Chapter 3

Fifth Marines, San Mateo, Camp Pendleton, Ca

With a wide smile on his face, Staff Sergeant O’Brien reported to the H&S company first sergeant.

“Well, fuck me. Another dumb-shit with a stupid grin. Shut the hatch...”

The two men locked their right hands together and put their left hands over the other’s right forearm. It was a greeting of trusted comrades at arms.

“Oh, wait one, there is someone you should see...” Opening the door, “Is Staff Sergeant Carlton out there? ... Good, send her in ASAP.”

Closing the door, the first sergeant could see his young staff sergeant laughing to himself.

“Just shut up, pecker-head.”

O’Brien laughed louder.

A knock on the door and the door opened to reveal a tall, very fit, staff sergeant.

“Opie?!?! God-fucking damn its good to see ya. How’s it hanging?”

O’Brien laughed some more.

“It is a shitty and miserable place out there. Damn good to be back and damn good to see ya. How the fuck ya been, Jake?” Is Cooker still at K-bay?”

“I was treading water until our intrepid first sergeant and the fearless Gunner brought me down from G-2. What a fuck story. Cooker is still almost as stupid as you, and will be at Third Marines until January. And he’s going to Pendleton SOI to run their program. By the way, fucker, I lost $20 because of you. The gunner bet me that you’d be back in under sixty days. I said over sixty. Next time, stay home and chase tail, asshole.”

With a stern smile, Opie replied.

“Jake, what a whiny bitch.” Then mocking disappointment, “I am just fuckin crushed that you doubted me. Did you bet, first sergeant?”

“No, I am old and wise enough to not put money against someone that is older and wiser than me. The gunner also had several other victims. Speaking of victims, shouldn’t Lieutenant Garza be in here? He’s going to be Opie’s reporting senior. And as the new S2 alpha, maybe he should listen in?”

“Aye, first sergeant, want me to get a conference room?”

“Yeah, that’s an idea, Do it. Wait ... get the room next to S-1, give a courtesy notice to the staff, and we’ll do both of the briefs that we talked about. Need to get them done; there’s going to be a shit-storm afterwards, so let’s get it out of the way.”

“Aye, first sergeant, will do. On my way ... Opie, chow at 1215?”

“Sounds good, Jake.”

Sitting at a table in the far corner of the area mess, O’Brien and Carlton talked softly, their conversation being of ‘dangerous’ content.

“Opie, Cooker is not doing well. He wants to live alone when he returns.”

O’Brien stared at his good friend in disbelief. Cooker and Jake had always been solid as the mountains.

“The MEU staff chief himself asked about him, so you need to know that they are watching people - and you are probably one of them. The last several months have been bad. Don’t know if you heard anything since back from Africa, but the shit is getting worse in the sandbox. Its more than the increasing casualty rates, we’re seeing a huge increase in suicides. On top of that stress, all of the T/E and T/O changes, then they change back, then change again. Which has totally fucked the Three shop’s ability to nail down structural planning or a training schedule, and for S-2 to do any useful field templates or other intel. We’re looking at a cluster-fuck for the deployment work-up - mostly from reduced time and unknown unit assignments. And last week, the intellectuals at I-MEF or HQMC or whoever, decided to change the type of squadrons in the MEU’s ACE.”

“Damn, sounds just like the boss we had back in 2003/2004 in Falujah. We lost about half of the platoon over that fuck-up. Heads up there, Marine. In addition to yours and the gunner’s bombs, isn’t that a clever pun? I am gonna drop a somewhat radical idea on the S2 and S3 zeros. You think they will listen to a grunt peon?”

“Yeah, yeah, just another of your clever, hilarious puns, you asshole. And will they listen to you?!? Christ tap dancing, Opie. You really are an idiot. There is no one in 1st, 3d, 5th, or 7th Marines, or any fucking infantry unit, that would not listen. Not because of your cross, but because every time you are given a shit sandwich, you walk out with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“Consider me fuckin impressed. You’re now a full-blown philosopher. Full of erudite sayings and thoughtful observations. Maybe you can be a Marine version of Buddha? ... Ok, I will try not to sound like an ignorant red-neck at our little gathering of minds and mindless. I can pretend to be educated and civilized, just watch.”

