Уильям Дитц - Seek and Destroy

Once they reached the tent, Mac thanked him and dropped her gear next to an empty cot before heading over to the Conex container where headquarters were located. The steel box was furnished with com gear, folding chairs, and a huge coffeepot. Major Granger was seated at a makeshift desk and rose to greet her. “You were supposed to arrive yesterday… When you failed to show, we ate the cake. Sorry about that.”

Mac laughed. “The story of my life. Colonel Caskins sends his best.”

“He’s a good man,” Granger observed. “The kind you can count on. Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

Mac knew the tour was an excuse to get out of the Conex and away from all the ears inside it. “We’re fine,” Granger told her, as they strolled past the makeshift maintenance shed. “Or as fine as a shorthanded Stryker battalion can be. But the big picture isn’t so good. The rebs have been using Mexican mercenaries to do a lot of fighting for them. Not only does that increase the number of people they can put in the field, it lowers their casualty rate and gives voters the impression that they’re winning.”

Mac frowned. “So the mercenaries are that good?”

“They’re better than we thought they’d be,” Granger confessed. “And there are a lot of them. A division, according to current estimates.”

Mac took it in. A division. That could mean as many as twenty thousand soldiers. It was a sobering thought, and one that caused Mac to think of her father. Was he responsible for the use of mercenaries? Or had the policy been foisted on him? Not that it mattered.

“Captain Colby has been serving as the interim XO,” Granger continued. “But I want you to step in. Colby’s good… but not good enough to lead a battalion should that become necessary.”

Though well acquainted with all of the extra work that went with the XO slot, Mac couldn’t help but enjoy the implied compliment. “Yes, sir.”

“So get ready to jump in tomorrow,” Granger told her, as they circled back to the Conex. “Congratulations on killing that warlord, by the way… Too bad about Crowley.”

“Yeah,” she lied. “Too bad about Crowley.”

Mac spent the next two days shadowing Colby, meeting new people, and assessing the battalion’s readiness. She also spent a significant amount of time with her own company, which was short two vehicles and five people. One of whom was a mechanic. A situation not likely to be resolved anytime soon.

Maybe it was the return to normal duty, or maybe it was the passage of time, but after two days with the battalion, Mac felt less jittery. And when she held her hands out in front of her, the tremors were nearly invisible. Not perfect… but better.

On her fourth day back, Mac elected to lead a two-vehicle patrol down along the north bank of the Stones River. The tributary had been the scene of fierce fighting over the last few weeks as troops from both the North and the South surged back and forth across it. Now, having momentarily exhausted themselves, both sides had settled into an uneasy stalemate.

That situation wouldn’t last much longer. But things were quiet as the GERONIMOand LUCYrolled along the highway that paralleled the river.

Mac was up top, in GERONIMO’s front air-guard hatch, where she could see the surrounding countryside. Holes in the omnipresent cloud cover allowed shafts of early-morning sun to splash the forest on the far side of the waterway and promised a rain-free morning. The kind of morning cavalry officers loved because it’s easier to maneuver on dry ground.

Mac didn’t expect to fight, however… The purpose of the patrol was to show the flag to the rebs camped on the south side of the river and get reacquainted with her troops. Not to mention the fact that it felt good to escape the Conex, and the administrative crap that went with being XO.

Meanwhile, off to the south, Mac could see contrails—and hear the sounds of aerial combat. It served as a reminder that while her world was peaceful at the moment, other people weren’t so lucky. The detritus of past battles lay everywhere. And as the GERONIMOrolled past, Mac saw partially submerged tank traps out in the water, a section of pontoon bridge that was grounded on a sandbar, and all manner of defensive earthworks along both sides of the river. Union troops waved, and she waved back.

Around noon, Mac ordered the drivers to pull over so that the Stryker crews could eat and take a bio break. She was sitting atop GERONIMO, spooning some diced fruit into her mouth, when Riley stuck her head up through the rear hatch. The RTO was new to the company and generally referred to as “the Owl” because of the army-issue glasses she wore. “We have orders, ma’am… An A-10 went down ten miles south of here… The pilot is alive and in hiding. The major wants us to go get him.”

Mac’s mind began to race. Ten miles into enemy-held territory! That was a long way to go. “What about air cover?” she demanded.

“We’ll have it,” Riley assured her. “The zoomies take care of their own.”

Mac knew that was true. The enemy would have a hard time capturing the pilot with a couple of hogs circling above him or her. She tossed the fruit cup away and keyed her mike. “This is Six… The break is over. Button up and prepare for action. One of our pilots bailed out ten miles south of here, and he needs a ride. Over.”

Ramps came up, hatches closed, and gunners checked their weapons. The GERONIMOwas armed with a .50 caliber machine gun, and LUCYwas equipped with a 40mm grenade launcher. Both were excellent weapons for the task at hand.

The Strykers weren’t carrying any troops, however… So Mac’s total force consisted of herself, Riley, the truck commanders, their gunners, and a couple of ride-along privates who were there for training purposes. They could man a couple of M249s, though… And that would provide more firepower.

Riley continued to relay information to Mac and the TCs as the two-vic unit pulled onto the road. “There’s a ford a mile east of here,” she told them. “And, according to HQ, a squad of rebs is on the south bank. Over.”

“You heard her,” Mac said, as she fastened her chin strap. “ Lucy will take the lead. Start firing as you enter the river. Over.”

“Roger that,” LUCY’s gunner said. “Over.”

Mac checked her machine gun as the LUCYpassed. There was a tight feeling in her gut. She was scared and what else? Excited. Mac looked down at her hands. Were they shaking? It was impossible to tell because the GERONIMOwas in motion.

The LUCYtook a hard right, ran down the riverbank into the water, and began to fire. Grenades arched high into the air and fell on the bunker beyond. Mac could see laundry strung up between the trees—and knew the rebs had been caught flat-footed. She felt sorry for the unsuspecting grunts as a grenade landed next to their ammo dump and set it off.

Dirt, wood, and body parts were still raining down as LUCYlurched up out of the water—and waddled through the smoking ruins. “Way to go,” Mac said. “Put your foot in it. Over.”

Wheels spun, locked up, and the GERONIMO’s tires threw mud as it followed the first vic up between shattered trees onto the level ground beyond. A voice crackled in her ear. “Short Bird to Bravo-Six… Do you read me? Over.”

“Five by five,” Mac replied. “Over.”

“My wingman and I are approaching you from the north,” Short Bird told her. “We’re going to mow the grass. Over.”

Mac started to answer, but her words were drowned out by the roar of jet engines as a plane passed overhead. The A-10’s 30mm cannon produced an ominous growl as Short Bird fired on a target that Mac couldn’t see.