and were organized.
“What can I do to assist you?” Grant asked. He needed to remember that Edwards was a Captain and therefore Grant wasn’t the head honcho anymore. That was fine with Grant. But, he had to admit, it was weird taking orders from a guy ten years younger than him. Oh well. That’s how it was. And Grant was happy to take orders from a regular military officer, which meant they were now paired with a well-trained and well-equipped unit, and thereby had a better chance of successfully completing their mission and making it back home alive.
“Is this place secure?” Edwards asked, as he was looking around.
“Yes, sir,” Grant said. He and Ted explained the perimeter defenses.
Edwards was not overly impressed with the defenses. They were okay and, for a lightly armed irregular unit, pretty decent, but Edwards was an FUSA Army officer. He was used to having plenty of equipment. Helicopters, radios, battlefield computers, mortars, anti-armor rockets. He worked with soldiers who had several years of structured training, not a few months of training in some remote camp.
“We’ll augment your defenses here, Lieutenant,” Edwards said.
“Excellent,” Grant responded.
“I’ll rotate my men and feed and rest them,” Edwards said. “You have food here, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Grant said. “Not a lot. MREs.” There went the rest of the 17th’s MREs. But Bravo Company was on the same team. Sharing was an unspoken expectation. Those MREs didn’t belong to the 17th. They belonged to the mission.
Grant and Ted briefed Edwards on all the aspects of the brewery, including their guests on the second and third floor.
“Kids?” Edwards asked, appearing slightly puzzled and annoyed.
“They came with the brewery,” Grant answered.
“I understand the situation you’re in,” Edwards said, “you’ll get them out of here as soon as it’s safe, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Grant promised.
“What are your orders?” Edwards asked Grant, now that the immediate issues were resolved and they could focus on the bigger picture.
“To enter Olympia from Highway 101 from Frederickson, where we were based, and to assist regular forces. Occupy. Stabilize. And do civil affairs. That’s kind of my specialty.”
Edwards’s eyes lit up. “Civil affairs?” he asked. He hadn’t expected a specialized mission from an irregular unit. “That’s great,” he said to Grant. “That’s what we need on an urban battlefield. Especially when the civilians are our own Americans. What was your civil affairs unit? The 84th Brigade at JBLM?”
“No, sir,” Grant answered, sheepishly. He looked around to see if others could hear him and softly said, “No prior military training. I sort of took a small community outside of Frederickson and turned it into a thriving and functioning place. I had help, though,” referring to Rich, Dan, and the others at Pierce Point.
Edwards nodded. Oh great, he thought. The commander of this irregular unit is some civilian … politician. Some small town mayor or something. Fabulous.
“What did you do in civilian life?” Edwards asked Grant.
Grant hesitantly said, “Lawyer.”
“Great,” Edwards said sarcastically. He quickly realized his tone would undermine his men’s, and Grant’s, respect for Grant’s authority. He decided to fix that. “Actually, that is good,” Edwards said. “We’ll probably be detaining and hanging a bunch of these bastards.” Edwards decided to give Grant even more esteem in the eyes of the soldiers. “Hey, we’re citizen soldiers so we welcome everyone from every background. Welcome to the battlefield, Counselor.”
Edwards turned to Ted and asked, “What’s your background?”
“1st Group, sir,” Ted said, referring to his former Special Forces unit at JBLM, knowing that Edwards would know who 1st Group was. “Me and a former ODA team member of mine,” Ted said pointing to Sap, “trained these guys.” ODA referred to an
“What can I do to assist you?” Grant asked. He needed to remember that Edwards was a Captain and therefore Grant wasn’t the head honcho anymore. That was fine with Grant. But, he had to admit, it was weird taking orders from a guy ten years younger than him. Oh well. That’s how it was. And Grant was happy to take orders from a regular military officer, which meant they were now paired with a well-trained and well-equipped unit, and thereby had a better chance of successfully completing their mission and making it back home alive.
“Is this place secure?” Edwards asked, as he was looking around.
“Yes, sir,” Grant said. He and Ted explained the perimeter defenses.
Edwards was not overly impressed with the defenses. They were okay and, for a lightly armed irregular unit, pretty decent, but Edwards was an FUSA Army officer. He was used to having plenty of equipment. Helicopters, radios, battlefield computers, mortars, anti-armor rockets. He worked with soldiers who had several years of structured training, not a few months of training in some remote camp.
“We’ll augment your defenses here, Lieutenant,” Edwards said.
“Excellent,” Grant responded.
“I’ll rotate my men and feed and rest them,” Edwards said. “You have food here, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Grant said. “Not a lot. MREs.” There went the rest of the 17th’s MREs. But Bravo Company was on the same team. Sharing was an unspoken expectation. Those MREs didn’t belong to the 17th. They belonged to the mission.
Grant and Ted briefed Edwards on all the aspects of the brewery, including their guests on the second and third floor.
“Kids?” Edwards asked, appearing slightly puzzled and annoyed.
“They came with the brewery,” Grant answered.
“I understand the situation you’re in,” Edwards said, “you’ll get them out of here as soon as it’s safe, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Grant promised.
“What are your orders?” Edwards asked Grant, now that the immediate issues were resolved and they could focus on the bigger picture.
“To enter Olympia from Highway 101 from Frederickson, where we were based, and to assist regular forces. Occupy. Stabilize. And do civil affairs. That’s kind of my specialty.”
Edwards’s eyes lit up. “Civil affairs?” he asked. He hadn’t expected a specialized mission from an irregular unit. “That’s great,” he said to Grant. “That’s what we need on an urban battlefield. Especially when the civilians are our own Americans. What was your civil affairs unit? The 84th Brigade at JBLM?”
“No, sir,” Grant answered, sheepishly. He looked around to see if others could hear him and softly said, “No prior military training. I sort of took a small community outside of Frederickson and turned it into a thriving and functioning place. I had help, though,” referring to Rich, Dan, and the others at Pierce Point.
Edwards nodded. Oh great, he thought. The commander of this irregular unit is some civilian … politician. Some small town mayor or something. Fabulous.
“What did you do in civilian life?” Edwards asked Grant.
Grant hesitantly said, “Lawyer.”
“Great,” Edwards said sarcastically. He quickly realized his tone would undermine his men’s, and Grant’s, respect for Grant’s authority. He decided to fix that. “Actually, that is good,” Edwards said. “We’ll probably be detaining and hanging a bunch of these bastards.” Edwards decided to give Grant even more esteem in the eyes of the soldiers. “Hey, we’re citizen soldiers so we welcome everyone from every background. Welcome to the battlefield, Counselor.”
Edwards turned to Ted and asked, “What’s your background?”
“1st Group, sir,” Ted said, referring to his former Special Forces unit at JBLM, knowing that Edwards would know who 1st Group was. “Me and a former ODA team member of mine,” Ted said pointing to Sap, “trained these guys.” ODA referred to an
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