Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 4

Sea Dogs

The following day signaled the turning point in how Percy decided attacked the cartel fed forces. He started the morning by seeing off the severally injured and dead. A total of twenty-three people were either critically injured or killed; in the eyes of Percy and his NCOs, that was an absolute disaster. He hadn't received much information during debrief the previous night, but he understood that pressuring his men for details when they were emotionally sensitive wasn't the best idea.

Despite the warning that they would receive zero support from outside forces, the Army was quick to send helicopters in order to transport the injured. The hospital in Laredo was in shambles and none of Percy's staff was qualified to handle long-term care. Most of the soldiers being transported would not return to the battlefield.

Percy had his remaining squad leaders lineup for the sendoff. Percy was the closest to the helicopter, beside him was Mackenzie and across the way was Wallace. For each injured soldier placed into a helicopter, they received a quick word of encouragement from Percy's staff. The last injured man to pass them was Sergeant Randall; he had lost an arm and was paralyzed from his waist down. Painkillers had been pumped into him regularly, but the ache he felt couldn't be completely subdued.

When the stretcher reached Wallace, he removed his hat, leaned down and touched his friend's shoulder. "You're going home, Randall," he said to him.

"Aren't I the lucky one?" Randall smiled.

"Take it easy, Sergeant," Percy ordered. Mackenzie offered no words and instead opted to grab his remaining hand. Randall gave her hand a strong squeeze as a way of thanking her. As he was lifted into the helicopter he gave everyone a thumb up – just as they expected of him.

The men that escorted the injured also gave thumbs up and a salute before they took off. Wallace craned his neck to watch; Percy kept his eyes closely locked onto his troubled Sergeant friend; Mackenzie eyed her superior suspiciously. Normally, he would have had a fit over the botched operation. Instead, the Major had remained oddly quiet.

"The transport for the deceased will arrive at 1500hours, Major," she informed him. He faced her when she addressed him. Never did he acknowledge her report. He turned from her and began to walk at a steady pace towards their makeshift base.

"Have you figured out who that woman was yet?" he asked her.

"No, Major," she answered. "She refuses to speak to us and there's no record of her on file."

"Of course there isn't," he barked. "That's why you have a job. Create a file and figure out what God damn language she speaks."

"Right away, Major."

"Yo, Percy!"

Percy looked over his shoulder to see Jordan hustling towards them. The reporter had made himself comfortable along the line of squad leaders, but his camera was tucked away. After all, he considered those soldiers friends of his as much as any other man.

"What is it?" he snapped. He hadn't meant to sound so irritated, but something about Jordan sent him off every time.

"Have you done an autopsy on the two men assassinated?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Mackenzie asked. Percy smiled; she took the words right out of his mouth and that's why she was his confidant. "They were shot, what's the point of an autopsy?"

Jordan felt his smile fall for a brief second. "Well, to see who they were, of course," he answered.

"One was General Prieto, and the other… we couldn't see, his face was too destroyed," Mackenzie answered.

"I was looking over the video, and I'm pretty sure I got a good view of his face," Jordan explained. "I think it was their Secretary of Foreign Affairs."

Percy stopped walking and turned to face the journalist. The Major was a tick shorter than Jordan but was much more imposing. "How do you know who the Mexican Secretary of Foreign Affairs is?"

Before Jordan could answer, a roar from above made everyone crane their necks once more. They barely caught the tail end of a jet as it nearly skimmed across the top of the airport tower. All of the squad leaders browsed the sky, trying to determine where the noise was coming from. Had the cartels acquired enough money for jets? Or had Mexico finally decided to attack Laredo for themselves?

The sound threw everyone off and they weren't sure where to look. The first jet was clearly going supersonic, but they were positive at least one more was in the sky. Soon enough, the first jet had returned, flying over a bit higher and slower. It reached the horizon and turned around again. This time, it was accompanied by several other speckles in the sky.

"Are those Mexican?" a squad leader asked.

"No, those are definitely ours," another answered.

"Marines? Air Force?"

"Uh, Major," a voice over Wallace's walkie sounded. "There are some guys who want to talk to you."

