Уильям Дитц - Into the Guns

“Roger that,” Evans replied. “Over.”

Having made what might be a fateful decision, Mac had to let go and turned back to the situation in front of her. There were three additional monster trucks to disable or kill. “This is Archer-One… Let’s put the rest of our boots on the ground. Once everybody is clear, one-one will lead the way, followed by one-two and one-three. Watch those intervals. Over.”

The first squad was riding on one-one, and Mac followed them out into the cold night air. By the time the second and third squads had deassed their trucks, one-one had entered the narrow gap that lay between the burning truck and the bridge. Truck Commander Lamm was forced to put a set of four tires on the sidewalk to get through. The rest of the Strykers followed with squads one, two, and three bringing up the rear.

Mac had to jog in order to keep up with one-three, and the rest of the platoon followed her example. She positioned herself to the left of the vic in order to see past it and ensure that the way was clear. A couple of minutes later, one-one cleared the bridge and began to close on the parking lot that Mac had seen earlier. Then she realized that the surviving ore haulers were spread out. As one-one passed between two of the behemoths, Mac felt a sudden sense of alarm. Something was wrong… But what ?

The answer came in the form of a massive explosion as the truck on the far right was transformed into an orange-red ball of flame. It rose like an obscene balloon, which popped a hundred feet off the ground. Mac came to a halt and ordered her troops to do likewise. The smoke made it impossible to see. Sparks gave her the mike. “One-one? One-two? This is Archer-Six… Report. Over.”

“This is one-one,” came the halting reply. “One-two was caught in the blast. It’s gone.”

Mac felt her heart sink. It wasn’t the truck… Fuck that. Evitt was dead, plus his gunner, and Evans’s people. All to defend a base that nobody cared about. Mac felt nauseous but couldn’t throw up because people were counting on her. She forced herself to speak. “One-one and one-three will destroy the remaining ore trucks. As soon as that’s accomplished, the rest of the platoon will move in and mop up.”

The remaining vics were taking machine-gun fire but nothing big enough to matter. One of the ore haulers took off, or tried to, but didn’t get far as one-one’s vengeful gunner poured fire into the truck. It didn’t take long for a tracer to find a fuel line and spark a fire. Mac heard a thump as flames appeared, and the behemoth ground to a halt.

Meanwhile, one-three’s gunner was firing his 40mm grenade launcher at the remaining truck. It seemed to wilt as blast after blast hit the cab, engine compartment, and gigantic tires. Then it, too, was gone as the fuel tank blew—and one-three’s commander uttered a whoop of joy. Sergeant Ralston ordered him to “Cut the crap.”

Mac grinned. “Come on!” she shouted. “Follow me… Let’s get the rest of them!”

Machine-gun fire was coming from in and around the convenience store. Bullets dug divots out of the parking lot as Mac zigzagged forward. She was using cars and pickups for cover, and that wasn’t the brightest plan, since it was safe to assume that some of the vehicles had fuel in their tanks. And there was the possibility of another IED. But Mac was hating rather than thinking, so none of that occurred to her.

When a smoke grenade landed in front of the store, she charged through the fog, firing bursts from the M4. Then she was through the front door and inside. Mac saw shadowy forms turning her way and fired at the one off to her right. She saw the man stagger as the .223 rounds hit him but knew better than to watch because the other targets were still in motion. Each person was part of a race to see who would live and who would die.

Mac switched to full auto and held the trigger back as she sprayed the woman in front of her with bullets. The bitch fell, but it wasn’t going to be enough. A third defender had Mac dead to rights and was about to fire. That was when Mac heard a loud boom to her left, and saw half of the man’s face vanish. The force of the blast turned him around, and he collapsed. Mac couldn’t believe her good fortune, and turned to see Sparks work the action on his twelve-gauge pump gun. The RTO spit on the floor. “Asshole.”

Mac laughed and took note of how shrill it sounded. After thanking the RTO for saving her ass, Mac turned her attention to the things that had to get done. First, she ordered the remaining Strykers to provide security. Then she sent the first squad out to retrieve intelligence. That included electronic devices, documents, IDs, and pocket litter.

While they took care of that, Mac made the rounds with the second squad. Their job was to collect all of the weapons and ammunition that were lying around. Later, once the unit returned to base, the pile would be divided into two categories: keep and destroy.

Finally, after confirming that Hadley’s dead man was none other than Fred Wylie, Mac ordered the unit to pull out. She rode in one-three on the way back and understood why the mood was so somber. A battle had been won, but the price of victory had been high. Two men had been killed, and not only killed, but obliterated. Not so much as a dog tag had been found in the blast zone. It was depressing as hell, and all of them were silent as the vic rolled onto the base.

The good news was that one-four had been able to find and eliminate both of the insurgent mortar teams. One-four’s gunner had taken one group out while Tillis ran the other team down. They were holding the tube between them and running south when the vic caught up and crushed them. Some riflemen were killed subsequent to that—but Evans figured that a dozen of the bastards had survived.

Unfortunately, none of this could make up for the two people who’d been killed during the initial mortar attack. And as an orange disk rose in the east, and the bodies were lowered into what Private Wessel callously referred to as “a double wide,” it was Mac’s duty to say a few words. Her throat felt tight, and she wished there had been time to prepare something.

“We’re gathered here to say good-bye to our comrades. Men who stood by their country in its darkest hour, who fought to keep it alive, and died protecting their fellow soldiers. We’re going to miss them… And keep them alive with the stories that we tell. May God take and keep them.”

Once the service was over, and the grave was filled in, half of the soldiers were sent to grab some sleep while the rest stood guard. And that included Mac, who flipped a coin with Evans and won. After a hot shower, she crawled into her bag and fell asleep. And when her alarm went off two hours later, it seemed as if only seconds had passed.

The generator was off, so the best Mac could do was to wash her face and brush her teeth prior to shuffling over to the Flight Center, where Evans was waiting to be relieved. After two cups of coffee and an MRE, Mac went to visit the dispensary. Dr. Hoskins was there to introduce Staff Sergeant Nick Esco. The noncom had sandy-brown hair, green eyes, and a ready smile. Mac saw him wince as he got up off a pillow. “Good morning, ma’am… The doctor tells me that you helped to pull me out of the Mescalero. Thank you.”

“Warrant Officer Omata got to you first,” Mac told him, “so it was a team effort. You’re lucky to be alive. We saw lots of bullet holes. Some of which were in you.”

“Yeah,” Esco said wryly. “A whole lot of bad guys were shooting at me as I took off from JBLM, and believe me, there’s nothing worse than getting shot in the ass. It’s embarrassing.”

Mac chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is. But what you did took a lot of guts. Were you a pilot before you joined?”