A Fallen Hero

by Sharon Kimbra Walsh

  Waiting for Dan to take up his position approximately a meter back from the cab, Katie took her place another meter behind him. She thumbed her PRR. “Team one in position,” she stated.

  “Copy that,” Joe said his voice still hoarse from the coughing fit and retaining a note of irritation.

  While waiting for the other two teams to confirm that they were also ready, Katie stared around her, weapon at rest across her forearms but ready to use if she saw any enemy approaching.

  The road was unpaved, its surface rock-hard, full of ruts and buried rocks, nothing but a worn track. On the topographical map at the mission briefing, it had shown up as two lanes. If it was, Katie thought, then they’re bloody narrow. The width of each vehicle easily took up one complete lane, the huge tires resting on what would be the center line separating both if Afghanistan had had proper, well-marked roads.

  There was a risk for anyone traveling on the less-than-ideal tracks. The chances of encountering IEDs or mines on one not frequently used and therefore not regularly checked and cleared was high, with convoy elements needing to follow directly behind a head vehicle, keeping to the exact same tracks, with no deviation and certainly not drive on the shoulder or swerve over the centerline. This made for slow going and security teams, such as Katie and Dan, in position on the right flank, did not have much room to maneuver.

  Shallow ditches on either side, full of stones and rubbish, posed just as much of a threat. The detritus could also conceal IEDs—usually secondary—attached to detonator cables trailing from the primary IEDs buried in the road.

  The landscape stretched for miles on either side in an unending vista of softly undulating sand and dust, scattered here and there with boulders and piles of rocks. The inevitable heat-haze rippled in the distance, distorting the horizon and merging into a pale blue cloudless sky. It was searingly hot, the air dusty and sultry.

  At last, teams two and three acknowledged that they were in position.

  “All on this net…move out,” Joe announced.

  Katie heard the harsh hissing of brakes, the suspension of the MRAP beside her dipped forward slightly and it began to slowly move.

  She began to walk, keeping her distance from Dan, pacing beside the vehicle, alert and watchful of her surroundings. She had no doubt that it was going to be a fraught but tedious journey with endless patrolling on a dangerous and unknown road.

  They moved passed the area of the air strike. Katie, being on the right flank, was unable to see the incinerated area but after tilting her head back, noted that the roiling dark clouds were still in evidence even though it was some sixty minutes after the attack.

  Time passed slowly. As mid-day grew closer and the sun reached its zenith, it became hotter, the heat more intense with the dust thrown up by the wheels becoming more suffocating.

  Katie quickly grew tired and was grateful that after an hour, the vehicles again drew to a brief stop. The security teams on patrol climbed back aboard the MRAP, replaced by new ones.

  Katie slumped down in a seat and immediately pulled a water bottle from her pack, gratefully easing her thirst. She then rested with her eyes closed until one hour later she dismounted again and resumed her patrol.

  Sometime later, Katie was carrying out her meticulous and methodical sweep—twelve o’ clock down to three o’clock then from three o’ clock to six o’ clock—never keeping to the same line of sight—alternating from three to six back to twelve and so on, varying it each time.

  The glaring sunlight was torture on her eyes, the brightness causing her to squint. It was hot—unbelievably so—and Katie felt perspiration begin to trickle down from beneath her helmet. She was glad that she had removed her combat shirt inside the MRAP but it wasn’t too long before her T-shirt beneath her body armor, became damp at the front and back and moisture trickled down her spine, gathering at the waistband of her combat trousers. It made the thin material cling in places likely to cause more remarks from the men if it didn’t dry before she needed to get back into the MRAP.

  The desert was silent with the exception of the dull rumbling of the three heavy vehicles. The MRAP’s huge tires—even going as slow as it was—churned up the dust and sand into motionless clouds, which rose to head height and stayed there, the dust clinging to their moist arms and faces.

  Katie wished that she had thought to bring a scarf to tie around her mouth. It would have gone some way to preventing her from having to spit out gritty saliva every now and again.

  Shifting her weapon in her gloved hands, the palms of which were sweating beneath the heavy-duty material, Katie freed one hand and extracted a water bottle from one of her utility pouches. She deftly unscrewed the lid and took a big gulp of the liquid. It was warm but regardless, Katie sighed as it slipped down her throat like silk, soothing the dryness there. As she put the bottle back in its carrier, she did a further sweep then glanced up toward the passenger side of the MRAP.

  She was startled to see that Joe had—at some point—wound down the window of the vehicle and had adjusted the huge wing mirror so that she could see his face reflected in it.

  He was watching her intently, gaze unblinking, and she wondered what he was thinking. She stared back, waiting for a response, but his face remained impassive. His elbow rested casually half out of the window and he looked relaxed and unworried.