Carlton could not decide whether to laugh or to throat-punch her friend, so she settled for giving him the middle finger. The remainder of their chow interlude was 20 minutes of short, intense planning communicated in a short-hand available only to friends.

Carlton and O’Brien were sitting at her desk in S-2 going over notes, reports, and point papers. O’Brien appeared to be studying his presentation notes, but was actually in that special place, allowed by the voice of his long-idolized, former squad leader. In his mind, he played the familiar mantra of his former squad leader, Sgt Jay, ‘ok people, close your eyes and listen to my voice... ‘

O’Brien emerged less than ten minutes later when he heard the S-2 chief and Carlton talking.

“The Sergeant Major just called, said that the staff just had the schedule cleared for this afternoon. It’s going to be done at 1430. And your little meeting is now in the main conference room. You and your shooter will have the eyes and ears of most of the staff officers. This is our one chance to fix this unholy gaggle and save our sorry butts. Listen Carlton, don’t take B.S. from anyone, even the Gunner. And O’Brien, whatever you and Lieutenant Garza have in mind for your little band of thieves, this is your one chance to educate and enlighten about the capabilities and limits of the S/S platoon. Don’t offer complex solutions; which is why we have this damned mess.

O’Brien nodded his head in the affirmative, while Carlton provided a positive-sounding, “Aye, top. We’re going to do this. And we have the first sergeant backing us.”

Opie and Jake sat in chairs along the back wall of the battalion conference room watching the staff file in. The S2 and S3 officers were at the small podium in front talking and putting files on the computer used to run the projector. O’Brien whispered to Carlton,

“another slow and painful death by power-point. Don’t they know its illegal to torture us?”

Jake gave a half-grin, but she was careful not to say anything. The S4 came in with his alpha and chief, and stopped to talk to the S-3 major. The S-2 alpha walked in and looked around, saw O’Brien, then went to the back wall after he grabbed a chair from the side wall and stood next to his scout/sniper leader.

“I am Lieutenant Garza. Very glad to have you back, staff sergeant. After this party, you and your partner in crime need to stop by my office.”

O’Brien stood up to greet the man he assumed to be his next boss.

“Good to meet the lieutenant, sir. I wanted to discuss my proposals with the lieutenant one-on-one for approval before this, but our little meeting seems have grown out of control.”

As the lieutenant and the staff sergeant shook hands, he noted that he was a bit old for his rank, thinking that this was a damn good, as they most likely had themselves a mustang. They both sat down. The Lt leaned towards O’Brien.

“You have been doing this job for a while, so unless you are advocating taking the commandant and POTUS on patrols outside the wire, sound off with whatever comes to mind, Marine. I’m all ears, and the platoon is yours.”

O’Brien was somewhat surprised at the latitude his new boss had just provided him, realizing that its time for him to sink or swim in this new S-2 and battalion organization. All staff except the S-1 pukes had filed in, so the S-3 officer started the meeting.

“People, this is not, per se, a formal planning meeting, it was originally intended to be an S2 and S3 session to bounce some ideas around for submittal to the old man...”

The hatch swung open with the H&S 1st Sgt and the battalion Sgt Maj walked in followed by the battalion XO and five company commanders, then the S-3 Gunner. The Sgt Maj, to O’Brien’s consternation, continued to walk the length of the conference room to stand beside him at the back of the room. The XO immediately called the room to attention and in walked the BLT commanding officer, followed by the MEF chief of staff. Carlton and O’Brien exchanged ‘WTF’ expressions with each other.

LtCol Macon took the podium.

“Appreciate the attendance given the extremely short notice. But that is how our Corps operates. We have reached the limit of the ability of this chaos to create growth and opportunity and success. We’re going to turn that around here before it is too late. Colonel Bascomb is here to listen and be I-MEF’s ears. Neither the colonel or myself care how we got to this point, we only care about how we will go forward ... Major, its yours...”

The lt colonel and the colonel sat down at the front of the conference table.

The S-3 officer provided an interesting opening statement, “Good Afternoon, Sir. I am not here to re-arrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. I do not want to fix the Titanic. I don’t even want to board the Titanic. I am proposing a vehicle other than the Titanic. Gunner?”

The gunner startled all as he, abruptly and forcefully, directly went into the oral presentation of principal points, without any prelude, and without a ‘death by power-point’ presentation.

