Irregulaire

The Team

“Alright, folks, gather around,” I began. “They want us to split into combat teams. We’re not supposed to see much combat, but I figured they want it just in case,” I explained. “As we’ve learned, there are three teams in a squad, so let’s do that. So, what I’d like to have is this. Red, you lead Harry, Ryan, and Mark in a fire team. I will have Dan, Jimmy, and Kris in mine,”

They all nodded.

“Buck will lead the gun team. Frank got a MAG, so whatever happens, he’s the heavy hitter. Karl would be his assistant gunner,” I continued. “I mean, in case we’re ever sent out, Red’s team will be providing bases of fire. My team will be the assault team, moving forward or flanking the enemy. MG would be additional support for either softening up the targets or as a bug-out cover,” I explained. 

“Well, this is new,” Buck joined. He’s right, we had never been split like this before. We only received classroom instructions about this, but it was never applied to us in Basic Training as we were not expected to see combat.

“Let’s hope we won’t ever be sent out of the compound,” Red quipped.

“Alright, who do you think is gonna be the squad leader?” I then asked everyone.

“Aren’t you the squad leader?” Dan asked me back.

“That’s in basic training, man. This is combat,” 

We have two Sergeants made during basic training; Red and I. The rest of the crew had no rank. The way the Marines see them, they were all privates, as rank structures are not going to be much use to rear guards.

“I think you would do just fine,” said Mark. Frank and Dan agreed.

“I think in this scenario Red is better,” Karl replied. “She’s in the first team, right… base of fire? I mean, she can direct everyone else while providing a base of fire,” he said. Jimmy and Harry backed that up. 

“How about Buck?” said Red. 

“What do you mean? I’m not a Sergeant,” denied Buck, “I’m only in charge of this,” pointing to Frank’s machine gun. “It’s either you or Mick,” 

“Oh yeah I forgot about that,”

“Karl’s got a point,” I joined in again. “I think I’ll be the assistant squad leader. How about that?” 

Red was a bit unsure. “Alright, then. I’ll lead. Mick becomes number two. Everyone else goes as specified before,” she said, quite nervously. 

“That’ll do. Any more questions?” 

“No, Sarge,” Dan said, followed by others. 

We were told that we would be given new equipment by the time we get to the staging area. The compound was a part of the recon element and acted as a listening post. As it turned out, the Marine Major who had called for auxiliary reinforcement for his compound was the father of someone I was fond of back in high school, Grace Metford.  

Everyone in our group were all college friends, but Red was one of my closest friends back in the day. She was this taller-than-average tomboy. She lived in the far part of Melville, quite near a military base. She got into similar interests that I had prior to entering college, and our friendship grew there. She’s a fast learner, and highly eager to do so given any chance. When I came to Melville and looked for her, she'd been giving hell for the first few weeks of the invasion, defending her home with grandpa’s hunting rifle. 

Red was seen smoking outside our quarters. I don’t really know what she was thinking about, so I came up to her, trying to dig something. 

“Me? Leading the boys, out of all people? Are you crazy? They’re not even gonna listen to me,” 

“Well, we’re the only sergeants in the team,” 

“I mean you’ve been leading us during basic, for Pete’s sake,” 

“Well, now it’s your turn. Folks back there trust you. Okay? They’ll listen. Don’t worry about it,” 

“They listened to you,”

“Look,” I continued. “We’re on our own, this time. I mean, in basic training, all I did was follow a superior officer. Without a superior, I’d be blind,”

“As if,” Red sighed. She then threw her half-spent cigarette away, still looking troubled.

Red had considered joining the CivDef before I came to Melville. But when the rest of the crew were gathered, she came with us and enlisted with the Irregular Reserves—a rear echelon unit specifically founded in response to the war. Before enlisting, she had this rifle she found in her grandpa’s house; an old No. 4 Enfield rifle with a leather sling, along with a few clips worth of ammunition and a scope on top. Quite a handy rifle to be honest. Her grandfather must’ve used it to hunt or something. Red, on the other hand, used it to defend her position from looters, both armed or not. She had to abandon that rifle though, as it was rather unwieldy at times—not to mention it was outdated. The ammunition wouldn’t be compatible with the ones issued for the M16 by the Marines.

“You know, I hated losing that No. 4, Mick”, she started. She had wanted to bring that rifle instead of using the M16A1 we were issued with.

“I’m sorry,” I responded. 

