by C. X. Moreau
“Not me,” said Slocum innocently, “I’m forbidden to fraternize with the officers, staff NCOs, and the locals. Regulations and all, you know. Besides, our comm is down.”
Griffin shot an alarmed glance at Slocum. “You’re shittin’ me. Right?”
“Not exactly. The other night we took some fire. Small arms, no big deal. So I called it in. Later they started mortaring us. One of my guys spotted the tube that afternoon, so we knew where it was comin’ from. I radioed battalion for permission to use our 60mm mortar.” Slocum paused and looked at Griffin. “Did I mention we had one of those laying around?”
“No, it must have slipped your mind,” answered Griffin in a knowing tone.
“Yeah, ol’ Ahmud and his boys were a little surprised to find out we had one, too.”
“So what about comm, do you have it up now or not?”
“Well, yes and no. I asked battalion for permission to use our 60mm. They didn’t think it was a good idea, so we sort of lost comm for a while.” Slocum studied Griffin, trying to gauge his reaction to what he had said.
“Anybody get hurt, Bobby?”
“Well, nobody you and me know. Ahmud’s a little pissed about the whole thing though. That’s when this ’get off my hill’ shit started. Up till then we never heard a peep out of anybody. Funny how a little woolie pete can fuck up a whole relationship. Some people are just petty I suppose.”
Griffin shook his head and said, “Yeah, I guess so. How are you fixed for ammo on the 60mm?”
“Okay. We’ve got about forty rounds left. They’re pretty stingy with that stuff back at battalion. We only used a few rounds the other night.”
Griffin stared at his friend, trying to figure out just how much of the truth was in what Slocum was telling him. It was obvious to him that Slocum and his squad had engaged the Arabs after suffering through various forms of harassment and interdiction fire. Griffin had known Slocum since his arrival in the battalion. He trusted Slocum’s judgment, and he knew by Slocum’s joking manner that the situation must have been pretty serious. At any rate it had been serious enough for Slocum to expend precious rounds of 60mm ammunition. And for Slocum to defy battalion orders and fire on the attackers. “What do you think their next move will be?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Ahmud will be back probably. Maybe a few more mortar rounds today. They’d have to be crazy to try and come up this hill and take this place. I’ve been all over it and the only real approach is the road. You’ve seen it. Would you try it?”
“Yeah, the road is it,” agreed Griffin. “Even without the wire and the claymores the hill is suicide. The trees would give ’em some cover but there’d be no way for ’em to advance in any order. Even if they could, they’d be so busy climbing they wouldn’t have a free hand to fire with. It has to be the road, if anything. If they’re smart they’ll wait for us to move. We’ll be vulnerable as shit coming down that hill in vehicles.”
“Fuck ’em then. We’ll just wait here for Ahmud and company to come get us. I’m in no hurry to leave.” Griffin took a few steps toward the courtyard where the squad stood beside the trucks. “That may be our best bet. How is this house for cover? It looks solid, but is it?”
“Just like the Rock of Gibraltar. The inside isn’t finished but it’s all concrete and stone. It’s got a good deep basement. Most of our ammo is down there. We took the liberty of punching out a few extra firing ports at ground level.” Slocum knelt beside the wall and pulled back a piece of canvas to expose a small hole bored through the wall at ground level. He looked up at Griffin who asked, “How many of those do you have?”
“Four.”
“That’s it? Just four?”
Slocum grinned. “No asshole. Four on each side of the house.”
Griffin laughed. “Bobby, you’re a man after my own heart.”
“Yeah, maybe so, but I’m not real big on Ahmud’s Christmas list. Wait till he hears about this shit. Us puttin’ holes in the wall of his house.” Slocum shook his head from side to side. “Man, he’s gonna be pissed all over again.” He rose and walked with Griffin in the direction of the squad. “Let’s get your guys inside and give ’em some breakfast.”
