Sweep and Hold

From a lecture entitled, 'The legacy of Monroe and current American Policy''

Given by: Professor Albert Hawkins

Location: University of Michigan

Date recited: February 17, 2004.

...The Monroe doctrine. The crowning foreign policy guidelines of US action within their own Western hemisphere. In it's original form it had mentioned that no European nation would be allowed to take action against nations within the United States hemisphere that were viewed as beneficial to the U.S. and that second the U.S. would remain neutral in fights between nations of North and South America and their opponents that were 'allowed'.

This basic credo had changed both slightly and drastically in the past few decades. First, the nations needed to be kept out of the Doctrine's gaze included many Asian countries who had taken acute interest in utilizing South America as a source of resources and a stepping stone to undermine United States hegemony. Second, the Reagan administration had disregarded the Doctrine on two separate occasions, the Falkland islands war between Great Britain and Argentina, and the arming of the Contra's in Nicaragua. This development lead some to postulate that the Monroe Doctrine was no longer a driving force behind U.S. policymaking. Such people point to the Clark Memorandum issued by the Coolidge administration as a shift in US policy that directed repudiated the Roosevelt Corollary which stated the US could militarily intervene in Latin America. I can only state that such a belief is not only naive but dangerous.

If the leaders of an opposing country honestly believe that the United States would sit by while they try to undermine U.S. superiority within the Western hemisphere, either militarily or otherwise, and not expect a response, again, either military or otherwise, they may find themselves in a uncomfortable position. Make no mistake, the United States of America is willing to take extraordinarily quick and decisive action to protect it's national interests. And it's national interests are wide ranging, even the smallest island could turn into a war zone if the United States believes it has the proper incentive...

A personal transmission intercepted by several international organizations. This excerpt was released by the CIA after a subpoena by a Congressional oversight committee:

... is also some great news with the dig. This temple is quite fascinating, and last week one of our members literally stumbled across a incredible discovery! He tripper onto a lever which opened a previously unknown doorway. Within the room we have found an amazing bit of technology of some sort. At first it appeared to be a simple piece of stone but it's proved itself able to power all of our electric equipment highly beyond their normal capabilities simply by being in its presence. Yesterday we turned off all of our generators and placed the rock in the center of our camp. And unbelievingly it gave juice to every house and piece of tech in the camp. It's still early, but this source of energy could be used for enormous gain, I'm excited... end transmission

Transcript received on request from: The United Nations in 1999

Location: The United Nation's General Assembly

Resolution: 1389

Subject: for the consideration of sovereign status of the micro nation of the island Velaqos.

The Federative Republic of Brazil (spoken through a translator): The Federative Republic of Brazil requests the floor.

The Secretary General of the United Nations: Are their objections to this request? Seeing none, the chair recognizes Brazil.

The Federative Republic of Brazil: Federative Republic of Brazil would like to once again request the assembly to consider it's claim over the small island of Velaqos. This island lies only a dozen miles off of our coastline and has no perceptible organized government and a very weak claim to its sovereignty. This nation contains several sites seen as vital to the cultural history of our nation and as it stands now the majority of visitors who step foot upon that island happen to be Brazilian. The sites on that island are unable to be claimed or properly excavated without recognition of Brazilian authority there. The Federative Republic of Brazil understands the United States history on the island, particularly its use of it as a military base during the Cold War. We are aware of the current status of the micro nation as an unincorporated, unorganized territory of the United States of America and request that the United States of America relinquish its current hold on the island.

The Secretary General of the United Nations: The United States wishes a rebuttal?

United States of America: We do.

The Secretary General of the United Nations : Seeing no objection the chair recognizes the United States of America.

United States of America: We the United States of America find the assertions drawn by The Federative Republic of Brazil to be slightly presumptuous. While recognizing the cultural significance of several sites on the island we would be reluctant as of now to renounce any claim on that particular island to due its past and current importance in the strategic outlook of our nation. The nature of research that had gone on within the premises of that island would not be the kind of thing that the United States of America would allow another nation to have jurisdiction over. As such we would use our vote on the security council to veto any such measure by Brazil or any another nation to lay claim to the micro nation of Velaqos-

The Federative Republic of Brazil (This nation was not recognized to speak when this outburst was made, the representative seemed extremely upset) : Now wait just a minute, current strategic outlook! What is possibly on that island that you-

The Secretary General of the United Nations (banging gavel): The chair requests the silence and compliance of Brazil as per the Rules of the Charter. Does Brazil wish to bring resolution 1389 for a vote, even in the recognition of The United States of America's vote of nay?

The Federative Republic of Brazil: We do.

The Secretary General of the United Nations: Very well. There is a consideration for resolution 1389 to be put up for a vote. ... (The assembly goes through the voting process) By a vote of 14-142 the request for the vote on resolution 1389 does not pas. Moving onto the next order of business...

