FicWad

Chapter 5
Getting Your Feet Wet

They were calm and cool, yet blazingly alert. Their eyes moved quickly, yet their bodies moved slow. Voices were quiet but the jungle was loud. Ears attuned to each and every sound. Any noise heard was noted and observed, from the rustle of a tree to a coo of a bird.

Someone was here, but no one was there. Anything that moved warranted a stare. Hunter and game were now one in the same. The one seen first would probably die, yet the one who could adapt would probably survive. A presence was near and contact would be made. But the moment of meeting was unknown and vague.

A pop rings out, followed by another. The deadly exchange between hunters was afoot.

"CONTACT! AT OUR TWO!" Ackerson yelled as he dropped to the dirt.

"CONTACT AT TWO!" The others replied.

Following training, every man dropped down right where he stood, and proceeded to return fire. Constant deafening gunfire resonated throughout the jungle, but the sailors stayed put. Instead of panicking, they continued to shoot in the perceived direction of the enemy. For the moment, Ackerson's group wasn't shooting to kill. In all likelihood, their shots were probably way off the mark. Rather, their shooting was an attempt to keep the enemy's head down. It may not have been an exact science, but at least the tactic was buying these warriors some much needed time.

As the jungle brawl raged on, the embattled group of eight slowly began to maneuver themselves into a line angled off to the left. They still took time to fire their rifles, but concentrated on getting into a proper formation.

After a series of careful yet quick movements, the line was formed. Ackerson found himself at the front while Brigham found himself at the back. That way, the team leadership could manage the group from both directions. But the positioning really didn't matter though. Each man knew exactly what he was supposed to do.

Eight skilled marksmen now had their rifles poised to strike. Into the sea of vibrant green plants they fired their flurry of bullets. Most shot in short staccato three-round bursts, everyone except for Moore. His Mk-46 SAW screamed as it sent twenty rounds between shots flailing downrange. Anyone on the receiving end of those bullets was having a very bad day. But as far as the team was concerned, Moore and his SAW were quite a blessing to behold.

With a steady stream of gunfire firmly established, Ackerson was ready to run. Even though he and his team were doing a good job of making the enemy pay for the engagement, he had no intention of sticking around. It was time to put the leapfrog to good use.

"LEAPFROG! STRONG RIGHT!"

"STRONG RIGHT!"

Ackerson fired off the last three rounds of his magazine. But instead of reloading and staying put, he turned around, tapped the shoulder of the teammate behind him, and darted a hundred feet right and away from the flurry of activity. Meanwhile, the others continued shooting towards the enemy. While their commander worked on finding a suitable position further back, they worked on keeping the adversaries at bay.

Rios, the teammate who Ackerson tapped on the shoulder, had just expended his current magazine. Repeating what his OIC had done a minute earlier Rios turned around, tapped the shoulder of teammate behind him, and ran to join Ackerson at the new firing position. When he arrived, he and his commander would recommence the process of shooting.

The mechanical process of shooting, tapping shoulders, and running away continued for a few more minutes, until two men were left at the original point of contact. Depleting the last of their magazines they both ran back to join the rest of their team.

When the two sailors finally arrived, gunfire still remained relentlessly constant. But this time around, it was the enemy who eased off on the aggression scale. The fighting sailors however, did not let up. They continued bringing the fight to the enemy while retreating at the same time.

"EIGHT!" Ackerson yelled to Brigham, his eyes still bearing down the rifle. "ONE! (referring to himself) RADIO FOR EXTRACT! AT POINT DELTA!"

"EIGHT COPIES!" Brigham acknowledged as he continued shooting.

Waiting for the proper moment to get to work he fired a few more shots. Realizing that his teammates now took into account that one less man was firing, he fired up the eight thousand dollar hand held radio.

"GHOST BLACK SIX, GHOST BLACK SIX!" Brigham yelled over the cacophony. "DEMON BLACK ZERO, DEMON BLACK ZERO! REQUEST RIVERINE EXTRACT, MAP GRID HOTEL INDIA TWO NINER, OVER!"

Holding his ear up to the receiver, Brigham listened intently for a reply.

"Demon black zero, demon black zero." Announced the crystal clear voice. "Ghost black six, ghost black six. Confirmation on extract. Say again on coordinates, over?"

