Command & Control

[Harrison, D.]

1315 Hours, June 16, 2542 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /
Battalion Staging Area, Tallusa City, Phoenix III,
Alpha Phoenicis System

Lieutenant Colonel Derek Harrison hovered over the holo-table in the Tactical Operations Center (TOC) of the Elephant Mobile Command Center. The room was rife with activity, filled to the brim with officers from both the Army and Marines, and with sophisticated equipment including a suite of radio equipment. Behind the radios were Marines from H&S Company's Communications Section, listening to the chaos of war as it filtered in through their headsets.

Derek rubbed his forehead in frustration as he gazed upon the holographic overhead display of the MEU's AO. Their whole operation was one big puzzle, and there were a lot of moving pieces to it that he needed to maintain awareness and keep track of. The Navy and Air Force were flying sorties in order to clear the airspace of Covenant air support. He had ground forces deployed along the eastern bank to stalwart a Covenant advance.

This was only the first wave. The second wave of transports would soon be on their way, hauling with them the motor transport and artillery units. Force Recon would soon be on their way across the river once the airspace was secure to dig in to forward positions. From their positions, they could observe the enemy's movement and prioritize targets for artillery strikes.

The third wave would see the construction of a FARP, Forward Arming and Refueling Point, as large cargo transports dropped off the MEU's air support. The MEU's Hornets, Sparrowhawks, and other in-atmosphere aircraft would be dropped off alongside their pilots. Right now, his Marines were using the Navy and Air Force to handle their close air support needs. It wasn't a situation he found desirable, but at least those bases were covered.

"Sir," the voice of Sergeant Major Carson came from his left. Derek looked up from the table and turned his head. The man looked different in full battle rattle. While already a physically imposing individual, his armor made him seem bulkier. He looked like a man poised to strike at any moment should the need to defend the battalion's staging area were to be necessary.

"Yes, Sergeant Major?" Harrison replied expectantly. He had an idea what the senior enlisted man was going to say.

"All elements 'ave landed an' our sister battalion is securin' our perimeter," the Sergeant Major reported in his usual English brogue. "The swabbies are pickin' up the second wave as we speak, an' our Marines in contact."

"Thank you, Sergeant Major," Harrison said. "When Motor T arrives groundside, I want Transport 'Hogs formed up and ready to send supplies to the front."

The Sergeant Major nodded, and looked as if he was about to walk away, then lingered a moment longer. Colonel Harrison cocked his brow in curiosity at the man. "Sir, the Army's chow tent is ta the rear of our stagin' area. How're we gonna get the hot chow ta the front?"

That was an excellent question, and one the Colonel had no clue how to answer at the moment. He'd hoped the chow tent would be closer to the front than it was. He would need to figure out a way to send the chow up without it going cold by the time it reached his Marines.

The troubles of command.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he finally said.

Carson nodded and walked away, headed off to do whatever it was he did. Derek stepped away from the holo-table and glanced at Major Killinger, whom stood by the communications stations. The amount of traffic that had filtered in since their arrival had been a mixture of joyous exclamation and grim reports from the soldiers. Mike Company was in contact with minimal resistance and heavy friendly casualties from their brothers in the Army. November Company faired better, with only a handful of Covenant to eliminate on the bridge and a relatively combat effective Army unit standing guard. He'd yet to receive a report from Oscar Company yet. That thought brought him to Major Killinger's side.

"I need a SITREP from Oscar Company," he stated dryly.

The radio operator looked back over his shoulder and nodded. "Aye, sir."

The Colonel nodded and glanced at his XO. "Major, I want you to ride along with the supply convoy to ensure all units receive the needed supplies. We're going to be here for awhile, and our boys and girls are gonna need a lot of ammo."

[Killinger, J.]

John had settled in the elephant, watching over a radio operator manage incoming information with relative ease as the chaos of war rung through the operators headset. He shook his head and mentally shrugged everything off with how people were making the supply situation sound worse than it truly was, at least in his mind. These Marines should have landed with combat loads and unless they were rifling through magazines they would have supply to last the hour, give time for supply lines to be set up instead of rushed onto the playing field. John analyzed it like a deck of cards. Right now the Battalion was dealt a bad starting hand - having to retake the bridges - but had a strong first play by deploying quickly to replenish and replace the UNSC Army's efforts. It was time to even out the battlefield and make a push, a push that would probably cost lives, no it would cost lives.

Now it was time for that push, John felt. They had the advantage. Drop some bombs on the Covenant location and push forward. He also knew that the LTC knew what he was doing so he decided to stay quiet, letting his commanding officer do his job for the most part. The veteran officer listened in with half a ear as the Sergeant Major and Lieutenant Colonel exchanged concerns about the food getting to the front. Again mentally shrugging off the concern. John knew firefights could last a while but no one was going to eat in the middle of one anyways. What was this, World War 2?