Wallace tossed his walkie over to the Major. "Patch them through," Percy ordered. A few clicks later, he knew that the transfer had been completed. He loved how technology made his job much easier. "This is Major Percival Tad Raymond of the Easy Eight, Commander of the Laredo front. Who am I talking to?"

"Howdy Major!" a much too cheerful voice chirped. "Name's Conroy Lewis, Commander, US Navy. I noticed your runway is still intact. Mind if we use it?"

"What's your post, Commander?"

"Corpus Christi. We've been flying all over Texas for a place to land. Now listen here, I'd love to talk this over with you but I have an injured pilot and not much fuel left."

Percy snapped his fingers and pointed at Mackenzie. She nodded, knowing exactly what was being asked. She needed to have a report of Conroy and his men by the time they landed, no excuses. As she sprinted towards her office, Percy snapped and pointed again. This time, it was at Patterson. The Sergeant nodded, knowing he needed to get a few medics rounded up.

Finally, he answered the Commander, "We'll have medics awaiting your arrival."

"Attaboy, Major!" Conroy yelled. "I appreciate you Army boys lookin' out for us Jacks!"

"What a pain in the ass," Percy sighed as he tossed the walkie back to Wallace. He continued his trip, but changed the destination from his office to the runway. The fighter jets above circled around once more before positioning themselves for their landing. This allowed Percy and Wallace plenty of time to roam over there.

Wallace made sure to stick by Percy's side. The Major had once commented, "On the battlefield, always stay behind me. When we're at peace, you are my equal so stay beside me." So while they crossed the hundred or so yards to where the planes would land, Wallace shuffled his feet beside his friend. The silent moments they shared spoke volumes about their friendship; despite their difference in age and rank, they understood and respected each other.

Percy could sense negativity coming from Wallace. He peered over at him as they walked and saw that Wallace slumped his shoulders slightly while keeping his eyes on the ground. It was an unusual stance for him. Concerned, Percy thought about questioning why he acted so timid. He never did; he had a good feeling why his friend was so down on himself.

"Stop wasting your energy on self-pity," the Major ordered.

Wallace picked himself up and straightened out. "Sorry, Percy," he said. The lack of formalities wasn't that uncommon, but it still caught Percy's attention. "I made a few mistakes in the execution; I can't find any flaws in the actual plan. I don't have a problem with making mistakes. I just realized this morning that the only way we'll ever get to go home is if we get crippled or killed."

"I'm doing everything I can to get us out of here," Percy assured him.

"I know," Wallace acknowledged. "But there are men here who have families that miss them."

"And you don't?"

"I meant wives and children," Wallace clarified. "Can you imagine coming home and your own child doesn't even know who you are? That will happen if these men are gone any longer."

"What about our female companions like Corporal McGill?"

Wallace stuck his nose up without realizing it. "I have deep respect for the Corporal, but a woman should never be subjected to war. They should never have even been deployed. Well, except for the Lieutenant. Mackenzie is a real bitch."

Percy laughed at his friend's comment. It was unheard over the sound of the first jet roaring overhead and screeching its landing gear against the broken up Laredo International Airport runway. Not far behind was three more jets; they all landed one right after the other, as if they had practiced such a maneuver a hundred times. The third plane had a rocky landing, and when the pilot wasn't as quick to jump out as the others, they assumed the man inside was the injured one Conroy spoke of.

Percy halted quite a ways from the planes and watched from the distance as a few medics scrambled to help the pilots. He felt no need to rush over there and meet them. He opted to turn back towards the building and head to his office.

Before he began to walk again he said to Wallace, "I'll do whatever it takes to get us home. Before Christmas, I promise."

Wallace merely nodded in response. He followed his commander as he entered their commandeered hotel and weaved through the hallways towards the conference room. They stopped outside a guarded room where the female sniper was kept.

"How is she doing?" Percy asked.

"Fine, Major," the guard answered. "Jordan is in there now."

"Why?"

