Company Briefing (Company Command)

[Flannigan, S.]

0700 Hours, August 4, 2542 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \
Officer Alley, A-Deck, aboard UNSC Vengeance,
in slipspace en route to Zeta-Zorata System

Flannigan walked towards the Briefing Room designated Alpha-Fife-Seven-Oscar, also known as the Oscar Briefing room. One of the benefits of being stationed on a Cruiser of this size was the extra room afforded extra perks. This briefing room was basically the sole property of Oscar Company for the duration of the cruise. This was where the orange and green company guidon resided while they were in cryo, and where all of their briefings were held. He glanced at the two adjoining briefing rooms, holding the blue and black guidon of Mike Company and the black and tan of November Company. The last one always made him sneer a little out of reflex. It was the far distant past when black and tan meant anything, but Flannigan's ancestors were slow to forget, instilling the hatred in him young.

He was two minutes late to his own briefing, but it didn't bother him. He wanted to make sure he was the last one there. It was a good exercise in patience for his junior officers and at least one of them needed it. It also kept the dog and pony bull to a minimum. He accepted the traditions of the Corps, but after the grind that was the harvest campaign, he didn't much feel the need to promote things that put him on a pedestal.

"Room, Attention," the ever aware Zieed barked when he walked in.

"At ease," Flannigan said quickly still walking to his chair. "Take seats. We have lots of time this op, and I want your input on this. It's a good training opportunity to cover the particulars of an Operation Order, not just take it on dictation. So, the battalion OpOrd is on your datapads. I'm not going to brief the whole thing. I want you all to look it over and when you're ready, I want to hear what your thoughts are. We will be here a while, but as your marines are at chow and then prepping for the sims, we have a couple hours to cover this. Speak up when you have something."

Flannigan took his seat and looked over his officers and senior NCOs. It was a good group and a chance to do this exercise would show him a lot about their strengths and weaknesses. Matheson was close to being ready to take his own command, and he needed to train a new XO as well as prep them all for Company level command. It was a slim possibility in his mind, but he could always bight the bullet.

"Beatrice, please kill the lights and pull up a more detailed view of the Oscar AO."

[Durant, M.]

Lieutenant Durant leaned back in his chair with a sigh, surrounded by what comprised the senior staff of Oscar Company. Gunnery Sergeant Sabre was seated directly to his left, and to his right was Lieutenant Johansson and her platoon sergeant. Lieutenant Hernandez sat to the left of Durant and Sabre, his platoon sergeant looking particularly perturbed. Michael looked to First Sergeant Zieed, whom stood at the front of the room with his hands clasped together in front of him.

It seemed that Captain Flannigan was running late; an oddity considering he had called the meeting in the first place. However, Durant was bothered little by it. The Fighting Irishman was a busy man, and he'd likely found himself tied up by other affairs way above Durant's pay grade. Lieutenant Hernandez, however, tapped his foot against the deck impatiently.

"Where's the Skipper?" he finally asked aloud.

First Lieutenant Matheson craned his head towards the platoon commander and regarded him annoyance. "He'll be here, Lieutenant."

Hernandez sighed. "Hurry up and wait," he murmured just loud enough for everyone to hear.

As if on que, the door to the ready room opened, and in strode Captain Flannigan. Before the order had even fully left Zieed's mouth Durant was on his feet, his hands at his sides and his eyes faced straight forward. "At ease," Flannigan said in mid-stride to his seat. "Take seats. We have lots of time this op, and I want your input on this. It's a good training opportunity to cover the particulars of an Operation Order, not just take it on dictation. So, the battalion OpOrd is on your datapads. I'm not going to brief the whole thing. I want you all to look it over and when you're ready, I want to hear what your thoughts are. We will be here a while, but as your marines are at chow and then prepping for the sims, we have a couple hours to cover this. Speak up when you have something."

Michael relaxed and returned to his seat, pushing it in closer to the holographic projector that served as the divider between the platoon commanders and the company command. He retrieved a datapad from out of his breast pocket and flicked the screen on to bring up the Battalion OpOrder. He glanced over at Gunnery Sergeant Sabre, whom had also pulled out a 'pad and was skimming through the order. Durant smirked and started reading.

