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Just a story about how my unit came back from Iraq.

Simple story, just the trip home. Balad, Iraq, circa May 2004.
My unit is preparing to leave Iraq. The way its supposed to work is unit is contacted by the MCC (Movement Control Center) and given a date and time to form into a convoy to head back to Kuwait. This would be South through Baghdad and then about 700 miles East to Kuwait. This route is now experiencing IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) and ambushes on a regular basis and we really don't want to do that. Once in Kuwait we would have to clean all the dirt off everything (no bad bugs get to come back) deliver the vehicles and equipment to the port and then await a charter flight home.
Colonel Y makes a great decision. Based on knowing that C17s are flying out empty and going to McChord AFB on a daily basis, he cuts a deal with the Airforce which we have been supporting through our base operations for over 8 months.
We will clean vehicles and have them inspected by Customs, load them on the empty C17s and have them recovered by the Oregon Guard at McChord AFB. This we do in one's and two's until all of our vehicles are gone. We have enough leased NTVs (Non Tactical Vehicles, mostly SUV s) to do our mission without our organic vehicles. Finally we are notified that in two days we will fly out ourselves and be free of this place.
Someone fields a phone call from the MCC. They want us to come by and get our convoy number and fill out paperwork for our drive back to Kuwait. When informed that we will not being going to Kuwait, they ask "How the hell do you think you’re going home". They answer "By air!" As far as we know, we are the first unit that has managed this trick (May 2004).
We put all our gear on pallets including two carpets for my wife. Then we go through Customs who make sure we are not bringing anything illegal back with us. The last item is leaving all our ammunition behind. We board the C17 and are seated in the standard (and hated) red web seats which are comfy for about 10 minutes. A forty foot container and our pallets are loaded and we depart. Its a interesting departure as its a combat take off. Max power and the moment we leave the ground the pilot turns the plane on its wing and turns the plane to its left and I am looking out the window at dirt. This is to avoid any bad guys waiting off base in line with the runways with small arms or MANPADS (Man Portable Air Defense Systems, i.e. missiles).
We are notified by the crew when we depart Iraqi airspace and there is a loud cheer. We stop in Crete to refuel, alas no one is allowed off the aircraft. So, we have sort of been to Crete just like we have sort of been to Italy (when we deployed to Iraq). Next stop is Germany where we change flight crews and get more fuel. The new flight crew wheels on a half dozen cases of German beer, making all of us jealous as hell.
We have been flying several hours when one of our Soldiers tells me I have to check out the bathroom. WTF why? "Sir, its really different. Ok, I go to check it out and find it has a door, sink and a toilet. We are used to other AF aircraft that you pull a curtain around you for privacy and use what is essentially a bucket all in view of your fellow travelers. The Air Force has come a long way.
We land on the East coast for more fuel and there is discussion about mandatory crew rest (which would strand us in a spartan waiting room for 12 or more hours). Finally the crew decides they can press on to McChord and we take off. Because we have not been able to keep our families informed of our schedule, we only have military reps from the Oregon Guard greet us on our arrival late at night.
We are bussed to North Fort Lewis and to an arms room where I part with my Beretta that has been at my side for a year. I feel half naked. Then off to two WWII barracks with bunks already prepared for us and then sleep. Waking up in the early morning we shower and go outside. Man, green is a bright color, looking at the grass and trees almost hurts your eyes. After looking at dirt and sand for a year it takes some time to become accustomed to color again. But we are back!
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A Course of Action Part 40 - The Gears Keep Turning

| First |Previous | Next |
Coalition Space Command Headquarters, Vandenberg Air Force Base, United States of America. One Week Later. 10 Months since First Contact.
General Roberts looked around at his office, taking in all the details for the last time. He sighed, understanding why he had to go, but still upset about it nonetheless. President Kain, after Task Force Bravo had rescued him from the Moon, had been less-than pleased when he had discovered that Moonbase Alpha’s security had been compromised.