The enemy was firing highly heated plasma at humanity capable of peeling armor away like a hot knife through butter. It wasn't pretty when it happened, but war wasn't supposed to be pretty. John heard the SGTMJR stop talking, the metallic clanking on the Elephants floor as someone approached him. Major, I want you to ride along with the supply convoy to ensure all units receive the needed supplies. We're going to be here for awhile, and our boys and girl are gonna need a lot of ammo."

"Yessir!" The Major replied, donning his hanging helmet. The HUD piece booted up as it linked with his neural lace, his weapon registering a moment later. slung around his neck on a three point sling was his BR-55 9.5x40mm rifle, barrel pointed towards the ground and swaying as the Major moved to complete his orders.

He disembarked the command elephant and hopped into one of the empty Warthogs nearby, starting the engine and pressing the accelerator lightly as the vehicle left its parked position, "I'll head towards the motor pool and grab some vehicles from there, then hit up the ammo depots. I'll take it up a notch and complete a few trips before returning, sir." John said into a private network between the Colonel and himself. "No need to wish me luck, I'll be back before the coffee is ready... but I'd like a cup if I'm not."

[Flannigan, S.]

"Omen Actual, this is Chaos Tango. SITREP, over."

Flannigan looked over at Totino and gave him a single finger to get them to wait. He had a few last pieces of info to put together and wanted to talk himself.

"Tango, this is Omen. Wait one. SITREP to follow, over," Totino said quickly, working his way over to Flannigan. His mouth was still running as he let got the PTT. "First Sergeant said he caught a ride with the resupply convoy. He has chow for First and Second Platoons. Third is ready for their first FRAGO, First is nearly complete with their handoff, and I've heard nothing from Second. They are definitely in a fire fight though."

"Good copy Omen. Tango standing bye."

"Give me that handset Corporal," he said with a nod. "And be ready to move when Zieed gets here. We're going to go see how Lieutenant Durant is doing personally."

Totino nodded his head to signify he understood as he handed the handset over to the Captain. He looked eager enough as the pounding of automatic fire echoed down of the bridge, while plasma streaks lit up the sky from random fire.

"Tango, this is Omen. Omen One is currently taking over the CP from the PDFs. Omen three is on standby waiting for FRAGOs from you. Omen Seven is enroute to my location at the Omen CP, and I am preparing to check on Omen Two. They are engaged on the Bridge in this AO, but I have no status updates. HUDS report all bodies still alive."

"Good copy Omen. Tango out."

[Harrison, D.]

"Sir, Omen reports things are going smoothly. Omen Two is in contact on the bridge, no SITREP from them at this time."

Colonel Harrison nodded to the radio operator and scratched at the stubble beneath his chin. It had been a few minutes since Major Killinger's departure from the MCC, and so far it sounded like the situation was well under control. That was news that garnered with it some small sense of relief. If things weren't going to hell in a handbasket for the moment, it afforded him the reprieve he needed to focus on other concerns.

Such as the hot chow situation, which he still hadn't figured out. It wasn't exactly a priority at the moment, but it was something he wanted resolved before it became one. The Six P's came to mind, and he'd long ago adopted them as his mantra as an officer.

Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance.

He pushed those thoughts aside as he made his way back over to the holo-table. Several holographic Longswords swooped over the representation of the battalion's AO, their course taking them straight towards a flight of Banshees that skirted on the outer edges of friendly territory. The Banshees held a tight formation, and it didn't look like they'd committed to any sort of attack, but they definitely could pose a threat in the future.

At the very least they were a nuisance he wanted dealt with before they turned into a serious threat. Derek ran his fingers across a few keys and a unit designator appeared over the group of Longswords. He looked over at the radio jockies and said, "Order Raptor Zero-One to come about on heading one-one-three. Target: flight of Banshees holding at Quebec Lima Four-Five-Six-Eight-Seven-Seven-Zero."

One of the radio operators looked his way and nodded. "Aye, sir!" With that, the man was transmitting the necessary orders over the radio to the Longsword pilots. Derek looked back at the holo-table and watched as three Longswords broke off from the main group. Moments later the Banshees disappeared off the map.

"Raptor Zero-One confirms mission successful," the Marine reported.

Derek nodded. "Outstanding," he muttered under his breath. In truth, the Colonel hadn't expected things to go as smoothly as they were currently. Surely the situation had been far more perilous than this before the MEU had arrived. It was a true testament to the training and aggressiveness of the Marines under his command, and he was proud - immensely proud - of all of them.

However, he knew this was only the beginning of the fight, and he anticipated it to be a long one. He would not be handing out congratulations just yet, but he would keep these small victories in mind. If the operation continued on its current heading, his battalion would be in for a commendation. He looked back towards the front of the TOC, where the hallway that led to the Elephant's driver's cabin was located. There were a number of tactical overlays of their AO, and of the entire city as a whole.

The plans for Phase Two of FROST DRAGON would be drawn up by his staff in just a few short hours. He wondered what kind of resistance lay beyond the bridges, in the heart of Covenant territory. Whatever they have out there, it won't be enough to stop us, he mused with a grin. Phase Two would see the use of all of the MEU's assets, and what was left of the Army brigades.