  Even from her position some three-meters away, Katie could see the cobalt blue of her husband’s eyes and suddenly—for no apparent reason—felt a surge of desire.

  Here we are, out in the middle of the desert, probably with dickers and terries watching us, and I want to make love with my husband.

  Images began to fill her mind and she felt her face grow warmer and not just from the heat of the sun. Something else was becoming hot as well and the seams of her combat trousers began to chafe more than usual.

  Katie glanced once more at Joe’s reflection and felt an ache of sexual excitement spread outward to the pit of her stomach. She needed to get her mind off the idea of being naked in her husband’s arms and suddenly, surreptitiously glancing behind her to see if there was anyone in view and checking that Dan in front of her was preoccupied with the HSTAMIDS, she turned her attention back to her husband’s face, and making sure that he was still watching her, poked her tongue out at him.

  Katie had to bite her lip to prevent herself from bursting out laughing when she saw Joe’s reaction, which was instantaneous. His right eyebrow quirked upward, his eyes widened slightly then a smile twitched his mouth, almost widening into a full-blown grin before he quickly moved his elbow and his gloved hand covered his mouth as though to prevent himself from laughing aloud. She could hear him coughing above the grumbling noise of the MRAP engine and as she allowed a wide smile to cross her face, she saw him wink.

  Knowing that she was distracting him from his job and that it was dangerous to do so, she turned her attention back to her own slow progress.

  Letting her eyes drift from left to right and out to the horizon, eyes focused for any sign of human intrusion, she suddenly heard the violent hissing of air brakes, the MRAP dipped forward sharply on its suspension, its forward momentum was arrested and it came to a dead stop.

  Joe’s voice came over the radios, the tone sharp and harsh. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

  Dan stopped instantly in front of her, and Katie followed suit, her body suddenly rigid with tension.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “All on this net…suspected IED ahead. Stay in your positions and wait out.”

  In the cab of the head MRAP, Joe brought the binoculars up to his eyes and focused them on the road ahead, adjusting the lenses until the object of his interest was crystal-clear in his sight.

  Twenty-five meters ahead, in the exact center of the road, he saw a rough pile of disturbed soil and sand creating a low ridge about one-half meter wide.

  Millimeter by millimeter he slowly moved the binoculars, first to his right to check whether the mound of soil stretched into the
second lane but could see nothing then to his left, backtracking across the road surface and onward. He stopped all movement when the height of the mound diminish to a faint line of disturbed soil leading to the edge of the ditch and disappeared down into it. He saw another mound, almost indistinguishable from the rubbish and stones already there.

  He let his eyesight rest on this new anomaly, his eyes barely moving behind the lenses of the binoculars until he froze, his heart sinking a little as he saw the barely discernible wires jutting out from the sides of the mound in the ditch.

  “Gun crews.” Joe thumbed his PRR. “Head MRAP, eyes left. Shout out if you see anyone around. Rear MRAP, eyes on right. Louis?”

  “Yeah, Joe.” Sergeant Eastman’s voice crackled over the PRR.

  “There are signs of primary and secondary IEDs approximately twenty-five meters ahead of us. There’s a disturbance of the road surface leading down into the ditch with wires in evidence.”

  “Copy that, Joe. Are you calling in the EOD guys?”

  “Roger that, Louis. All on this net…wait out. Nobody move from your positions.”

  Joe picked up the handset in the cab and spoke the Navy Explosive Ordnance Disposal Team’s call sign. When he received a response to his transmission, he explained the situation, gave the team the convoy’s co-ordinates, and received confirmation that they were on their way. Once he had terminated the conversation, he used his PRR.

  “EOD are on their way with an estimated time of arrival—thirty—three-zero minutes.”

  Katie turned to look out at the landscape, nervously aware that there could be someone out there, hiding in wait, ready to detonate the suspected IEDs.

  It was common knowledge that the Taliban used mobile phones and satellite radios to multi-detonate explosives or planted command wires then lay in wait for unsuspecting traffic, such as their own convoy, before detonating it.

  On the other hand, the IEDs could be dummies, placed there to distract an approaching convoy so that an ambush could take place, or to delay them to watch how an EOD team took care of incidents while dickers made notes of equipment and procedures.

  Katie squinted against the bright sunlight, eyes watering, and carefully surveyed her immediate surroundings. The heat-haze distorted her perception of distances and what she thought on one or two occasions were the shimmering outlines of figures were—in fact—distortions of her own wavering vision. Repeatedly she swiped at her eyes to clear them of moisture, blinking frantically.

