Children of the Prophet: Book 4 Almost War

By J.G. Stevens

After they recover from various injuries suffered in North Korea Gary, Nathan, and a Marine Gunnery Sergeant are sent on a war bond tour. Finished, they are given free choice of duty stations. Nathan elects to take a discharge. Gary went back to his ship because he thought of it as home. It wasn’t. He soon found himself transferred to Naval Base Yokosuka where he found a friend in Jason Cuttler, another sailor that had returned from Korea with mental problems. They found solace and comradeship with each other.
Gary is transferred to Headquarters United States European Command in St. Germaine En Laye, France. He is just settling in when he is chosen as bodyguard for a State Department courier going to Budapest. The Russians were set to invade and the State Department representative has been directed to inform rebels there the U.S. has broken its promise and will not come to their aid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781796072150

J.G. Stevens

Joe Stevens spent seven years in the Navy serving in Cryptographic Communications in Japan, France, and at sea. He graduated at the top of his class from The University of Redlands in California. He and his wife live in Brush Prairie, Washington State.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

666

Contrary to popular belief, every once in a while there is a cold day in Hell. At this moment it was decidedly chilly down there. It was crisis time. The Master was not pleased and when the Master was not pleased…then…

At the order of the Master, the GOP, Gehenna Office of Personnel, convened an emergency session of its executive board to rally the troops, discuss possible courses of action and designate present and future scapegoats.

A tall, stooped weather-worn demon was droning on, its saggy face directed downward at the lectern. Every few sentences it would clear his throat and pause to adjust the mike.

!ALL RIGHT, SENATE MAJORITY LEADER DEMON!

CEASE THE RHETORIC! THEY ALL KNOW WHAT THEY’RE HERE FOR! I ALMOST LOST NORTH KOREA

AND MOST OF THE MARINES GOT AWAY! NOW GET ON WITH IT OR YOU’LL BE DEMOTED TO PRESIDENT!

(The Great Beast, owner of the high volume voice, speaks only with exclamation points.)

At your command, Master, imperiously tightening his jowls and raising both face and voice the former/future Senate Majority Leader droned on. As you all know we are here for…

!!LEAVE!!

!I DON’T KNOW WHY I WASTE MY TIME ON POLITICIAN DEMONS! YOU! MASTER AT ARMS! MAKE SURE THE SENATOR STAYS BUSY IN THE WASTE PITS ON LEVEL NINE WHERE I JUST SENT HIM!

The designated hall monitor demon, a former KGB agent with a pointy nose and bare chest, wasted no time on words.

Da, master. I’m gone.

A full-size demon sidled up to the lectern.

!WHO’S NEXT? AH, DISRAELI. NOW MAYBE WE CAN GET SOMETHING DONE!

The fact that the Disraeli demon was/is/will be a consummate politician didn’t seem to make a difference. Social atmosphere in Hell may be a lot of things, but it does not lend itself to straight line logical thinking because its educational infrastructure is riddled with Common Core imps.

The Disraeli demon began, its voice echoing throughout the cavern.

We are doing nothing, and we are losing ground. Korea was almost an utter disaster. We didn’t eliminate all the Marines. We must regain control. The operative word is now proactive. We must take corrective action.

!AND SOON…

…AND DON’T FORGET ABOUT THOSE STERLING BRATS OR HEADS WILL ROLL!

Most of the attendee imps and demons and things did not understand the meaning of the words ‘proactive’ and ‘operative,’ but all knew about the Master’s particular hatred of the Sterlings and quickly internalized ‘heads will roll’ and then clutched their necks in purely reflexive actions.

!GATHER TOGETHER IN GROUPS OF FOUR AND BRAINSTORM THE ISSUE!

!RESULTS, PEOPLE! !RESULTS!

Soon words like unionism, dumbing down, subversion, sedition, White House, feminism, political correctness, and destabilization were being bandied about.

!YES!

It would take time but the Master foresaw a devilishly bad future.

The Great Beast flapped its monstrous leathery wings.