"Shit." Brigham cursed under his breath. "I SAY AGAIN, MAP GRID HOTEL, INDIA, TWO, NINER, OVER!"

"Acknowledged." The other end calmly replied. "ETA, five minutes, over."

"DEMON BLACK ZERO COPIES! LOOK FOR GULF (Green) SMOKE, OVER." Not wanting to give the enemy a hint of where'd they be.

"Affirmative on gulf smoke. Over and out!"

"ONE!" Brigham yelled. "EIGHT! EXTRACT IN FIVE!"

"ONE COPIES!" Ackerson replied. "ELEMENT! LEAPFROG TO EXTRACT!"

"LEAPFROG TO EXTRACT!" Everyone replied.

The organized retreat began yet again. One by one the sailors fired off the remnants of the magazines, tapped their teammates on the shoulders, and hauled ass to a nearby riverbank.

After traversing a few hundred feet of thick jungle, the band of eight warriors found themselves at the muddy banks of the river. They squinted at the change in light, but quickly got back into the fight.

Maintaining the edge, they turned around and formed a semicircle facing the jungle. Even though the enemy's gunfire had become sparse and sporadic, these warriors weren't settling down just yet. Rifles were raised and ready drop anyone who thought it was a good day to be a hero. But getting past this group of trained killers would be as easy as punching God. It simply wasn't going to happen.

All doubts were suddenly squashed when the familiar and comforting rumble of a RHIB reverberated from downstream. Anyone foolish enough to challenge the troops at this point was probably an individual without a lot of common sense.

Coming into view, the sleek black boat started combing the jungle with bullets. The sight of the deadly vessel ravaging the thick brush, forced a smile across quite a few of the grimy mugs. Their ride out of Dodge was fast approaching.

Wasting no time the small craft sped towards the riverbank, suddenly slowing down letting the bow drift across the soft mud. The sailors took a few seconds to fire a few rounds back towards the enemy, before turning around to board the boat. With everyone now on board the RHIB kicked the turbojets to full power and jetted away from the combat zone.

"WHEW!" Moore yelled. "THAT WAS FUN!"

"YOU BOYS SAVE US A COOL ONE?" Kaufman grinned.

"FORGOT YOURS. SORRY!" One of the combat crewmen shrugged. "BESIDES YOU CAN GO WITHOUT A BEER THIS TIME!"

"YEAH KAUFMAN! DIDN'T YOU GET INTOXICATED LAST TIME!?" Rios asked.

"OH YEAH, NOW I REMEMBER! OOPS!"

"OOPS IS RIGHT! NOW YOU GUYS SEE WHY IT'S A BAD IDEA TO FEED THE ANIMALS! PETTY OFFICER, WILLIS!" Brigham told the crewman. "DON'T FEEL BAD ABOUT IT!"

"ROG-E-O!" The young man smiled.

"SO WHAT'S NEXT, SIR!" Silver asked. "NEED TO GET SOME TIME WITH MY RIFLE IN."

"OH YOU WILL." Ackerson replied with a sly grin.

"HOW COME THE NEW GUY GETS SPECIAL TREATMENT?! AREN'T WE ALL YOUR FRIENDS!" Oliveira pretended to whine.

"BECAUSE YOU GUYS ALWAYS GET TO HAVE ALL THE FUN!
BUT DON'T WHINE CHILDREN, THERE'S PLENTY OF FUN TO GO AROUND!"

"CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE LOOK ON THEIR FACES WHEN WE GET BACK!" Asher said.

"BET THOSE MARINES ARE PISSED!" Brigham grinned.

"NOW THAT MEANS WE DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO THEIR TRASHTALKING ANYMORE!" Rios pointed out.

"SUCKS FOR THEM!" Moore laughed.

"DON'T RUB IT IN GENTLEMEN!" Ackerson warned. "THESE WILL PROBABLY BE THE SAME GUYS HELPING US OUT IN A FEW MONTHS"

"WE PROMISE!" Everyone lied

"BULLSHIT!" Ackerson laughed. "YOU DAMN TURNCOATS!"

"WHY THANK YOU!" Brigham chuckled.

"YOU'RE WELCOME. NOW SHUT UP SO I CAN ENJOY THE RISING SUN!"
---
SEALs are elite and so are Marines. They are equally brave and equally professional. Training is the moment in which they prepare and fighting is the moment in which they perform. Combat is the art they seek to master. Winning is everything and losing is nothing short of unacceptable. They see victory as life and defeat as death. For war is a harsh place, bitter and cold, where only the learned, survive and grow old.

