Dead Shot

by Erik Schubach

  I twisted the cap off my offered beer and tipped it to the guys, “The best job I ever had.” They grunted and drank then I dug into the stew with one of the large wooden spoons. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad, I've had worse in our own mess line in camp. If you squinted just right as you ate, you might mistake it for some of our MREs.

  The other guys just dipped a spoon in, to look at what they pulled out of the bowl, or gave experimental sniffs then pushed the dishes toward me. Fine by me, I grinned, more for me.

  As the night progressed, Ripper started chatting up a lady of the evening, he offered to pay for a gal for Kid, who just blushed and refused. And then there were three.

  Somehow we wound up with an Aussie and a Canuck ground pounder at our table. William and Fred. Yes, Canada actually has soldiers, go figure. We got into debating the virtues of our services, well fine whatever, strongly verbal and colorful profanity laced banter.

  Now, the stereotype of people from different services getting into bar brawls over their disagreements is a fallacy. Unless, of course, some Jarheads start spouting off at the mouth at us, then you just gotta show them the error of their ways. Or if someone goes badmouthing those same Marines when none is present to defend their honor, then you just gotta show people they don't denigrate your brother's in arms.

  No, things are much more civil in real life. That's how I wound up in the arm wrestling match with William. It had been going on for over five minutes in a stalemate. Money was being slung all over as bets were made. I was feeling the burn and knew I was done for, but this was for the honor of our country, right? I looked at the Aussie and said, “Damn, we better finish this up soon, my breasts are sweatin'.”

  His grip loosened and eyes automatically shot to my chest and he spluttered, “Wha...?” I used the distraction to bring the man's arm down with a thump. People cheered and William looked at me rubbing his arm and saying with a charming smile and an Aussie accent, “Now that was cheatin', usin' yer feminine wiles like that.”

  I gave him a toothy grin and said, “Pay up man.” He chuckled and stood to get the next round for the table. Things were ramping down and I figured I should get back to hit the rack, this carousing all night gets harder and more difficult for me to do as I get older. Thirty-six isn't twenty-six after all.

  William returned with the bottles and scooted Kid out of his seat beside me, and to the next chair. We all clinked bottle necks and took a swig. Ol' Bill started leanin' in a bit, crossing the invisible personal space barrier asking, “So what say you and I go someplace to work on international relations?”

  I grinned and put a finger on his chest and eased him back into the safe zone and tilted my head like I was thinking about it. Then I said, “As charming as you are, and as temptin' as the offer is. I'm going to have to respectfully decline. I've never been much into men.”

  He took it with grace and didn't seem surprised and clinked bottlenecks with me again and said, “Fair enough I s'pose.” Then we all drank.

  Shorty added in, “She's got a hardon for someone back at HQ with 'the voice of an angel' as she puts it. Doesn't even know her name.”

  A round of suggestive ooooohs circulated as I blushed and threw a bottle cap at the man, growlin', “Thanks fer that Shorty.” He grinned and I flicked another bottle cap at him to everyone's chuckling.

  I settled back comfortably as I nursed that last bottle for a while while the boys bantered. When I could see the bottom of the bottle again, I placed it on the table and stood and stretched. “That's about all for me boys. I'm gonna get some rack time in.”

  I said my goodnights and started humping it back to camp three miles away. I noticed an M1152A1 starting back to camp and flagged them down and hitched a ride.

  I checked the time as I slid into my bunk in the barracks tent. Zero one hundred, in the morning, god, why did I do this to myself, I'd get only four hours of sleep. I laid on top of the blanket and started to doze off. Thinking about Valkyrie One thanks to that ass Shorty.

  Chapter 3 – Nightmare

  I had one of my nightmares that night, reliving the firefight in Sudan ten years back. After my mid-career re-up. The first time I heard Valkyrie One's voice. My original fireteam, the Armadillos, had been assigned a scouting mission a hundred clicks northwest of Al Fashir in the village of Katum.

