Khost

by Vincent Hobbes

  Click click.

  York was free.

  The large Sergeant stepped back five paces, weapon trained on York. The other men did the same.

  York took a moment, slowly moving his feet, rubbing his wrists where the chains had rubbed them raw. He did so carefully, for he’d been around men with itchy trigger fingers before. “Thanks,” he muttered, though deep down he didn’t mean it.

  Elizabeth, now satisfied, turned to the guards. “Out,” she demanded.

  “But, ma’am—” the Sergeant began to protest.

  “Now,” she ordered.

  The guards left, defeated, closing the door behind them. A loud click of the lock and they were gone. No doubt they were watching intently from behind the mirror.

  York waved his fingers at it, grin on his face.

  Elizabeth remained quiet, ignoring York until the door buzzed again. In came a man, mid-twenties and balding, a bit overweight. He would never amount to much, his biggest task of each day was remembering who gets cream in their coffee and who doesn’t.

  “Here’s what you requested,” he said.

  “Set it on the table and leave,” Elizabeth ordered.

  The man shook as he stared at York, setting the cardboard shoebox on the table and stepping away fast. He turned, nearly running to the door, escaping through the second it reopened.

  “What’s this?” York asked.

  “What you requested,” Elizabeth replied.

  Inside were a pack of cigarettes, matches and a plastic ashtray. Also, a cold can of Coke lay on its side. York grinned, opening the Coke and taking a deep drink. He set it down, opened the fresh pack, smelling down the length of the cigarette. “Ah, it’s been awhile,” he said. Then, York struck the match, watching the flame flair up, touching it to the end of his smoke. He inhaled, taking a deep drag.

  Upon exhaling, York was polite, blowing the smoke away from Elizabeth’s direction.

  “Guess I can’t deny you’re the gal that gets things done,” York said.

  “I lived up to my end. Your turn,” she said, serious and ready.

  York took another drag, saying, “Lady, I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”

  “The incident. I want to know more.”

  “You keep saying incident. Not sure why. It was a fucking nightmare, okay? We literally entered the gates of hell,” York said.

  “Fair enough. The cave. I’d like to know more.”

  “All right, off the record, right?”

  “Yes. When you engaged the Taliban, one was still alive when you got there. Is this correct?” she asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Continue . . .”

  51

  “He got clipped pretty bad. Gut shot, not a fun way to die. Think Diaz nailed him. Either way, he didn’t have long,” York said.

  “Did you question him?”

  “One of our boys knew bits of the language. The guy muttered mostly, didn’t really make much sense.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Talked about the demons. That the valley had demons. Crazy talk! He was bleeding out, turning yellow. That’s how you know you’re dying, when your skin starts going yellow,” York said.

  “Did you call for an evac?”

  “Nah, no time for that. Put him down instead.”

  “You shot an unarmed man?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Sure did. Only humane thing to do.”

  “That’s . . .”

  “What, against the Geneva Convention or something?” York interrupted.

  “Actually, yes. You should have administered aid. Held him for possible interrogation.”

  York took another drag, smashing out his smoke and lighting another. “You think protocol exists out here? Fuck, lady, we’re in Khost. Dude was dying, we asked our questions, then I helped him along to his seventy virgins. Welcome to war.”

  “Listen, I’m not judging. It’s just—”

  Again, York cut her off. “Before you start thinking I’m some sick asshole, I handed him his Koran. Gave him some water. Let him do his praying. When he was ready, I put two in his head and that was all. The team was already moving on. Now you can think it’s wrong all you want, but this is Khost. I’d have done the same for anything that’s suffering, a dog, a goat, whatever.”

  She nodded, choosing to not upset the man. “You said he spoke of demons. Did he elaborate?”

  “Nah, just crazy talk. We figured maybe he was trying to tell us more of his boys were in the village. More Taliban maybe.”

  “So you killed him and moved on.”

  “Yup, to the village. Ramirez called base, requested surveillance and all that nice stuff. Apaches would have been nice, but they wouldn’t even send us a drone. We could tell the village was big too.”

  “But they sent nothing.”

  “Correct. Made some excuse. Patterns were full, something like that. We all called bullshit.”

  “I would have too. By this point, you had to have been skeptical. And how long was it until you were called back for extraction?”

  “Immediately,” York admitted. “We said we’d head back. The LZ was a day away, so we had plenty of time. And sure, we were skeptical. That’s why we went into the village.”

  “Even though there was no backup, even though you were called in? Despite that there might have been hundreds of Taliban waiting, you went in?”

  “We’re Delta,” he responded. “We were jacked up, decided to move in.”

  “The village? It held no insurgents?”

  “None we came in contact with. Normal folk, most of whom seemed surprised we were there. Shocked, actually. You should have seen their faces. Shit, that place is so far hidden from civilization, I doubt many knew why we were even there. We patrolled the streets, spoke with the people. Watched their activity, took some photos even.”

  “When were you convinced the village was safe?”

  “We were never convinced. See, the Taliban use scouts. Some are young boys no older than eight. They sit outside bases, ready with their cell phones. These are the same kids that sell us bunk CDs and other bullshit we don’t need. They’re allies only when it suits them. That’s just how things are. So, we were cautious the entire time, though nothing eventful happened.”

