Firestorm

CHAPTER ONE Marines strive to have everything shipshape, the Marines of 34th FIST no less than other Marines. Shipshape can mean spit-and-polish, everything as clean and neat and shiny as humanly possibleand then some. These are Marines we're talking about, after all. In a deeper sense, shipshape means having one's body and mind in peak condition, and all of one's gear, equipment, andmost importantweapons in the best possible condition. Getting himself and all his equipmentmost important, his weaponsshipshape in all regards is one of the most important things a Marine can do to increase his odds of winning and surviving his next firefight. Thirty-fourth Fleet Initial Strike Team had been on Ravenette for close to half a year, standard, running hither and yon to plug holes in the porous Confederation Army defensive line, living in vermin- infested bunkers that had been thoroughly trashed by the soldiers who'd inhabited them before the army had moved to less severely infested bunkers. They'd just fought off a division-size assault, a battle they'd won only because the Confederation Army's 27th Divisionin contravention of orders from General Jason Billiehad turned its artillery onto the flank of the secessionist soldiers just as they were about to overrun the Marines' positions. No, 34th FIST wasn't shipshape, it was . . . "Shit-shape!" Sergeant Tim Kerr shouted as he barged into the bunker occupied by second squad's second fire team. "This whole damn squad is in shit-shape!" Corporal Rachman "Rock" Claypoole, second fire team leader, spun about to yell back at Kerr, but froze with his face twisted in anger and his mouth open. He froze because he remembered that Kerr was no longer Corporal Kerranother fire team leader just like him, although a good deal more senior and experiencedbut Sergeant Kerr, his squad leader. Even though the squad leader was a good deal lower in rank than Ensign Charlie Bass, the platoon commander, when a squad leader was in the kind of mood Kerr looked to be in, he wasn't much junior to God. Claypoole shut his mouth with an audible clack of teeth and untwisted his face, stifling his anger. He stood a little more erect and looked about the bunker. The room had been crudely gouged out of the coral-like wall of the escarpment that rose above the beach on the north side of the Bataan Peninsula, and its walls roughly smoothed; at least the worst of the protrusions had been knocked off. That was all the finishing the engineers had had time to do when they were preparing the defensive positions for the war now being fought here on Ravenette. Any protrusions they'd left had been replaced by gouges and pits, the result of fire from the attacking Coalition division that had nearly overrun the Marines. One good thing about the gouges and pits was that they'd replaced much of the crud the Marines hadn't been able to scour off the walls when they took over the bunkers from the army. A bad thing was the resulting stony debris scattered about. Not to mention the expended munitions that littered the floor. When Kerr barged in and roared his displeasure, Lance Corporal Jack "Wolfman" MacIlargie jumped as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, then just gawped at his squad leader, uncertain of what was coming nexthe'd never seen Corporal Kerr so angry. He guessed that an extra ration of anger was issued to new sergeants. Lance Corporal Dave "Hammer" Schultz had been leaning on the embrasure, looking out over Pohick Bayjust because the Marines, with help from theSherman, David is the author of 'Firestorm ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780345460561 and ISBN 0345460561.