  We had been tracking a group of human traffickers with ties to the Red Castle rebels. First time I heard their name I thought it sounded like some punk rocker wannabes. But after the briefing I was seething.

  The bastards would kidnap women and children and pack them into ships on the red sea and sell them to the highest bidder. Hasn't the world moved past slavery yet? They made a habit of killing any men that got in their way. Any boys, from ages twelve to seventeen, they would conscript into their own rebel group, usually by making them execute men from their own villages. It was this exact thing that the UN Joint Taskforce was formed to combat.

  There was intelligence that a camp was spotted just outside of Katum by the dry riverbed. Aerial reconnaissance showed that there did seem to be some activity, with some vehicles under camo-netting just north of Katum. This was a big concern because of the schoolhouse on the north end of the village that was the type of target Red Castle went after.

  My fire team was assigned to scout the location and confirm Red Castle's presence before a strike team and strike package would be deployed to deal with them.

  We had been dropped on the south end of town by our friendly neighborhood Puma chopper courtesy of the UK. As we started humping it north, HQ came online for our tactical. I gotta tell you, the woman's voice just cut right through me and caused an involuntary smile. I hadn't heard anything like it before, it was really raspy and low but sweet all at once and it set my heart racing.

  She apparently didn't follow protocol too closely, but they wouldn't have her in operations unless she was good, and the UN taskforce was a little more lax than mainstream military operations.

  The first words I heard her say over my earpiece sounded almost like a radio DJ with a silver tongue. “Good morning Armadillos. This is Valkyrie One coming to you from Guardian One. I'll be watchin' over you and SandBadger today. It's a balmy eighty-one degrees in the sandy resort town of Katum. Time check Zero Eight Twenty Juliet.”

  I had glanced at my watch and responded, “Check.” The mission was code named SandBadger, and Guardian One was aerial reconnaissance intelligence HQ. They had the resources of the drones, spy-planes, and satellites of all the allied nations in the area. Juliet indicated she would be using local time instead of Zulu or whatever timezone she was currently sitting in the world. I didn't know it then, but she was about to save my life.

  She continued, “Asset check.” I responded, “Armadillo one.” My team, Jenkins, Larousse, and Jones telemetry checked, “Armadillo Two.” “Armadillo Three” “Armadillo Four.”

  Valkyrie One responded with her smoky silk tones, “I read you all five by five. I have eyes on you now. You are currently five clicks from target. For your listening pleasure before we go to operational silence, how about a little classic rock.” And Slapped by Leather and Heels started playing quietly through our earpieces. I had to grin at this woman's style. We normally get an HQ monitor that stick up their ass all regulation like.

  I loved older rock like this. Mandy Fay Harris, Satin Thunder, and Leather and Heels were some of my favorites. Mandy Fay for more reasons than just her music. She was married to Congresswoman Anabella West now, who is my personal hero. 'Slapped' was a little harder rock, with a biting edge to it, almost inspirational and I figured that's why she chose it for us.

  I exchanged grins with my team and we started double timing it, getting looks from the people going about their business as we jogged through town armed for bear. Jenkins slapped his neck and looked at us, “Did you see that one? It was as big as a flippin bugbat!” We chuckled. He was always saying that and we'd tease him about it, and he'd always get a cheesy grin and say, “W
ell that bug was as big as a bat.”

  We were just passing the schoolhouse when the music stopped and then she was back but with a more serious tone in her voice. “Armadillo One, Valkyrie One.”

  I put a fist in the air and we all came to a stop as I responded, “Armadillo One.”

  She was quick to respond, “Please be advised, we have movement at point Delta.” Delta was our destination. “Satellite shows three vehicles and what looks to be approximately twenty men inbound. ETA ninety seconds.”

  We still didn't know if these were Red Castle, but we didn't need to take any chances. We were too close to the schoolhouse. Dammit! I replied, “Roger that Valkyrie One, digging in until we confirm hostiles.”

