Captain (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 4) (8 page)

“This is good stuff, better than what the enlisted guys are getting,” Drayton Miller said, four big shrimp tempura on his plate.

Ryck glanced over at the nearest table, one surrounded by sailors and Marines.  He couldn’t see the whole table, but it did look rather less-filled.  That struck Ryck as odd.  This was a battalion and planetary celebration, and he would have thought everyone would be treated equally.  He felt a little guilty as he looked down at his cake.

At least the beer looked to be the same.  No one was drinking it yet, however.  The ship’s CO had ordered that no alcoholic beverages be served until after the ceremony, and the cases stacked behind the tables were watched over by sailors in duty belts.

“Welcome, Captain Lysander,” a middle-aged woman said, hand out to be shaken.  “I’m Gloria Perez, the governor’s press secretary.”

Ryck took the proffered hand as Drayton quietly backed away, a wry grin on his face.

“I hope you are being well taken care of.  I know Greg Sanduski from the mayor’s office is here at your beck and call.”

“Yes, ma’am, everything’s fine.”  He held up the cake to show her. 

“Yes, the
tres leche
.  ‘Three milk,’ it means.  One of our traditional favorites.  I hope you like it.”

“It’s delicious.  I was hoping to get a recipe to take home.”

“Really?  Well I’ll make sure you get it.  I’ve got to run—as you can imagine, I’ve got a lot to do.  But I was wondering if you could spare a few minutes after the ceremony to meet with the governor.  Nothing formal, of course, just for a little chat.”

Yes, a little chat that comes with photographers to capture the moment
, Ryck thought cynically.

“Of course, ma’am.  I would be happy to,” he said instead.

“Great.  I’ll track you down.  Until then, enjoy yourself.”  She shook his hand again and then rushed off.

“Yep, the hero strikes again,” Donte said as Ryck rejoined them.

“Eat me,” Ryck muttered.

The room didn’t exactly fill up, as large as it was, but more and more Marines and sailors as well as civilians came in a steady stream.  At five minutes before the ceremony, the bigwigs arrived.  The ship’s CO, LtCol uKhiwa, and the senior staff arrived with who Ryck knew were the mayor, the governor, the Federation administrator, and other noted luminaries.  Ryck didn’t recognize any of the civilians, but he knew who was going to attend.  Most of them stepped up to a raised dais that had been erected in the back of the room, and people started to drift away from the food table to stand in front if the VIPs.

Exactly at 5:00 PM, one of the battalion drummers marched into the room, pounding away on his side drum.  People parted for him as he marched through the crowd to the dais.  As always, Ryck felt a tingle of both pride and anticipation when he saw a drummer.  Each man in the corps of drums was a volunteer, and being accepted into the corps could be difficult.  Rank was not considered.  This drummer was Sergeant Horatio from Bravo Company, a squad leader by billet.  In his dressed blues, draped by a leopard skin and armed with a short sword, he presented an imposing figure.

He marched to the front of the VIPs, and in very precise, almost mechanical movements, he performed an elaborate about face, his arm steadily pounding a slow beat.  His face like stone, he stood there, one arm in motion, the rest of him completely still.  The crowd quieted.

The sergeant drew out the moment, and Ryck could almost see people lean forward in anticipation.  With a suddenly flurry, both of Sgt Horatio’s arms flew into a blur, beating out
Present the Colors!

“Color Guard, forward, march!” a voice rang out with authority from near the entrance as soon as the drummer fell back into a measured cadence.

The crowd turned around, and with a little help from the duty sailors, a corridor was cleared leading up to the dais.  With the Federation flag in the middle and the Sierra Dorado flag to its left, the Marine Corps and Navy flags on the ends completed the color guard.

Ryck joined all the military in coming to attention as the color guard made its way to the dais and did their reverse marching move to finish up facing the crowd.  The three subordinate flags were lowered to the Federation flag, and a small local band, accompanied by a young lady, broke out into the anthem.  The crowd broke into applause as the last strains died away and the color guard split to go around the dais and put their flags in holders on a raised platform in back of the VIPs.