The assault on the city would be executed by a combined task force of both Army and Marine units. When Force Recon and the Arty boys arrived, he planned to prep the western bank of the city for assault. Force Recon had already received their orders. They were to target enemy concentrations and soften up the battlefield for the push. Air support would be flying sorties throughout the day starting at fifteen hundred sharp.

The Covenant wouldn't know what hit them.

Or so he hoped.

Harrison's attention was drawn to one of the communications stations as a call came in from Mike Company's commander for support. He turned around and made his way over to the station. The station's operator smartly briefed him on the situation. "Sir, Mayhem reports his Marines are in heavy contact. The Covenant have moved Wraiths into position to fire on his units on the bridges. He's requesting close air."

"Where's my FAC?" he asked.

The sound of boots storming up a metal staircase echoed throughout the room. Captain Hannon, his Forward Air Controller, appeared at the top of the stairs and made his way over to Harrison and the radioman. "Right here, sir," he said. "I was just on the horn with flight ops. All transports have returned to the Vengeance and are loading up the second wave."

"Outstanding," Harrison replied.

"What do you need, sir?" Hannon asked.

"Mayhem is requesting CAS. His Marines are receiving mortar fire," he explained, and then gestured to the holo-table. "Look."

Hannon followed the Colonel over to the table, and he pointed towards Mike Company's position. With his finger, he traced a line forward from the east bank to the west bank of the river. There, positioned on either side of the two bridges in Mike's AO, were four mortar tanks. "They're there. What do we have available at this time?"

The FAC examined the map for a moment, and then met Harrison's gaze. "Most of our fixed wing support are tasked to capacity. Most I can spare are gunships. Pelicans."

Harrison nodded. "Anyone come to mind?"

Hannon grinned. "I think I know someone who can help. Standby, sir."

Captain Hannon groped his chest plate for his push-to-talk. When his hands met purchase, he pressed the button in. "Syndrome, this is Chaos FAC, be advised: I have a tasking for you. Come in, over."

[Harrison, D.]

((OOC: Generally I hate double-posting, especially back-to-back, but under the circumstances I feel it is warranted. Plus, I had a stressful ride back home soo... Yeah. This is my way of kicking back and relaxing lol.))

The flood of reports seemingly never came to an end, and as Colonel Harrison stood watching over the personnel in the TOC, he could tell that it was already beginning to wear on his communications specialists. With so much going on and so many different elements working in tandem to get the Marines going and keep them in the fight, of was becoming exceedingly difficult to keep track of all the reports. There were literally at least six different groups at play here, all of them squawking on the radio to the MCC to keep the higher echelons in the know about what was happening beyond the battalion's staging area.

Fortunately, his Marines were accustomed to chaos and stressful situations. He knew he could count on them when the going got tough like it was right now. And if anything, as far as he was concerned, their job was much easier than his own. Their only real responsibility was to maintain and keep up with the comms traffic and to relay reports to him from the front.

Harrison's job? It encompassed a whole lot more. Years ago when he had been just some young snot-nosed punk candidate at OCS, one of his instructors had once told his class, "Being an officer will have you serving as one part ambassador, one part puppeteer, and a strategist." Harrison wasn't quite sure why that quote had stuck with him after all these years, but it had, and it oddly resembled the predicament he found himself in.

Right now he had to coordinate with all the elements that were in place executing his strategies, make snap alterations to his strategies to compensate for changes on the battlefield, and dish out orders to each of the elements when necessary to accomplish the goals of the operation. And then there were so many more things on his plate that he had to think about.

The life of a field grade officer was not an easy one.

"Sir," came the voice of Captain Hannon, drawing the Colonel out of his reverie. "Shadowcat Zero-One reports mission complete. The Wraiths have been suppressed."

Derek allowed himself to smile at hearing that small bit of good news. That meant Mike Company could continue their mission without fear of more indirect fire being lobbed on top of them or further casualties. "Order the Shadowcats to remain on station, and pass on my congratulations to Syndrome."

Captain Hannon nodded and did as he was told. Harrison nodded back at the FAC and returned his gaze to the slew of radio operators seated at their stations. Like before they were listening to reports coming in from the field. A thought suddenly popped into the Colonel's head and he marched over to one of the RTO's sitting at their station. "Give me your handset and patch me into the supply convoy."

"Aye, Colonel," the RTO replied as he relinquished his handset.

Harrison pressed the button in. "Chaos X-Ray, this is Chaos Actual, requesting SITREP, over."

He depressed the button and stood there, awaiting his XO's reply.

[Flannigan, S.]

"Captain," Totino called out, pointing to an approaching figure. It was First Sergeant Zieed and a detachment of soldiers carrying MRE's and another stretcher. Flannigan walked towards him, nodding his approval. 

"Glad to see you made it, First Sergeant," he offered. "I don't think the boys are ready for chow yet, but Totino and I will take it up when the firefight cools off a bit."