The guard shrugged. Occasionally Percy felt as though Jordan's familiarity with everyone would one day screw them over. To allow a civilian into a room with a terrorist was just one of the many ways his men let their guards down around him. Without blaming the guard, Percy swiftly moved into the room next door. Sound and video equipment had been placed inside the sniper's room and next door they kept the monitors. Not too surprising, the soldier watching had fallen asleep contently at his desk.

Percy refused to wake him. Instead, he monitored Jordan's tactics for himself.

The woman rested in her bed; she had been so weak when captured and only a day's worth of food and water would not bring all of her strength back. Jordan had pulled up a chair beside her. He straddled the uncomfortable seat and rested his head on the back. Typical Jordan – he looked so comfortable conversing with a stranger, it was only natural he went into journalism.

Jordan's voice was heard over the monitor. "That's a long way from here."

She said something, barely above a whisper, to which Jordan responded with a laugh. So she did speak English. It angered Percy that Jordan could ease the sniper into a conversation but his Lieutenant couldn't even figure out what language she spoke.

He left in a huff. He awoke the sleeping soldier when he slammed the door. Wallace had waited patiently outside and sighed at his commander's behavior. Sometimes, he wondered if Percy ever had the chance to properly mature his emotions. The Major got irritated much too easily.

Mackenzie intercepted them with her report on Conroy. The haste she displayed calmed the Major immensely but that fizzled soon. Before he even read the Commander's name the pilots made a loud and rowdy entrance into the hotel. Despite the soldiers asking them repeatedly for identification, they merely pushed past them. Even when a few tried to physically restrain them, they wiggled their way free.

The noise caught the Major's attention. The sight of the three uninjured pilots barreling down the hallway made him sigh. He regretted allowing them safe haven and figured they would be an unnecessary distraction.

They had discarded their flight suits and equipment the moment they landed. It had all been packed into rucksacks, which originally carried their dress uniform. The medics would later report to Percy that the three pilots had run down the runaway stripping their clothes and changing expertly into the dress uniform without once tripping or stumbling. Perhaps they had practiced that as well as their landing procedures.

Thanks to their dress uniforms, Percy had no need to read the report. The blue dress with red accents was a dead giveaway. Only one aviation squadron bothered with such dramatics and wore such bold colors. The gold threads that intermingled with the red and blue were something best left for royalty in Europe.

"The Flying Circus," Percy muttered.

"Sea Dogs, Major," the pilot furthermost forward corrected. He stood shorter than the others, his hair high and tight. Based on the slight accent, Percy guessed that it was Conroy. Behind him, a taller and better looking man who kept a straight face; his nametag read Rawlings. Beside that man, a young man who looked barely over twenty, named Wilson. Percy judged them immediately.

Conroy, he guessed, was a typical rowdy sailor, with the edges of a tattoo barely peeking out from his uniform onto his neck. Rawlings stood and watched everyone with his neatly combed hair and tightened lips as if he was a backroom dealer for an old gangster. Wilson kept his bangs an inch long and swooped to the side, but it was the only hair he had, and it made him look like a washed up punk that roamed in from off the streets.

Conroy was sizing up Percy, too. All he saw was a young kid who didn't appear all that intelligent or athletic. He realized that America had probably abandoned Laredo and the rest of South Texas. The Sergeant near Percy looked like a typical ground pounder, with his head shaved and big ears poking out from his hat. But the female officer next to them…

Wallace shifted instinctively in front of Mackenzie. Conroy raised a brow and said, "I was just trying to read her nametag."

"You could always ask," Wallace retorted.

"Cut the Commander some slack, jarhead," Wilson mouthed off. "We haven't seen a woman in months!"

"Jarhead or not, at least I have respect for women."

"Hey!"

"Enough!" Percy shouted. It effectively stopped the fight before it happened. "Commander, I want to make it clear we have limited supplies. So while I have no problem providing shelter, food and first aid for you and your men, I can't babysit you forever."

"Well that's good, Major," Conroy smiled, "'cause as it turns out, I don't plan on staying here long. I need assistance in Corpus Christi, think you can lend a hand?"

"No," was Percy's immediate answer. The aviators were ready to voice their displeasure, but Percy beat them to the punch. "I have barely enough men to do laundry, much less liberate Laredo and Corpus Christi as well."

