299 Days: The Restoration

Chapter 299 Volunteers

“Any of your guys want to volunteer to join Bravo Company in the assault on the capitol?”

They were off to the side where no one could hear them. Edwards didn’t want rumors to fly around. The commanders had to control the flow of information on things like this.

“Of course,” Grant said. He wasn’t thrilled about his unit being handed over to another commander, but “his” men weren’t really his. They belonged to the mission.

“How many do you need here?” Edwards asked. The question reminded Grant of a used car salesman asking a customer “what kind of payments can you make?”

“I’d need at least half,” Grant said. “Five squads. I need my Quadra radio man. I need my medic. I need my Chairborne unit.” Grant explained that term to Edwards. The Chairborne people wouldn’t be much help in active combat, but would make the civil affairs mission go much smoother.

“I need my cook,” Grant said. “Oh, and I need my RED HORSE and his guys,” he said, referring to Don, the Air Force guy who was a whiz at setting up and maintaining bases, and all the guys Don had helping him on wiring, plumbing, base defense, and everything else. Everything they needed to have that brewery running as an HQ, and everything they’d need to get Olympia back up and running as they did their civil affairs mission.

“What about the Team?” Edwards asked. He wanted them.

“They are free to volunteer,” Grant said reluctantly. He wanted his guys to stay with him. He wanted to go through this adventure with them. He wanted them to protect him, but he knew he couldn’t pry them away from a mission like taking the capitol.

“Okay,” Edwards said. “I’d like five of your squads. I’d like one of your SF guys to lead them.”

“Sap,” Grant said. “He can do it. I need Ted here to tell me what to do.”

“Roger that,” Edwards said, appreciating Grant’s candor. Bullshit had no place in a serious situation like this. The absolute truth was required. The truth that people could bet their lives and their buddies’ lives on.

They made plans for half of the 17th to join with Bravo Company. They would leave in two hours. It was 4:04 a.m. now. It would still be dark in two hours. They would be able to leave fed and a little rested, which was a huge advantage.

The next two hours were a whirlwind. Grant, Ted, and Sap coordinated who would leave, what gear they would need, and what people and gear needed to stay behind.

Edwards assumed this would be an organizational nightmare—a “cluster fuck,” as they called it in the military.

It wasn’t. The 17th’s squads were so well integrated with each other that people knew what to do. They formed into new squads, which were very similar to their old squads.

The next thing was for the 17th squad leaders to integrate with the Bravo Company squad leaders. The semi-trained irregulars of the 17th would be taking orders from Bravo Company leaders. This should be interesting, Edwards thought. But, then again, the military organized itself in a way that made it much easier for new people to plop into a unit and work as a team. It was designed that way.

It was almost 6:00 a.m. and time to ship out. Grant went down to the first floor where all the coordinating was going on. He saw Pow, who came over and gave Grant a bro hug.

“We’re doin’ it, man,” Pow said with a smile. “We’re goin’ in.”

“You’ll do great,” Grant said. “Show these regular Army guys what some UCGs can do,” referring to their joking designation of “Untrained Civilian Goofballs.” “Oh,” Grant said, “and take care of the boys for me,” referring to the rest of the Team. “Bring ’em back, brother.”

“Roger that, brother,” Pow said. “Roger that,” he repeated as he straightened up his posture. Pow paused and then threw out his hand as if to say, “It’s nothing.”

“We’ve done lots of shit that we weren’t supposed to know how to do,” Pow said with a grin.

“I’d go with you,” Grant said, “but…”

Pow cut him off. “Don’t give me this. You’re not wimping out, dude. You have some shit to do here. That’s been the big plan all along. You do your thing; we’ll do ours.”

Pow looked Grant right in the eye and said in a serious tone, “You have skills, Grant. The Man Upstairs wants you to do some things here. Do them.”

That was the most serious thing Pow had ever said to Grant. Normally, Pow talked like a surfer dude, but not now. He was serious about this.

“Will do,” Grant said. “And, if you come back from the capitol and I’m not here because I cut myself on some paperwork and bled to death,” they both laughed, “well, thanks for getting my family out of Olympia. ‘Gonna eat that pickle?’ Classic, dude. Classic. You guys risking it for my family meant everything. Thanks.”

“What?” Pow asked with a questioning expression. “This isn’t some goodbye, dude. Don’t even talk that way. We’ll be back in a couple hours. Couple days, tops.” Pow smiled his beaming smile of confidence.

By now, Scotty, Bobby, Ryan, and Wes had assembled around Pow. It was time to go. They all bro hugged Grant. The Bravo Company guys thought it was weird for some contractor-looking guys to be bro hugging a commanding officer, but whatever. They were an irregular unit.

“Let’s go!” yelled one of the Bravo Company squad leaders, and off they went. No one from the 17th looked back. They wanted to, but didn’t want to look like wusses.

As they started walking off toward combat, none of them could possibly imagine what was going to happen in the next two hours. None of them saw it coming.