!KEEP AT IT. I MUST RETURN TO MY SLUTS…

ER…OTHER PRESSING BUSINESS!

666

CHAPTER 1

1950 - Hungnam, North Korea

Hungnam was set to blow. The ship couldn’t wait or it would go the way of the city.

USS Wexford County, LST 1168, Landing Ship Tank, was part of the fleet evacuating wounded and exhausted Marines who had fought their way out of the trap that was the Chosin Reservoir, and then south the long weary way to Hungnam

The deadline arrived, and two crewmen short, Wexford County backed off the beach.

Billowing clouds of debris that used to be Hungnam were well astern when a course was set for Japan. The ship spent some time tied up in Yokosuka after her passengers were transported to the base hospital, and then made a couple more runs to Korea, bringing back more casualties from other areas of fighting. Then, empty and riding high (or as high as she could get) she proceeded south toward Sasebo, there to top off her tanks and perform a seaworthiness check before moving on to Okinawa.

The ship bucked rough weather all the way down the coast of Honshu, the darkling skies mirroring Chief Ashton’s mood. Huge gray clouds bloomed in the atmosphere, smothering an agitated ocean, fusing everything into a nightmare seascape. Often the Chief would gravitate to the rail, trying to lose himself in the whitecaps of the tumbled ocean, but was unable to banish images of that awful day up in Hungnam; the day he ordered two shipmates to their deaths.

A day into the voyage, for the first time in his life, he was seasick.

The Special Sea and Anchor Detail was set upon entering Sasebo harbor. All white hats not on watch stood abreast of the rail at parade rest, ready to do honors to any passing ship. The Stars and Stripes flew proudly; the captain showing the colors. To port, on the mainland, a smoothly rounded hill rose up with what was probably a large rock centered on its top, looking rather like a giant nipple. Together, hill and rock looked exactly like what swabbys called it…tit rock.

Chief Ashton took his station which was centered immediately behind the double row of Sailors decked out in immaculate dress blue uniforms and lined up at the starboard rail. Rolling green hills of Japan framed proud ships riding the sparkling waters of Sasebo bay. But a shining day in a safe harbor did nothing to lift Chief Ashton’s mood, which had been at extremely low ebb since Hungnam.

This fucking tour has been one for the books.

The ship anchored a few hundred yards offshore, and a boat was lowered to make the mail run. A seaman clambered down the Jacob ’s ladder. Timing the swells he dropped into the boat, mail bag slung over his shoulder.

That should be Sterling, thought Ashton bitterly. I need to get blind assed drunk…I hope they call liberty soon.

The Exec decreed Port and Starboard liberty. Unfortunately, the Chief was in the wrong section and got stuck on board for another day. He was breaking out his dress uniform, preparing to go ashore, when he heard the Bosun pipe the news. Now hear this. Now hear this. Liberty…Liberty…Starboard side first.

With a disgusted Aw shit! Ashton lowered himself onto his rack and sat with his head in his hands.

Just as well I’m port side, I probably would have wound up in the brig with some hard ass Jarhead yapping at me to shape up.

After the last man in the liberty section had trotted down the gangway, Ashton roused himself and went to the Chiefs’ mess. There would be a tray of sandwiches set out, but mostly he needed a cup of good strong coffee; coffee that could eat the finish off a spoon and possibly take his mind off bow doors slowly swinging closed, signaling the termination of two good men. Gary Sterling and Warren Vance, two shipmates he had ordered to their deaths.

While in the act of filling his cup he noticed a copy of the Stars and Stripes, the official military newspaper, on a low table. There, plastered all over the front page, were the faces of two Sailors, arms draped over the shoulders of a Marine sergeant. Bold face type announced a…

MIRACULOUS RESCUE

The article beneath the banner headline described how two Sailors and a Marine had been pulled off a North Korean patrol boat in the Sea of Japan.

I’ll be damned, he exclaimed, stunned, sinking onto a chair. How in the ever loving hell did they get from Hungnam to a boat in the Sea of Japan? And just who the fuck is the Jarhead?

