A Hero of War--An Adrian Hell Novella

by James P. Sumner

  “As long as the brass deems it necessary,” replies Temple, opposite.

  “But we haven’t seen anyone in days. This is a goddamn waste of time.”

  “And what would you rather us do, Travis?”

  Travis shrugs. “I dunno… go home? Why are we even getting involved in this shit? It’s not our fight.”

  I take a gulp of lukewarm water. “That’s true, Travis, but Kuwait hasn’t done anything wrong, and they’re struggling to defend themselves against the Iraqis. If you saw a big, bad bully picking on the skinny kid in the yard, would you stand by and watch, or would you kick the bully’s ass?”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “Whatever, Wolfslayer.”

  I smile back as I flip him the finger.

  Newman moves over to me. “How you holdin’ up?”

  “I’m alright. You?”

  He shrugs. “I’m okay. Just worried we’re gonna meet a bunch of Saddam’s finest along here.”

  “Nah, we’ll be fine. Temple’s got the sniper rifle, so he’ll see them coming a mile away…” I tap his M16A2 assault rifle with my knuckle. “…and you’ve got that bad boy. That’s the real peacekeeper.”

  He chuckles. “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “It ain’t confidence. I just don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet.”

  He smiles and falls silent, admiring the rifle in his hands. “You’re one of the best shots in the unit, man. How did you get to be so good?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not that good. I’ve hit a few—”

  “Quit with the modesty, Omaha. You’re easily the best marksman here. You’re a natural with this thing. I reckon they’d be better off giving you the sniper rifle.”

  I shrug, but say nothing.

  Temple gets to his feet. “Alright, let’s move out, boys.”

  I flick my eyebrows up at Newman. “No rest for the wicked… come on, Dayton.”

  “Right behind you.”

  We hit the road again, dropping comfortably back into formation. We move in a loose, diamond-shaped grouping—Temple out front, Travis and me behind him, Newman and Bloom behind us, and Imes bringing up the rear. Temple’s the designated sniper, and Bloom has the heavy artillery—the M72, which is a rocket launcher, effective against lightly-armored vehicles. I think he thinks of himself as an extra from Rambo 3 or something, but there’s no denying he has a natural aptitude for the weapon.

  As Newman was saying, I admit to feeling pretty comfortable with this M16A2. I don’t know what it is—I mean, it’s not as if I’ve ever used one before I joined up. But aiming seems to come naturally to me, so I’ve ended up with the highest accuracy rank on the board across all Infantry regiments.

  The 27th are pretty badass!

  16:19 AST

  Temple raises his fist, signaling for the group to stop. We’ve been on the move for a couple of hours now, but we weren’t intending setting up camp until later in the evening.

  I move up next to him. “What’s up?”

  He looks over his shoulder at the rest of the team. “Everyone off the road and sit tight. Hughes, with me.”

  We walk for a few paces farther along and kneel down. I tap his arm. “What have you seen, Mike?”

  He takes the sniper rifle off his shoulder and detaches the scope. He rests the rifle at his feet and looks down the sights ahead of us. “I see dust… Could be nothing, but it could be something. I wanna check it out.”

  I follow his gaze and take out my field binoculars, placing them to my eyes and looking ahead.

  He’s right. There’s a large plume of dust a couple of klicks in front of us, heading our way.

  “What do you think, Hughes?”

  I let out a slow, patient sigh as I gaze ahead. “I’m not sure. Looks like two vehicles. Too small to be military… possibly some local rebels?”

  “Negative. We’re working with the Saudis, and they’ve not reported any activity in this region. Whoever that is, they’re not on our side.”

  I lower the binoculars. “Doesn’t mean they’re on the opposite side though.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He lowers the scope and looks around. He gestures to a larger rock formation a few hundred yards off the road. “There. We’ll position ourselves in those rocks. Keep things easy ’til they pass.”

  I nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

  We both stand and Temple gives the order to the rest of the squad. We move over and take up positions around the rocks. This formation is much bigger than the one we stopped at earlier. Bloom climbs a large boulder that flattens out on top, kneeling down and holding his weapon loose, but ready. Newman, Imes, and Travis find cover behind smaller rocks on the ground—again, holding their weapons loose and non-threatening, but ready for anything.

