“What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.”
-Albert Pike
He poked his head out just far enough to get a look at the enemy platoon assembling, but not far enough to present a sniper with a tempting target. Any second now, he knew Mencken would be issuing his final warning, at which point he could expect that even the simple act of looking out at them would prove fatal.
He fingered the radio at his hip, waiting for the other inevitable report. The knowledge that they would have a little over watch, some rockets and some limited sniping was about the only reassurance he had against the machine guns and cannons aimed at him right now. There was no guarantee any of their countermeasures would deter an assault, but there was always room for hope…
“Sergeant Dezba!” Mencken yelled through the loudspeaker. “You’re time is up. Surrender your forces or we will open fire.”
Please give me a time limit, he thought. Something to work with and delay by…
“You have ten seconds.”
Thank God for that much. Mencken wasn’t in a forgiving mood, but at least he could preempt him. But first…
“Sergeant, we’re in position.”
Dezba breathed a sigh of relief and keyed the mike and replied. “Roger that. Wait for my go.”
“Ten seconds!” the voice yelled again. Dezba began counting down. He keyed the mike one last time.
“All positions, report ready.”
He waited as the various squad members reported in. His snipers on the second floor, followed by Watkins and Private Hillier nodded from his left. Both were holding their assault rifles, Watkins boasting a 203, loaded up with an incendiary. They all had their targets prearranged and were counting on taking them out in the first volley.
If luck was on their side, they’d be less one light vehicle and at least two of the heavy weapons. That would leave just one a whole bunch of small arms to contend with. But of course, if luck wasn’t on their side, then…
“Five seconds!” Mencken yelled. He heard a resounding clap as their enemies raised their weapons and trained them on the hospital facade.
It was time. Dezba keyed the mike.
“Boa squad, weapons free!”
He leveled his M4 just in time to hear plumes of rocket fire erupting from overhead. Loud cracks from rifles came from the upstairs windows. And a loud air burst popped from his left. It all happened within the space of a second. He trained his weapon on what he thought was Mencken and squeezed off his first three-round burst…
* * *
The reverberating thuds had ceased just a moment ago. They had left the east bank in a hurry, chased all the way by mortar fire. But as soon as they reached the west bank, it had started up again, coming from the exact opposite direction.
Cannon before them, cannon behind them, thought Saunders. Or perhaps “out of the frying pan” was a more apt metaphor.
Only two Humvees remained in their platoon, packed to the brim with all the bodies that still remained functional. In their backseat, First Squad had taken on Thirds two grunts while behind them, Fourth took on their NCO. And of course, both guns were manned, bringing their total compliment to thirteen. Less than half of what they had started out with…
They cleared the bridge and began passing through several hundred meters of open road. A number of burnt out shells of vehicles lay around them, civilian and military. All the way, Whitman kept his foot down and Fourth did their best to keep up. The LT had ordered that they avoid enemy contact wherever possible until they made their objective, and they only had so much firepower and personnel left to face whatever awaited them there.
The noise continued in the distance. Loud pounding intermixed with the sounds of thumping and popping, all the telltale noises of a fight where all kinds of firepower were being brought to bear. One didn’t need much in the way of imagination to know what they were heading into. Their objective was contested, and they were going in to relieve it. She only hoped something was left of the hospital by the time they arrived. Otherwise, they had come all this way and lost so many just to reclaim a pile of rubble.
“Right here,” Saunder ordered as their turn approached. Whitman began to slow them down and cranked their wheel, accelerating as they took it. Everyone was thrown sideways for a second until they heading north again and he righted them.
Saunders could feel her head swimming again, the pounding inside getting worse. She kept her eyes on the console in front of her, doing her best to ignore it. As they sped up again and Fourth’s vehicle pulled up on their rear, she uttered a silent prayer against the onset of shock.
Not yet. Please not yet. Just a little while longer…
And that’s when they saw it. To the west, looming large at their ten o’clock, was a tall building with smoke rising all around it. Saunders could not see the facade with any clarity, but judging by the amount of plumes and how they were spaced, odds were good some of them were coming from the hospital itself.
But just as many appeared to be coming from out front. A good sign…
The radio began to speak to her. “Viper One One, do you have eyes on the target?”
She grabbed the mike and replied. “This is Viper One One, I have eyes. Spotting multiple smoke signatures in and around our objective.”
The LT was a second in coming back. “Roger that, One One. Be advise,d we have been given coordinates. We’re to take the next left past the City Office and deploy to the edge of the objective. Air support markers to be deployed.”
She was in the process of punching in their coordinates when the full extent of what he had just said struck her. She could feel everyone around her perking as well, those two words having the same effect on all of them. Given his proximity, Whitman was surest of what he’d heard and was first to ask.
“Air support? Since when did we get any of that?”
Saunders keyed the mike. “Viper One Actual, say again. Did you say air support?”
“That affirmative, One One. No time to explain. Get to the new rendezvous point and be ready with those markers.”
Saunders hooked up the hand mike and felt all eyes looking at her. She knew how they felt, but didn’t know what to tell them. After so much bad news in a single day, was it possible something was actually working in their favor? No way to know.
She looked down at her weapon and checked her IR laser. No sense looking a gift horse in the mouth.
“Everyone’s IR laser working?” She was met with six affirmatives. “Good. Then be ready. We got targets to laze from the sounds of it.”
Whitman looked over at their map to spot their new route. Spotting the turn in the road ahead, he began veering to the right to bring them into a tight left turn. Once more, they were all thrown sideways and righted as he straightened them on their new path.
Just a little longer, she told her pounding, circling head. Just one last duty to her platoon and her people, and she could go into quiet, peaceful shock…