Hey, Ashton, smirked a Chief Bosun’s Mate. You OK? Your seasickness come back? You need a barf bag?

Fuck you, too. Aiming a dismissive wave at the Bosun’s Mate, he sank down onto a chair to read the article.

Dateline U. S. Naval Hospital, Yokosuka, Japan

Gunnery Sgt. John Miles, USMC, Gary Sterling TEL2, USN, and Warren Vance RM2, USN were rescued from a derelict North Korean Patrol boat in the Sea of Japan by the destroyer USS Benson DD217.

The War Department has not passed on many details but sources close to the Pentagon report that two of the men were Sailors left behind when their ship departed Hungnam harbor during the evacuation. The third man reportedly is a Marine Sergeant the Sailors rescued, and together the three trekked down the Korean peninsula evading their Chinese pursuers. There is no information as to how far down the coast they went or how they managed to capture a North Korean patrol boat. They had been at sea for three days before they were rescued by the USS Benson. We will report further on this remarkable odyssey as more details become available.

Well, I’ll be damned! Chief Ashton blurted.

Are you sure you’re not seasick, Ashton? I’d be glad to get you a bottle of milk to sooth your little tummy.

Shut the fuck up, Carter, Ashton snarled over his shoulder as he left to take a few head clearing turns around the deck.

Ashton leaned on the aft railing, staring blankly at the dark water. Time melted away.

Hungnam, North Korea, was in agony. Explosions rocked buildings and roiling dust clouds obscured whole sections of the city. The pop…pop of M1’s and rattle of automatic weapons punctuated by loud booms were a continuous assault on the senses. All the fighters had withdrawn into the city. Under continuous assault the defense perimeter was shrinking by the hour. It was the last day of the evacuation.

Every available compartment aboard Wexford County was packed with wounded and exhausted Marines. Beached in the harbor the ship was part of an armada sent to rescue survivors of the dreadful march from the Chosin reservoir to Hungnam.

Explosive charges were in place and Hungnam was due to be blown off the face of the map as soon as the last Marines were embarked (hopefully decimating the Chinese army in the process). Because of their ability to pluck last minute stragglers directly off the beach Wexford County and her sister ships would be among the last rescue vessels to shove off.

Chief Ashton, Teleman Second Class Gary Sterling, and Second Class Radioman, Warren Vance, had been detailed to the tank deck to assist the overwhelmed Corpsmen caring for the battered and bloody evacuees. The three were no medics, but the ship was at General Quarters and they were the only bodies who could be spared from their shipboard duties.

The hour was fast approaching when the Captain would pass the word to shove off. Wexford County was beached opposite some large warehouses due for demolition. It was critical the ship leave on time or there was a good chance it would go the way of the city.

The flow of walking wounded had nearly trickled to a stop. Gary was easing a man down just inside the bow door, making the marine as comfortable as he could, when he spotted a couple of exhausted Medics hefting a covered figure on a stretcher. Quickly he settled his patient in, and then called to Chief Ashton asking for permission to go to their aid.

Go! shouted Ashton.

He hurried to lend a hand, and together the three men settled the stretcher in the last vacant spot on deck. One of the medics shouted to a doctor nearby.

Take good care of him Doc. He was a prisoner of the fucking chinks. Our guys just barely got him back.

The words stung. Gary had seen other ex-prisoners. They had been carried aboard dead. There was nothing he could do for the man so he again asked the Chief for permission to go ashore. He wanted to see if he could help any other poor bastards who were struggling to make the ship.

Gary never saw the face of the Marine on the stretcher. Only much later had he learned it was his brother, Nathan.

Ok, the Chief replied, glancing around to make sure all the evacuees had been settled in.

The frantic activity was winding down.

The clock’s ticking, so get it in gear, ordered the Chief. When you hear the signal haul ass back to the ship, you’ll be out of time.

Another quick scan.

And take a couple of men with you.

Gary signaled to Warren Vance and another Sailor, and together they scrambled ashore.