“One - four machine guns per squad.

Two - at least three DMs per company.

Three - the S/S platoon will run a local DM program on our schedule, not the SOI’s.

Four - I scheduled one Edson range non-stop for the next four months. Case Springs and range 409 and range 210 for every other week for the next four months. Range 117 for two consecutive weeks out of every month for four months.

Five - I MEF triples our ammo budget and doubles our comm budget.

Six - I MEF and Division and Base support our gear going to the front of the line for repair during next four months, and that includes ELMACO.

Seven - No more weak/lame/lazy/crazy. Commanders need to take the trash to the curb within the next 10 days.

Eight - No more T/E or T/O changes that do not originate from Colonel Macon.

Nine - All company commanders get twenty hours field training, conducted by our S/S platoon and the ANGLICO SALT.

Ten - S-4 has ten days to identify and quantify and provide mitigation for supply and armory shortages.

Now the implementation...”

The Gunner paused to pull a stack of papers out of a portfolio, placing it on the conference table to be passed around.

“This new training schedule has been approved by the colonel. Liberty is canceled for all rifle companys, and for S2, and for S3. The S4 shop will need people available 24/7 for the next four months. For the next three weeks, maybe two if the colonel approves, all members of these elements, will live in the Barracks, at least when not in the field, starting tomorrow. Billeting has been arranged ... Questions?”

Point 9 resulted in O’Brien’s consternation, but he remained centered and showed no external sign of a reaction to the point. For the following 45 minutes, there were many questions, mostly from the company commanders. To his credit, the new S-2 Alpha officer made some important points via his questions. O’Brien was impressed with his new boss.

O’Brien, stood and raised his hand until the gunner said, “Not elementary school, Staff Sergeant. What is your question?”

“Sir, does the Gunner have a syllabus for the company commander S/S training?”

“No, that is your job.”

“Sir, would be glad to write a plan and syllabus, but am not able to until the Gunner specifies the training objectives ... and more importantly, the C.O.’s intent.”

“Bingo. Give that Marine a cookie.”

The Gunner paused to look around the room.

“Why were there no other questions about training objectives and commander’s intent?”

The Marines, even the XO, felt an unease descend on the room, with a small dose of shame. O’Brien sat down to reduce his exposure to all of the brass in the room. He looked down hoping it would go away and that attention would focus elsewhere.

“Therefore, we come to our next level of enlightenment.”

The Gunner pulled out another folder and placed the contents on the conference table for distribution.

“This is the ‘Zen’ of what we are doing. Please study it and share with your commands.”

O’Brien was surprised to hear the gunner use the ‘zen’ term. This was the stuff that Sgt Jay had been pushing into his squad years ago. But O’Brien never talked about the philosophies taught by Sgt Jay. O’Brien believed that it was too radical for most commanders, and discussion of such matters would leave you open to disrespect and isolation.

The Gunner looked to his S-3 boss, “Sir, want to bring them up, or hold a later meeting with the XO?”

From the back of the room, the sergeant major spoke up, “Gunner, wait one, please.” The Sergeant Major walked forward to huddle with his battalion CO and XO. They talked for less than 30 seconds.

LtCol Macon nodded his head in agreement to his Sergeant Major.

“Gunner, they started this shit, bring them up now.”

The batallion C.O. stood up to face the room.

“Most of you are probably reeling from the coming changes and sudden rapid increase in operational tempo. The Marine that instigated this, and her co-conspirator, are staff sergeants Carlton and O’Brien. Staff Sergeants? Boots on deck.”

The sergeant major returned to his ‘post’ next to O’Brien and Carlton.

Carlton immediately stood up, but O’Brien remained seated as his friend walked to the front of the conference table. The Sergeant Major looked down at O’Brien.

“Get your ass up there, Marine.”

O’Brien bounced up, then trudged to the front of the conference room thinking that this was the most damnedest and unforeseen evolution. His second full day back and he was already deep in the shit. O’Brien walked up to the front of the conference room to stand behind Carlton.