  I motioned for the men to take positions near the schoolhouse by a low crumbling wall while I ran into the building. There was a headmistress and maybe twenty children ranging from about five years old to maybe fifteen or so. The woman's eyes went wide seeing a soldier with an M4 Carbine standing there, some of the children made distressed sounds. In my broken Arabic I prompted her, “Danger is coming, get the children to safety in the village.”

  I hoped that the message had gotten through. She nodded to me and gathered the children into a bunch and told them they were going to play a game that they all needed to follow her as quietly as they could.

  I nodded at her but then the sound of automatic gunfire erupted outside and Jenkins was in my earpiece. “Hostiles confirmed. We have contact and are under fire.” My blood ran cold as the children started panicking. My God, it was too late. I was yelling in broken Arabic as we heard the bratatat of automatic weapons fire; they sounded like old kalashnikovs; punctuated by single and triple shots of controlled bursts from my fire-team in response. “Down! Get the children under the desks.” Like that would help. Thank god the building had those thick mud bricks, they might provide a measure of cover for them.

  When the teacher started getting the children down, I nodded at her and went to the door, cleared it and exited to join my team. “Sitrep,” I was yelling at Jenkins over the sound of incoming fire as I slid behind the low wall my team was hiding behind. A shot burying itself in the ground just behind me.

  Larousse would pop up at random points along the wall to fire a single round with his M4 then duck down. Then Jones would then pop up firing his bulky M249 from his waist in short three round bursts to give the enemy something to think about. It was asinine to shoot like that, he wouldn't hit anything unless he went full spray that way. I figured he was just buying time for me to give orders.

  Jenkins said quickly, voice full of adrenaline and stress, “They popped up over the rise already firing, I think someone in the village tipped them off. There is no cover, except this wall and that tree over there, I guess the schoolhouse is a no go?”

  I shook my head, there was no way we were risking those children. I called in, “Valkyrie One, Armadillo One. Hostiles confirmed, we are pinned down. Civilians are on site. Request strike team and air cover.” I glanced behind us, damn, they had eyes on us somewhere.

  She was responding instantly, “Strike team en route, ETA twelve minutes.” Twelve minutes! Twelve minutes was a lifetime in a firefight. Goddamn it. Fine, we just needed to even the odds a bit.

  I nodded and gave the hand signals for Jones to give cover fire and for Larousse to make for the tree to the west. We all spread out as much as we could, I folded my stock and gave a three count with my fingers and we all popped up firing. I opted for single shot and fired four shots as I stepped to the side two steps to provide a moving target while Larousse headed for the trees.

  I had been in combat before in Afghanistan and have traded fire with human traffickers here in Africa a couple times, I wounded five combatants but had never taken a life. We always had the superior numbers and firepower until today.

  They had us outgunned and had the high ground. If we fell, they would take those children and I could not live with that, it was not going to happen. I joined up because I wanted to make a difference, to fight for what's right.

  I can still see the men's faces as I killed them. I see them every night in my dreams. I fired four shots and two men went down with head shots before I ducked back down with my team. I use the term men lightly, they were little more than kids, maybe nineteen or twenty and I ended their lives.

  They were chewing away at the wall with a constant barrage of automatic fire. Good, they can't have an unlimited ammo supply, but I didn't know what they had in the three Russian army transport trucks. We'd have to do something about that. Over our coms I said, “Armadillo Four.”

  He nodded from behind a tree and the team shuffled over from our previous locations and popped up to fire a couple shots to draw fire. While their eyes were on us, Larousse, pumped out a grenade from the M320 grenade launcher. A moment later we had one less transport to worry about and it took at least one man with it. The Kid was good. I had also killed another man.

  I got sick to my stomach, but there wasn't time for that. Less than a minute had passed, the strike team may as well have been on the other side of the world.

  That's when everything went all FUBAR. My earbud clicked and Valkyrie One was calmly saying, “Armadillo One, we have movement on your six, possible hostiles. Five bogeys.” A moment later bullets were hitting the ground all around us and the wall from behind us as the bratatat of kalashnikovs rattled out.

