Read Online Starfish Prime (Blackfox Chronicles Book 2) by T.S. O'Neil - Free Book Online
Authors: T.S. O'Neil
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calmly waited while the general perused a thick brown file folder that had been sent via courier from Marine Corps Archives.
McElroy was seated behind a battered mahogany desk once owned by Lewis “Chesty” Puller, former Commandant of the Marine Corps and one of the most highly decorated Marines in its history.
Puller won five Navy Crosses—more than anyone else—but he never won the Congressional Medal of Honor; probably b ecause he lacked the humility that seemed to be part and parcel for recipients of such a high award.
While fighting a retrograde action during the Korean War, Puller proudly announced that his unit was surrounded by five
Chinese army divisions, thereby simplifying the problem of ‘finding these people and killing them.’
Puller had been no friend to the then-nascent Marine Special
Forces community, personally ordering the dissolution of the four Marine Raider Battalions. His reasoning was that small raid forces were no longer useful against the heavily fortified sites the Marines faced later in the war in the Pacific. Puller’s stated reasoning was that every Marine was special—a cut above your average Soldier or Sailor. That logic held for more than half a century until the events of 9/11 forced the Marines to organize MARSOC and there was no turning back from that point.
Many Marine officers were amateur historians, and living in
North Carolina during a past assignment gave the general lots of opportunities to buy antiques. When Puller’s desk was auctioned at a private event to raise money for the Marine Corps
Scholarship Foundation, McElroy decided he had to have it. He’d had to offer nearly five thousand dollars to outbid a retired se rgeant major who had served with Puller at the “Frozen
Chosen,” but it was well worth it.
McElroy loved the aura produced by such a historic piece, and he would regale everyone from his driver to other GOs with its historical lineage.
With a slight jut of his chin, the general indicated the long wooden conference table surrounded by a dozen high-backed leather chairs that occupied one side of his office. “Dick, you’re making me tired just looking at you. Relax and have a seat will you?”
“As you wish sir,” said Hearth with an air of resignation. He slowly walked over to his assigned seat at the conference table, immediately to the right of the head. After a moment, the general followed. Hearth waited for McElroy to sit down and then did the same.
“Well, we started out with a choir boy and ended up with the spawn of Satan, but that's okay, we'll make it work,” said McElroy as he tossed the service record that Hearth had supplied him onto the table.
“Yes sir. He’s no Kyle Christiansen, and he hasn’t been in an operational unit in almost three years, so there is no guarantee that we can whip him into shape in time,” replied Hearth.
“He had a relatively short tenure with Force Recon. I assume he transferred to get a command?”
“Yes, sir, that would be my guess,” replied Colonel Hearth
“They must have thought he was a fast burner. But, he was wounded before that could happen and received a Silver Star,” said McElroy.
“Yes sir, awarded for actions in Al Anbar Province in early
2004. He was a very senior First Lieutenant and Platoon
Commander then.”
“That was a rough time to be a Marine―especially a Recon Marine. I was Chief of Staff of First MarDiv at the time, and that was indeed an interesting moment to be alive. They called it ‘The Awakening,’ when the most powerful Sheiks turned against Al
Qaeda and cast their lots with the Americans.”
“We studied it at the War College,” said Hearth, anxious to steer the conversation back to the task at hand—seeking McElroy’s approval of the contingency operation his staff was developing.
“He has the soft skills for the job— level three/three in
Spanish and Yanomami, a graduate of the Air Force’s Level three
McElroy was seated behind a battered mahogany desk once owned by Lewis “Chesty” Puller, former Commandant of the Marine Corps and one of the most highly decorated Marines in its history.
Puller won five Navy Crosses—more than anyone else—but he never won the Congressional Medal of Honor; probably b ecause he lacked the humility that seemed to be part and parcel for recipients of such a high award.
While fighting a retrograde action during the Korean War, Puller proudly announced that his unit was surrounded by five
Chinese army divisions, thereby simplifying the problem of ‘finding these people and killing them.’
Puller had been no friend to the then-nascent Marine Special
Forces community, personally ordering the dissolution of the four Marine Raider Battalions. His reasoning was that small raid forces were no longer useful against the heavily fortified sites the Marines faced later in the war in the Pacific. Puller’s stated reasoning was that every Marine was special—a cut above your average Soldier or Sailor. That logic held for more than half a century until the events of 9/11 forced the Marines to organize MARSOC and there was no turning back from that point.
Many Marine officers were amateur historians, and living in
North Carolina during a past assignment gave the general lots of opportunities to buy antiques. When Puller’s desk was auctioned at a private event to raise money for the Marine Corps
Scholarship Foundation, McElroy decided he had to have it. He’d had to offer nearly five thousand dollars to outbid a retired se rgeant major who had served with Puller at the “Frozen
Chosen,” but it was well worth it.
McElroy loved the aura produced by such a historic piece, and he would regale everyone from his driver to other GOs with its historical lineage.
With a slight jut of his chin, the general indicated the long wooden conference table surrounded by a dozen high-backed leather chairs that occupied one side of his office. “Dick, you’re making me tired just looking at you. Relax and have a seat will you?”
“As you wish sir,” said Hearth with an air of resignation. He slowly walked over to his assigned seat at the conference table, immediately to the right of the head. After a moment, the general followed. Hearth waited for McElroy to sit down and then did the same.
“Well, we started out with a choir boy and ended up with the spawn of Satan, but that's okay, we'll make it work,” said McElroy as he tossed the service record that Hearth had supplied him onto the table.
“Yes sir. He’s no Kyle Christiansen, and he hasn’t been in an operational unit in almost three years, so there is no guarantee that we can whip him into shape in time,” replied Hearth.
“He had a relatively short tenure with Force Recon. I assume he transferred to get a command?”
“Yes, sir, that would be my guess,” replied Colonel Hearth
“They must have thought he was a fast burner. But, he was wounded before that could happen and received a Silver Star,” said McElroy.
“Yes sir, awarded for actions in Al Anbar Province in early
2004. He was a very senior First Lieutenant and Platoon
Commander then.”
“That was a rough time to be a Marine―especially a Recon Marine. I was Chief of Staff of First MarDiv at the time, and that was indeed an interesting moment to be alive. They called it ‘The Awakening,’ when the most powerful Sheiks turned against Al
Qaeda and cast their lots with the Americans.”
“We studied it at the War College,” said Hearth, anxious to steer the conversation back to the task at hand—seeking McElroy’s approval of the contingency operation his staff was developing.
“He has the soft skills for the job— level three/three in
Spanish and Yanomami, a graduate of the Air Force’s Level three
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