It was a fairly straight forward read, and as always the order itself made the task ahead of them sound simple. Michael knew from experience that no combat operation was ever simple. They would have to slog through dense jungle, fighting Insurrectionists, it seemed, as they came, and then move on to another urban warfare scenario. Nothing about any of that was simple.

"Before I put forward my thoughts on what is here in the order," Durant started, and he suddenly felt all eyes on him, "I'd like to know what to expect as far as ROE is concerned, sir. How loose with it are we going to be in the jungle, and beyond that, the capital?"

Lieutenant Johansson spoke up next. "I've also noticed that CAS is on an "as available" basis due to enemy AA assets. Does the BC plan to have us suppress those targets so that the flyboys can roll on in or are the Helljumpers going to take point on that?"

Finally, Lieutenant Hernandez had his two cents to put forth. Durant resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "It says here that we have no intel on the guerrillas, sir. If I'm right, they'll be the first hostiles we come into contact with. Do we have nothing on them at all? I do not like the idea of walking into a situation blind. That's how Marines get killed, sir."

The Lieutenant disagreed with that assertion. Marines did not die from lack of intelligence. Marines died because of officers who knew not what to do when walking into a situation with no intelligence on hand. Lieutenant Hernandez was an apt example of that particular type of officer, he believed, and it seemed that his platoon sergeant knew it too. The look plastered across his face was all the evidence he needed to support that theory.

[Flannigan, S.]

"ROE will be loose everywhere but the cordon," Flannigan said, starting to address the questions. "That doesn't mean shoot at phantoms however. We always ID a target before we kill it. The cordon will be tricky, but we'll deal with that later. Civilians always make shooting more difficult. We will have some triple A to take out. I think they will likely use ODSTs to pin down some of the harder ones, but we will have our own sights to clear up for the fly boys. Lieutenant Hernandez, all of the intel available is in your hands right now. You are correct in your assessment of who we'll be engaging and the difficulty in planning this. How do we mitigate that danger to our Marines?"

Flannigan found himself glad that he wasn't required to write a new risk assessment for every combat action they took. He was sure that if another incident occurred he would have to deal with extra bullshit like that, but so far he had stayed far enough under the Colonel's angry gaze. He was tempted to run his Lieutenant's (sans Matheson) through the exercise to see how they thoughts, but there was no reason to punish the NCO's here with that kind of drudgery. It turned up good ideas, but it was rarely worth the effort. 

"So, with that out of the way," Flannigan offered after the problem had been discussed, "So, what do we think is out best plan of attack? We've got a generous time table here and we need to put it to good use. Something else to keep in mind, we will have to keep our line roughly abreast with both Mike and November companies. Any gaps and we'll give those guerillas a hole in the net to slip through."

Flannigan looked around the table as the officers contemplated the question. Johanson was good and would likely provide a solid tactical analysis. Durant was still kind of green, but the boy was bright. Hopefully he would find a solid place to show up here as well, but it was tough to outshine Johansson. Hernandez, on the other hand, would be hard to outstupid. Even his analysis, while correct, felt cowardly and misguided. Gunnery Sergeant Sam Williams, the third platoon sergeant, looked like he would rather just punch his counterpart rather than listen to another word from his mouth. He wondered if Gunny Pa had ever felt that way all those years ago.

[Durant, M.]

Captain Flannigan answered the slew of questions in quick succession, and showed a great deal of tact and candor with Lieutenant Hernandez than what Durant would have probably afforded him. Michael did not view Hernandez as an equal like he did Johansson. As far as officers went, he lacked intestinal fortitude and seemed prone to choose the safest options as opposed to the better, but riskier sorts. It disgusted him, frankly. Hernandez was an affront to his warrior spirit. A pathetic excuse for a warrior-leader.

The question posed to him intrigued Durant, however. If he was concerned about the dangers that their lack of information posed, how did he intend to mitigate the risks? Michael could see the gears working in his peer's head as he contemplated the question, pondering his answer. After a little while, Hernandez finally spoke.

"My suggestion would be to send out reconnaissance patrols into the jungle," he said, sounding less confident in the suggestion than he appeared. "They can go in and generate actionable intelligence for our units prior to launching offensive operations, such as the disposition and number of enemy forces in our AO. Force Recon would be the best suited for that role, I believe."