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. It’s just… Now that I left that house, and the rifle’s gone, the last thing my grandpa left me that was still in my possession is this watch,” she looked onto her left wrist, caressing its crystal before adjusting its position a bit. She stared blankly forward for a while afterwards. 

“Could you do me a favor?” Red suddenly asked, turning towards me.

“What is it?”

“In case anything happens to me…”

“Oh no we’re not talking about that,” I said, looking away.

“No, no, please, Mickey. Come on—” 

“Alright,” I sighed, looking back at her again.

“I guess it wasn’t that important anyway,” she walked away, feeling dejected.

The next day, we departed for the Major’s compound. We got into the trucks and headed for the estate, locked and loaded. Ear plugs were on. It was around 9AM that we hit the gas. Along with us was a Sergeant Major. He said he was on a new deployment, under a new CO.

“You boys heading to Major Metford?” He inquired about us on the truck, half shouting.

“Yeah!” Red replied. 

“Harris Wilkins,” He extended his hand towards her.

“Anne Riley,” she shook his hand, “This is my team!”

-------

We saw burning tires, dead bodies, and destroyed houses along the way. Roads full of potholes made by mortar rounds made the ride a little bumpy. I have already been to the Major’s house before. It looked like an old colonial house with tall windows with wooden sills. It only had a ground floor, so it wasn’t very tall. It is, however, now equipped with a radio tower. 

The truck then stopped right before the gate, inviting curious eyes to see. We hopped off, tipped our hats to the driver, and walked towards the gate as the truck drove off.

“We’re here to see Major Metford,” I told the guards, giving one of them the paperwork for it.

“Oh, okay—yeah, I heard about your orders. Yeah, Major’s in there,” the guard confirmed. 

“Hey, I know you,” the other guard said, “Crawford High, class of 2010?”

“Hell yeah, man! Dick, wasn’t it?” I pointed at him.

“Aye! Welcome to the fight!” he shook my hand.

“Yeah I got my orders now. Major Metford’s in there, right?”

“You sure you’re seeing the Major?” he teased me.

“Shut up,” I chuckled, “Besides, I got a Sergeant Major here looking to see him,”

“Yeah be careful, though, her boyfriend’s here. Who are these?” he asked. 

“This is my squad. The Marines sent us here to assist a very particular Major,” I explained to him. 

“You wise ass,” he chuckled, “alright then, go on,” he gave in. 

There he was, standing proud at the door; smoking pipe hanging from his mouth. Grace, his daughter that I was fond of, was there. Her boyfriend, Ian Rhodes, was also there. It occurred to me that he’s a doctor; I think he’s here to help with medical stuff. Besides, Grace will need him close. Let’s hope he can cooperate with us. 

“There they are. Come over here!” the Major greeted us. “Harris Wilkins?” 

“Major Metford,” he nodded.

“Come inside, Sergeant Major, I’ll get to you in a moment,” he insisted. Wilkins then walked up the porch and went inside the house immediately.

“Oh, it is you?” 

“Sir,” I confirmed. 

“Wait, the girl is your squad leader?” he said, surprised. 

“Yes, sir, this is uh… Anne Riley from Melville,”

“Ah, so this is Sergeant Riley,” he commented, “just make sure she makes it out okay. For her own good,” 

“Well, she does have a death wish, sir, but of course,” I chuckled. “That Sergeant Major, sir. Is he a replacement?

“Yeah,” he turned, “Our last one was killed a few weeks ago, during an operation that went south,” —

Moments later, we were on his porch, taking his hand for a firm shake. I then proceeded to introduce my guys.

“It’s been a while, Michael, how have you been?”

“We’re alive, sir,” I smiled.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he chuckled back, looking at me up and down. “Yeah, alright, follow me,” he then instructed. “We got weapons for you guys. Have you split up into fire teams?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded.

“Okay, good, because you’re more than likely to see some action in these parts. Now, it’s best to assign one support gunner per team. The guns are on the table,” he continued, “choose carefully,” 

“Yes, sir,” 

“Oh and Michael, come here for a sec,”

“Sir?”

“We knew it was gonna be you. The uh… the real reason we called you out here is because I might need to leave for a while. I needed someone to take care of Grace,” the Major said, as he handed out a small pouch. “Please, take care of my daughter, at least until we move out,”

I was confused. However the Major then went inside his house. His child, who stood a little further away, followed suit. That is, after giving me a little smile. I never figured out if she was in on it, but—wait a second, are these…?

I went back out and shook hands with Ian afterwards, trying to explain to him our respective jobs. Clearly, he showed a not-so-friendly face when I arrived, knowing that I’ve had feelings towards his now-girlfriend before. 