The first person to address the crowd was the Federation administrator.  Mercifully, he kept it short, and within a couple of minutes, relinquished the podium to the governor.

“
Buenos tardes
,” the governor began, in an atrocious accent that even Ryck knew was so far removed from old Mexico as to beggar belief. 

Evidently, Spanish was only a historical footnote on the planet.  Luckily, he switched right into Standard, welcomed the Marines and sailors, and recited a scripted list of how well the planet had been doing since he took office.  Ryck wondered if elections were coming up soon.

The governor gave way to the mayor who gave way to the
Inchon’s
CO.  Finally, it was LtCol uKhiwa’s turn.  The crowd perked up.  This was Marine Day, after all, and the CO was the senior Marine present.

“On September 13, 1847, Old Reckoning, forces from the United States of America, to include US Marines, stormed Chapultepec Castle in Mexico City.  Six young cadets:  Juan de la Barrera, Juan Escuita, Francisco Márquez, Agustín Melgar, Fernando Montes de Oca , and Vicente Suárez refused to surrender.  Juan Escutia, determined to keep the Mexican flag out of the hands of the Americans, wrapped himself in it and plunged off the walls and to his death.  Thus began the celebration of the
Niños Héroes, which has been celebrated on every September 13
th
since.

“On February 18, 2029, Old Reckoning, the Mexican Coast Guard seized a Chinese long-line boat that had been shark fishing in Mexican waters. Shark-finning had been banned by an international treaty, and the Mexican Coast Guard was within its rights to seize the boat, which was towed to
Isla Clarión where a small garrison of th
e
Fuerza de
Infantería de Marina
were stationed.  The 14 Marines, commanded by Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Michael Suarez, were given the task of holding the Chinese ship until its disposition could be decided,” the CO continued in his deep, stentorious voice.

“The Chinese Navy had been flexing its muscle in the Pacific Ocean, and the decision was made to free the fishing boat.  The
Heifei
, a destroyer, was dispatched to
Isla Clarión, arriving on February 20, where the ships commanding officer demanded that Lt(jg) Suarez turn over the shark fishing boat.  Lt(jg) Suarez refused.  His orders were to hold the boat, and that is what he was going to do.

“The Marines were armed with M2 carbines and one Dodge Ram with a mounted M2 Browing .50 cal machine gun.  The Chinese had 250 sailors and all the weaponry available to a destroyer. 

“When the Marines refused to release the fishing boat, the Chinese captain sent over two boarding parties.  Four Marines
—
Oscar Fuentes, Rodrigio Alicante, Diana Sandoval, and Maria
Pérez
—
were onboard the boat, and they beat back the attempt, losing both Sandoval and Alicante in the fight.  Lt(jg) Suarez, realizing that the Chinese would try again, quickly took off the fishing crew and locked them in the Marine barracks. 

“The Chinese captain did try again, twice more, and both times the assaults were forced back, thanks to Petty Officer Nakumura on the Browning.  Then the
Heifei’s
5 incher opened up, and Nakumura was
killed and the Browning destroyed. 

“The nearest reinforcements were on Isla Socorro, 314 kilometers to the east, and the Marines knew they could not hold out long enough.  Yet they still refused to surrender.  With the
Heifei
shelling their positions, the Chinese sailors boarded the fishing boat and steamed it out of the harbor.

“Lt(jg) Suarez reported the developments one last time as the
Heifei
moved to within 500 meters of the shore and commenced shelling the station.  There is no record after that of who fell in what order.  The last transmission from the Marines was a single “¿
Mi bandera? ¡jamás
!” made by Lt(jg) Suarez.   As we know, this means “My flag?  Never!” in Standard.

“What we do know was that all 14 Marines died defending their homeland.  The Chinese casualties were not known, although there is evidence that some of the fishermen were killed in the
Heifei’s
shelling.

“Thirteen of the Marines were found where they had fallen.  It took two days, but the body of Lt(jg) Suarez was found by divers in the harbor, the Mexican flag stuffed inside his uniform blouse.  He had been wounded several times, but just as Juan Escuita had done 182 years prior, he had leapt to his death rather than let the enemy capture the flag.