Griffin spent the rest of the morning supervising the placing of the two .50 caliber machine guns and assigning positions to his fireteams. Extra ammunition was off-loaded and placed in close proximity to the guns. Fields of fire were assigned to each gunner and fireteams placed so as to lend support to the heavy guns. He discussed tactics with Slocum and both agreed that the gate should be wired shut and claymores rigged so as to sweep the entryway. Griffin also placed flares in the trees overhead, with trip wires running back to the house. This would allow them to illuminate the principal approach at will, without shedding any light on themselves. Griffin also placed claymores in the trees overhead. Before returning to the house to sleep he walked down the hill with Slocum, stopping every fifty meters to gaze back up the narrow road. “You mind telling me what you’re looking for,” asked Slocum, “or is it top secret?”
“Look, Bobby. We can handle just about whatever they throw at us when we’re on the top of that hill. But sooner or later we have to leave. If we pick the best spots to place an ambush and set a few claymores in the trees above those spots we can detonate them as we come out. That way we clear our own path before we ever get close to their kill zone. Even if we don’t get all of them we’ll know there’s an ambush by the wounded screaming. At worst we lose a few claymores.”
Slocum considered Griffin’s suggestion then added, “Or they find our claymores on the way up and use them against us on our way down.”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take. Just to hedge our bet though we’ll send a fireteam out this morning to set them in place. No detonators, just put ’em in place and string the wire back along the road, but far enough away from the road so it’s not too obvious. Follow me?”
“Yeah, I get the idea. You’re a mean bastard though.”
Griffin grinned. “I know. They pay me extra for it.”
“I expect they ought to. So what’s bothering you? The hill?” asked Slocum.
“How to get off this hill in one piece. That bothers me. We’re gonna be vulnerable on the way down.” Griffin thought for a moment. “How tough do you think these guys are?” he asked. “Straight up? No bullshit.”
Slocum stopped. They were almost at the bottom of the hill, one of Slocum’s fireteams nearby. Griffin had pointed out the likely ambush positions and the corporal had noted them, assuring Griffin he could find them again and would properly place the claymores. Slocum squatted and picked up a small rock from the road. He tossed the rock, skipping it down the road, and looked up at Griffin. “I’ll tell you, Dave. I think they’re gonna try us. I don’t know if it will be tonight or not, but they’ll try it. If one of them knows what the fuck he’s doing they’ll wait for us to leave and hammer us on the way out. The claymores are a good idea, but it’s still going to be nasty, no doubt about that.”
Slocum paused and turned to look out into the village that bordered the road leading away from the hill. “I know they spend a lot of time observing us. Every now and again we catch a reflection of sunlight off glass from the ville over there, and that’s got to be somebody with binoculars checking us out.” Griffin grunted his acknowledgment and said, “Go on.”
“Well, you’re right about the hill. It’s fucked if they wait for us on the way down. Even if we send a fireteam down first, they’ll just let them pass and then hit the main body. We’re still no better off.” Slocum stood and looked at the fireteam. He gave a slight nod and took a couple of steps down the hill. Griffin followed.
“The way I’ve got it figured, Dave, is that they’ll think you’re just the regular resupply convoy. Just a couple of extra trucks. That’s no big deal. If you don’t leave this afternoon they’ll probably think we’ve been reinforced ’cause of Ahmud’s visit. He’ll come back this afternoon. He’s no dummy. Even if they mis
sed you on the way in Ahmud will see the six-bys and figure it out. Hopefully his boys didn’t see the fifty cals come in this morning. Anyway, that’ll be enough to throw a kink in his plans. He won’t know what to do. Dave, I think the stupid fucker means to rush the hill. Maybe the extra trucks will put him off and we can get out without a scrape, but I doubt it. We could have everybody man the rails. Show of force shit, you know. Try and intimidate him, but that will only make him rethink his plans, and that’s no good to us.”
“So what’s your point, Bobby?”
Slocum lowered his voice. “Let’s wait ’em out. They got more balls than brains. I say we stick to the top of this hill like white on rice and wait for ’em to come to us. They’ll try it, but not tonight. Ahmud will want to think about this, but he’s already shot his mouth off in front of his buddies. If he doesn’t move on us they’ll think he’s chickenshit. He’s got to make his move, and soon. If we wait a day or two we force his hand, and all to our advantage.”