  “And you spoke to some? They say anything important?”

  “Not really. Rogers spoke with a few. It was strange, but it seemed the entire village came to greet us. Some talked, the elders mostly. The women and children stayed back, though they didn’t seem scared. That was strange too.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because usually they are. But for some reason, these people seemed happy by our presence. Urged us to stay, but we weren’t going to do that,” York said.

  “Well, maybe there weren’t any Taliban there. Perhaps they were what you said . . . normal people.”

  “Taliban are everywhere. I’m surprised they didn’t fuck us up, actually. That valley is their land, and most Afghanis will invite you inside their home one minute, cap you the next. It’s just how they work. So, we moved fast, didn’t overstay our welcome, and got ready to leave.”

  “But you didn’t. You saw the cave,” Elizabeth said.

  “No, actually we didn’t. We were headed back west, leaving the village. As the team was moving, some kid, couldn’t have been eight or nine, tugged at me.”

  “He say anything?”

  “No, but he had a look on his face. It was fear, plain and simple. It was as if he was begging me, the way he held on, the way he looked at me. I turned and he was pointing up, to the east. Toward the mountain. Big son of a bitch, too. I called Ramirez over and we took a look.”

  “How far away was it?”

  “We estimated six, seven hundred meters. Looked through our scopes a bit, didn’t see any movement. Almost ignored the kid and kept moving, but then I saw it.”

  “The cave?”

  “Yup. Tucked away, hidden really well. I could only see the top of the open
ing. The rest was obscured by rock. A large overhang was above it. Might be why satellites never picked up on it. But sure as shit, the kid was right, there was a cave.”

  “What was the decision?”

  “To check it out, of course. Figured if anything, it was probably a trap. Shit, kid might have been setting us up for an ambush, ya just never know.”

  “Then why go?”

  “Curiosity, maybe. Dunno. We just went in. Figured fuck it, we’d check it out. We’d do some intelligence gathering, shoot some bad guys if need be, then head out. So, we headed east, across the desert and toward the cave. It was a good hike, not much cover. But the ragheads can’t shoot over two hundred meters, so once we were far enough from the village, we felt safe. Got to the foothills, went on up. There’s a few trails, but some are real death-traps. Went slow, looking for traps of course.”

  “And you made it without incident, correct?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We did. There wasn’t anything. It was silent, even when we looked in, there was nothing. Damn cave is dark, deep too. Couldn’t see the end, even with our lights. But the silence, now that I remember, that’s what sticks with me most. The quiet. It was as if everything living just got quiet. No birds, no lizards, nothing. There was an eerie feeling once we got there, that’s for sure.”

  “Did everyone feel this way?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Didn’t ask. We were ready for anything, so that didn’t matter. At least, we thought we were ready,” York said, taking another drag, thinking back.

  York felt defeated.

  52

  “If this is too much, I can come back later,” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Go on. At least I get to smoke,” he said, though exhausted.

  “You’re a member of 1st SFOD-D, perhaps the greatest special forces group in the world. I’ve met many of you. I’ve tasked missions, so I know the game. You’ve received many accommodations, Sergeant York. Your superior officer, your teammates, they all speak highly of you.”

  “Your point?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

  “Says here,” she said, shuffling through his file, “that you received a purple heart not long ago.”

  “Yeah, sure did.”

  “And where is that medal, Sergeant York?”

  A flash of anger went through him. He said, “Oh, I have it in a nice pretty fuckin’ frame in my bathroom so that every day I can jack off to it while looking in the mirror and telling myself good on you! Good job for doing what I’d do anyway!” he said, nearly shouting.

  The buzz, the door opened, men entering.

  Elizabeth ushered them away.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Sergeant York.”

  “Why are you asking where my medal is?”

  “Because a few guys on your team said you no longer have it. This true?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Where is your purple heart, Sergeant York?”

  “I tossed the fuckin’ thing off the top of a mountain a week after they gave it to me,” he declared. “I don’t think I should get a medal for helping a fellow member of The Unit. It’s almost an insult, really. So I tossed it and went back to fighting.”

  “It makes sense to me, actually. Your type of personality, you’re different than most men. A rarity. Now obviously I’ve never seen combat, but in theory it does make sense.”

  “It does? Wow, someone around here who isn’t a dumbshit. I’m liking you more and more, Elizabeth. At least you ain’t stupid like the rest. My team are my brothers, something pussy men and bitches will never understand. Point is, you might understand hypothetically, but you’ll still never fully understand. It’s like watching your brother die. You have family?”

  “I do,” she replied.

  “And what would you do if someone attempted to harm them?”

  “I suppose I’d defend them.”

  “Fuck yeah you would! You see, when we’re out there, there’s no time for bitches and pussies. War is for real men. You’ll never understand the bond, I’d fucking give my life for any Delta, for all my teammates. That’s why I tossed the fuckin’ medal. I don’t do this for fuckin’ medals.”

  “Are you a patriotic man, Sergeant York?”