  I rest against a rock shaded by the larger one, facing the road, while Temple stands in front of us. I see the dust cloud taking the shape of two vehicles—white trucks with people sitting in the back.

  Temple looks back at me and raises an eyebrow, a silent question. I shrug back, genuinely unsure who these people could be.

  Another couple of minutes pass. Behind me, I hear the shuffling of men trying to stay comfortable. I glance over my shoulder and catch Newman’s eye, who doesn’t look very well. I nod once, trying to reassure him.

  I look back around as the two vehicles approach us. I get a good look at them. Each has a driver and two passengers inside, all male. The first has eight people riding in the back, hanging onto the side as they bump along the road. There’s a mixture of men and women, who all look like local villagers. The second truck is the same, except all the passengers are male, including a child.

  They draw level with us and slow down without stopping. The passengers inside stare at us warily, while everyone else seems to avoid making any eye contact at all.

  They pass us by without incident and speed up again as they head away from us, toward Hafar Al Batin, which is probably another sixty klicks from where we are now.

  “Nice and easy,” says Temple. He turns to face us, smiling. “Come on, we’ll get another few klicks under our belts today and then make camp for the night.” He sets off and everyone moves from their position around the rocks, forming a loose huddle, with me in front. “Formation, guys—let’s not get sloppy.”

  We speed up to fall in behind him and—

  I hear a noise behind me…

  I stop and turn. The two vehicles are heading back toward us, faster than they were before. My gut tightens. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this…

  I don’t wait to see if I’m right or not. I look at the group. “Everyone, scatter!”

  Temple turns as the rest of us disperse in every direction, sliding to a stop in the dust and sand, spread out on either side of the road.

  The trucks speed past us, and I catch a glimpse of the groups of passengers in the back, who seem more alert than they did a few moments ago. Both vehicles skid to a halt, stopping nose-to-nose and side on, blocking the road.

  I’m crouching low, desperate for cover. I look over and see everyone in the trucks jumping down, all armed with rifles.

  Oh, sweet Jesus…!

  “Take cover!”

  The stuttering roar of gunfire fills the hot, desert air. Hundreds of bullets cause small clouds of dust to spit up around us.

  “Fall back to the rocks!” yells Temple, but we’re already ahead of him. Those rocks are the only cover for miles. They’re only a hundred or so yards away, but it feels like a thousand klicks when bullets are flying past you.

  We’ve not had chance to return fire yet—we’re all far too preoccupied trying not to get shot. I look over as Imes reaches the rocks first. There’s a loud whooshing sound behind me, audible over the gunfire. A second later, the rock formation explodes in a dirty cloud of dust and fire.

  Shit!

  I run over, forgetting the hail of gunfire. “Greg!”

  The explosion stunned everyone, and all noise seems momentarily dr
owned out by a loud ringing in my ears. I can’t see where everyone else is. My mind’s racing, thinking about what to do if they’re all dead…

  I don’t want to die. I’m nineteen in a few weeks… I’m too young to die.

  I spin around, level my rifle and take aim. I take a couple of deep breaths. I’ve found taking an extra second makes a lot of difference. It’s like I can slow time or something. If I stay calm, I can see more of what’s in front of me. It’s not easy to do, and I can’t always do it. But thankfully, today, I have.

  Right… There’s a group standing by the hood, aiming behind me. There’s another group—

  Wait… A man has stood up in the back. He’s… Jesus! He’s got a rocket launcher resting on his shoulder. He’s my first target!

  I tuck the stock of my rifle into my armpit, plant my feet, and, as time resumes its normal speed, I open fire. The first burst ricochets off the roof of the cab, but the second burst catches the guy in the chest. He drops out of sight, which seems to prompt an angry reaction from everyone else over there.

  Oh my God. I just… I just killed someone. Holy shit…

  I take a split-second to process what I’ve just done, but I don’t allow myself any more time to dwell on it. I’m in a gunfight, in the desert, during a war. It’s a pretty natural thing to do, all things considered. I’ll worry about my own morality later.

