Уильям Дитц - Into the Guns

I didn’t think Wylie would follow through, the other her objected. Plus, it would be easy for a patrol to get cut off that far out.

Excuses won’t cut it, the first voice said harshly. Get your shit together. Mac stood. A mistake had been made, and she wasn’t going to repeat it.

None of the soldiers slept that night. There were trucks to perform maintenance on, weapons to clean, and a wide variety of contingencies to plan for. The Apache was a good example. Rather than commit the gunship to the fight, Mac placed it on standby. It was her ace in the hole… A weapon she’d call on if necessary but only if forced to do so.

At 0305, Mac returned to her quarters to gear up. As she was getting ready, she came across the .9mm “Baby” Glock her father had given her when she graduated from high school. Some of her friends received jewelry, trips, and, in one case, a car.

But her gift was the pistol and lessons at the local range. It seemed stupid at the time—and her friends felt sorry for her. But now, as she prepared to go into combat, there was something comforting about the way the handgun felt in her hand. Was her father alive? There was no way to know as she slid the weapon into its holster.

The troops were loaded and ready by 0330. But before they left the base, Mac wanted to get one last report from Forward Observer Lin Kho. Private Hadley had been sent along to provide security, and the two of them were hidden in a cluster of trees just east of the convenience store, where they could put eyes on the mining trucks. They were equipped with night-vision goggles, so very little would escape their notice.

Mac was standing in one-one’s forward hatch as she spoke into her mike. “Archer-Six to One-Ten. Do you read me? Over.”

“This is Ten,” Kho whispered. “I read you five by five. Over.”

“We’re ready to roll… Give me a sitrep. Over.”

“You were correct,” Kho replied. “It looks like the trucks are preparing to depart. About twenty police officers are present, along with roughly thirty civilians, all of whom are armed. Hold one… Some of the cops are climbing up onto the roof canopies. They have bipod-mounted machine guns. Over.”

“Roger that. Is there any sign of Wylie? Over.”

“There’s a guy who’s walking around shouting at people,” Kho answered. “Over.”

“That sounds like him,” Mac said. “Tell Bravo-Two-Two to take the shot if he gets one. Then run like hell. Over.”

“This is Two,” Hadley replied. “Roger that. Out.”

“All right,” Mac said. “Withdraw toward the overpass if you can… We’re on the way. Out.” Then, speaking to the truck commander, she said “Let’s roll.”

Strangely, given their size, the Strykers were extremely quiet. So much so that when first deployed to Iraq in 2003, people referred to them as Ghost Riders. Mac heard a high-pitched whine as one-one began to pick up speed and felt the cold air press against her face.

Rather than barrel straight down Firing Center Road, the three-vehicle column took a less direct route that zigzagged through back roads and went cross-country at times. Mac would have preferred to divide the platoon in two, with each team following a different route, but she had to leave a truck at the base just in case. And since the engineering vehicle was the most ungainly of the four—it made sense to leave that truck behind with a squad of soldiers and her orphans.

“This is Bravo-Two-Two,” Hadley said in her ear. Mac could hear heavy breathing and knew the sniper was running. “The guy with the big mouth is down—and five or six civilians are chasing us. The cops have dogs, and they’re closing fast. We’re looking for a place to make a stand. Out.”

Mac swore under her breath. Dogs. She hadn’t anticipated that. What else had she failed to think of? “This is Archer-Six actual. Roger that, Two… We’ll be there soon. Over.”

The Stryker produced a noise reminiscent of a city bus changing gears as it slowed, rounded a corner, and began to pick up speed. The overpass was directly ahead, and Mac could hear the steady bang, bang, bang of Hadley’s rifle interspersed with three-round bursts from Kho’s M4. They were making their stand. “This is Archer-One actual,” Mac said. “Bring one-two up alongside one-one, so we can put the maximum amount of firepower downrange. Three will guard our six. Over.”

Mac heard a series of double clicks as two pulled up next to one and three started to slow. As they passed a burned-out car, Mac saw Kho wave. From that point, it was possible to follow a line of dead bodies west. Mac didn’t feel so much as a bump when 16 tons of truck rolled over a dog and two dead humans. The bodies were evidence of the skill with which Kho and Hadley had handled themselves, and Mac felt proud of them.

That was when a pair of bright lights came on. They were unusually high off the ground and at least twenty feet apart. With a sense of shock Mac realized that one of the monster trucks was coming straight at her! An impression that was confirmed when a cop lying on top of the dump truck’s metal canopy opened fire. And being up high, he had an advantage. “Button it up!” Mac ordered, as she dropped into the vic. “Archer-One actual to One-Two. Put the AT4 team on the ground and kill that truck. Over.”

Meanwhile, one-one’s gunner was using the Stryker’s remote-weapons system to fire the truck’s fifty. Mac could hear the thump, thump, thump of outgoing rounds and wished she could put eyes on the target. “This is One-Two,” Sergeant Ralston said. “We’re in position. Stand by. Over.”

Even though Mac was inside a Stryker, she could hear the explosion as the AT4’s high-explosive projectile hit the truck. A combination of curiosity and claustrophobia drove her up through the hatch to stand on the seat. A glance was enough to confirm that the rocket launcher had done its job. The front of the gigantic hauler was wrapped in flames, and civilians were bailing out of it. “Kill the runners,” she ordered, and watched as tracers found the fugitives.

The slaughter wasn’t something that Mac enjoyed. But it had to be done in order to protect her people and the base. Then it was over, and Mac felt a brief moment of satisfaction in knowing that the other haulers were too large to pass the burning wreck.

But the feeling was short-lived as Evans spoke over the radio. He was in charge of the base, and his voice was calm. Mac heard an explosion in the background. “This is Archer-One-Seven. We’re taking mortar and small-arms fire from the south. I have two KIAs and a WIA. Over.”

Mac felt surprise mixed with anger. Mortars? Maybe they got them from a National Guard unit, Mac thought to herself. Not that it mattered. She had to stay focused. The force protecting the base consisted of the ESV, a squad of infantry, and the five-person air crew. That was a small contingent of defenders. What orders had been given to the attackers? Were they trying to pin the soldiers down while they waited for the ore haulers to arrive? Or were they prepping the base for an infantry assault? There was no way to be sure.

Mac faced a choice. She could send one or more vics back to reinforce the base, thereby weakening the force located on the overpass, or she could order Evans to counterattack, using the ESV. That would involve sending an unsupported Stryker out to fight by itself. A definite no-no under normal circumstances.

Still… It seemed safe to assume that the locals weren’t trained or equipped to tackle armor—and that meant that the vic would have a good chance against them. Assumptions get people killed, the voice told her, but Mac chose to overrule it. “This is Six… Send the ESV after the bastards. And tell Tillis to keep moving, so they can’t put mortar fire on him. Over.”