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

The loud thwacking of the helicopters overhead rotor blades had never really gone away, despite numerous advancements in soundproofing technology and other stealth innovations, he thought. The din was the same as the helicopters he’d ridden with in the first desert storm even now over a dozen years later. One never really learned to totally block it out.

Some soldiers threw in ear plugs but he had always found that in the unpredictable nature of the operations that the unit undertook made the comfort something he couldn’t afford. A helicopter he’d been on had been grazed by a ground to air shoulder launched stinger missile just over the Kuwait-Iraq border. The landing was what one could’ve called rocky by battle hardened troops and hellish by the average onlooker. The impact had immediately killed the copilot tearing his body right out of it’s restraints and into the heavily reinforced front window. He could still remember the stomach lurching angle the man’s neck had bent at. He and the other seven relatively uninjured men clambered out of the copter, dragging out their injured comrades from wreckage that was already spouting flames and then setting up a defensive perimeter around the few who’d sustained serious leg injuries with the team’s designated field medic who thankfully remained uninjured.

The grisly lesson of Todd Maine call sign ‘Lobster’ had stuck with him all his career. As the young red haired man removed his combat helmet to take out the plugs nestled in his ears. A 5.35 MM round from a AK 74 caught him in the shoulder seconds before two more rounds pierced him, one in the throat, the other just below the ear. Dead. The ensuing firefight between the two groups was brief and one sided. The army teams superior firepower and numbers over came the small group of Iraqi militants who’d came in to finish of what they’d hoped was a disoriented and wounded force. Several of the Iraqi’s ancient guns had jammed, they’d used their only stinger missile in downing the aircraft and cover was in short supply. In the end only one of the six men had been able to walk, well run actually, away from the encounter. A few humvees and a APC outfitted with a makeshift emergency bay had arrived to extract the men back across Kuwait to the relative safety of the barracks. Ceremonies had been held for the two men who’d perished, select members of his unit including himself had received the scarlet red Meritorious Unit Commendation patch to be sewn onto their uniforms. Those injured in the crash were reviewed for the purple heart.

He snapped out of his memory as a fellow soldier tapped him on the soldier. It was Patrice “Apollo” Dwekwe, a young immigrant of Kenyan born parents would turned heads in the higher ups with his blistering distance and sprint speeds on the Army track team. He’d worked his way through the Post 9/11 Afghanistan campaign before accepting a transfer to the Army Rangers Regimental Special Troops Battalion. He’d made it to the rank of specialist in his year and a half of service and had distinguished himself in counter terror operations. He was a tall man, with abnormally long legs. He often joked that their were sections in the Congressional war spending bills explicitly to approve the funding for his specially tailored pants.

“Hey, Virgil, Caesar is being more hush-hush about this operation than usual huh?” Gesturing to the man with the commanders insignia on his left breast. Caesar had undergone enough military operations throughout his 39 year old life to allow him to retire to a comfortable life working in the pentagon or even living off of a sizable army pension. Instead he chose to continue leading the unit of Rangers in their vast variety of undertakings.

The Regimental Special Troops Battalion was a newly formed battalion within the Army Ranger's and was designed as a fast responding intelligence gathering team that would be able to be a first responder to different crises situations. They were the armies response to the changing state of warfare in the world.

Colonel Christopher “Caesar” Towson had missed the 18 year old enlisting for the Vietnam war by a dozen years but grew up in the midst of the only major U.S. defeat in the countries history. This had left him feeling as though he alone could’ve turned the whole thing around and the day after his 18th birthday to the chagrin of his parents he enlisted in the United States Armed forces. He done service in U.S. occupied West Germany, most prominently protecting the crucial airfields. He’d been through Gulf storm One as a combat officer and Gulf Storm two as a counter terrorism expert. He’d given analysis on the famed Black Hawk Down operation and the ‘Police Action’ in Kosovo. Word through the Forces was their were a lot more operations that had been blacklisted by bigwigs in the DoD and NRO. His hair had gone shock gray prematurely, but his eyes were as green as they ever were.

Christopher was rather average in height and appearance. In fact, as difficult as it would be to expect one of his age to keep up, the physiques and feats of some of the men serving under him could probably put Towson to shame. But in his position no one really cared about how many push ups he could do (many) or how fast he was (still fast enough to tackle a subordinate away from a accidentally armed flash grenade).

Patrice was right though, his commander had been even more tightlipped than usual about the mission they were going to partake in. He’d never given his second in command in depth explanations about what they had to do telling him on numerous occasions, “If I tell you more than that, you’ll end up spooked, and then your mouth or your body language will trickle down to the sergeants, to the corporals, to, God forbid, the privates, and then they might as well send me with 10 crying toddlers.”

