Loon - Jack McLean [60]
It was a heady feeling and brought all of our dormant training and combat skills back to the forefront.
He began to spend time with every marine in the company—not just “Hi. How are you doing? Do you need anything?” time, but real time, over a can of C rations, or over a can of warm beer. He wanted to know about us and our families, our hopes, fears, and dreams. Quietly and carefully, throughout the process, he was taking inventory. Whom could he count on? Who had leadership talent? Whom would he want nearby when the shit hit the fan? He didn’t have much time, but it was not a process that he felt he could rush. So he got to know a hundred eighty boys—one by one.
He was eager to check our morale and inventory our skills and experience so that he could bring us up to combat readiness as quickly as possible. He knew that he had only a few weeks to get us prepared for the 3rd Division’s change in direction, because it had been decided that we would be the first to execute General Davis’s new strategy.
On his fourth day, Negron took the entire company on a three-day patrol a mile out and around the entire exterior of the perimeter. Delta Company stood our lines while we were gone. He spent the time observing and, where appropriate, teaching.
How good were his officers?
Sergeants?
Squad leaders?
How skilled were the mortar men?
Who knew how to call in artillery?
Air strikes?
Naval bombardment?
Helicopter gunship support?
Hell—who could still read a map and a compass?
The following week, Bill Negron accompanied each platoon leader on his daily patrols. He saw that most of the men were proficient in the basic skills. They knew how to deploy the 60 mm mortars and machine guns and could call for air, artillery, and medevacs. And they did know how to read a map and a compass. They were weak, however, in preregistering and adjusting supporting fire on their patrol routes. These were necessary skills, critical to effectively reacting to emergencies that required artillery support.
Initially, the lieutenant platoon leaders quietly groused about Negron’s presence on their patrols. They were the ones in charge of their smaller units. It was almost unheard of for a company commander like Negron to venture out on something smaller than a company-size patrol. Soon, however, they realized that he was not usurping their authority.
Then Negron began going on squad-size patrols.
Officers commanded platoons, but the squads within the platoons were run by enlisted sergeants. Egos were quietly deflated as all began to see that the Skipper, as he was known, wanted only to make us a solid unit. The early investment that he’d made in each of us on the enlisted side paid off weeks later in gold.
Pure gold.
Thanks to that, some of us are still alive.
After several weeks, Negron could feel the company coming together. He was earning the admiration of his lieutenants and, as a former enlisted man, was increasingly respected by the troops. But the actions that had earned the respect of his men were causing concern higher up in the chain of command.
One day, early on, he was called up to Con Thien to meet with Lieutenant Colonel MacLean, his first such meeting since taking over the command of Charlie Company.
“Captain,” began MacLean, “you are not a platoon leader. You are a company commander. You will, therefore, not go out on platoon-size patrols. Do I make myself clear, Captain?”
“Yes, sir,” replied a bewildered Negron, who followed with a respectful explanation of his behavior in the field. He didn’t feel it was the time to mention the even smaller squad-size patrols that he had also been on.
“This, Captain, is a combat zone, in case you hadn’t noticed, and not basic school. If your lieutenants can’t handle a platoon-size patrol, they shouldn’t be lieutenants or platoon commanders. I’ve lost enough experienced captains. I can’t afford to lose any more. Your job is to stay inside the wire with the bulk of your forces. Do I make myself clear again, Captain?”
What an asshole.
Negron stood, came to attention, and