  “I don’t give two shits about anything but my boys. And they’re dead, remember? My unit . . . those guys . . . they were more important to me than my own family, my friends. They were more than that. I’ve killed to defend them, I would have given my life for them.” He broke down, tears rolling freely down his cheeks.

  “Sergeant, are you all right? Shall I give you some time?”

  “No, let’s get on with it,” he requested again.

  “Obviously you’re sad. That makes you a good friend, an honorable soldier.”

  “Cut the bullshit.”

  “Do you have remorse, Sergeant York? Are you begrudging yourself for the incident?”

  “I only wish for one thing.”

  “What’s that, Sergeant York? What do you wish for?” she urged.

  But York paused, his eyes blurry with tears, his voice wavering.

  Elizabeth pushed on, feeling the need to press the man, to get through to him. “You wish you could have saved them, right?” she asked.

  York looked up, a crazed stare, shaking his head. “No! I wish I would have died with them,” he stated.

  53

  “Needed that,” Jefferson stated, stepping off the helicopter. The Delta Unit, accompanied by the sole Marine, exited the aircraft.

  “Me too!” Thompson exclaimed.

  “Felt good to get some action,” Jefferson added. He was by far the most menacing looking man on the team. He kept his hair cropped short, his beard thick. He was as square as an engine block, a mean look always on his face. But this day, he couldn’t help but grin some. He, like the rest, felt relieved. The stress of waiting around was often worse than the stress of combat. But the Marine had seen to that problem. It was equivalent to taking them to a whore house, and Jefferson was gracious of the gesture. He double checked his rifle’s action, gathering his gear and headed up toward the hangar.

  “That got intense for a bit, didn’t it?” Thompson replied.

  “Yup, sure did.”

  “Got two, myself,” Thompson added, walking alongside the man. He wasn’t so much bragging as no man on the team kept score against one another. Instead, each time a man killed, it was a kill for the team, not the individual. It was for The Unit.

  “Yeah, you did,” Jefferson nodded. His white teeth shined as daylight long had passed, night upon them. The bright spotlights on the base lit his wide grin. His spirits were high. “Everyone did good. Even thought the Rangers did all right.”

  “Meh, I guess,” Clements, the large country boy, admitted as he hurried to catch up. Like the rest, he too carried the M4 Carbine. His bolt was open, and slung across his broad chest. He was bigger than Jefferson in size, though not by much.

  “Ah, Clements, those boys did good,” Jefferson said.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Clements said. It was the best he could do. He was the one who held the most pride for his team, his unit—it was his personal gang, his family, and he cared for nothing more. Clements’ loyalties didn’t go far outside Delta.

  “They did just fine,” Thompson agreed. “And hey, that old man, the Colonel . . . he’s kinda a badass.”

  “Sure is,” Jefferson agreed.

  Even Clements nodded at this.

  “How many he get, Dale?” Thompson asked, turning back to Comstock, who strode behind.

  “Four confirmed. Longest was four hundred and thirty meters. Damn good shot,” Dale said, stepping down from the helicopter, also unloading his gear, checking once more his weapon was clear.

  “Damn,” Thompson whispered. “Four hundred meters is far. One shot, too. Didn’t have to walk his target either. I think he’ll fit in, boys. I like him. Might be a Marine, but the guy hasn’t given us any shit. Let us do what we needed to, stepped up and got a few himself.”

/>   “He’ll be helpful,” Clements remarked.

  Jefferson laughed, looking at the man. “Thought you only liked Delta,” he joked.

  “Ah, Marines are all right. Especially famous ones. It’s the Navy boys I can’t stand,” Clements remarked.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” Jefferson said. “Colonel Reynolds will be helpful on this mission, whatever it is.”

  “Think we’re really going out, Jefferson? Think we’re here to do something big?” Thompson asked.

  “Sure as shit are. Don’t know what, but I feel it. What you think, Dale? We doing this or what?” Jefferson asked.

  “Yeah, we’re going out,” Dale said, his voice soft. “Don’t know exactly what, but have a feeling it’s an important one. Now let’s get moving. We have a briefing in less than an hour.”

  *

  An hour passed. The night grew later, the base quieter, less activity. Guards watched the perimeter, floodlights cast few shadows, most had already hit the barracks for a nights’ sleep. A few came and went, but for the most part, the base was empty.

  The six Delta members hurried to get ready. They cleaned their firearms first. Always did. Then, they showered and dressed. They were told casual, and considering the way most of them usually dressed, they took a liberal approach to the matter.

  Thompson had on ripped jeans, a Metallica t-shirt, sandals. He had half-heartedly combed his hair back, though it was still full of grease.

  They all looked as such, all but Dale Comstock.

  Dale looked more ‘soldierly’, if there was such a thing. He was clean shaven, save for the long, black handle-bar mustache, which he kept perfectly trimmed. His head was bald, also freshly shaved. He wore a button-up short sleeve shirt, khaki pants, and boots.

  The group walked on, exiting Delta quarters and entering another side of the base. A fence had been constructed, one that secured an even larger area on the base for their use. Two more hangers and a few buildings were within its confines. They headed toward one of the buildings, the headquarters for this mission, where’d they’d meet Colonel Reynolds, and finally this Elizabeth.