 2005, 10:18 PM
After the convoy of Warthogs was passed out of site, a small snappy corpral began shouting our names in alphabetical order. Once we were all accounted for, we filed into the first in the long row of tents, or huts as they were effectionately nicknamed. This one was larger than the rest of the other zipper-flapped canvas like tents, which meant it had a special purpose.
Once inside, a tough-looking supply sergeant shouted at me, "What's your size, Marine?" Like everyone else, I recieved the standard issue M52B Marine armour, a cartridge belt, a canteen, four M9-HE frag grenades, one Marine shoulder strap pack and a new pair of VG27 Marine combat boots, and a few other utilites, rations flares etc.
After that we were led to different tents according to the platoons and companies we had been assigned. Unbelievably, Chang and I were together again, same company, same platoon.
Inside our tent were two rows of cots. At the end of one row, dwarfing the small cot he slept on, rested a giant red-headed man. His arms looked as big as my legs, and he must have had on size sixteen boots, which like his utilities, were bleached beige from the sun and rain and altering weather of Draco III. They looked molded to his feet as if they were moccasins he hadn't taken off for years.
I wanted to talk about this adventure with him right now. Chang must have thought the same thing. We walked to the end of the tent and sat side by side on the cot next to him. I wasn't sure what he might think, since the rest of the tent was empty. It reminded me of standing at the end of a row of twenty unoccupied urinals and having one guy walk in and take the one right next to me.
He looked like a Viking. A big red mustache matched his hair. He was the most handsome red-headed man I'd ever seen, not that that's what I'm into or anything. He was a real billboard or TV commercial Marine. I leaned closer to tap him on the shoulder. As he rolled over, the cot creaked under the strain. I knew one thing for sure: I wanted this monster on my side when the fighting started. He opened one large blue eye, which focused in on Chang.
"What are you doing in here?"
Chang jumped to his feet and almost fell over the cot. I looked from Chang back to the red-head. A friendly smile had appeared behind the large red mustache. He laughed deep and strong, then stuck out his hand. Chang hesitated for an instant then shook it.
"My name is Red. They call me Big Red. You two look like boots."
"We are," I said. "Just got in today."
"What platoon are you in?" He rolled back to a comfortable position.
"Second Platoon," Chang said. "Third Battalion, Fifth Marines."
"That means your with me. What's your MOS?"
"My military occupational specialty is 0012." Chang said dryly.
"We're both 0012s." I said.
A big smile stretched across Red's face.
"More mobile infantry." He paused before adding "More meat for the grinder."
Chang and I both exchanged a quick glance before I asked, "How bad is it?" Red rolled back over to face me. "You know, the fighting." I continued.
Red continued to just look at me. I was about to ask again when he spoke.
"I was in the First Battalion when operation Green Machine, started."
Chang and I both leaned closer to the cot.
"We took the Hardale road in, with plunty of forces, almost all of the Fifth Marine Division." He paused again. "Then moved into the city after the artillary units had finished pounding the hell out of our entrence point. Dog 7, that was it's codename." He paused, seeming not to realize Chang and I were both still there, then continued as if he hadn't stopped.
"We were split up by Companies, and mobilized to different objective points. I was in Bravo Company, and our objective was to secure a rally point in the city for the vehicle colums that had followed us in." He paused again. "It was a large plaza, it was surrounded by rubble except for three hotels, they looked as if they hadn't been touched by the bombing. We secured the plaza and waited for the vehicles. Well we should have known what was coming but I guess sometimes....." He paused looking at nothing in paricular with a weird look, as if he could see the event taking place before him.
"The Covies hit us with everything they had, artillary, snipers, you name it. Most of their forces were consentrated in those three hotels, but they also seemed to just materilize out of the rubble. They hit the vehicles first and worked their way down. They cut us up and widdled us down piece by piece." He paused again before continuing.
"I remember seeing three men trying to unload weapons from a warthog troop carrier when it took a direct hit from plasma artillary fire." He paused quickly. "I can still hear their screams." His head dropped as if he was about to fall back asleep when it came back up again.
