Charles Henderson - Terminal Impact

“A hundred kilometers exactly, Gunny,” Captain Snow said. “Saddam Hussein has his summer palace there, overlooking the ruins of Babylon, and the new Babylon he has constructed over the top of the ancient city.”

“Told you his missions would scare the dogshit out of you,” Hacksaw mumbled to Jack, giving him a hard elbow.

“We are the forward eyes and ears of the command element,” Snow told his men. “Eight teams of Delta Force, Navy SEALs, and Marine Force Recon will deploy to strategic forward positions. Primarily deep reconnaissance, target acquisition, and laser guidance for the air campaign, but contact is authorized if we see one of these six high-value targets. Kills must be absolute. No wounded ducks. And we will remain invisible. Dying or being taken prisoner is not an option. We have no realistic egress until friendly forces move well forward. That could take a while.”

“Fuck me to tears, Skipper,” Habu let go. “We lose Dirty Harry in that shit outside Medellín before Thanksgiving, and I thought that was bad. Sir, this is insane bullshit, just to put it bluntly. You said to not hold back our opinions anytime, so that’s my opinion. We saw it coming in Colombia, and Leroy paid the price. Now we’re all gonna die.”

“Quit your fucking whining, Habu. Ya didn’t want to live forever, did ya?” Hacksaw said, and laughed. “Go ahead, Skipper. You know sister Habu. He’s always got a shit weasel up his skirt.”

“Shit weasel?” Gunny Ambrose laughed.

“Yeah,” Gillespie said. “Shit weasel.”

Jack nudged Kermit. “Who’s Dirty Harry or Leroy?”

“Sergeant Leroy Griffin. The Scout-Sniper you replaced,” Alexander answered in a low voice. “We called him Dirty Harry because he was one badass gunslinger. Don’t take it personal. Nobody’s looking at you like you robbed Leroy’s gun smoke or anything. Shit just happens.”

“Sergeant Webster,” Elmore Snow said. “This does seem like an impossible mission, but we do have our backup. Should we get into an engagement, which I strongly caution against. Contact only being a sniper shot and immediate clandestine movement. But should we engage and hold contact with enemy forces, we have Black Hawks at the ready. They will immediately come to our aid and extract us.”

“Right, sir,” Kermit said. “We just got to hold off Saddam’s entire Republican Guard for what, two hours flight time from here to there?”

“About that, plus some change,” Snow said.

“No comment, newbie?” Ray Ambrose asked Jack.

“Like Hacksaw said, do you want to live forever?” Jack shrugged, hiding the real fear that now twisted his stomach.

A knock came at the door, and a captain put his head inside. “General Boomer and the staff are headed this way.”

“Thanks,” Elmore said, and looked at his Marines. “You know, Lieutenant Colonel Jim Conway has command of Third Battalion, Second Marine Regiment these days. I taught at the Infantry Officers Course at The Basic School, with my pal, Captain Ed Gregory, and Jim taught tactics, as well as commanded a couple of companies. He and I had a long, heart-to-heart talk about this mission last night. Shit hits the fan, he’s coming our way.

“Like you, I don’t like to depend on some Army air group of reservists that I never met to save my life. Colonel Conway’s got the big balls to do what’s got to be done to get us home. That’s a promise. Push comes to shove, he intends to bust fences and get us. He told me when this thing cooks off, he wants to drive up Saddam’s Highway of Death, right up to the Son of King Nebuchadnezzar’s Summer Palace, and build a barracks on top of the ruins of old Babylon.”

“Let’s just live low like lizards, like we always do, and don’t sweat the small shit,” Kermit The Frog said. “Ain’t nobody out there gonna be looking for any loony tunes Force Recon scouts snoopin’ and poopin’ straight up their asses, right? We goin’ where they think we ain’t. We keep it that way, and we be fine.”

Everyone shrugged and agreed.

“Yeah, we got this, Skipper,” Kermit said, confident.

“Just live like lizards. Stay low like we always do and don’t sweat the small shit.” Jack Valentine laughed at himself in the mirror of the bathroom just past the gate where he had debarked from his flight home. Living like a lizard had become second nature to him, and it had taken many years with Elmore Snow to learn that fine warrior art. He didn’t really need to go to the restroom, but he wanted a few more minutes alone to saddle his mind straight. No telling what would greet him past the security gate.

As Jack walked out of the restroom, he heard the click, click, click of rolling suitcases coasting along the ceramic-tile floor of the airport hallway that led from the passenger gates to the front lobby, and the crowds awaiting loved ones. Stacey and Patricia followed dutifully behind the plane’s captain and first officer.

Stacey saw Jack and elbowed Patricia. She looked, too, and smiled large. Gunner Valentine smiled back and gave them a salute.

Both young women saluted back, then Stacey put her thumb next to her ear with her little finger down, mimicking a phone, and mouthed at Jack, “Call me.”

Jack had started to toss her calling card in the trash in the restroom, but on second thought changed his mind. He rationalized to himself that with Liberty Cruz, a guy never really knows where he stands. What’s wrong with keeping a few backup options open? Right? You never know.

So he had tucked the card back in his shirt pocket and buttoned up his blouse. When he saw Stacey, he patted his breast, letting her know he still had her card and just might ring her phone.

Then as he waited, watching the flight crew go on past the security barriers, and disappear around that turn, the knot that grew in his stomach finally took hold of the Marine gunner’s better senses.

“I’ll never call her,” Jack said to himself as he walked toward the front of the airport. He reached inside his green blouse and took the card out of his shirt pocket. Flicking it with his fingers as he stared at Stacey’s name and number, he thought about it and smiled as he saw the trash receptacle just before the security exit.

“Sorry, Stacey. It’s just not meant to be,” Jack said as he headed down the last leg of the hallway. As he passed the receptacle, he gave the pretty girl’s calling card one last glance and tossed it in the bin.

Harry Valentine stood in the outer-lobby waiting area at El Paso International Airport. He held a baby girl in his arms, and Giti Sadiq stood next to him.

Elaine Valentine stood on the other side of her husband, and next to her, Liberty Cruz with her mom and dad, Patricia and Paul. Behind them waited Marco Gonzalez’s father and mother, Herman and Lola. Herman still worked with Jack’s dad at Harry’s Heating and Air-Conditioning.

Freddy Montoya also showed up, with his newest young squeeze after a failed third marriage. And so did Judge Darius Archer, showing his years and now alone in life with the recent passing of his wife, leaning on a cocobolo walking stick with a brass duck’s head for a handle.

When the plane let out the passengers, and everyone had rushed up the hallway to the lobby, Marine Gunner John Arthur Valentine casually sauntered far behind his fellow travelers now hurrying to get their baggage. By the time he had made his head call and ambled up the long hall past the security gate, nearly all the other passengers on his flight had disappeared to the baggage claim area.

As Jack finally came into the airport’s outer lobby, his family and friends cheered, clapped, and whistled. Total strangers going to and from the ticket counters then joined in when they saw him. Everyone applauded the good-looking Marine in his green dress uniform with six rows of ribbons above his left breast pocket, gold jump wings with a silver SCUBA/UBA head above them, and silver crossed rifles and pistols, expert shooting badges. It made Jack blush.