  I look around again. Christ—even that little kid has a gun! What the fuck?

  I unload a few more bursts at the blockade of, what I now presume is, Iraqi forces. Just ahead of me, Temple is engaging with a group from the second truck. “Mike, fall back!”

  He runs over, while I provide covering fire, and disappears out of sight behind me. I turn to follow him and see the carnage left by the blast moments earlier. There are small chunks of rock scattered everywhere, and very few options for cover left as a result. I quickly look around. I see Newman and Travis, side by side behind a larger chunk, returning fire where possible. Temple has slid behind another piece of rubble, preparing to join the fray. I can’t see Bloom, and I fear the worst for Imes, who was very close to the explosion.

  I join Temple, crouching beside him and resting my rifle on top of a rock to steady my aim. “Shit, Mike! What do we do? Can you call for back-up?”

  He shakes his head. “Imes had the radio and I don’t know where he is.”

  I look around behind me, catching a glimpse of a leg poking out from behind a large pile of rubble. “I’m on it. Cover me!”

  Keeping low, I scurry toward the leg, which I hope to God is still attached to something. I reach the rubble and look round. Imes is lying on his back, staring wide-eyed up at the blue sky. There’s a huge, gaping hole in his stomach.

  “Oh, shit… Greg!”

  He’s conscious, but barely. He moves his lips, coughing up blood. “Hughes…”

  I crouch next to him. “Don’t try to move or speak, okay? I’ve got you, man.”

  He turns his head slightly toward me and I see the fear creeping onto his face. I quickly look at his wound again. He’s as good as dead, the poor bastard. He tries to follow my gaze, but I place a hand on his chin to prevent it.

  “Eyes to the sky, soldier. Where’s your bag?”

  He silently moves his lips, but looks to his side. I look over and see his backpack a few paces away, torn. I move it and open it up. I rummage inside and quickly retrieve the radio from within, which is still in one piece.

  Thank God for that!

  Bullets pepper the ground just ahead of me. I drop the radio and ready my rifle. Two men appear from around the other side of the rubble, waving their rifles wildly.

  Oh, fuck!

  I scream as I fall backward and fire, barely registering where I’m aiming. Luckily, these assholes are close enough that it doesn’t matter. I hit both men in their chests, and they flail back from the impact, letting off a few rounds before they hit the ground, dead.

  Jesus Christ!

  Without thinking, I scramble to my feet, grab the radio, and look down at Imes.

  Half his head is missing…

  Their random bullets must’ve caught him as they died.

  I stare at what’s left of my former brother-in-arms, my eyes transfixed on the large, bloody space where his eye used to be. The jagged edge of his skull is protruding through the blood-matted hair and the crimson ruin of his face. Something dark and pink is visible, too.

  Is that his… brain?

  Oh my God…

  I drop to my knees, still clutching the radio, and vomit profusely on the sand in front of me.

  That’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life! I’m never going to get that image out of my head.

  “Hughes!”

  I cough some more and look up as I hear my name.

  Temple runs into view, firing blindly behind him. “Where’s that goddamn radio? We’re getting—” He stops dead and stares at me, then behind me at Imes’ body. “Oh, shit…”

  I look back at the ground, feeling my stomach do a new turn. I hold the radio up and feel him take it from me, and then I vomit once more.

  “Command, this is Private Mike Temple with the 27th Infantry. We are taking heavy fire, repeat, heavy fire. One man down, one man missing, four engaging the enemy. We’re thirty klicks south of the Saudi-Iraq border on Route 50. We need support ASAP!”

  I slowly stand, but duck almost immediately as bullets fly around me.

  I feel Temple move and stand at my back. “Hughes, are you good?”

  I straighten up, adjust my grip on my rifle, and cast a one last glance at Imes’ body. I turn to Temple and nod, feeling a surge of adrenaline. “Fuckin’ A.”

  We move to the side of the rock cluster and peer round. I still see at least sixteen men, maybe more. I know I’ve got three of them.