Morbidity aside most of the troops were in a pretty good mood. While there may have been a loser from today's exercise, both groups of warriors knew, in the larger scheme of things, they were all on the same side. But the Marines still felt somewhat melancholic about letting their Navy counterparts escape. On the other hand Ackerson, and his crew were basking in success. For some of the sailors, remaining humble about the victory was an exercise in restraint.

Training was a very serious endeavor for them. But regardless of win or loss, they all knew not to hate themselves for occasionally messing up. Not getting it right in training simply meant you had to do a better job next time. Doing a better job in training thereby prevents warriors from screwing up in combat. The best always try to learn as much as they can in training, because a lesson learned in war, is usually a lesson learned in death.

While these warriors may have been trained killers, they were still ordinary men interested in everyday things. Sailors and Marines mingled together talking about sports, others politics, and in some cases their kids and spouses. Keeping in touch with their humanity was equally important as, if not more so, than doing their jobs. Even warriors know when to draw the line between warfare and life.

"TENNSHUUN ON DECK!" A voice boomed from the back of the room.

Everyone snapped to attention, saluting a master chief petty officer and a Marine Captain making their way into the room.

"At ease gentlemen." Moggs ordered. "Captain, you have the floor."

"Thank you Master Chief." The officer nodded. "Gentlemen, you may take your seats."

The crew-cut shaved Marine made his way down an aisle of chairs to the front of the dimly lit room. Arriving at a table he cut on a laptop to set up a power point presentation.

"Good afternoon everyone. For those of you that don't know me, my name is Captain Torres. Glad to see you all haven't ripped each others heads off." He quickly grinned before continuing. "Now before I begin, I'd like to offer congratulations, a real reluctant congratulations if I may, to Lieutenant Ackerson and his team for their success at today's exercise."

"HOOYAH!" The SEALs roared.

"Yeah, yeah fellas." Torres smirked. "Enjoy it while it lasts. You'll get yours soon enough. Isn't that right Marines?"

"OOH RAH!" The marines barked.

"That's the spirit." Torres smiled. "Now, on to business. Welcome to today's AAR. To begin with I want to commend both groups on a job well done. Marines, you boys did an excellent job. But the SEALs were just that much better than you on this go around. Rivalries aside gentlemen, these exercises are not set up to claim bragging rights. Remember people, out on the battlefield we're all on the same team. So Marines, thank the SEALs for exposing your weaknesses. We'll touch on them in a few moments. But for the interim I ask you not to take the word weaknesses personally. We train to get better and that's exactly what we're here for."

"SEALs" Torres turned to regard the sailors. "You guys also did a bang up job. But as good as you boys may be, you're not invincible either. Your Marine brothers exposed some of your weaknesses as well. Likewise, I'll ask you gentlemen just like I asked my Marines, not to take the criticism personally. We're all professionals here, so I expect each and every one of us to walk away from this AAR having learned something. Any questions?"

No one answered as Torres looked around the room.

"Good. My time is up for now. I now invite Master Chief Petty Officer Moggs to the front of the room to offer his critique on my Marines. SEALs, I'll be providing critique for your performance later. Moggs. You're up."

"Thank you Captain." Moggs said as he made his way to the laptop on the desk. "Good afternoon. As a short introduction my name is Master Chief Petty Officer Moggs, and for those of you that don't know, that is my actual last name. Not a nickname." Moggs smiled. "So if any of you jarheads wanna laugh, I suggest you get it out the way now, because I will offer some sharp critiques. Laughing starts now."

In good spirits all the Marines and even the SEALs offered up some laughter.

"Okay gentlemen, times up for the laughing allowance. Time to get to work." Moggs brought up a slide with a map covered in several blue and red icons and crisscrossing arrows. "Marines, your mission was to intercept and ambush a group of mercenaries conducting reconnaissance on behalf of an insurgent army. You're approach was well done and you maintained a great level of stealth. Everything was going well for you boys up until the moment of contact. You made contact too early. Now, you guys could have gotten mine, because they did not even know you were there up until the shots rang out. Fireteam leaders, I know it's tempting to drop some unlucky bastard as soon as he enters your sights. I'm not here to talk about your shooting skills, because I know for a fact that you MEU-SOC boys are damn good shooters. But as a word to the wise, I would advise you gentlemen to wait until your victims are dead in front of you. You guys had the element of surprise down pat and I would have ventured to say you could have done some serious damage if you just waited a few more minutes. Having your prey well within the kill-zone is a means of insurance. It will be easier for you to kill someone and harder for victims to get away."

