big planes passed overhead, he realized what was coming, and sounded the alarm. It did him little good. The 1st Battalion of the 325th Airborne jumped from an altitude of 500 feet/152.4 meters, putting them on the ground and into action quickly. Having been dropped with surprising precision directly on their objectives, the heavy weapons positions around the field, they took most of them within seconds of hitting the ground.
This was fortunate, as the second wave, the 325th's 2nd Battalion, was only five minutes behind. These troopers had the job of clearing the runways and taxiways so they would be ready for fly-in reinforcements. Within an hour, the whole of the 325th had flown in from their staging base on Guam, and the C-17A Globemaster IIIs were headed back for another load. For Major Yasin, his Staff College problem was over. The survivors of his unit scattered, heading south into the mountains, where they would try to regroup.
Seria Oil Production Complex, Brunei, 0120 Hours, September 21st, 2008
The AAAVs hit a beach lined with petroleum storage tanks as far as the eye could see. They immediately unloaded their cargo of Marines. The vehicles then sought cover, awaiting orders to move inland. The embarked company carried only shotguns and grenade launchers, loaded with the beanbag rounds. Malaysian forces had not done much to secure the field, mainly because if it went up in flames, they lost the very reason for taking Brunei in the first place. So they had decided to cover the east and west flanks of the field, as well as the access road running along the coast. They had never expected an enemy crazy enough to come through the oil-storage facility.
The Marines were pleased to see that British Shell had managed to evacuate its security and field personnel. Word of this had come down two days earlier, so they knew any armed men in front of them were unfriendly. A handful of Malaysian soldiers patrolling the area were captured and held in a POW pen on the beach. Somehow, few Malaysian soldiers had volunteered for guard duty amid hundreds of tanks holding millions of gallons of flammable and explosive hydrocarbons. The Marines rapidly moved south to get beyond the tank farms. When the company reached the fence, they used small charges to blow holes in the chain-link-and-razor wire, and then called for their AAAVs to come and pick them up.
By this time, the LCACs carrying M1A1 tanks and LAVs had arrived, and a complete armored task force was ready to chew up any hostile force approaching the oil fields. The task force broke into platoons with the LAVs out on patrol and the tanks in reserve. Now nobody could get within 3 mi/4.8 km of the production facilities without the approval of the USMC, or a really ugly fight. Behind them came Marine combat engineers and demolitions experts to defuse any mines or booby traps the enemy might have left behind. As expected, there were none. Unlike Saddam Hussein back in 1991, Malaysia wanted Brunei intact. The Malaysians were not interested in crazed revenge. After all, business was business!
Cargo Pier, Port of Muara, Brunei, 0600 Hours, September 21st, 2008
Colonel Taskins stood on the end of the cargo pier with her counterpart from the 325th Airborne, the American ambassador, and several other officers. They were all listening to a satellite hookup to Tropic Fury Joint Task Force headquarters at NAS Cubi Point in the Philippines. General Bear was on the other end. His gruff voice came through loud and clear.
'Ambassador, were there any problems when our team arrived?'
Ambassador Jacob Arrens's voice showed his relief over his recent liberation. But he was a professional. His first order of business was report to General Bear about conditions in BSB.
'Sir, there is absolutely no damage to public utilities or facilities; and to the best of my knowledge, there have been no atrocities or other war crimes. It appears to have been a straight grab for the oil, plus leverage to negotiate for the Spratly leases next month. By the way, the gunnery sergeant of the embassy Marine detachment wants to talk with you at your convenience. He seems to feel a need to personally report in to you.'
Bear smiled at the thought and replied, 'Thank you Mr. Ambassador, I'd like you to put him on as soon as I can find a minute. Now let's try to get some real work done. Okay, Colonel, lay it out.'
Colonel Colleen Taskins, USMC, swallowed hard, and took a second to frame her answer. In the next two or three minutes, the fate of her Marines, the prestige of the U.S., and the future of Brunei might hinge on what she was about to say. She had done her job, but now she was being asked for an on-the-scene assessment that would decide if Tropic Fury would begin its next, critical step. She remembered her first day as a plebe at Annapolis, a beautiful spring day in 1986. When she entered the service, women could not even fly in tactical squadrons. Now she was 'in the loop.' On another occasion, she might have frozen or been scared. But now, training and two decades of service took over, and her voice was clear and strong.
'General, we've taken all of our objectives, and casualties have been minimal. I've got less than ten wounded, and no KIAs reported as yet. The boys from the 82nd Airborne hit their targets as planned, have made the linkup with us from the airport, and seem to be in good shape, sir. Their colonel will give you his report.'
The commander of the 325th spent two minutes laying out his situation, closing with: 'Sir, we've received the aerial port group that PACAF sent us, and we're ready to receive the first of your fly-in-brigade personnel. I can hold what I have, and would love to get some help to kick these bastards out of here.' The paratrooper colonel's enthusiasm was infectious. It was up to Colonel Taskins now.
'Colleen, it's your call. What do you want me to do?' Taskins had never heard General Bear call her that, even when he had been one of her more terrifying instructors at Annapolis. Now he was leaving it up to her.
Her response was immediate. 'General, we've got indications that the Malaysian brigade that occupied Brunei has run back over the border, to link up for a counterattack with another Malaysian brigade. Sir, send me MPSRON 3 and their fly-in brigade from the III Marine Expeditionary Force. I'll get my people out of here, and let the professionals clean this mess up.' She was ready to go home with her people. In six hours, the four ships of MPSRON 3 would arrive at this pier, and begin unloading.
Prime Minister's Residence, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, 0900 Hours, September 21st, 2008
The Malaysian Prime Minister was running
He had already called in the Chief of Staff of the Malaysian Army, and had laid out his demands. The Americans had gained two footholds in Brunei. The first, in BSB itself, seemed to be quite robust. The other, around the oil-production facilities of Seria, was smaller — and it was now holding the only thing that he had cared about in the first place. The holder of those wells and facilities might still be able to negotiate with the new Sultan, who would surely follow this invasion into BSB in the next few days. Perhaps the right to negotiate the Spratly oil leases could be traded for the survival of the existing North Borneo wells. It made sense. The two Malaysian brigades were ordered to attack the Marines defending Seria and retake the oil field. It was the last chance to salvage something from this adventure.
Cargo Pier, Port of Muara, Brunei, 1300 Hours, September 21st, 2008
There had been little time for niceties like tugboats and fenders; the captains of the MPSRON 3 ships had