"Thought you might say that," Zieed said. "I'll hold down the fort here till you get back then. Routes to battalion were green all the way through."

"Roger," Flannigan said, looking back up to the light show that the bridge was becoming. His boys were deep in the shit, but he could only imagine they were giving worse then they took. He was about to fill the First Sergeant in when his earpiece crackled to life.

"Omen tree seven, this is Chaos Tango, FRAGO to follow, over."

Flannigan held up a finger to Zieed, who also heard the call, and nodded his understanding. Flannigan pulled up the Battalion AO map in his HUD, looking for updates in his overlays.

"Chaos Tango, this is Omen tree seven actual. Send it."

"QRF mission at grid 10T 58850 53903. Squad pinned by heavy covenant ground assault. They are requesting assistance. Requesting ETA for arrival."

"ETA is set for five mikes. On route, over."

"Good copy, tree seven. Tango out."

Flannigan pulled up the appropriate information on his HUD and then noticed First Platoon had a patrol nearing that area.

"Chaos Tango, this is Omen Actual," he said, ripping the handset off of Totino's webbing. "I have a squad near that grid that can be tasked to assist, over."

"Good copy Omen, wait one."

Flannigan rolled his eyes, waiting as instructed, but with none of the patience one would expect of a Captain. Zieed smiled and shook his head, jumping on the Company Net, informing First Platoons PL about the possible mission.

"Omen, this is Chaos Tango. Push mission to that squad. Move in to assist and exfil Navajo elements, Over."

"Good copy Chaos. Omen Actual out." Flannigan tossed the handset back to Totino and started prepping the intel to go with the mission push to First Lieutenant Johansson. She would have her squad in position quickly, and with any luck, third platoon would get a chance to get their LT a taste of combat.

[Harrison, D.]

As the Colonel waited for Major Killinger to come back over the radio, all the radios in the TOC sparked to life. Derek cocked his brow in curiosity, wondering who would be broadcasting over the UNSC E-Band, as the voice of a young man blared through the speakers. The voice had a distinct accent to it that instantly Derek recognized. It was colonial, that much was certain, and had all the languistic markers of someone that had hailed from Circumstance.

Harrison's second home, where he trained to become an officer of the UNSC.

"Corporal, verify that designation. I want to know who is speaking," he ordered. The RTO snapped to action. He retrieved a datapad out of his breast pocket and scoured the November Company roster in search of an E-3 whose last name started with a 'U'. It didn't take him very long.

"It's a Lance Corporal Upshaw, sir," the Corporal responded. "He's with Third Platoon, alright. Just like he said."

Harrison nodded. It sounded like that Marine and his team were under heavy fire, and he had requested for CASEVAC. Derek turned on his heel and consulted the holomap. Punching a handful of commands into the computer, an overlay of nearby units appeared on the map. Navajo Three-One was on the border between November Company and Oscar's AOs.

Derek deliberated over the situation for a moment, and then decided upon a course of action. "Corporal, inform Lance Corporal Upshaw that help is on the way, then get Omen Three on the horn and task them to provide assistance."

"Aye, sir!"

The Colonel turned to Captain Hannon. "Get the QRF bird on the horn and tell them to spin up. They need to be ready to go by the time Three is aboard."

Captain Hannon nodded and brought his handset up to his ear to relay his superior's orders. Derek smiled briefly, and then turned towards the stairs that led below. There was one more thing he needed to take care of before the QRF bird departed on their mission. He made his way over to the stairs, and was about to start down them, when Sergeant Major Carson appeared at the bottom.

Just who I was looking for, he thought. "Sergeant Major, I need you to run over to BAS and snag a couple of corpsmen to ride along on the QRF bird. Make sure they bring all the equipment they'll need to tend to any wounded."

The Sergeant Major grinned. "That's jus' what I was comin' ter see yew fer, sir." That caused the Colonel some confusion. How had the Sergeant Major known? His confusion must have shown on his face, as the Sergeant Major chuckled, and said, "My radios tuned ter da E-Band, sir."

Harrison nodded slowly and, just as fast as he came, the Sergeant Major disappeared. Colonel Harrison turned around with a grin plastered across his face. He'd never met a man quite like Carson before. The man was somewhat of an enigma to all those who knew him. Somehow he always there when you needed him, and kept himself acutely aware of the happenings within the battalion. He was well liked with the battalion's headquarters staff, but he intimidated them also.

"Sir," the voice of the RTO echoed across the TOC, "Omen Three is boarding the QRF bird now."

"Outstanding," Harrison replied. "Any word from XO?"

The RTO shook his head. "Not yet, sir."

"Try him again."

---

Sergeant Major Leon Carson marched to the back of the Pelican that carried a squad of Third Platoon's Marines, a pair of corpsmen trailing a few feet in tow behind him. The engines were fired up and ready, blasting a wave of scalding hot air down on the ground. Lieutenant Hernandez was closest to the rear, and he stood up upon catching sight of Carson approaching.