The President’s ire had turned to those that ultimately been in charge of security around the satellite outpost. Colonel Straker and General Henderson had been passed over by his wrath for their actions in defending the base. From what Roberts understood, Straker himself had led the charge that had saved Kain from the aliens.
The axe had ultimately fallen on the head of the World Intelligence Network, Director Howard and the Head of Coalition Space Command, i.e., himself.
Roberts looked around his office once more. He took in the light-brown wooden panelling that lined the white painted walls, that familiar grey carpet and the dark-brown door. Out of habit he brushed some dust of the top of his small, but functional desk, before rubbing the dirt off his hand.
His personal belongings were all packed in a black attaché case; the paperwork that had plagued his days in office was all filed neatly in the cabinets that sat next to the desk. Looking out the window at the launchpads and hangar bays that made up the base, he sighed again. He would miss this.
Picking up the attaché case, he turned around and headed for the door. As he opened it, he was surprised to see General Henderson standing there.
“General!” Roberts exclaimed, “Good to see you.”
Henderson grinned.
“Just thought I’d stop by before the official change of command ceremony later,” he said, looking around the office, “Nice place.”
“It’s your place now, or will be soon,” replied Roberts.
“Yes,” mused the other General, “You ready for your next assignment?”
Roberts grimaced.
“Being assigned commander of an outpost specially built for people like me isn’t exactly my idea of heaven,” the former head of Space Command answered, “But at least I’ll get a good view of Jupiter.”
Henderson chuckled.
“Yes… Well,” he held out his hand, “Good Luck, Roberts,” he said, “See you at the ceremony later.”
“Yes, see you,” agreed Roberts, shaking his fellow officer’s hand.
London, England.
Major Black sat in his living room, looking out the window at the street outside. The roads of London were quieter then they had been last time he was home. Since President Kain’s declaration of Total War, all citizens of age, as well as any available resources, had been ‘donated’ to the military. As he watched, a convoy of armoured cars drove past, heading to some unknown destination. Non-military wheeled vehicles were a rarity nowadays, as a lot of the older types of cars still used petrol. Petrol, already fading into the pages of history due to the introduction of alien power cells, had all-but vanished. The last supplies had been recently requisitioned to quench the thirst of the Army’s Motor Corps.
The Major turned away from the window and switched on the T.V., just in time to catch the hourly Coalition News Network, or CoNet, update.
“President Kain will be addressing the General Assembly tomorrow regarding the new Security Reforms,” the news anchor was saying, “While it is unclear at this time what the Reforms will consist of, sources have told CoNet that they are to involve tougher security measures and periodic sweeps for spying devices on Coalition military bases, especially any celestial installations.”
Black snorted in disgust. ‘Isn’t the life of a soldier regulated enough?’ he thought, ‘At this rate it’ll take us half a year just to get through the hangar bay on Alpha.’
The news anchor said some more about the reforms, then switched to a new story.
“Coalition Forces in Delhi report that the clean-up operations in the Indian capital will be completed next month,” the woman read, :The families of those killed during the Consortium attack on Earth last month will be able to pay their respect to their family members the week after operations have ceased,” she finished the brief announcement and moved onto the next news-item.
“NASA hopes to send the first astronauts to the recently-completed Interstellar Colonization Ship Hope next week,” the anchor reported, “However, officials from the space agency are reporting that the launching may be delayed until next month due to as-yet unknown military operations at Moonbase Alpha.”
Black grinned. He knew exactly what those operations were; In three days, when his leave was over, he’d be at the forefront of a Coalition assault on a Consortium-held shipyard, which would supposedly hasten the end of the war.
His grin vanished when he thought of the war. Every soldier in Task Force Bravo more-or-less agreed on the idea that the war was pointless. After all, they had been essentially forced to fight an alien faction for another faction, then they found out that the ones that had pointed them in the direction of their foes were the real enemy.
It was confusing and disillusioning. The Major hoped that the upcoming assault would quicken the end of the war. He was tired of seeing friends and comrades be buried. Just this morning there had been a funeral service for the soldiers killed in action defending the President. Black hadn’t attended personally, but the deaths still struck him nonetheless.