And there it was. Hernandez had made a great tactical suggestion, but chose to offset his brilliance by allowing his cowardice to overcome him, suggesting someone else do the dirty work for Oscar Company. Durant shook his head. "However, if for whatever reason Force Recon would be unable to pick up that tasking, Second Platoon would be ready to take it, sir."

Hernandez shot a look his way that Durant read as relief. Of course the coward had no issue with someone else going out and risking it all if it meant he was able to stay behind within the relative safety of the FOB. He found himself becoming more disgusted with the man by the minute.

"Sir," Lieutenant Johansson said, shooting a glance at the high of them, "I believe the best course of action in driving the enemy back would be to divide our AO into more manageable chunks and assign a platoon to each chunk. We will coordinate with each other and our sister companies, advancing together, to drive the enemy into the cordon. If we encounter any particularly hot spots as we assault through the jungle, we pull back, mark the position and call arty or CAS on it, and then move back in to mop up before we move on. Rinse and repeat, basically."

Durant nodded in agreement. "I second that, however I would also add that we should all have at least one squad in each of our platoons on QRF status in case our sister companies manage to somehow get bogged down by the enemy, however unlikely that may be. That would make three QRF-ready Squads, which essentially would provide our brothers and sisters a platoon's worth of Marines to back them up."

[Flannigan, S.]

Flannigan casually watched his Lieutenants, noting facial expressions and posture while other people talked. Durant was looking for a fight and Hernandez's willingness to avoid one was bothering him. Johansson, as always, seemed unaffected by "the boys" and carried herself as she always did. Durant had a fire, an itch to fight, and Flannigan found himself remembering himself at that point. Harvest had tempered many things, but that fire was still there in the Irishman and he was glad to see the next generation of leaders had it as well.

"Lieutenant Hernandez, please keep in mind that you are in charge of some of the finest enlisted men the UNSC has to offer," Flannigan said, a slightly warning tone to his voice. "Your job is to keep them alive IN COMBAT. Force Recon is an excellent MEU asset, not ours. We solve our own problems, not let others do it for us. Now, I personally think that your recon patrol idea is sound. It also solves another issue we will have; acclimation. Unlike our last op, this one is going to be a physical drain like we haven't known in some time. You all will get a taste of it in the simulators this afternoon. A few days of patrols should accomplish both goals without taxing our time table."

Johansson and Durant teamed up for a solid plan. It was tactically sound plan that gave each platoon some autonomy and gave the needed backup for the other companies. However, it was very straightforward and would most likely cost them more manpower than he would prefer. Especially for a planning session. It lacked an flair or creativity. Some boot could have come up with that plan. It may turn out to be the best option, but it wasn't what Flannigan wanted for this session.

"Very sound," he said when Durant had finished. "However, I fell asleep halfway through the idea. Perhaps you could use the creative part of your brains that the Corp pays your for and give me something more than what any dimwit in OCS could come up. Hell, the Corps practically wrote that strategy as SOP. We're here to find the best way to keep our kids alive, and if that means standing on our heads to hail artillery with our asses, that's what we're going to do. So, something with some inventiveness. Try again."

Zieed was doing his best to stifle his laughter, as were the other NCO's he could see out of the corner of his eye. He knew they were right to laugh, likely having whatever answer he could want already. However, it didn't keep them safe from his reprimands either.

"Perhaps I'm asking the wrong people," Flannigan said, slowly turning his gaze on the NCOs. The laughter cut quickly, though Zieed still smirked. The man already knew they had an OpOrd written, which made any threats at this point idle at best.

[Durant, M.]

Durant frowned and, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lieutenant Johansson how her head. Captain Flannigan had just shot down their plan for its lack of creativity, and as he mulled it over in his head, he had to agree. It lacked the spark of brilliance that deserved praise, and for that, he was disappointed in himself. Michael didn't care what a single officer in the battalion thought about him.

Save for Captain Shay Flannigan.