"Dese corpsmen are ridin' wiv yew, sir. I'll also be taggin' along," he said, and then climbed into the Pelican. The Lieutenant merely nodded and said nothing. Carson could tell by his expression that he was nervous. He almost looked like he would have preferred to stay back in the rear.

Carson shook his head and stood by the rear hatch as it shut, his hand gripping the overhead netting loosely. Out of everyone aboard, he probably looked the calmest and most comfortable. Memories flushed through his mind of when he was a young man. His first combat drop had been a real eye opener for him, and since that time he'd conducted hundreds - if not - thousands of combat missions. He'd cut his teeth with the Insurrection, fighting on a number of Outer Colony worlds against the rebel bastards.

When the war with the Covenant broke out, it caught him by surprise. His first combat action took place on Harvest, and it had been an unpleasantly terrifying experience. Since then, however, he'd grown to overcome his fear, the fear being overpowered by his sheer hatred for the aliens and their procedures for dealing with humanity.

The Pelican took off with a jolt, one that caused Leon to grab ahold of the netting more tightly. Using his HUD, he brought up the estimated time until they arrived to the landing zone. The counter rested in the corner of his vision, and counted down from five minutes. With that out of the way, Sergeant Major Carson unslung the Battle Rifle off his back and inspected it for a moment. It had become the weapon of his choice since shortly after the Harvest Campaign, and so far it had yet to fail him.

His MA5B used to jam constantly when constantly put to use, an issue that the weapon was notorious for. However, since he had switched to the BR55, he'd not once had an issue with a weapon jam. It was durable, accurate, and extremely reliable. Because of that, he had heard some talk about it possibly replacing the MA5B as the UNSC's official service rifle.

However, that could have easily been scuttlebutt, as he hadn't seen anything official about it since he had heard about it. Shrugging, he pushed that thought to the side and slid the bolt back, checking to make sure there was a round in the chamber. There was. He locked the bolt forward and flicked the safety on, resting his trigger finger across the trigger guard.

The trip to the LZ went by quick, and as the counter reached ten seconds, Leon could feel the Pelican decelerating. Lieutenant Hernandez ordered his Marines to lock and load, albeit hesitantly, and stood up to face the opening hatch. Carson took one quick step towards the junior officer, and leaned in close to his ear. "Show no fe-uh, sir."

Hernandez looked at him with uncertainty for a second before giving the senior enlistedman a curt, hesitant nod with a gulp. When the Pelican touched down, the Marines sprang forward, exiting the Pelican and immediately moving to secure the landing zone. The Sergeant Major moved alongside them, and caught sight of a handful of Covenant charging across the open towards a Marine knelt behind a rucksack with his sidearm drawn.

Leon brought his weapon up and sighted in on the Elite. He placed the crosshairs squarely on its chest and opened fire, loosing rounds in semi-automatic as fast as he could pull the trigger. The rifle bucked in his hands but stayed on target, and after taking a pounding, the Elite's shields died out. Carson raised the muzzle up two inches and squeezed off another round that tore through the alien's jaw and exploded out the other side.

The Elite fell backwards onto the ground, and the sound of assault weapons filled the air as the Marines of Third Platoon mopped up the remaining hostiles. In something under a minute, the coast was clear; the enemy, dead. Carson lowered his rifle, the muzzle still smoking, and exhaled a heavy breath as he glanced over at where the Marine from November Company lay. Behind him were the bodies of his comrades, presumably the members of his fire team, bloodied and lifeless.

"CORPSMAN!" Leon screamed, pointing to where the bodies were located. In a flash one of the corpsmen that he'd picked up from the Battalion Aid Station knelt beside the bodies, checking for pulses despite the fact the Marine - Lance Corporal Upshaw - had shaken his head at him as he approached.

The Sergeant Major heard footsteps behind him and turned around to see Lieutenant Hernandez approaching. "What do we do now?" he asked.

"Fan out an' police up da dead," Carson replied, his tone lacking any sort of emotion. Hernandez stared at him like those were words he wished he hadn't heard. "Git da TOC on da line an' tell 'im we'll be headin' back wit bodies."

Lieutenant Hernandez lingered for just a moment before heading back towards the Pelican where his RTO stood. The Sergeant Major turned around and saw four Marines standing around, their gaze fixed towards the bodies. "Oi, yew lot!" the Sergeant Major barked. "Quit lollygaggin' an' come wit me! Dere are more bodies 'round 'ere somewhere."

"Aye, Sergeant Major!" the team leader, a Corporal, replied.

Leon wasted no time in starting his search. He, with the fire team from Third Platoon in tow, combed the area west of where the Upshaw's team had come under fire. They passed through a small thicket of bushes and, upon coming out the other side, discovered a slew of bodies. The Marines behind him stopped dead in their tracks, while Carson lumbered forward.

"Check da bodies fer tags. Collect 'em, an' start carryin' da bodies back," he ordered. "We ain't leavin' no Marine behind." With that, Carson stepped over to one of the bodies and got on his knees. Whoever it was had fallen face first onto the dirt, the soil stained red by his blood. Leon heaved a heavy sigh and then turned the body over. Immediately he wished he hadn't. The Marine had taken a shot to the gut from a Needler and it had exploded, tearing his stomach open so that his guts spilled out beneath him.