Every one of the Marines furiously scribbled some notes down while Moggs moved on to another slide.

"Why is this training so important for you gentlemen? Well for starters it's because of who you'll be up against in the next couple of months. Now I'll only talk about this briefly, because your actual mission may not get the go-ahead for a while, but regardless pay attention closely." A picture of some imposing figures appeared on a large screen. "Our good ole friends from Defense Enterprises gentlemen, are probably the first equal we've had on the battlefield in a long, long time. These boys are just as professional as you are but don't share our regard for innocent life. That means they will try to kill you any chance they get. Their minds are controlled by an advanced drug that makes them extremely disciplined in the face of battle. In some cases, according to intelligence work from the good boys and girls from CIA, these advanced drugs can enhance their abilities to fight."

"As this relates to your training, let me explain. Defense Enterprises have top of the line troops, which is why we're giving you top of the line adversaries in training and who better than the SEALs. They can mimic these Defense Enterprises soldiers pretty damn well. These guys understand just how elite these men are and have good tricks for dealing with them. So my advice, talk to these guys about everything, engage them in dialogue and ask them questions. The answers my guys can give you will be priceless during the real thing."

"I like to commend you Marines on a very good job. But I'm not going to bullshit you here either. Your mission was still incomplete because the mercenary recon element got away. If that SEAL team was actually Defense Enterprises you guys could have been in some serious trouble. The exercise stipulated you were on a long-range search and destroy mission with air support quite a ways away. We don't know exactly what our friends have waiting for us in Brazil. So theoretically they could have radioed back to their HQ and hit you with some kind of nasty leaving you boys up shit creek without a paddle. The moral of that story is, when you plan on killing something, kill it. Don't let it pass go, collect two hundred dollars, just kill it. But I feel like in the next training exercises you guy's will, I hate to say it, get my guys at least once. For now, that is all. Appreciate your time gentlemen. Thank you."

Moggs took a seat as Torres got up to address the SEALs.

"Moggs, thank you for the thorough schlacking. I think my Marines really appreciated that." Torres smiled. "Now its my turn. Gentlemen, it's a pleasure to have you training with us. But it is also a pleasure to offer you guys some support in the way of constructive criticism. You're mission was essentially an IAD exercise, but theoretically, if this was real you would probably have to bypass a Defense Enterprises patrol, on your way to photographing a satellite dish. I have to give you boys a pat on the back for successfully breaking contact with your tried and true leapfrog maneuver, that I must say, us here Marines are still trying to perfect. But you know, as well as I do, that if you were in Brazil, you'd be in one hell of a fight, since extraction or support of any kind would be nonexistent."

"Now let me tell you where you guys messed up. But in all honesty you guys really didn't mess up. You adapted to the situation and made your way outta Dodge and did everything right. But we had snipers watching your every move updating your position to my Marines looking for you. You boys didn't even see them did you?"

"No sir." Oliveira replied.

"Not at all." Ackerson admitted. "See you guys still got the best snipers in the world."

"Appreciate the comment Lieutenant." Torres replied. "Now, let me say that we used some very new and somewhat experimental techniques. First of all we moved a lot more aggressively than we're used to. Our snipers vehemently opposed me on this, but in looking back I really wanna thank them for stalking you the way they did. I also want to say we were using an extremely new and experimental ghillie suit that incorporates a semi-invisible camouflage and according to how close my snipers said they got to you, it works pretty damn good. Sergeant Baharata, tell them how close you got."

A young marine stood up.

"Within ten feet of the tail of the formation Captain."

"Now I brought this up not to make you feel bad, but to give you a heads up. Defense Enterprises is believed to have a type of camouflage that is a lot more advanced than what my Marines were using. That means, you guys have to be on you're A-game a hundred and ten percent of the time. And if that means taking a few hours more to patrol then so be it. I know you gentlemen pride yourselves on patience and professionalism. But you guys have to turn it up much more than you're used to. Yet in saying that, I'm being redundant. I know you sailors know how to push yourselves."