If Captain Flannigan was disappointed in him, then he was equally -- if not more -- disappointed in himself. There was not a single officer in the battalion with the experience and wisdom that Flannigan possessed, and in truth, one day he wanted to be like him. Durant wanted to be the type of company commander that inspired his Marines to fight their hardest every time they stepped off for combat. That was Flannigan.

He glanced at Gunnery Sergeant Sabre, whom smirked and shook his head. Staff Sergeant Cruz would have remained silent and apathetic to the happenings around him. He knew Durant better than Durant knew himself sometimes. Sabre was new, and likely held the same reservations about working under a butterbar that most Staff NCOs did. He sighed exasperatedly.

Michael returned his glare to the map of their AO. There was so much ground to cover that it was daunting. How in the hell were they to clear that entire area of the enemy? The Innies had the home field advantage. They knew the jungle better than the Marines ever would. How would they be able to accomplish anything?

The answer hit him so hard that he almost smacked himself for not considering it earlier. That jungle would be a hive for the Innies. They certainly would have mapped out points of ingress and egress, choke points, the whole nine yards. If the Marines assaulted through the jungle, it would be a terribly costly slog. They would walk right into the enemy's crosshairs.

And that was the key. In order to beat the enemy, they had to do exactly the opposite of what they expected. The Marines would need to outsmart them, not outmaneuver them. He grinned from ear-to-ear.

"Thank you, sir," Durant said, looking directly at Flannigan. "You're right. We are thinking too conventional, too... mainstream."

He realized all eyes were on him now. Lieutenant Johansson have him a sidelong glance, her expression curious. Hernandez on the other hand looked perplexed, and he had to resist the urge to laugh.

"The enemy have the home field advantage," Durant announced as if it were news to everybody else. "They know the jungle better than us. No amount of satellite imagery, seismic scans, or topographical maps are going to change that. If we push into them, we will be walking into one big trap. They expect us to charge headlong into them. Hell, I'm sure they want us to."

Lieutenant Johansson turned her chair so that she was facing Durant, and she leaned forward, engrossed in his speech. Hernandez still looked confused. "So my suggestion is that, after the patrols, we find a nice spot to set up a CP in the jungle. We move in and secure that area, and conduct any missions passed down by battalion, but in between those, we send out small LRRPs to establish LP / OPs to get a fix on the enemy's position. Then we probe them, hit them in lightning strikes, and then pull away. We goad them into taking the offensive."

"You want the enemy to come to us," Johansson said. It was a statement, not a question.

Durant nodded. "I do. We set up the area around our CP with AP mines, sensors, and pre-register positions for Artillery barrage and CAS once we've suppressed any nearby enemy AA. We draw the enemy to us and beat them at their own game. When they hit us, we hit them back with everything we've got and then some. Innies are smart, but they're also cocky. I suspect they'll believe if they throw enough bodies at us, they'll be able to overwhelm us. I mean, we're only one company, after all."

Johansson nodded with a smile. Even Hernandez, whom normally would protest any plan that placed him in harm's way, seemed satisfied with the plan. "One platoon holds the CP area while the other two act as maneuver elements, ready to pincer the enemy as they assault our camp. Once we've hammered them enough, we finally push into the jungle and mop up whatever's left of them, or drive them back into cordon."

[Flannigan, S.]

Flannigan did his best to not beam his approval to Durant’s idea, instead simply leaning forward and frowning. This was exactly the kind of idea he wanted his officers to think on, toy with, and refine while they had the time to do so. Honing the tactical planning skills when there was time made it much easier to enact them when there wasn’t time. This session had moved in exactly the kind of direction he had hoped for and now he was seriously considering rewriting his OpOrd. Or at least writing up the first FRAGO.

Flannigan glanced quickly at Zieed and Matheson, not so much for approval but to gauge their reaction. The old NCO gave away almost nothing, but Flannigan knew how to read him. The Arab was weighing his options between sitting in the jungle with the Innies versus sitting in the jungle with the Army. Being autonomous held some major advantages. Handling one's own security, on the other hand, was always a pain. Matheson was almost solely in the business of logistics, and the idea of feeding and supplying 150 marines at a distance was not an appealing thought, as the furious tapping at his datapad indicated. This exercise was on a roll though, and Flannigan was going to have his answers before they finished.