  The unrelenting onslaught has us pinned down. Maybe six yards in front of us, Newman and Travis are still doing the best they can from the cover they have. I see Travis take out two of the attackers with a quick burst.

  I turn to Temple. “What’s the ETA on the support?”

  The radio crackles and he holds his hand up to me as he puts it to his ear. After a moment, he throws it down and readies his rifle again. “Fifteen minutes—they’re scrambling air support from Al Kharz.”

  “Mike, we don’t have fifteen minutes! The way this is going, I doubt we’ve got five…”

  “We just have to sit tight, knuckle down, and hold our ground. And hope to God those boys hurry the fuck up.”

  I don’t like this at all. I chance another peek at the barricade of armed assholes. I can’t believe they haven’t tried to outflank us yet… They’re just standing their ground and basically taking pot-shots at us. I’m not complaining, but…what are they waiting for?

  My mind starts racing, desperately searching for a way out of this.

  I hear a noise behind me. I look quickly at Temple, who must’ve heard it too, because we have the same look on our faces. It’s a look that silently asks, what the fuck is that?

  We turn around to see two more trucks approaching from the south, boxing us in. The same, white model, with the same number of men.

  Temple’s jaw drops. “Oh, fuck…”

  They slide to a halt, stopping at an angle.

  I close my eyes for a second and let out a heavy sigh. Now what do we do?

  He leans out of cover. “Travis, Newman—heads up!”

  He ducks back around as the new arrivals open fire.

  Fuck!

  He dances backward, pinned to the rock face by the spray of bullets riddling his body.

  “Temple!”

  I stop thinking. I stop seeing. I can’t hear anything. I can’t feel anything. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth and my vision’s blurring from tears.

  What the fuck’s happening?

  I look over at the trucks. Many of the men I can see are taking aim at me. I look at the cab of the vehicle nearest to me. I can see the gas tank just behind the
driver’s door.

  I move my rifle, but it feels heavy in my arms, as if I’m trying to swing a tree. I line up the sights and squeeze the trigger, spraying bullets in the direction of the vehicle. I don’t know how many I’ve fired in the split-second or two that’s elapsed, but the truck explodes in a cloud of fuel and smoke.

  The blast sends me flying backward, and I land heavily next to Imes’ body. I lift my head and look over. The explosion took out both trucks, and from what I can see, everyone in them.

  Holy shit! I can’t believe that worked!

  I roll over on my front, as I realize I’m out in the open. I look forward, at the original group. Their faces show a mixture of surprise and rage, but it’s enough to distract them from firing, offering a moment’s reprieve.

  I take a deep breath to relax myself, but it doesn’t work. Not this time. It’s like there’s a waterfall of calm trying to wash over me, but a dam is blocking it, made up of all the rage and frustration and hatred I suddenly feel toward my adversaries.

  I don’t feel in control anymore. I’m no longer behind the wheel. My body’s on autopilot, and my mind is just sitting on the sidelines, watching.

  I jump to my feet, aim my rifle, and open fire as I walk slowly toward them. Any movement I see, I snap to it, squeeze the trigger, and stop it dead. I take out six guys in the initial confusion.

  They gather their senses and resume firing, splitting their efforts between the small rock cluster Newman and Travis are hiding behind, and me. I drop to a crouch and roll to the side, narrowly avoiding a burst of fire. Shooting back, I catch another guy in his legs.

  I look over as my two remaining brothers break cover, moving forward in sync and firing. I feel a fresh surge of confidence. We’ve got them on the run!

  A large cloud of sand appears nearby, followed almost immediately by an incredibly loud explosion.

  “No!” I scream in vain, as Newman and Travis disappear, leaving a crimson splash across the Saudi desert. “Newman!” I look over at the remaining forces. “You bastards!”

  Once more I stand, quickly reloading and unleashing as much hell as I can—a renewed vengeance coursing through me with each breath. I’ve moved out, almost level with the trucks, which are maybe a hundred fifty yards away from me. I can see in my peripheral vision all that’s left of my unit.