Marine: A Guided Tour of a Marine Expeditionary Unit

Fleet Marine Force Atlantic Headquarters, Naval Station Norfolk, Virginia, October 5th, 2006

Dr. Kennelly and Lieutenant Harris were both wondering what they were doing in the secure conference room of the Fleet Marine Force Atlantic (FMFLANT) headquarters this fine day. The heat and humidity of summer had finally broken, and you could almost feel fall in the air. In the room with them were a number of Navy, Air Force, and Marine officers, none over the rank of colonel or captain. Precisely at 0800, the brigadier who served as deputy commander FMFLANT rose and went to the podium. He pushed a button to display a briefing slide onto the large-screen projector to the side of him.

'Ladies and gentleman, we have here an opportunity to excel….'

Everyone in the room tensed up, knowing exactly what that kind of invitation meant. As he outlined the situation at Bushehr and Bandar al Abbas, you could feel the anxiety in the room rise. Dr. Kennelly wondered if this was how it felt back in 1949 when the first Soviet A-bomb test was announced. If the data was correct, a new nuclear power would be born in just three months. The fact that he had contributed to the discovery just made him sicker. What the general had to say next stunned them even more:

'Your job is to stop this program, and bring home irrefutable evidence of what the Iranians have been up to.'

He flipped through his charts, and the officers made furious notes on the hard-copy charts that had been supplied to them. A Marine colonel spoke next.

'Sir, am I to understand that the 22nd MEU (SOC) is the only element of the force that will actually be in the Gulf itself?'

The reply came quickly. 'Yes, Colonel, you'll relieve the 31st as scheduled, with the extra training and support that we have described here previously. Other than that, we want nothing of this operation to ever touch ground in the region. We're trying to provide complete deniability for the Saudis and our other friends. The President, the Congressional leadership, and the Joint Chiefs are all behind this one, and they want it to go off smoothly. Any questions?'

'How about the name of the operation sir?'

The General replied with a smile, 'Back in the 90s, the old-time intelligence analysts called this plant 'the Dead Dog.' When we get done with it, it's going to be a Chilly Dog!'

There was a long pause, after which the colonel replied, 'Semper Fi, sir!'

Aboard USS Bataan (LHD-5), off the North Carolina Coast, November 1st, 2006

'All right, ladies and gentlemen, this is our final confirmation brief before we do this run-through for the last time. Are we clear on all the important points?' Colonel Mike Newman was going over the last of his briefing slides.

The young captain commanding Charlie Company replied, 'Yes, sir. The last time showed that we're good on time and tasks, but we need to work on order and flow?'

'That's right, Jimmy. It's not so much that you're doing anything wrong; it's just that I want to see you guys flowing like black ink through the compound mock-ups. There's nothing we can do about being noticed eventually. I just want to delay the inevitable as long as possible, so the diversion force can really get the attention of that battalion on the north side of the access road.' He stopped, and then his face wrinkled into a thinly veiled grin. 'I want them giving their full attention to defending their own barracks,' he continued, 'and not bothering with a few guys in black jumpsuits.' He finished with: 'Let's do it right this last time, and put it into the can, folks!'

The last run-through was nearly perfect, good enough to satisfy Colonel Newman and the SOTG observers. With this part of the preparation completed, and the procedures for the disposal of the defensive oil platforms dealt with, they would be ready to deploy in early December.

Warhead Assembly Room, Bushehr, Iran, December 4th, 2006

The Machinery Minister looked around with satisfaction at the twelve warhead assembly bays that were being finished. The movement of parts from the automobile factory had gone without incident, and the last phase of the plutonium extraction process had begun on time. In three weeks, a dozen nuclear weapons would take shape in this room, and there was nothing that the infidels or anyone else could do about it. That morning, he had received an intelligence briefing from his assistant at the ministry. The young man had a gift for this work, and amazingly, did absolutely nothing that was illegal in any country. The 1-meter-satellite imagery was acquired from a half-dozen different providers from France to the People's Republic of China. Data on movements by military units was also available over the Internet; it was as good as what most intelligence analysts saw in their morning briefings.

There was absolutely no indication of anything unusual at the bases where enemy special forces were plying their trade. In fact, there was a steady decline of military activity by the U.S. and her allies around the world. Even the U.S. Air Force, with its boast of 'global reach,' had been cutting back. The only matter of note that would be happening in the next month was a handover between two token Marine units in the Gulf. Nothing to worry about: only a single battalion aboard three ships with a couple of escorts. The carrier battle group based around the USS Constellation (CV-64) would be operating out in the Arabian Sea, and would not enter the Persian Gulf on this cruise. It was going to work.

Onslow Beach, Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, December 7th, 2006

It was deployment day, and Captain Bill Hansen had the double problem of saying good-bye to his own wife and baby daughter, and getting his company of fifteen amphibious tractors aboard the USS Trenton (LPD-14). He would have the honor of taking the first unit of AAAVs out on cruise. He knew the real reason for this honor. Unlike others who had taken new systems to sea for the first time, he knew he would be taking this one into battle in just a few weeks. Luckily, the new vehicle had proven pretty reliable in field trials, and he had four contractor technicians to keep them in good shape.

His concentration was broken suddenly by the buzz of twin turboprops, and he looked up just in time to see Lieutenant Colonel Colleen Taskins banking her MV-22B Osprey to the north, followed by three other Ospreys from HMM-263. She had a fifteen-minute flight ahead, and then a landing aboard Bataan. He smiled, because Taskins faced the same problem he did. Though the Osprey had been in service for a few years, this would probably be its first combat trial. Lieutenant Colonel Taskins had been chosen as the first woman to command a Marine combat helicopter unit; now she would likely be the first female to command a Marine unit in actual combat. Not that this was a problem: Inside the pixie-faced lady who could turn the head of every male Marine in the MEU (SOC) was the heart of a warrior. He also knew that if something went wrong at Bushehr, she would be the first one in the air to come pick them up. Shaking the thought off, he climbed into his AAAV, and ordered the driver to head into the surf.

Reactor Control Room, Bushehr, Iran, December 15th, 2006

Lev Davidovich Telfian was nervous. A few days earlier he had been visited by Rogov, from the embassy in Tehran. The visit, sponsored by the Iranians, was one of many to industrial plants employing contract Russian personnel. He and Rogov had gone walking along the waterfront, beyond the ears of Iranian security. Rogov had quietly advised him to be ready for 'something,' possibly even 'anything.' Then he'd headed back to Teheran. Since that time Telfian had taken to carrying his personal effects with him. His computer, passport, and hard currency