"Anyway, we held the plaza and established a temporary camp for the Battalion engineers." He paused still staring at nothing, then looked at Chang and I.
"Next day, I was hit, and when I left the men where grabbing engineers and sticking rifles in their hands." He rolled back in the cot again and was silent.
Chang and I looked at each other again. If it was that bad, we would need all the advice we could get. I leaned over and tapped him on the shoulder again. He looked up at me.
"What should we do to get ready? I mean is there anything we should know?" I asked.
"You probably oughta take take your dog tags off the chain. They make noise at night; it'll get you killed. If your head gets blown off they probably won't find your tags and you won't be identified. Stick them in your boots, the boots usually hold together and don't make noise. If you got anything you want to keep dry, put it in plastic and stick it between your helmet and helmet liner."
As Red continued to give us advice I wondered about his story, if the fighting was that bad, I wondered how long I would last. But I knew for one thing I was going to have to listen to Red, his advice scared me and so had his story but if I was to go home alive I knew I'd better listen.
Finally Red finished, and as Chang and I stood to walk away he spoke again. "Oh and one more thing." We both turned to face him.
"Welcome to Draco III."
Hope this one was good to, and don't worry it's going to go until it's done.
Rites of Passage: A Bridge Way to Far
Date: 16 February 2005, 9:55 PM
After his heartwarming story and advice, Red went to sleep. Chang and I had a thousand more questions, but we didn't dare wake him again. I couldn't understand how he managed to sleep. The 'hut' was full of flies, the heat was sweltering, and every time a Warthog or tank passed, heavy clouds of dust poured into the tent like the receiving bag of a vacuum cleaner.
Chang leaned back on his cot, using his pack for a pillow. He pulled his writing paper out of his shirt pocket.
"Tell Valerie hi for me," I said.
"I'm writing my parents." I wasn't surprised. Chang seemed very close to his parents.
"How's it been going with you and Valerie?" I asked.
"She loves me, and I love her." He paused, and then shook his head dejectedly. "But her mothers another story. Mrs. Gallina is doing everything she can to stop our relationship."
I laughed softly; according to Chang Mrs. Gallina was some what of a racist. Also Chang was neither Italian nor Catholic. All in all, the odds were stacked heavily against Chang.
A heavy rain pelted the 'hut' all night and didn't stop until morning. I knew because I was too excited to sleep. The day started like all other days in the Corps, with a formation. The mud was drying fast. It was 6 A.M., and I was already grimy with sweat. We marched to the chow hall which turned out to be a large metal garage-like building, and got our first taste of planet side Marine Corps food. This turned out not only to be eatable, but good. But we didn't get to keep it long; shortly after chow the brass had us on a two mile force march around Darrisville. Needless to say, that many of the boots were heaving the contents of their stomachs onto the ground and one another. This process continued for two days, with sleep coming on faster and faster every night. Apparently bone tiredness out weighs excitement.
On the third day the entire group of boots was herded into a large plastic 'hut' surrounded by sandbag walls. The atmosphere was serious. Fifty to seventy-five of us crowded in, and no one spoke. I felt nervous. Ten rows of benches made plastic command 'hut' (At least that's what I assumed it was.) look like a chapel. A large blackboard surrounded by two large maps stood at the front, beside them was a large black pedestal; I assumed it was a holo-tank, for holographic projections. Someone yelled "Attention!" We jumped to our feet. I felt like I was in a movie, getting orders to bomb or attack some city. Liberty City instantly came to my mind. Maybe this was it; maybe we were finally being mobilized to Liberty.
A small man with prematurely gray hair and dark sunglasses strode into the plastic 'hut'. He hustled to a platform in front of the maps. He looked more like a stockbroker than a major in the Marine Corps, but his chest tag said it all. 'Major William C. Germont.'
"At ease." He picked up a pointer stick and began to talk.