While humanities casualties during this seemingly pointless war had not been anywhere near as numerous as their foes, enough men and women had been lost to anti-air guns, enemy armour, or just lucky shots.
Major Black stared out the window, thinking of the deaths of Corporal Brown and Sergeant Grey. As he sat there, he vowed once again that their deaths wouldn’t be in vain. Humanity would continue to fight the Consortium, and they would win. **********************************************************************************
Stealth Shuttle Excalibur, in orbit around planet Cu’Boyd. 2036 A.D.
The stealth shuttle floated in high orbit over the enemy shipyard. The spacecraft had most of its systems shut down to minimise the chance of detection. This included, to the crew’s discomfort, most of the spacecraft’s complex computer system and the life support. Inside the cockpit, Flight Lieutenants Gavin Harrison and Troy Redfield scanned the planet below, watching for any signs of hostile action towards the shuttle. The spacesuit-wearing R.A.F. astronauts also constantly checked the Excalibur’s passive stealth systems, ensuring that their shield against the prying eyes of the Consortium was still active.
Outside the shuttle, the crew chief, clad in a bulky, white E.V.A. suit, was guiding the shuttle’s payload out of the rear cargo ramp. Said payload was a blocky, rectangular satellite, covered with retracted solar panel arrays and communications dishes. As soon as the smaller spacecraft had cleared the main ship, the crew chief tugged on his safety line, hauling himself back into the payload bay. Pressing the button to close the ramp, he activated his radio.
“Payload’s deployed, sir,” he told the pilots as the hatch slowly closed behind him.
“Roger,” Flight Lieutenant Harrison’s British-accented voice echoed through the crew chief’s helmet, “I’ll take us out of the inner system and contact Command.”
As soon as the pilot had signed off, he began activating the shuttle’s backup guidance systems. The low-power systems sent out less of a signal that could be used to trace the unarmed shuttle. Harrison and Redfield used the shuttle’s manoeuvring thrusters to push the spacecraft onto a trajectory that would take it away from the enemy planet. Before they activated the main engines, Harrison flicked a switch on the dashboard. About two-hundred metres to their stern, the satellite came to life. Solar panels and antennae unfurled themselves as the spacecraft powered up.
Satisfied that everything was working, the crew activated the engines. The quantum-neutrino jet engines flared to life, burning bright blue as they rocketed the shuttle away from the planet. “Command, this is Excalibur,” Flight Lieutenant Harrison spoke into the radio, “Have delivered cargo, returning to base.”
“Roger Excalibur,” Came the reply from Space Command, “See you on the flip side.”
With that, the pilot shut off the radio and activated the warpspace drive. The stealth shuttle faded away in a burst of orange light, just as the aliens’ tracking stations began to notice the ship’s heat signature.
Executive-Director’s Office, Capital.
Director Rytech sat at his desk. Across from him sat Viceroy-Director Flurgeon and Fleet-Director Admiral Zartan. The two military men squirmed under the fierce gaze of the Consortium’s dictator. The only sounds in the room were the ticking of a time-piece, and the humming of the Executive-Director’s desktop computer.
“I am very disappointed, Directors,” Rytech spoke after a few minutes of silence, “Not only have we lost an entire battalion of troops and a platoon of our most skilled warriors, but the humans have also wiped out another fleet of twenty irreplaceable starships, along with their crews!”
“Furthermore,” he continued before any of his guests could speak up, “We lost the only working examples we had of human weaponry! How in the name of the Great Beyond are we to fight them off now?” he raved. The two officers remained silent.
“This had better not happen again,” warned Rytech, “Or the next ship sent to raid Arthrex-III will have you two as passengers!”
Coalition Air Defence Command, formerly NORAD. 2036 A.D.
“We’re getting a strong signal from the satellite, sir,” the technician reported. The Base Commander checked the report on his own console. Just like the man had said, the spy satellite in orbit around the enemy planet was fully operational.
“I confirm,” he replied, “Good. Send a message to Space Command,” he directed another member of the army of techs manning the base’s control stations, “They’ll take it from here.”
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