Carson winced. He wanted to look away, but forced himself not to. He'd seen terrible things like this and much worse over the years, and right now he needed to figure out who this was so that the family could be notified later on. So, with some hesitation, he leaned forward and looked for dogtags around the man's neck. His hands met purchase and he yanked them off, breaking the chain, and held them up to his face.

They read:

BRADSHAW, COLE
SERGEANT, E-5 (UNSCMC)
11245-66892-CB
CHRISTIAN
O-

Leon closed his fist around the tags and shoved them into his trouser pocket. He glanced over his shoulder at one of the Marines, a Private De'Andre, and gestured for him to come over to him. "'Elp me carry 'I'm," he ordered. The Private complied and grabbed Sergeant Bradshaw's legs while Leon lifted him up by the torso.

Together, carefully, they carried Bradshaw's body back to the awaiting Pelican, and gently placed him inside the bloodtray. Then, together they returned to where they had found the bodies, and helped carry the remaining corpses.

In just under ten minutes, twelve bodies were loaded onto the Pelican, and then the Marines of Third Platoon climbed in. Carson paused just before he climbed in and glanced over at Lance Corporal Upshaw. He was being escorted away by a squad from Oscar's First Platoon. The loss of his entire squad had to have weighed heavily on the man's shoulders.

Storing that thought away for later contemplation, the Sergeant Major climbed aboard the Pelican. Seconds later, it was taking off, headed back to the staging area to deliver the bodies of twelve heroes.

[Grimsdottir, Y.]

Across the battlefield music softly played over the distant sounds of gunfire. An new cover of an old song played to a happy tune, somewhat belying the desperation of the soldiers and aliens below. "Rain drops are fallin' on my head...."

Flames spewed from the tip of the seventy-millimeter turret mounted at the nose; those flames cast shadows that danced across the cockpit and the face of a woman howling with delight. Not even the powerful fetor of vomit absolutely permeating the cockpit had managed to dampen the bloodthirsty woman's spirits as her index finger had pressed against the trigger of her bird's gun with a kung-fu death grip. Grunts, Elites, and Jackals alike all but flew apart in a multicolored display of human ingenuity. Arms, heads, mandibles, and every body part in between had been strewn across the bridge like broken toys left behind from an angry child.

A single red crosshair hovered over each of the wraiths as they came across her HUD, and before too long a high pitched tone told the norse woman that her sixteen ANVIL-II ASM missiles were locked on and raring to be set loose. Simmons was too much of a pussy to pull the trigger on the guns, even when his brothers and sisters below were being killed, so Grim had to take over. She wasn't about to relinquish that for the best part.

"Alright, pussies," the music her pelican's PA system had dimmed to allow her voice to be more easily heard, "eat a dick." Her thumb flicked the safety switch at the top of the joystick up only to jam against the brilliant red button fiercely. Half a second later the pelican shuddered under the pressure of multiple air-to-surface missile launches, and the chin mounted chaingun continued to spit rounds out like a dragon spews flame. Grey contrails snaked and twisted towards the bulbous armor of the fluorescent purple hover-tanks. Ghostly blue flames erupted from every open space in the tank shortly after, and two elites leaped from their positions with the same ghastly fire licking at their bodies. Some wraiths just detonated. Others mirrored that first one. Others still merely crashed to the ground a flaming hulk.

The pelican hovered for a few more moments until the chaingun finally ceased its prattling, and an alert flooded the center of her vision. It warned her that all ammo save the troop bay machine gun had come up bingo on reserves. She noticed that the rest of her squad was in the same situation as well with a simple glance towards the appropriate part of her HUD>

"Chaos Tango, this is Shadowcat 1. We are CAS complete, but bingo on ammo. We are RTB for a restock and refuel. How copy?"

Once all the necessary communications were done she flicked over to the squadcom, "alright folks. Refuel and resupply. We're in this for the long haul."

With that, her pelican nosed towards the base and went full steam ahead. It was gonna be a long day.

[Harrison, D.]

The challenge of being the commanding officer of a battalion attached to a MEU was keeping track of not only his own Marines, but of the adjacent units that supported his battalion. There were a lot of moving pieces to the puzzle that was this battle, and he had to remain abreast of each piece and its position in relation to the greater force under his charge.

Fortunately, he had an entire staff at his disposal to delegate tasks to. The logistics boys were outside in a tent figuring out how to handle the beans, bullets, and bandages issues of the battalion. The intel geeks were in their own tent disseminating intel provided through radio communications and in real time using the overhead spy satellites in orbit. Then there were his comm-techs that were, by far, one of the more important assets at his disposal at the moment.

Without them, this operation would be a thousand times harder to coordinate, and it would be extremely difficult to pass down orders to individual elements. So, despite the amount of stress and pressure that rested on his shoulders right now, it was not entirely his alone to bear. Every member of the battalion's headquarters staff bore the same pressure, though diluted some, upon their shoulders.