Carlton started without any preliminaries. Looking at the C.O.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Looking up, she continued “Gentlemen, I am Staff Sergeant Carlton, on loan from I-MEF G-2. As the Gunner has already provided the interesting stuff, I will offer the mundane details that are the basis for these training changes. Not much has changed from Captain Olsen’s two previous intel briefs, our summary was that the BLT has three probable AOs as per a preliminary requirements report from General Dunford’s staff. The areas are not related and are not similar in topography, or in climate, or in tribal politics. But General Dunford wants the BLT to work in all three AOs. The MEU’s AEC cannot support all of these AOs. And the logistics element is currently having trouble counting paper clips and MREs.”

Mild laughter from the company commanders. Carlton waited a respectful time.

“I am going to predict that your tactics will be constrained by poor fire support, and thinly spread over-watch, and too many defilade and flanking positions due to terrain. We cannot always rely on help from the army, as they have been in it up to their ears for a while, and we cannot rely on anything useful from the ANA - but the latter was already expected.”

Carlton paused, she knew that the rifle companies will balk.

“Your constraints, while obvious, cannot be wished away. But we can delimit the delimiters. This is not a clever slogan. Here is why...”

During the next 45 minutes, the SSgt Carlton provided intel for where long-range force projection could be used without over-extending, which AOs had the worst tribal politics, what the most likely weapons and tactics by the Taliban would be, still an educated guess because there was no good recent intel on current Taliban organization, weapons, and tactics. And the myriad details of the history of the communities found in each AO and their various tribal alliances.

“Finally, you may be wondering where these conclusions and recommendations originated. They came from experience and empirical data. I have four log books in a safe at G-2 of my notes from almost 200 informal conversations and over 100 formal de-briefs with officers and staff NCOs that have seen Afghan combat. One formal interview and several informal conversations were with Staff Sergeant O’Brien.”

Carlton point over her shoulder to O’Brien.

“And O’Brien and myself have been doing a lot more talking with the first sergeant and the Gunner. So none of this comes out of a vacuum.”

Jake Carlton paused and stepped back, looking at the captain. The S-2 officer stood up.

“Thanks, Staff Sergeant Carlton. Staff Sergeant O’Brien?”

“Uh, sir, my proposals are of little concern to senior staff, just organizational stuff for the Scout/Sniper platoon. I can take this aside and off-line with the major and the captain so we don’t waste the colonel’s and the company commanders’ time with this...”

“I don’t think you are correct. This should be for all to hear.”

O’Brien resigned himself to doing a command presentation, paused a few seconds to re-center, and pulled out several pages of hand-written notes.

“Uh, afternoon, sir ... uh, while I was on leave, the first sergeant and myself discussed staffing levels and availability for the S/S platoon. It seems that the headcount reduction for the platoon will become the permanent T/O, but demand would probably remain the same when in-country. It is not reasonable for me to tell a company commander that I do not have a team to support his mission. The commanders plan their tactics based on our availability. Whether it be a requirement for over-watch, or intel, or counter-sniper support; these needs generally cannot be met without the organic S/S troops. With a platoon of ten or eleven, I can reliably provide three or four teams at once, for intermittent intervals, and two or three teams at once for continuous levels of demand. For most battalion deployments, S/S platoons never had less than three teams outside of the wire, and at times all eight were in the boonies, plus an ad-hoc team. So the high demand was routinely nine teams.”

O’Brien paused a second to scan his notes.

“But there are other organic troops in the battalion that are seldom severely tasked once in-country. For example, motor-T drivers, S-4 personnel from the warehouse, hell, even the S-6 people in comm platoon.”

O’Brien had not intended using S-6 as a joke, but O’Brien did note that only the company commanders laughed.

“The basis of the proposal, is that all current principal members of the S/S should be shooters only, the ‘HOGs’. So we have to make our own ad-hoc scout/spotters, that is, the ‘PIGs’. PIGs are typically spotters and observers and security. A spotter is a person with exceptional situational awareness, that has a mathematical bent, and that has an excellent memory.”

“A PIG, at least for this proposal, does NOT have to be able to attain the exceptional marksmanship skills of a scout/sniper. But they must be able to attain the professional knowledge of a scout/sniper; that is, understand exterior ballistics and memorize 7.62 tables and have an ‘intuition’ for wind triangles and the associated trigonometry. Furthermore, they must be able to summarize and relay precise and concise intel to commanders, and must possess outstanding field craft, and have good physical and mental stamina.”