He and Warren never made it back aboard.

A flash of lightening on the horizon snapped Ashton back to the present. Bile welled up in his gut.

666

!ALL RIGHT! MORE MARINES GOT AWAY! WHO’S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS? I WANT NAMES!

Every thing in the cavern pointed at every other thing.

The Great Beast extended a hideously elongated finger…beckoning to a group of imps.

!YOU BUNCH. COME HERE. NOW!

There was a grasping of claws a smacking of lips and a thunderous belch.

!IDEAS, PEOPLE, IDEAS! MAKE YOURSELVES USEFUL FOR SOMETHNG BESIDES SWAPPING TRUTHS AROUND THE WATER HEATER!

A truly insignificant worm of an imp appeared before the bone inlaid throne.

!WHO!…OR WHAT!…ARE!…OR!…WERE!…YOU?!

(The Great Beast is not entirely adept at forming 100% lucid sentences)

With your permission, Master, I was a writer for Pravda.

!AH! IVAN! I REMEMBER YOU! YOU EMMIGRATED TO THE STATES AND WENT TO WORK FOR ONE OF

THEIR SO-CALLED NEWS ORGANIZATIONS!

Yes, master. I am flattered.

!NO NEED!. I HAVE TO HAVE AN EXCELLENT MEMORY WHAT WITH ALL THE CLOWNS CLUTTERING UP THE EXECUTIVE CUBICLES AROUND HERE!

The Great Beast favored the rocky cavern with a hard vicious all-encompassing glare.

!ALL RIGHT! WHAT’S YOUR STORY? BE BRIEF AND TO THE POINT! AND DON’T WASTE MY TIME! I HAVE A BOARD OF DIRECTOR’S BUDGET MEETING IN AN HOUR!

"I sympathize, Master. But at your command, Master, here is my story.

You see I have become quite expert at working with the mind……….."

!NOT TOO SHORT ON EGO ARE YOU? I LIKE THAT!

GO FORTH AND SIN A LOT!

666

^V^V^V^

The Great Beast and his minions were in for a surprise. Unknown to them the Angels had set up a listening post in the great cavern.

Quickly they went to work to counter the devilish plans.

^V^V^V^

CHAPTER 2

Naha, Okinawa – 1953

The President had granted all three men permission to request any duty station they wanted. Sergeant Miles opted to report back to Pendleton saying the Corps was the only family he had. Warren Vance wanted shore duty, but hadn’t made up his mind where and wanted to take some leave before he did.

Gary’s choice had been the Wexford County, thinking of it as a safe haven from all the attention and political foofaraw that had followed the return of him, Warren, and Sgt. Miles to the States. But even the President couldn’t do much about bureaucracy’s slow grind, and what with all the things that went on after their rescue Gary felt like it had taken a very slow forever to get back.

Maybe it had not taken forever, but his ship was half a world away, and it had been a long boring trip; an interminably long bus ride from LA to Treasure Island in Frisco bay, then a civilian plane (with honest-to-God stewardesses no less) to Honolulu. From there a MATS, Military Air Transport Service, plane took sixteen hours to ferry him to Tokyo’s Haneda airport via Wake Island.

MATS flights were fast and efficient in true military style. You left—no—nonsense—no time for sightseeing—you got there. Besides being as interesting as a bar girl’s face at five-o-clock in the morning Gary found the flight uncomfortable as hell and a lot nauseating. Not the least reason being that the seats were installed backward. A couple of guys opined that it had something or other to do with women in assembly plants. Having been recently semi-intimately involved with higher up bureaucracy Gary decided that some nutcake in the Pentagon had decided rear facing seats would be safer.

Sometimes I wonder just where the hell they grow people like that.

The last leg of his journey was a short hop from Haneda to Naha, Okinawa.

It was a hell of a long ride from the States. But, it was worth it. Even if I did puke on that fucking plane.

The rescue of him and his friends had been front page news, so had the medal presentation by the President. No less a gigantic pain in the ass had