“His last words became the new motto of the
de
Infantería de Marina,
and upon the formation of the United Federation Marine Corps, First Battalion, Eleventh Marines, the “
T
iburónes
,” inherited their proud tradition.

So, please, honored guests, ladies and gentlemen, give three cheers, in the Marine Corps style of “Oorah!” for the 14 Mexican Marines of the
Isla Clarión garrison and all subsequent Marines and sailors who have served in the battalion.”

As he raised his fist into the air, every voice was lifted in “Ooh-rah, ooh-rah, ooh-rah!”

Immediately the crowd broke out into applause.  Ryck was sure they all knew the story, but hearing it like this gave it a deeper sense of history.  Ryck had served in four battalions, many with a more storied history than 1/11, but he was choked up as he applauded.  There was no direct connection, of course, between the Mexican Marine Corps and the battalion, but there absolutely was an emotional connection, and it would be the battalion’s job, for however long it was in existence, to keep the memory of Marines such as Lt(jg) Suarez and his men and women alive.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel uKhiwa for that moving speech.  You gave me a tough act to follow,” a portly man said as he stepped up to the podium.  “My name is Justin Morales, and I’m the governor’s cultural assistant.  Please, we’ve got more food coming out, and the bar is now open.”

Ryck could see the Staff NCO’s move to position themselves among the men.  The bar may be open for the civilians, but the sailors and Marines had to wait until the ceremony was over.

“I take great pleasure in presenting our first entertainment, the Chavez Community College Flamenco Dancers!”

“Hey, did you hear that?” Donte asked, punching Ryck in the shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter.  It’s still a Spanish dance,” Ryck said as he watched four musicians in costume position themselves in front of the dais. 

Six young women in heavy make-up, bright black and red dresses, and slicked back hair strode forward.  The musicians started playing, and the ladies started dancing.  Despite himself, Ryck was captivated.  He didn’t know if this really was a flamenco dance or not, but the ladies were doing a very credible job with the intricate steps.

When the dancers stopped to the applause, Ryck thought they were done, but they formed a corridor, and a single dancer in a stunning white dress came to take her position between the two lines.  She had very dark, almost obsidian-colored skin and looked very exotic in the white dress and framed by the other, lighter-skinned dancers.    After only a few steps, it was obvious why she was the lead dancer, moving gracefully, but with a sense of power as she simply destroyed the dance.  As the final strums of the guitars faded away and she slowly bent into a bow, Ryck enthusiastically joined in the applause.

After the dancers came a string of others:  a chorale group made up of Federation staffers, an old-fashioned ventriloquist, two ballet dancers, and a small boy doing what was described as a “Mexican hat dance.”  A children’s choir was cute, but not very good, but they were noteworthy because a little girl went to present flowers to the battalion CO and had to be intercepted to give them to the
Inchon’s
CO.  Ryck could understand the mistake.  This was Marine Day, after all, and the captain was in the Navy. 

Ryck edged back to the table where a big warming tray of meatballs had been brought out.  He was supposed to eat with the VIPs after the ceremony, but the meatballs were delicious.  He stabbed two more with a toothpick when the lights went out.  Even though he knew what was coming, he felt the goosebumps on his arm.

After ten or fifteen seconds, a spotlight snapped on Sgt Horatio, who was standing perfectly still, one raised hand holding a drumstick.  He waited another 20 seconds before he started slowly bringing the arm down, like a mechanical man in a giant Swiss cuckoo clock.  At the last second, he flicked his wrist, sending out a single drumbeat reverberating through the hall.  After a moment, that drumbeat was answered by another from somewhere back in the darkness. 

Sgt Horatio raised his hand, a little quicker this time, and brought it down for another beat.  The answering beat followed almost immediately.  Sgt Horatio repeated, and this became a 30-second case of dueling drums.  With a shift that was hard to catch, suddenly, the two drums were pounding out an intricate beat together.  More spotlights snapped on, illuminating 21 Marines standing in a V at the back of the hall.