“Much of the preceding describes many 0311s. I do not want to use them. It is my opinion that rifle companies should not be tasked with supplying their good marines to S-2. My platoon is supposed to be supporting the rifle companies, not reducing their ranks. And I am certain that there are many POGs that would like to add a CAR to their stack...”

O’Brien was surprised that even the colonel laughed at that.

“So we take volunteers, starting with the 81 platoon and corpsmen. There are two reasons for targeting these people initially, one - 81s are very familiar with math and ballistic tables, and are often under-tasked, and would be good to have in call-for-fire situations. Two - I want corpsmen assigned to the S/S platoon, and for some missions I would like a corpsmen to be a third person on the team for additional security - primarily because of extreme terrain in two of the three possible AOs. The weakness with reason number two is that corpsmen typically have no significant knowledge of marksmanship and are marginal in field-craft and stamina. If using corpsmen for PIGs is not successful, maybe someone could ask BAS for a few extra corpsmen, in general, for S-2?”

“Finally, I have a set of screening questions for the DM candidate’s chain of command. I will submit to Captain Olsen and Lieutenant Garza for approval as soon as I can find a computer. Questions?”

He was surprised that the battalion XO was first with a question, “I have not seen any assignments to the S/S platoon commander. Whom?”

The S-2 officer stood to answer, “Sorry, sir, my bad. Should have provided notification. My alpha is the OIC as a ‘collateral’ duty. But, for training and operational purposes, the platoon belongs to Staff Sergeant O’Brien.”

As was expected, the weapons company commander had the obvious question.

“Suppose half of my 81 platoon volunteers. Would this also be a ‘collateral’ for them; that is, how much time will they lose from primary MOS work-up training and what is the operational commitment?”

“Sir, the captain would lose an estimated 80% to 90% of each individual marine’s 0341 training time to S/S training. Once in-country, I would guess that the requirement would be approximately half of that, but that is dependent on S/S demand per battalion and company commanders, as previously discussed. Sir, I will acknowledge that my use of anti-armor and other such people people would be, tactically, a more appropriate solution for the captain, but I am being selfish here and thinking about my platoon’s mission, not the captain’s mission requirements for weapons company.”

A rifle company commander not recognizable to O’Brien asked, “Why are you thinking about augmenting primarily with just weapons company personnel? What about H&S company?”

“Sir, the reasons that I am focusing on weapons company people vs H&S people are simple - field-craft, marksmanship, and stamina. But I am open to any volunteer from anywhere, except rifle platoons, that would meet S/S requirements and make it through our training. Finally, it looks like we are staffing up the company DMs with an internal program. They could augment the S/S teams for the respective rifle platoon assignments.”

The C.O. nodded to the XO. The major stood up before another company commander could ask a question.

“This concludes this meeting. This meeting, and resultant handouts, are considered ‘confidential’ for OpSec reasons. Review the handouts and submit issues and problems that would prevent implementing the training schedule to me no later than 1900.” The XO called the room to attention, then walked out with the CO and the MEF staff chief.

The battalion sergeant major, being in his usual cranky and gruff sergeant major persona, walked up to O’Brien whom was talking to Carlton and the first sergeant, “Staff Sergeant O’Brien, be in my office in ten.” Then made a quick exit.

“Aye Aye Sergeant Major...”, turning to the first sergeant, “Shit, what did I fuck up, first sergeant? Jake did you hear any major mistake in my presentation?”

“Don’t worry about it, he probably wants to criticize your feeble attempt at growing a mustache.”

Jake laughed, “Come over for chow tonight? Our last night of freedom for a while. I have root beer in the frig. I can do chops, or do you want to do the kitchen chemistry?”

“Sounds fuckin outstanding. I’ll do the main galley work. Have I ever told you that you are my favorite Staff Sergeant?”

Jake laughed again, “Only because Cooker got promoted ... How about 1900?”

O’Brien smiled “Lookin forward to it. Now off to face my impending doom...”

O’Brien hesitated, then knocked on the door jamb, was told to enter, stood at attention in front of his desk, was about to report when he saw the first sergeant standing off to the side. Giving his first shirt a quick ‘WTF’ questioning look, O’Brien started to stutter in attempt to report, but the sergeant major interrupted.