  I glanced over and the tree was plastered with blood as Larousse fell. Son of a bitch! I was firing at the five men approaching from behind as Jones opened up on them with the SAW. They must have been the lookouts in town. I took out one man with a shot through his left eye socket and Jones made short work of the other four, they were untrained and weren't expecting that volume of return fire.

  I snapped out on coms, “Armadillo Four?” There was a delay then a moaning sound from the tree, he was still alive. I signaled Jenkins to have him and Jones give cover fire while I went to pull Larousse to safety behind the wall with us. Then I did throw up. Jenkins was slumped forward with a bullet hole in the back of his helmet. The enemy was using armor piercing rounds. He never saw it coming.

  I closed my eyes tight and calmed myself then was on the coms, “Valkyrie One, Armadillo One. We have a man down and one dead. Where's the goddamn strike team?”

  Instantly she was replying, “Armadillo One, strike team ETA seven minutes.” Shit! Ok, I got this. I looked at Jones and motioned for cover fire and he checked the ammo belt feeding his weapon and nodded. A moment later he popped up on full auto and sprayed the area. I darted out across the ten yards and grabbed Larousse's rucksack with both hands and yanked back as I dragged him across the open space. It seemed to take hours and I felt so exposed but it was just a few seconds.

  Then Jones dropped down and we sat breathing hard for a moment. I checked Larousse, he was breathing but unconscious. I raised my carbine over the wall and fired three random shots then tore into Larousse's pack and pulled out the med kit. I applied a field dressing to his chest and back where two shots had gone through and through. He had lost so much blood, I felt like getting sick again.

  Shots from the west told me that they were starting to flank us and we'd be in a crossfire any moment. Shit! I glanced at the schoolhouse, goddamn it, I didn't want to do that. I looked at my men. I was responsible for them. I said, “Jones, get Larousse and Jenkins into the schoolhouse, I'll give cover fire.” He looked hard at me for a moment, then nodded. I popped up on the run, along the wall, as I exhaled and took in all the targets and categorized them in my head. This is no different than shooting the bottles in dad's Wild West Extravaganza, except these bottles were firing back. I'd have to concentrate on the flankers.

  I centered myself as I moved. Step, step, squeeze. I repeated that six times before I ran out of wall and dropped for cover. Six shots, four more lives to add to my tally in hell. Jones had made it into the school with Larousse and was standing in the cover of the doorway waiting for me. I shot randomly over the
end of the wall and he ran back to me firing the SAW from his hip the whole way.

  The big man grabbed Jenkin's body and I stood first, drawing fire, I felt a bee sting in my right leg as we charged to the schoolhouse. Another man was added to my chains of sin. We fell through the door panting. Children were screaming now as the headmistress was trying to calm them.

  I looked at Jones as he sat against the wall looking pale. I looked at him and his flack jacket was red. I reached over and tore it away from his chest, he had been gutshot. The man chuckled as he started to fade. “It seems that my insides are trying to become my outsides.”

  I felt like curling up and dying on the spot, but I played it flippantly. “You don't follow orders too well so why should your innards?”

  He laughed and coughed and winced in pain. I applied a field dressing while he passed out. I hit my ear bud again, I was feeling a little light headed, “Valkyrie One, Armadillo One. I have three down. I'm in the schoolhouse with the civilians. I need eyes. ETA on the strike team?”

  She was there instantly again. “Armadillo One, strike team ETA four minutes. Just sit tight and let me see what I can see.” A second later she calmly said, “Ok sugar, I have two hostiles circling east and three west. The rest are holding at the vehicles, looks like your team has narrowed the odds.” I caught a hint of a southern accent when she let 'sugar' slip.

  I took a ragged breath and looked around the schoolhouse. There were two high windows in the front with the main door, to the east and west there were high windows with a low window halfway down the east wall beside a second door. The rear wall had no openings as was the most secure.

  I looked at the woman and told her the best I could to get the children against the back wall. She nodded and complied as I made my way to the low window on the East side. I shook off some dizziness and took a stance, extending my collapsible stock and taking careful aim at the dirty window.