and a half of lard to work off before we'll really be ready. Everybody, and that includes the present company, has anything from fifteen to thirty pounds excess baggage.'
'God knows, I do,' Reilly agreed. Again, he didn't even hesitate to add, 'Twice weekly jungle marches, starting tomorrow, full kit and equipment.'
Peters looked dubious. 'The mortars we got sent are 2S12's, boss. Nice guns but heavy. Man, are they heavy. Maybe four hundred and fifty pounds or so. No way me and my thirteen guys can carry those on a real march. They couldn't when they were twenty, and sure as shit not now.'
Reilly looked up at Sergeant Coffee, smiling wickedly. 'Can we come up with half a dozen stretchers?' he asked.
'Yes, sir,' Coffee replied.
'Good.' Reilly looked back at Peters, then around the semi-circle at the rest. 'Everyone is going to take a turn helping carry the mortars . . . on stretchers.' He looked directly at the gunned armored car platoon sergeant and platoon leader, sitting side by side. 'Yes, that includes you.'
Neither Green, the platoon leader, nor Abdan, the sergeant, had any problem with that. However, 'Maybe we can get away with simulating for the mortars, sir,' said Abdan. 'But our tankers-okay, okay-our gunned armored car crews, absolutely must have some practice with the real thing. Our old M-1s and Bradleys were the definition of sophisticated, gunnery-wise. These things are going to be almost the definition of primitive. And the antitank section will never have fired the Russki antitank guided missiles we're getting. And I gather they're not a whole lot like TOWs or Javelins.'
'I know,' Reilly agreed. 'We're going to handle that a few ways. I checked with Gordo before flying down here. There is a package of South African 90mm training practice ammunition-the same ballistics but no high explosive in the shells, lighter projo, reduced propellant charge-coming, enough for fifty or sixty rounds per gunner. We can use that here without attracting too much notice. Then, once we're aboard ship and out and away from normal sea lanes, we'll toss some sealed containers over the side and shoot the shit out of them with live shell. Same thing with the Russian ATGM's; we'll do practice firing from the ship. Work for you?'
'Works for me,' Green agreed. Abdan nodded and said, 'Sub-optimal, but it'll do.'
'It'll have to,' Reilly said. 'Speaking of the gun systems, have you figured out how to get the turrets onto the cars once both arrive?'
Abdan replied, 'Nagy, the chief engineer, built four tripods out of trees over by the maintenance area, sir. He connected those with logs and added a winch to each. Not a problem getting the turrets on, or pulling a pack when we need to. Note that I said ‘when,' not if.'
'All right, good. And, yeah, ‘when.' And now,' Reilly said looking directly at George, 'talk to me about personnel issues.'
'Gun platoon's full up, sir, to include the scout and antitank sections,' George answered. 'Thirty men. With all the Bradleys and tanks there were plenty of turret experienced folks to choose from and long experience of turret drill, in this case, was key. Levine's signal crew is short one but he says he can manage as long as he doesn't have to lay wire in a hurry. Supply's okay. The infantry platoons are short one man, in the case of second platoon, and two in third. Mortars have a problem.' George looked in turn to Peters.
'I need twenty,' Peters said, his tongue working at the Copenhagen stuck behind his lip. 'Twenty to run the 120's, anyway. In theory, anyway. See, originally when we were going to use the light mortars in the armored cars, I could have made do with two three-man crews, three Forward Observers-who can hump their own radios, and myself and three others for the Fire Direction Center who would also drive two more armored cars loaded with ammo.
'Now I need ten to crew two guns, plus the three in the FDC, plus three FO's, and still four men to haul and sling the much, much heavier ammunition. I've got fourteen, including myself.'
'And with the line platoons short,' George said, 'and the scouts and guns needing everybody they have, and headquarters short one, I've got nobody to plug into mortars.'
'How's B Company situated?' Reilly asked.
'I talked to their section chief,' Peters replied. 'Same problems, only worse. They were also supposed to get 60mm tubes and ended up with three 120s.'
'Got a solution?' Reilly asked Peters.
The mortarman shook his head. He put a bottle under his lower lip and spat out some tobacco juice. 'Not one I can do anything with. If the company, on the other hand, can give me a little more time to get ready between attacks, we can support. More or less. The range on the guns is good, over seven klicks, so if, say, you drop us off five or six klicks out, and move slowly yourself, we can probably be ready to fire by the time you hit. Usually.'
'Have to do,' Reilly said. Even so, he thought, The cooks aren't going to have shit to do once we land. And they're perfectly capable of slinging ammunition. I'll have a talk with Stauer, the sergeant major, and Island about it.
Standing in the back, Sergeant Major Joshua was thinking, I wonder how long before Reilly suggests using the cooks to supplement the mortars?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I have never smuggled anything in my life.
Why, then, do I feel an uneasy sense of guilt on
approaching a customs barrier?'
-John Steinbeck
D-84, MV
The port didn't even have cranes sufficient for the three containers holding nine Ferret scout cars. This wasn't a problem, however, as the ship transporting them did have an integral crane and the Merciful had the gantry to move them around once they were aboard her. The transfer took place in the river, west of the port facilities, such as they were. The Georgetown authorities didn't much care as long as the deputy chief of customs, a subsidiary to the Guyana Revenue Authority, got a small donative for his retirement fund for his subverting of Section 204 of the Guyanan Customs Act. Since he'd been getting a fair number of such donatives, of late, from Gordo, his retirement fund had grown handsomely over the last several weeks. At least in theory. For the nonce, it was all locked up in escrow.
In any case, thought the deputy, standing on bridge of the Merciful, watching the containers sway at the ends of their cables as the transfer took place, what takes place in the river and doesn't set foot on land isn't really my