“Far more creative,” he said, breaking his own musings. “However, how do you suggest we feed and house one hundred and fifty marines at a distant CP? We still need ammunition supplies, food, water, fuel for any vehicles, and all of the engineering assets required to put up defences like you are discussing. There is also one major tactical hole in the plan. Any guerrillas between us and the FOB are able to operate freely and we leave a major escape point from the other two AO’s were supposed to be supporting. Just so we’re clear, this doesn’t mean we can’t explore this option, I just need answers before we pursue this any further. Lieutenant Hernandez, you were trained in logistics, what is our best option for getting our resupply there? Johannson and Durant, fix our tactical hole. Go. And don’t forget the wealth of hard earned experience and knowledge sitting across the table from you.”

Flannigan turned back to his datapad and started writing up a FRAGO for this plan to present to the Colonel. It was inspired and exactly the kind of thing that Oscar was known for. He already had a few ideas on how to shore up the escape route for the guerrillas and on how to run their supply chain, but that wasn’t for now.

Now was a chance for his Junior Officers to shine.

[Durant, M.]

Durant leaned back in his seat, interlocking his fingers in front of him, as he contemplated the fine points the Company Commander had laid out before the three junior officers. His plan did leave a major tactical hole in their offensive strategy. How would the company prevent the enemy from bypassing them from their stationary position? The enemy would only attack them for so long before deciding to circumvent them entirely.

After all, when faced with an immoveable object, logic dictates to bypass the object entirely. At least that was conventional military logic. Durant was tempted to point out that the guerillas were untrained in the art of warfare; however, he had learned a long time ago to never underestimate the enemy. If he underestimated them, they would surprise him, and not in a way that would be conducive to the accomplishment of their mission and the preservation of lives.

He turned his attention to Gunnery Sergeant Sabre, whom grinned as if he had the answer to the problem laid out by Flannigan. "What do you think, Gunny?" he asked.

"How do we keep the enemy from bypassing us, sir?"

The Lieutenant nodded. "Yes."

Sabre eyed the holo of the battalion's AO and the invisible lines that separated it into more manageable chunks. "Sir, with respect, we're not the only ones that'll be in that big, wide AO. There'll be two companies on either side of us to lend support. My suggestion? If we encounter activity in our AO close to their lines, we have them send in QRF to neutralize the threat while we maintain our position. They can prevent the enemy from circumventing us while we hold down our post."

Durant considered his advice for a moment and then nodded. It was sound advice and had the potential to work. While it wasn't foolproof -- which nothing ever is in regards to combat -- it would do. "Sir," Durant said, his eyes on the Fighting Irishman, "my platoon sergeant just made an excellent suggestion. While we hold down our position at the CP, we'll constantly be sending out LRRPs to search for Innie activity, and I'm sure we'll encounter a lot of contact on the wire. While we'll be largely immobile, our sister companies won't share the same problem. If we encounter contact near the edges of our AO and theirs, we can call in their units as QRF to neutralize the enemy, preventing them from circumventing us. In light of... recent events, I'm sure they'll appreciate us giving them the glory for a change."

There was a chorus of chuckles from everyone in the room, and Durant smiled. It was true that Oscar Company often stole the show from its sister companies, and to some, that had caused a great deal of friction. November Company was at the top of that list, especially considering recent occurrences. While he wasn't quite happy with the idea of letting them hog all the glory, it was perhaps the best decision from a tactical and peacekeeping standpoint.

No need to add fuel to the fire unnecessarily, and all that.

"Sir," Lieutenant Johansson called from her seat, "it says in the order that we'll be assigned combat engineers for this op. When exactly will they be attached?"

Lieutenant Matheson shot a glance Flannigan's way as if to say "I'll take this" and leaned forward. "The combat engineers will be attached before we deploy planetside, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," she replied, nodding. "Then I have a solution for our resupply situation; at least as far as receiving them. The engineers will be carrying detcord with them, I assume, so we can have them clear out a spot for an LZ with the detcord. It only has to be big enough to fit a Pelican, sir."