"Major, I've got three other pilots and countless grease monkeys needing help in Corpus Christi. Now the Army had already left you here. They don't give a damn if you die. But if you can get us to Corpus Christi and help us out I swear that the Sea Dogs will be by your side no matter what," Conroy pressed.

Percy firmly stated again, "No."

A soldier came rushing down the hallway and shouted, "Major!" he provided a sharp salute, which Percy returned, and then reported, "A dispatch from General Scott: All units in Laredo and Corpus Christi are to retreat and rendezvous with the division in Dallas within forty-eight hours."

"Who?" Percy questioned. The soldier shrugged. "Get me on the phone with him."

"Aye, Major!" the soldier saluted and made it so.

Percy took the call in the hotel's conference room. There, his entire staff would be present for the conversation. He always felt as though his men had every right to his resources as he did. It may have made General Scott slightly nervous to see Percy front and center over the video phone, surrounded by several other soldiers looking mighty serious. If it did, no one ever saw the General betray such an emotion.

He did, however, show his annoyance when Percy refused to salute and instead asked, "Where is General Trotter?"

"Mister Trotter has been relieved of duty." Scott answered. "I am now in command of the Texas Front. Please be advised that you are to arrive in Dallas no later than –"

"Why was he relieved of duty?" Percy interrupted.

Scott explained. "He disobeyed orders from a superior and left for Corpus Christi. Approximately four hours ago he and several other soldiers took it upon themselves to attempt a search and rescue of the raided base. In doing so he put himself and other officers in danger."

The silence from Percy lasted a very nerve-racking five seconds. He broke it when he said, "That's why this Army is so pathetic!"

"Excuse me, Major?"

"Do you mean to tell me you have every intention of leaving the men of Corpus Christi and the General to die at the hands of invaders?"

"Where we stand now it is wiser and more practical to the leave them there," Scott said. "So, yes, that is what I am saying. You are a strategic man, Major, surely you understand."

Percy snapped. "I don't understand the strategy in leaving men to die. This Army will collapse on itself if we continue to act in such cowardly ways. Our entire nation is resting on victory in Laredo and Corpus Christi, how dare you ask us to retreat!"

"How dare you risk the lives of your men needlessly?" Scott responded. "How dare you put them into such danger?"

"Danger is our job, General!" Percy argued. "Every soldier under me suits up every day with nothing but victory on their mind, no matter the risk. That is the basic principal the United States Army. Unfortunately, pathetic and weak minded individuals who are easily swayed by public outcry and the unfavorable odds create pointless battles which are abandoned halfway through!"

"Careful what you say, Major," Scott calmly said. "You are speaking to a superior."

"A superior in rank, but not in character," Wallace thought aloud.

The General nearly leapt out of his chair. With his face as a red as a ripe tomato he shouted, "Watch your mouth, you arrogant punk!"

"Arrogant we maybe," Percy answered, "but I personally will go to Corpus Christi and return victorious. If that doesn't convince you worthless bastards of the potential and strength of the Army, I will march across the Rio Grande and take Mexico for myself! End the call!"

The General opened his mouth to retort but was silenced. Rarely had their Major been so worked up. Even he was surprised. He could feel the worried stares of his squad leaders on his back, as all of them wondered if he was as close to cracking as they were. For years they had fought and still no recognition, still no one had faith in their abilities. Percy was going to prove it to them; no matter what the cost, he was ready to show everyone he and his men could conquer the world if they wanted.

"So," Conroy smirked from the doorway, "I take it you're going to help us?"

"And in return, the services of the Sea Dogs," Percy requested.

The brown eyes of the Major pierced right through Conroy. His smirk fell and he felt as though he was getting himself into a whole lot of trouble. Something about that excited him, so with a fierce nodded he said, "Damn straight!"

"I only do this because I understand," Percy explained. "I know what it's like to be left out for the rabid dogs of savage raiders. So does everyone else in this room."

"Whatever your reason, Major, your assistance won't go unrecognized," Conroy promised. "The Sea Dogs are loyal. We'll never forget it."