He’d found himself unable to argue with Christopher’s record of success, so he’d never really pressed the issue. After the Pentagon meeting, Caesar had only offered him a paraphrasing, “Island, tropical, micro nation, South America, two helicopters, scientists, discovered something, sweep and hold their position.”

“They discovered something sir? On an island micro nation, that is a little unorthodox, isn’t it? I mean, everyone has gone through their training but still. And sweep and hold, sweep what? Hold what?”

Questions had filled Virgil’s mind to the brim but Towson cut him off with his hand, “I was told to sweep and hold so that’s what I’ll do. I’ve told you the same so I expect you to do as I will. Clear, lieutenant?”

“Yes sir.” He had answered and the subject had not come up again over the nine hours it had taken to get this far. Regimental Special Troops Battalion and other reconnaissance operatives were famous for minute men style prep times, and this operation was no different.

The pilot’s voice came over the earpiece of every member in the bay of the helicopter. “E.T.A. to the L.Z. is approximately 5 minutes. Thank you for flying Air Force Airlines, we hope you enjoyed your flight.” This drew several chuckles from the team of RSTB operatives. The UH-60 helicopters that had taken them from a Gulf of Mexico based carrier were technically Armed forces property but the other Corps member could hardly resist reminding the soldiers who was flying them today.

The eleven soldiers started getting the supplies they had taken with them on the slightly cramped copter. The bulk of their equipment was on the second UH-60 which had tailed them the whole way down from a distance of about five miles back to try and avoid unnecessary suspicion. As Virgil looked around at his team for this mission he saw a few new faces. The crew cut that one would find among any other group of soldiers was relaxed for Rangers members to help maintain their anonymity, so he saw several soldiers sporting longer cuts or facial hair. Their were also several women among them, a notion that would’ve been insane only a couple decades ago but was now more commonplace than one would think. Still most of the group, himself included, had gone for the standard low maintenance cut and clean shaven face.

The RSTB soldiers also all carried an armament with them in case the second helicopter didn’t make it. Also unlike the other members of the Service, Ranger members were given great liberty in their equipment. As a result a lot of personalized choices were made for weapons, body armor, and other supplies. He had seen very few “identical twins” in his time, two personnel who had the exact same equipment.

After securing his things to his person with light, secure fastenings handed out specifically for that purpose. He peered out through the one of the open hatchways at the ground below. Water suddenly turned into a sandy beach which just as quickly turned into rainforest. Looking a little more off in the distance he saw a substantial open clearing signifying the LZ, the landing zone.

He couldn’t fathom why a team of America’s elite military fighting forces was being sent to baby sit a bunch of scientists, unless they’d discovered the Fountain of Youth or something. Towson had told him that a small Marine Recon Unit had already arrived in the area and was awaiting their arrival. They would take the Ranger’s spots in the helicopter and fly back to the Gulf where they would get a good night’s sleep and a hot meal. Virgil and his men meanwhile would get mosquitoes and whatever these scientists had plus their awful tasting rations.

Maybe some of the civilians would be women, good looking women, he thought glancing at the female members of the unit. Well, that wasn’t quite fair, it wasn’t that the women were ugly or even plain, no, they were all pretty attractive. But one of the unwritten rules was, actually by this point the was sure it was written down, that you didn’t fraternize with your squad mates. Period. Virgil was still fairly young, 32, and was pretty good looking by Armed Forces standards at least, a short head of red hair and green eyes, high cheekbones. A perpetual sunburn that could be expected out of someone with his complexion, but nothing too bad. He been told he was a little short, only 5’9, but that had hardly stopped him from living his life up till this point. He sighed and put his dismal love prospects on the backburner, the helicopter was lowering itself into the drop zone.

“Everyone ready?” He asked to the assembled crew around him. A roar of affirmations greeted him and he smiled. They didn’t know where the hell they were, or what the hell they were doing. Maybe they were in Hell. But he knew that these soldiers would follow him no matter what. After all, he was Kyle ‘Virgil’ Demarais, guiding people through Hell was his job.

He chambered a round into his rifle, just in case, and jumped the remaining five feet from the hovering helicopter to the ground. He land in a half crouch, his gun held with the butt leveled against his shoulder, ready to sweep. Ten troops swarmed off of the gunship behind him and muzzles of all shapes and sizes carved the space apart with their gaze.

Caesar’s voice came over his earpiece and through his uncovered ear at the same time, always a disorienting experience, but the command was one he’d followed many times, “Check off team.”

“Virgil here, ready.” He heard himself say. 10 others followed him capped off by Caesar.

“Caesar here, ready. All right ladies and gentlemen, time to do what the secret government slush funds pay us to.” Scattered laughter rang out and then only the soft crunching of the team’s boots advancing and the disorienting noises of the South American tropics could be heard.