Chain of Command by C. G. Cooper

Author:C. G. Cooper [Cooper, C. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JBD Entertainment, LLC
Published: 2015-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

Headquarters Marine Corps

Arlington, Virginia

1:19pm, December 9th

He’d been waiting for close to an hour. Not that he minded, but Headquarters Marine Corps was a zoo. Generals on down rushed to and fro while armed sentries guarded every door into the place. Cal sat in the hallway with Daniel Briggs and MSgt Willy Trent. Part of him felt like he was a lance corporal again, waiting to see the company gunny.

“Mr. Stokes,” called a harried Marine major in desert cammies, his head poking out of one of the many doors.

“Right here,” called Cal, rising with the others.

The major gave him a once over, obviously unsure of the man standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry, sir, I was told that it would only be you,” said the major. Cal pegged him for an adjutant.

“They’re with me,” said Cal, motioning to his friends.

The major went to object, but a voice sounded from the office he stood protecting.

“Let them in, Major.”

The major straightened up and waved them in.

The Commandant was talking to a group of generals and colonels. It reminded Cal of the time he’d been in the division CP before the invasion of Iraq. The Commandant’s men all had the same looks. Hard. Focused. Rage simmering just under the surface, like fighters about to go into the boxing ring.

Gen. Winfield pointed to Cal and then his office. The Jefferson Group team headed that way, skirting around the huddle of men.

Two minutes later, the Commandant stepped in and closed the door behind him. His face deflated from the confident visage he’d shown moments earlier. Cal knew that look of loss, despair threatening to overcome the stubborn Marine’s hard-charging persona.

“I’m sorry about Major Adams. He’s taking his new gatekeeper role a little too seriously,” said the Commandant, making a note on a pad on his desk.

“Not a problem, sir,” said Cal.

“Have you heard the latest?”

“Only what we’ve seen on the news.”

The Commandant shook his head. Pain in his eyes.

“Four hundred and ninety two dead,” the Commandant muttered.

“And that’s confirmed, sir?”

Winfield nodded. The number was twice what the media had initially reported.

“They want my head. Never could I have imagined something like this. Hitting us from the sidelines is one thing. But to kill our Marines—”

“With all due respect, sir,” interrupted MSgt Trent, “those boys were murdered.”

Again the pained nod from the Commandant.

They’d not only heard the updated reports of the rising death toll on their ride north, they’d also listened as a growing voice spread across the airwaves. There were calls for the Commandant to resign, for his general officer corps to be purged. If things could be worse, Cal couldn’t imagine how. Winfield was right. Fighting a battle on Capitol Hill was one thing. Waking up to a slaughter was, well, unthinkable.

But Cal knew this wasn’t the time to mourn. He’d lost men in the past and would probably lose more in the future. It was always the calm determination and support of men like Daniel Briggs, MSgt Trent and Gaucho that propelled him forward. He wondered if the new Commandant had anyone on his staff who had the balls to prod their boss.

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