"The next ten slides I'm bringing up will show your positions relative to the positions of my snipers over the course of three hours. Red dots are my men and red arrows are the paths they followed. Blue dots are you guys and the blue arrows are the paths you took. Nothing really new on the first, second, and third slides. The fourth slide at oh five thirty shows you guys finally being spotted. Now my snipers were simply ordered to observe and not fire. But if given the order they could have killed you and knowing they could have been Defense Enterprises troops I think is scary enough. Now the next set of slides shows the snipers closing in on your position, and in sniper time, they were closing pretty rapidly. Here on the tenth slide shows Sergeant Baharata and his spotter represented by these two red dots right behind a blue dot. So right at the moment of contact there they were, right behind your tail guy. God forbid one of them had a grenade."

"You see 'em?" Ackerson whispered to Brigham.

"Hate to lie sir and I'm not going to here. I heard something strange, but my eyes were saying otherwise."

"What was that Lieutenant Ackerson?"

"Sorry Captain, just asking my Chief, who happened to be the tail guy, if he saw your snipers."

"Well did you Chief?" Torres asked.

"My eyes haven't failed me yet, but your guys got by me. But then again, I'm an old guy, probably age."

Torres as well as others chuckled. "Well, I don't think it's your age Chief. I believe your eyes are pretty damn good. But looks like we got by you this time. But this goes to show all of us what exactly we have to work on. But for now, that is all I have. Enjoyed your time gentlemen."

Torres took a seat while Moggs walked to the front of the room to close.

"Gentlemen, I feel like we have a thorough understanding of what we need to work on. Like Captain Torres said, it is important that we engage in dialogue with one another in order to help each other out. Please, do not be selfish with what you know. Because one piece of information can prove real helpful in the field. Simply put, be a sponge to everything during this training regimen. But I'm not a man who likes to keep people sitting around. We all have obligations to tend to and my SEALs still have a lot more work to do. But once again, I'd like to thank you all for your patience and attention. Dismissed."

The AAR ended with mostly everyone heading out to get a quick bite to eat. Ackerson was about to leave as well before a familiar voice stopped him.

"Well, if it isn't Carl." A voice said.

A bit annoyed Ackerson turned around to see what it was. But his frown soon faded when he saw who the person was.

"Tanaka!" Ackerson grinned embracing the comrade. "Been a long time man. How you been?"

"Better than you." The marine grinned. "Been great leading a bunch of jarheads into harm's way."

"Well you always liked to intimidate the freshmen back at the Academy didn't ya? Some things never change I guess." Ackerson laughed.

"And if I remember correctly you were one of my cohorts." Tanaka smiled.

"Yeah." Ackerson agreed. "That I was."

"Yup. Good times."

"But I always thought you wanted to be a pilot. Why the sudden change in heart?"

"Yeah I was on my way to flight school, but we still had to qualify with a rifle. So, guess what, I pick up a gun and end up being a sharpshooter. So looks like the Corps had other plans for me. To make a long story short, some nut convinces me to join an MEU and I'm stuck here. But in looking back I feel happy about that decision. I wouldn't trade leading these guys for anything."

"Well you sure got bigger from the last time I saw ya. Eating barbells for lunch my man?"

"You never find an unfit marine Carl. Besides I could kick your SEAL ass any day."

"And you're still cocky as hell. But hey that's why I love ya."

"Well enough of my accolades. How's it been in the SEALs?"

"Harder everyday and this week of training is supposed to be right up there with Hell Week. But I think that's moreover Moggs talking out the side of his mouth. But yeah, it's been a challenge, just what I've been looking for."

"Making a career I see."

"Believe it or not, this is my last year. Getting a discharge after this."

"No shit? How long you been going?"

"Been active seven years and never missed a deployment and seen combat a good deal. But like every man who loves women, I've fallen for someone. Planning on getting married as soon as I get out."

"Well if you need a best man, I'm available." Tanaka grinned.

"Appreciate the offer buddy and I'll keep that in mind. But hey man gotta run. Moggs wants to torture us yet again."

"Alright, but if we don't meet again, just wanna give you the best of luck on the op. Hopefully I'll catch you on the flipside in a couple of months."

"You too Jake. See ya around."