"Colonel," one of his radio operators called, tearing him away from his musings. "Shadowcat Zero-One reports that they're bingo ammo and returning to base to rearm."

Derrick nodded and he glanced back at the holomap. The QRF bird carrying the Sergeant Major and Third Platoon was on its way back to the MCC. According to the senior enlistedman, the squad from November Company that had sent the distress call had been wiped out save for one Marine. The Marine that had sent the transmission, Lance Corporal Upshaw, was the lone survivor, and he'd been picked up by an element of Oscar Company.

Something about that news had him worried. He said nothing to the Sergeant Major or his staff, but he hoped that Captain Flannigan merely picked the Marine up to have him checked out by a corpsman before sending him on his way back to his unit. Officers tended to be very possessive of their subordinates, and did not appreciate having them whisked away without their express permission.

If he was whisking the young E-3 away, he'd deal with it later, and hopefully avoid an incident.

The radio crackled to life with the voice of Lieutenant Durant from Oscar's Second Platoon. Harrison only caught part of what was said, but the part he heard caused him to approach the communications stations with haste. Captain Hannon stepped forward immediately, anticipating his commander's question before the words had time to process from his brain to his mouth. "The Shadowcats are the only available unit able to take the call, sir," he sputtered out quickly.

That news was not what he had wanted to here, but given the circumstances it was understandable. The majority of the Pelican squadrons were currently busy picking up the second wave of Marine forces, and all of his fixed wing assets were tied up in air interdiction operations, keeping the airspace clear of Covenant air support.

So, the Shadowcats it was.

"Relay the call for CASEVAC to Commander Grimsdottir and her squadron," the Colonel ordered. He paused and glanced back at the holomap. Second Platoon was in contact, and the last situation report he'd received had indicated a heavy enemy presence on the bridge. "Let her know she'll probably need an escort as the LZ's bound to be hot."

"Aye, sir," the operator replied, and then he switched his radio over to the appropriate frequency. "Shadowcat Zero-One, this is Chaos Tango, relay from Omen Two Actual, break. Requesting immediate CASEVAC, nine-line to follow. Over."

Harrison, satisfied, nodded and walked away as the RTO did his thing. He stepped over to the table and, with his arms, leaned against it. The second wave would be landing soon, and he needed to figure out where all those assets would be placed in relation to the MCC's position. There was an large open park roughly a quarter of a klick from the staging area that appeared to be big enough to fit artillery batteries in. It would be a tight fit, but it was doable.

The Force Recon boys would be forward deployed across the river, which meant soon he'd have to order the fly boys doing combat air patrols to push the line up further. While that seemed like a simple endeavor, he had no idea what the Covenant's anti-aircraft situation looked like. He was aware that they probably had AA batteries set up throughout the western half of the city, but as of right now he had no intel indicating where they might be located and how many there were. He needed Force Recon to give him that kind of intelligence, and the irony was he was risking them getting shot out of the sky before they could even get boots on the ground.

Hopefully his air units would be able to spot the batteries and mark them for later termination. Any intel he received regarding enemy artillery and anti-aircraft emplacements would be passed on to the ODSTs to be dealt with when they dropped behind enemy lines at the beginning of Phase Two of the operation.

Either way, if push came to shove, Harrison could have Force Recon land at the bridges since they were secure and under UNSC control and simply have them proceed on foot or via Warthogs to their positions across the river. It wasn't desirable, but it could be done.

Derrick chuckled at that thought. More often than not, he realized, that that sentiment applied to almost every situation he found himself facing as a battalion commander. Nothing he did ever seemed to be desirable, but it had to be done and his Marines did it without question. Sometimes he wondered if there were better options out there - better solutions to his problems - and every time he came to the same conclusion: he would never truly know.

The past was the past. There was nothing he could do to change it.

[Killinger, J.]

Major Killinger, and the damaged Warthog he was in, rolled up to the command elephant. He had heard the SITREP request but could not reply through his personal radio equipment. The boom microphone had been destroyed by the heat of nearby plasma fire when they left the bridge - where they had caught some fire - but other than those two hiccups everything went smoothly. They went in, delivered the first load of ammunition, and returned without any KIA's in the convoy group. They did, however, lose a warthog and suffer some mild casualties that were already on their way to medical aid.

John entered the elephant, located the Lieutenant Colonel, but noticed his commanding officer was busy doing his job. John took his helmet off, ripped away the removable boom microphone, and put it down on a supply crate. He waited patiently as he found his place beside the holographic table the mobile command center had been equipped with. The elephants were originally heavy recovery vehicles, but were multi-purpose as well.

When the LTC had a moment John stepped up casually, but professionally as well.

"Sir," John said. He knew either the LTC would ask why there was no SITREP over the radio or he'd let it go, it was an insignificant problem that John wasn't going to make a defense for. Besides, the LTC was getting his sitrep regardless. "First load of ammunition supplied to the bridge. They were pushing when I left." John stated.