O’Brien stared blankly at his sergeant major.

“Want to know how you got you promoted?”

“Uh, do not understand, sergeant major. I knew I was well below zone. And I never submitted anything to the board. I can only guess command pushed a recommendation through.”

“Well, no shit, Marine. Damn, Bobby, does the Gunner and the captain know that they recommended a moron for promotion?”

“I would have to guess that they are not aware, sergeant major.”

The sergeant major took pity on his confused staff sergeant and explained.

“Here’s what transpired, son. While you were in Balboa, we got together and wrote letters to the president of the board. Some members of the board balked because of your TIS and TIG, but were eventually impressed because about a dozen staff NCOs, four company-grade zeros, two field-grade zeros, and, wait for it, a flag officer, wrote love letters to the board. It also helped that the president of the board had met you once. Of course, your last medal citation might have helped...”

“Uh ... Uh wow. I am sorry sergeant major, but this is a bit much. Wow ... Uh, does the captain know about all of this?”

Both the first sergeant and the sergeant major started laughing.

“Does he fucking know?!? Son, he got this started! The man took his ka-bar, slammed it into your first sergeant’s desk, told him to find a way through the promo board, then told him and myself that if we did not find a way to get you deep-selected he was going to have the Gunner kill us with his ka-bar. It was fucking beautiful - our physics nerd actually yelled and got physical. The XO and the boss were in shock that their little boy was growing up. I still think that the Gunner was behind this...”

Now O’Brien was laughing, “Not my Captain Olsen?!? The man that does calculus for fun? The man that likes to run backwards? The man that lectured me about wind drift as a series of second-order partial derivatives? The man that lectures me about the unlikely physics of Star Trek?”

All three were laughing, and making too much noise when the XO popped in and saw three of his Staff NCOs laughing their butts off, “What’s up, Marines?”

“Nothing much, sir. We’re discussing Captain Olsen.”

The major shook his head, “Never mind. Say no more.” The XO made a hasty and strategic retreat.

“O’Brien, you need to know that Captain Olsen is on your side. The gunner told us that you had problems with the man. I’m telling you that he watched over your people while you were down, and called Balboa every day to get your status. He allowed your sergeant to run the platoon. You need to trust the man.”

“Aye, sergeant major.”

Oceanside, Ca

“Jake, what the fuck? You serving up a rifle squad? There is 12 huge fuckin chops in this package. Ya know what? Let’s fry a few for us, then bake the rest and put it in your freezer.”

“Good plan, Opie.”

O’Brien put four thick chops in the frying pan, chopped more onions, then bagged up the remaining chops for the oven with the onions. “Yeah, 325 for about 45 minutes to an hour for this amount of chops, that way we can do the potatoes ... hmm, let’s do the carrots and potatoes separately. Risk-reduction solution for not getting some shit over-cooked. Tell me I would not have made a great S-3 officer?”

“Oh, give me a break.” Jake was smiling at Opie, “You would want to spend the whole fucking training budget on range time for M40s and M14s and M82s do shit with exotic ammo, and Long Rifle overtime for weeks of night shoots. Do you realize that you are just a big nerd as Captain Olsen? ... albeit tactical and shooting and fishing and history nerd, but still, you and your captain are both nerdus maximus.”

“Speaking of the captain, that reminds me. Did you know there is such a thing as ‘Deep Selection’ for enlisted promos? That you can get promoted even when well below zone?”

“Yeah, so fucking what? It takes a lot of command pressure and a recommendation from Jesus to get selected by the board when below the zone for staff NCO ranks. And what does the S-2 have to do with anything?”

“Well, it seems I got fuckin promoted, mostly due to the weird and insane efforts of Captain Olsen. The Sergeant Major just told me.”

“No fucking shit?!? Farmer is gonna whig when he hears this. What’s your DOR?

“It was back-dated several months.”

“I want to look at the ALMARs for your promo. You watch this chow...”

After a few minutes, Carlton returned from her computer with a shit-eating grin. “Almost three months, Opie. Are you ready for this? There was an asterisk by your name. It says see CMC comments per reference two in ALMAR 037/10. And I cannot find any 037/10. Maybe this shit is redacted like they did to the public release of your cross citation. The head shed in HQMC can get strange at times.”