"You are members of the Fifth Marines. The Fifth is now knee-deep in Operation Green Machine. The Fifth and certain other Marine divisions have been given the task of retaking Liberty City. It is estimated that there is roughly two divisions worth of Covenant troops inside Liberty and also roughly three battalions worth in the surrounding area. Now these numbers are subject to change, as more Covenant reinforcements arrive every day." He turned and using his pointer stick, circled the area around Liberty. "The smaller Covenant forces around Liberty have been attempting to ensnare the surrounding area in a strangle hold. They have been trying to cut off our supply lines and convoys for the past several weeks, now that is were you come in." He paused a moment letting everything he'd said sink in. "Now, I know you all have a lot of questions, but this is all you need to know: You are UNSC Marines, the finest fighting men in the history of the galaxy. We have never lost a war, this should make you proud. Now attention!"
The 'hut' full of sidewall haircuts snapped to attention. "Repeat after me: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death"-the chorus of youthful voices stuttered out the words like they had never heard them before-"I shall fear no evil." We repeated the second part more clearly: "For I am the meanest mother in the valley!" I loved it! I felt psyched enough to take on the whole Covenant army.
"Saddle up!"
My stomach jumped up to my throat. This was it, not a daydream. I was really going into battle. Half of me wanted to get into this war and get it over with. The other half wanted my mommy to wake me up for school before this dream got carried away.
Ten minutes later I found myself in the back of a Warthog troop carrier heading up the highway leading away from Darrisville. I didn't even remember getting in the hog. "Are you all right?" The voice was coming out of a fog. "James, are you okay?" It was Chang.
"Yeah. I'm fine, and call me Jamie." I'd never liked being called James, maybe it was because that was all my mother had ever called me, even though I had insisted on Jamie.
Red was sleeping near the rear of the Warthog. It was good to see him. I'd only known the guy for a couple of days, and I was hard-pressed to squeeze more than a sentence at a time out of him, but he radiated self-confidence, and some special quality in him, possibly his honesty, made me trust him immediately.
The ride down the highway was smooth going for a little while. But as we progressed large craters began to appear, pock marking the road. A few of the Marines in the hog commented, saying that they were from Covenant plasma artillery, while others said it was from Air Corps strikes against enemy troop movements. This made the ride suitably less comfortable.
The ride got even slower though, when two huge Scorpion M808B Main Battle Tanks appeared from somewhere to lead the convoy. A third Scorpion pulled in behind the convoy only moments later bringing up the rear. I couldn't help but stare at its massive 90mm high velocity cannon.
"That thing could knock out this whole convoy!" I said a bit more loudly than intended. Chang looked at me with a friendly look of disdain.
"Brilliant, Sherlock, did you figure that out all by yourself?"
I did sound a bit "Gee-whiz," but emotions I had never known were bouncing around from my brain to my stomach. My body tingled. I felt overwhelmed with expectation. I felt exhilaration like never before, then paranoia, then excited again. This is crazy, I had to keep telling myself. I have to control myself or I'm going to get killed for sure. I thought I heard missile artillery in the distance. A flight of Pelicans roared over the convoy at tree-top level. Now the sounds of war echoed more clearly. My hands were clammy. My mouth tasted like vinegar. A skinny Marine sitting close to Red knocked on his helmet. Red peered from underneath the helmet with one groggy eye. The other eye remained closed.
"Yeah?"
The skinny guy hesitated then blurted out, "What's it like?"
"It's a job."
"How bad is Liberty?" asked another Marine. "I heard we're taken heavy casualties."
Red pulled out a cigarette from his helmet liner then removed the safety strip and tapped the end to ignite it. He looked like a cigarette poster.
"If you want to keep anything dry you better put it in you helmet right now." The men started fumbling for their wallets. Chang and I had already done that. "Don't worry about Liberty, just don't go playing Rambo. I doubt we'll get deployed to Liberty anytime soon. Besides, I heard we're getting bridge duty.
"What's that?" I asked.
"We guard the bridges along the highway. You see." He gestured down the road. "This highway links up to the Hardale road, and the Hardale road is where the Fifth gets all it's supplies and reinforcements from. If the bridges fall on this highway, the highway falls. If this highway falls, Hardale falls, and if Hardale falls, Liberty falls."