“Battalion wants us out of here at zero-dark-thirty tomorrow,” said Griffin.
“Yeah, well then let ’em come up here and get us. That’s fucking suicide and you know it. Look, Dave, we hurt those rag-heads the other night and they’re looking for some payback. A couple of our flares were triggered last night and I don’t think it was fucking rabbits crawlin’ around the side of this hill.”
“You take any fire?” asked Griffin.
“When did you fucking go blind? Did you get a look at that gatehouse on the way in? Those holes weren’t drilled by woodpeckers.”
“So what do you suggest I tell battalion operations? After all, they did send me up here for the express purpose of getting you and your people out of here,” said Griffin.
“Tell ’em to get fucked. Who gives a shit what you tell ’em? It’s our ass that’s on the line. What difference does a day or two make to them anyway?” said Slocum angrily.
Griffin looked at his friend, then said, “Well, go on. Seems you’ve got this all thought out.”
Slocum smiled tightly. “It ain’t pretty no matter how I look at it. I say we keep this between the two of us. In the morning we rig one of the six-bys so it won’t start and radio battalion we got a breakdown. There’s no way they’ll tell us to leave any equipment here. You said it yourself. They’ll tell us to sit tight and try and fix it. That’ll buy us another day, at least. By then maybe Ahmud will have made his move.” Slocum paused, then said, “I’ll tell you something, Dave. I want to kick their fucking asses. They’re a bunch of assholes. The only way they’ll ever get this hill is if we give it to ’em. I don’t care for the idea of leaving the day after Ahmud tells me to get off. We’re fucking Marines, man. Who the fuck are they?”
Griffin shrugged. “Well, I agree with you for what it’s worth. Let’s try the mechanical failure bit and see what happens. We’ve had it if they tell us to leave it in place though.” Griffin started back up the hill. “I think you’re right, Bobby. He’ll be back this afternoon and he’ll scope us out. Then he’ll go home and think about what the extra vehicles mean, especially after we don’t leave like the resupply. We want him to hit us while we’re in place. I don’t even like to think of an ambush on the way down this road. But one thing is for certain, a lot is riding on what he makes of us this afternoon.”
“Yeah, I guess so. But you know something, Dave? I was happier than a pig in shit to see it was you and not some boot lieutenant in charge of this convoy. I was shitting bricks wondering what I was going to do if I didn’t know the convoy commander.”
“Lucky me,” said Griffin sarcastically as he continued striding back up the hill. “I feel like a regular prince charming riding to the rescue of a damsel in distress.”
Slocum laughed, “Hey, Dave, I’m sorry about all this. You know? Nobody tells me shit about anything. They just stick me out here and drop off the C-rats every couple of weeks.”
“Ah, fuck it. Shit happens, Bobby,” said Griffin with a shrug.
“Yeah, I guess. Well, anyway, why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll wake you up when Ahmud gets here. I’m sure the two of you will have lots to chat about.”
“Yeah, fuck you very much, Slocum.” Griffin walked up the hill in silence. Slocum fell behind a few paces, pointing out likely ambush spots to his fireteam leader. When they reached the top of the hill Griffin turned to Slocum and said, “I’ll be inside. When you see Ahmud at the bottom of the hill wake me up, but don’t you go out to talk with him. Just have him stand at the gate and wait for us. And instruct the fireteam leader at the gate he’s not to open it. Let Ahmud wait outside until we show up. Got all that?”
“Un-huh,” replied Slocum lazily. “But I feel it is my duty to warn you that Ahmud is not going to consider this a friendly welcome. He might even be a little pissed.”
Griffin let out an exasperated sigh. “Just do it like I told you, and remember to wake me up when he’s at the bottom of the hill.”
“Okay,” said Slocum. “You got it.”
Griffin walked into the house and descended a flight of concrete steps into the basement. Light from the firing ports, punched into the wall at ground level, poured in, stabbing the darkness. Griffin shone his flashlight into the corners of the room. The squad was sprawled out, asleep on the concrete floor. Here and there someone shifted in his sleep. Griffin noted with satisfaction that weapons were neatly stacked and they had taken the time to remove their boots, although they slept fully clothed otherwise.