Hernandez perked up. "And as for the logistics of our resupply issue, sir, I have an answer for that as well." The Lieutenant was smiling, apparently rather pleased with himself. It was a rare sight to see; one that Durant wished he saw more often from him from a topic other than supply. "When we move from Tinman to our campsite, we should be able to spread load all of the supplies and equipment across the company to hump into the AO. At least enough to sustain us for a couple of days so long as we don't take heavy contact from the enemy. After the engineers have cleared an LZ and we start conducting SEAD missions and patrols, we can have a Pelican fly in low-low and drop off supplies via supply pods. It'd the quickest and safest way to receive supplies without risking the lives of our pilots."

Durant saw the rebuttle in Flannigan's eyes as soon as Hernandez finished his speech. He decided to jump in before the CO could voice his concerns. "That, of course, does not account for the threat of hunter-killer AA teams that are likely to be operating inside the AO alongside fixed AA platforms."

Lieutenant Hernandez's shoulders drooped in defeat. It was obvious he hadn't thought of that little snag. However, Durant planned to save the day for him. "However, I have a solution for that problem, sir." Hernandez perked up. "When we set up camp, I advise we establish a triple layer early warning system. We'll set motion sensors approximately three hundred meters distant from our lines. Two hundred meters out we'll set some archaic traps, such as trip wires rigged to some tin cans to generate noise to alert us of activity on the wire, and one more layer of motion sensors a hundred meters distant."

"A hunter-killer AA team will need line of sight on the target to acquire a lock. That means they'll need to at least be on or inside the wire. If anything passes through the first layer of motion sensors, they're just far enough out to give us ample time to alert inbound resupply birds that we have activity on the wire and to stand down until further notice. Of course, it isn't perfect, sir, as anything from an Innie to a wild animal could set off the sensors, but it gives us a chance and some much needing breathing room to prevent a catastraphe."

[Flannigan, S.]

“Very good,” Flannigan said with a curt nod. “Johansson, I want plans for a proper base of operations in three days. You already have a good base to start from. Make sure you have room for a CASEVAC bird to land and enough room for two hundred marines. Also plan for an MKT site. I have zero plans to eat MREs for three weeks straight if it can be helped. Durant, start looking over the Topo and Satellite maps and see if you can find us a good place to set up shop. You should have a preliminary idea by end of business today so Lieutenant Johansson has a better idea of the terrain she is working with. Hernandez, I need a full work up on how to keep us supplied without having to get steady flights in. Ammunition is priority, followed by food and water, and then whatever medical and engineering supplies we need. The supply pods are a great idea, but it will take regular drops to keep an entire company supplied. We are going to need a mix of major resupply in the form of an actual drop and minor drops to keep the enemy off guard. Lieutenant Matheson will be your best resource for information in this area, but it isn’t his project, it’s yours. You all have your tasks. With good planning ahead of time, we will hit those bastards so hard, their mothers will be bleeding. Dismissed.”

Flannigan remained seated as he sat and watched them go. Zieed and Matheson stayed seated, as was their custom, waiting for the room to empty. It stayed quiet for a good three minutes before anyone said anything and they enjoyed the silence, hearing only the hum of the engines buried far off in the bowels of the ship. Usually the three of them were scrambling before and operation, but this time they were enjoying the peace and quiet.

“You realize he will be following me like a puppy dog by nightfall,” Matheson finally said, the first to break the silence. They all shared a look before breaking down into fits of laughter. Zieed laughed the hardest, the faintest traces of sympathy showing at the edges of his lips.

“He’s gotta be good at something,” Flannigan finally said, catching his breath. “We’ll find it eventually. I need a replacement for you when you finally get that promotion.”

“Matheson doesn’t want a promotion,” Zieed cut in. “He just wants to keep counting things. Maybe some last minute heroics like on Phoenix III.”

“Well, lets go enjoy ourselves a day or two of down time,” Flanningan said, cutting off Matheson before he could get a jab back in. “Make sure we’ve got the points on this FRAGO sealed though. I expect them to come back with a good plan that has some gaps in it. We need to find them and ensure we don’t have issues.”

Both men agreed before they all got up and left the room. Like always, Beatrice got the lights as Flannigan crossed the threshold of the room and started down the passageway to his quarters. He had a few requisitions to write before he actually got some downtime. After dinner, he intended to check in on his junior officers. It never hurt to know where they were at in their development.