“Look, I’m here for the objective the Marines gave me—not to take her away from you. Okay? I mean, I like her, I do. But all I’m doing here is to take care of the compound,” 

“I get it. You do your job outside the house, I do my job inside the house, that’s all,” 

“Unless things get messy. I will need to make sure any plan you have does not go FUBAR, and I will need you to help me out with a few things,” 

“Hmm…” he nodded. A long pause. “But you stay off her,” he said as I turn my back 

“Oh, come on,” I sighed, turning to face him again. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary,” I walked away, gathering up with my men around the table. 

“What are we looking at?” Dan asked. 

“A few rifles, nothing we didn't already have there. But these are higher standards,” 

“Understood,” 

“Sergeants are allowed a pistol with two mags.” Major said, surprising us from behind and tapping on my shoulder. I guess I’m getting one.

Meanwhile, the guys were looking and trying to find what’s best for them. There were a few newer model M16 lying around—the A2 and A4, and I took one. I knew the 1st Recon Battalion had a couple dozen of these lying around from the news on TV a while back. 

“These are nice, don’t you think?” Red said as she took a look around.

“Yeah, this is my favorite, as a matter of fact,” I lifted up the M16A4.

“Hmm,” Red took a shorter weapon, a plain M4 carbine with its default carry handle sight. “This thing looks handy,”

I think it fits her with its ability to provide automatic fire, but also accurate enough—well, it’s special forces specifications—to reach out to a distance; and she likes that kind of weapon. That weapon is not too heavy, so she wouldn’t get fatigue just from humping it around. It would’ve been nice if it had some form of optical sights attached to it, but I figured it wouldn’t have been necessary.

For Harry, I put him in a marksman role. The weapon, an M16A2. Factory configuration, no scope, similar to mine. Usually, a marksman would be issued a rifle with a scope on it. However, seeing that we’re on rear duty, it wasn’t necessary. For now, a stock rifle is going to be enough for him. Dan took another M16A4 available. He would be happy enough to keep his A1, but then again, I would be more comfortable if he made the switch, and he did.

Basically, Ryan, Buck, Jimmy, and Karl had similar setups. They all took a version of the AG-2—the R1, but I assigned Karl a grenadier model, with a 16-inch barrel and an under-barrel grenade launcher, the M203. I figured if anyone tries to flank team C, the 203 will deny them of that advantage. 

I assigned Mark and Kris for light support weapons, known as Minimis (but our troops followed the American way of saying it, the SAW). This is the support gun that the Major was talking about earlier. I let Frank stick with his MAG, however. It is indeed a beastly machine gun, with a larger caliber than the rest of our weapons—and the ammo is widely available on both sides. We considered ourselves lucky to be issued that machine gun in the first place, as that thing is a platoon-level weapon. 

“Do you know how to operate those bad boys?” I asked Mark and Kris about their SAW.

“Sure we do,” Mark responded.

“Alright. Just make sure you pull the charging handle first before opening the feed cover,” I told them. —

There were a few pistols lying around along with its magazines and holsters. There was a SIG, some Glocks, and some Browning. As per the Major’s notice, I picked the SIG and gave Red the Glock. I then decided to give each machine gunner one pistol, as they could be useful in dire situations. 

Major Metford then also provided a mix of newer plate carriers for armor—in lieu of older flak vests the Marines had for Reservists—and these had magazine pouches, so we ditched our ALICE gear, except for Kris as he liked the flak vest better. They can carry up to six magazines, and that is exactly what we were going for. We carried six per rifleman except for Red who carried four—MG had their own pouches—and even that is excessive. They also had flag patches on the front, right under the left shoulder strap. 

Grier Army doctrine would say, for rear or guard duty, a person is to take three magazines and put it on the three front pouches of their vests—and if they want to, the rest goes anywhere else. However, the Grier Marines’ vests were wider to allow more pouches, and they opted for four double pouches. This allows them to carry more ammunition and sustain longer field operations than the Army.

“About yesterday…” Red suddenly spoke behind me. I turned as she was holding her grandfather’s watch on her left wrist. It has a nicely finished leather strap with her family name carved into it. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to us here, but… in case anything happens, I want you to hang on to this for me,”

“You keep it,” I insisted, “If anything happens, then I’ll take care of it. But I’ll try my best to keep us alive. Deal?” I gave her my hand, which she then took.

“Deal,”

“Your palms are wet,”

—