"Is it bad? you know, bridge duty." blurted the skinny guy.
"It's skate duty. Slack city. You don't have march through the forest except for a few patrols, and sometimes you get beer or soda off the supply convoys going by. Take advantage of it, man. It won't last long. You'll know what war is soon enough."
The men moved in closer to Red, hoping for that one piece of advice that might keep them alive. Everyone started asking questions at once. He held up one hand to stop the onslaught.
"Now listen up. The smartest thing you can do is this: When you get to your squad, find a salt, somebody who's been here awhile. Ask him what you have to know, stick with him, and do what he says. Keep that MA5B clean, you don't want a dirty weapon at the moment of truth." I wanted to ask what the moment of truth was, but decided against it. "If you fall asleep on the line, you'll probably get killed and you'll deserve it."
Twenty questions later we pulled up to an old steel bridge that was painted black. It looked like an old suspension bridge for trains, but it was strictly for road traffic. It stretched across a wide forest river that was reddish black from decaying leaves that swirled near its surface and lay in piles on its bed. Rolls of barbed wire encircled the bridge, and thick, five-foot -high metal shield like bunkers guarded each end.
A corporal jumped out of a hog near ours and started shouting. "Welcome to Darren bridge! Second Platoon, get out! Move it! Move it! Hurry up, you're makin' a great target!" We lined up in formation in front of a destroyed Warthog, it's tires were gone, and its M41 chain gun had been removed. Twenty yards to the right of the tank stood a three-story sandbag with the barrel of a M247 30-caliber machine gun sticking out near the top.
Just to the left of the bridge and behind the three-story bunker sat five small white cement bunkers. Directly in front of us on the other side of the road was another long cement bunker riddled with plasma scorches. Thirty meters to the right of that building was a huge camouflaged parachute spread fully open and tied to three trees. Under the parachute, sheltered from the murderous sun, sat twelve Marines. Some were playing cards; others were sleeping.
As we stood in formation, an old gunnery sergeant approached us. His eyes passing over everyone as he studied the column of boots. Then he spotted Red. "Red, is that you? It's good to see you." He walked over to Red, turned his head, and spit out a shot of tobacco like a major leaguer. They shook hands. Red then spoke, "What are you guys doing back here?" he asked. The gunny frowned, "After you left, we got the living hell kicked out of us Red. To many casualties, so we were pulled out and replaced by elements of E and B companies. And we've been stuck here ever since." The gunny then lowered his voice to say something only Red was supposed to hear. I heard two words to many: "...got killed."
The butt of an M90 shotgun rested on the gunny's hip. He wore special bandoliers full of shotgun shells, and small leather pouches full of more shells on his cartridge belt. He looked like my grandpa coming back from a hunting trip. He even spit like Grandpa.
As Red and the gunny continued to talk, I suddenly became aware of a distant rumbling, like artillery fire. I could also hear, if I listened hard enough, the sporadic sputter of machine gun fire. Above all, I could defiantly hear the roar of Longsword engines. I looked around, trying to determine the location of the noise. Then my eyes caught something, above the trees to the north. My eyes must have passed over it a dozen times and just thought it to be clouds. Small tendrils of black smoke rose above the tree-tops to the north. I slowly craned my neck and rose onto my tip-toes to see above the trees a little more. As I did, the small tendrils became thick columns of jet black smoke, blocking out the sky for a long distance. I knew instantly what it was, Liberty City.
"Okay, follow me!" I snapped back to the bridge and out of my thoughts. Red followed the gunny to the front of the column, then we started a slow walk behind the gunny onto the bridge. I tried to crane my neck high enough to see the smoke again, but it was to far behind the trees now. In some way, as we walked onto the bridge, I felt like I was being cheated. There in Liberty, was were all the action was. And I was stuck here, on some lousy bridge. I felt like I was never going to see action, never get into the war. Boy was I in for a big surprise.
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