He went out and climbed the flight of steps to the second story. A window there commanded a view of the courtyard and entrance. The gate, perhaps seventy meters away, was in plain view. The window was heavily sandbagged, and a .50 caliber machine gun was placed well inside the room in its own protective nest of sandbags. Griffin directed the crew to line the heavy stone walls with sandbags as high as was possible. When the gun crew shot a questioning glance at him Griffin explained, “Look, these walls are made of stone. You’re going to draw a lot of fire. Any round that comes through that window and enters here is going to ricochet off all this stone. Got it?” The crew chief nodded. Griffin then instructed him to rig a shelter half as a sort of curtain in front of the window. When the crew chief complained that the window was the only source of light Griffin suppressed an urge to scream at him and again explained, “For right now leave it down, but have it rigged and ready to pull shut. That way nobody outside has a view of your position in here. If you need the light, adjust it so light can come in over the top but the canvas still hides the gun. Follow me?” The Marine nodded. “Good. Now have Sergeant Slocum rig the rest of the windows the same way.”
Griffin walked around the third story with the same commanding view of the courtyard and front gate. All of the rooms here had views of the courtyard, although the window openings were much smaller. He entered a smaller room that he assumed was a bedroom. Two lance corporals stood by a sandbagged window. They moved aside as Griffin walked to the window and peered out. Looking below Griffin had a clear view of the hillside as it fell away from the house. There were no tall trees on this side, although he could see a few stumps. “Who cut the trees down?” he asked. The lance corporals looked at each other, then back at Griffin, and shrugged.
“I don’t know, Sergeant. Probably whoever was building this place, so they wouldn’t spoil the view,” said one of them noncommittally. Griffin followed his gaze out the window. The city sprawled before him, the Mediterranean a blue haze on the horizon. The morning sun blazed in a gray sky as Griffin squinted into it. Rooftops stretched away toward the water, the skyline broken by taller, more modern apartment buildings. From this distance he was unable to see the effects of the war on the city. He stared for a few seconds then dropped his gaze down the hill. “Did you see us down there this morning?”
The lance corporals laughed, “Yeah, Sergeant. You can see everything from up here. The entrance off the road is just out of sight to the left, but everything going up or down passes by, and they are
in our view for a few seconds.”
Griffin grunted and leaned farther out the window to get a clear view. The roadbed was visible below, a short expanse of gray ribbon two hundred meters down the side of the hill. Griffin estimated he could see half the roadbed when he stood in the well of the sandbagged window. “Get your corporal up here now,” he said to the one lance corporal. Griffin looked at the ceiling, judging it to be ten feet high. He looked at the other lance corporal. “Any furniture in this place?”
“Not that I know about,” answered the Marine.
Slocum entered the room just in time to catch Griffin’s last question and said, “Jesus, Dave, are you really thinking about buying this place? Or are you just trying to be the biggest possible pain in my ass? Next you’ll want to know if we have air conditioning, for Christ’s sake.”
“Come here, Bobby. And shut up for a minute.” Griffin pulled Slocum to the window and pointed down the hill. “Look, if we build some sort of step, maybe two feet high, here next to the window, we increase the field of view out of this window. An M-60 gunner has a clear field of fire to that part of the road, only standing on our stoop he can see all of the road, not just part of it. Follow me so far?”
“Yeah, I think I get the drift. And I can tell you Ahmud ain’t gonna give a shit for this idea either. He won’t even get up the fuckin’ hill before you start makin’ Hamburger Helper out of his boys, and he is bound to feel unwelcome.”
Griffin’s eyes shone. “He’ll feel welcome alright,” he said.
Slocum looked at Griffin, then raised himself on the balls of his feet and again looked out the window. “No, he won’t, Dave. His shit will be over before it gets started.” Slocum stepped away from the window. “Guess I fucked up not seeing a chance to improve this position,” he said, embarrassed. “But there ain’t no way he’ll get past a gun firing down on him like you got planned.”