[Harrison, D.]

Harrison rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully as he gazed upon the map of the city. He'd spent several minutes hovering over the table, contemplating the placement of the units that would be dropping into the AO with the second wave. The artillery unit would land and set up shop in Krieg Park for the time being.

Force Recon would land along the embankment across the river and spread out along the western bank. He imagined that the entire Force Reconnaissance Company would spread its platoon-level assets between the five bridges, and individual teams would establish observation posts atop nearby buildings to monitor Covenant activity and movement, as well as call in priority fire missions on credible threats. Those teams leftover would conduct reconnaissance patrols to gather intel and mark Covenant positions for when the second phase of FROST DRAGON went into effect.

The second phase.

That was a beast he had yet to tackle. He had a vague idea of what he wanted to accomplish for the operation's second phase, but he hadn't started hammering out the details. It wasn't exactly high on his list of priorities right now, as the second phase wasn't to be initiated until later tonight, several hours away. However, there were going to be a lot of moving parts to it, and it wouldn't hurt to start laying down the foundation early.

Fuck it. He'd wait a little longer before pressing the issue.

The sound of someone approaching caught Harrison's attention. He turned his head away from the map and saw Major Killinger standing there in his armor, sans helmet. Derrick noticed the helmet resting on a supply crate by the stairs that led up to the TOC, and noted the burn damage on the right side of the helmet. That explains why he didn't respond to me on comms, he surmised.

"Sir," Killinger began, standing erect as he passed on his report to his commanding officer. Derrick nodded and said, "Roger that." He paused and looked back at the helmet and detached boom microphone, a smirk slowly cutting across his features. "It looks like you took some fire yourself, Major."

The Colonel turned and gestured to the map, inviting his executive officer to take a look at it. Derrick indicated the park a quarter klick away from the Elephant with his index finger. "The second wave should be on its way down in a few minutes. That park to the south of our position will be where the gun bunnies in arty are going to set up shop. And here," Harrison moved his finger to hover over the western embankment, "is where Force Recon will touch down. I've already sent an encrypted communique to the COs of both units with coordinates attached. We should be good on that end."

He waited a moment to let his XO absorb the information. The thought of the QRF mission to November Company's AO came across his mind, and he wondered if the Major had seen what had gone on. "I imagine you saw the QRF bird touch down on the border of Oscar and November's AOs? A squad of Marines were ambushed by a Covenant sniper team that somehow infiltrated our lines. The squad, unfortunately, didn't make it save for a single Marine. An element from Oscar's first platoon picked him up."

"Aside from that little hiccup, so far we've managed to keep the Covenant on their side of the river with minimal casualties. The bastards broke contact with Mike Company five minutes ago, and November are mopping up the stragglers on both their bridges. Once Oscar finishes off the hostiles on their bridge, we should be good to go," Harrison informed his XO. "Do you think we should have the Air Force conduct a recon flight with one of their UCAVs over the western part of the city? So far I have no intel on whether or not they have AA and artillery positions set up."

[Harrison, D.]

1900 Hours, June 16, 2542 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /
Battalion Staging Area, Tallusa City, Phoenix III,
Alpha Phoenicis System

Colonel Derrick Harrison stood leaning over the holotable in the Tactical Operations Center of the Mobile Command Elephent. His eyes were glued to the holographic projection of a flyover of the western bank of the river. The footage was live, captured by an Air Force UCAV circling the area at twenty thousand feet in the air.

His mind was a raging sea of thoughts at the moment. In just a few minutes, the likes of his company commanders would be here with him for a briefing on the next phase of the operation. He'd personally sent the Sergeant Major to go fetch them, and expected that he wouldn't have to wait too much longer before he returned. Carson always worked fast, and he'd taken a Troop 'Hog from the motor pool to pick up the company leaders.

Derrick looked over at Major Killinger. "Phase Two is going to be a nightmare to coordinate," he said, shaking his head. "There are going to be a lot of moving pieces to it, and at least a dozen ways that it could all go south if we aren't absolutely meticulous in our execution."

He was aware that his XO probably knew all of this already. Anyone with half a brain could look at the map and come to that conclusion. Mostly, he was just thinking out loud. Derrick was nervous. There was no way for him to deny it. The task set before him was daunting, and if he screwed anything up at all - down to the planning, coordinating, or the execution itself - the price for his mistakes would be undoubtedly high.

It was a lot of pressure.

"The Army's gonna be rolling tanks alongside infantry across the bridges to provide heavy support for our boys and girls on the ground," he said, gesturing to the bridges on the map. "The tanks will eventually regroup and push to the spaceport. The Navy, Air Force, and Army aviation will be providing close air support, air interdiction, and CASEVAC to our ground units once the ODSTs have deployed and neutralized the Covenant's air defense network. Our Battalion will be spearheading the assault and attacking three separate high value targets... And any of that could turn into a nightmare fast. Wouldn't you agree, Major?"