  It was as she was wiping her eyes for perhaps the sixth time that she thought she saw movement at her two o’clock. She stiffened, blinked, and slowly brought up her weapon. Holding her breath, she watched the area of land, her sixth sense buzzing with alarm.

  Again, the rippling of the horizon disturbed her eyesight and she almost dismissed the movement as her imagination when quite clearly she saw it again. Perhaps one hundred meters from the convoy’s location, she saw a dark shape half rise from behind a slight incline in the terrain. It stayed in one position for a few seconds before disappearing back behind the slope again.

  Tensing and releasing a hiss between her teeth, she took a deep breath before thumbing her PRR.

  “All on this net. Staff Sergeant, I see movement at my two o’clock. Distance—approximately one hundred meters behind the rise in the land in that direction. One person sighted.”

  Dan immediately rested the HSTAMIDS against the side of the MRAP and, raising his weapon, swung round to face in the direction that Katie had indicated.

  “Copy that,” Joe answered. “Gun crews, weapons.”

  Katie continued to study the place where she had seen the figure. For long minutes, there was no further movement, then her heart leaped as she saw two dark figures appear in the same location as the first.

  “Two figures sighted,” came a radio transmission from the marine operating the gun in the head MRAP. “Confirmed eyes on, Staff Sergeant.”

  Katie raised her weapon, heart thundering almost painfully in her chest, mouth dry and not just from thirst. It was the waiting that caused the most anxiety. How many are there? Just the two I saw or are there more? Are they waiting to ambush the stationary convoy? We’re sitting ducks out here. We can’t go forward because of the suspected IEDs and we can’t reverse.

  Some twenty minutes passed. The trail MRAP now had its own security teams dismounted and surrounding it with two more teams on either flank of the LMTV, all facing outward, alert and tense for any sign that the convoy was about to be ambushed. The silence was heavy and almost tangible until the head MRAP radio crackled harshly with static, causing Katie to jump at the sudden noise.

  A voice, sounding almost light-hearted, erupted loudly into the quiet.

  “Mama Bear to Eagle One. We are five minutes from your location. Get the kettle on.”

  Joe quickly grabbed the handset to stop the static.

  “Eagle One to Mama Bear. Good to have you join the party. No kettle but beer is on ice. Be advised, confirmed sighting of hostiles in the kill zone, two possibly more. Security perimeter of convoy is in position. Please advise instructions.”

  “Mama Bear to Eagle One. Thanks for Intel. Be fifty-meters back from the big bang and we would appreciate it if you could keep our asses covered for this one.”

  “Roger that. Out.”

  Katie heard Joe’s voice when he spoke on the PRRs.

  “All on this net…fall back twenty-five meters. Guests for the big bang are nearing our location and need room to work.”

  The three vehicles immediately started their engines and slowly began to back up, each keeping meticulously to the faint tire tracks already outlined in the dust of the road. After reversing the required distance, the convoy came to a stop and again, heavy silence reigned.

  A few minutes later, the muted sound of engines from the rear alerted Katie and the rest of Lima squad to the approach of two vehicles and the Navy EOD Team began to drive slowly into sight. They pulled up behind the convoy and stopped.

  Katie shifted her feet nervously, fumbling with her weapon. She felt exposed on the right flank of the MRAP, the vast vista of desert in front of her offering concealment to any insurgent out to make a killing that day. Although her skin burned from the heat of the sun, her insides felt chilled and trembled with fear. She longed to be somewhere safe with Joe, away from the desolation and death hiding behind every rock or lurking in every crevice.

  Joe spoke to the Chief Petty Officer in charge of the four-man EOD Team very near Katie, and she could hear them discussing the strategy for assessment and, if confirmed IEDs, either dismantling or detonating them.

  “First off, I’ll do a walk round,” Chief Petty Officer Bond announced to Joe. “We need to see if there is a pressure plate or two. Then we’ll send in the Talon to check around the area. We’ll decide the plan after that.”

  “Copy that,” Katie heard Joe agree.

  From beside the MRAP, Katie heard the EOD vehicle engines start up then watched as a small, low-slung vehicle slowly passed by in the second lane. She recognized a Husky, a vehicle mounted mine detection system and vaguely remembered that it had a detection array mounted beneath the vehicle deployed during route-clearance operations. On detecting a suspected explosive device, the system marked the spot on the ground for follow-up interrogation by a JERRV.

  Following it was an enormous vehicle, similar in design to an MRAP, known as a Joint EOD Rapid Response Vehicle. It carried the team, state-of-the-art equipment, two small Talon robots to handle high explosive packages and charges for detonating same, and had adequate armor protection to repel thirty-pounds of TNT under each wheel.

  Both vehicles moved to the front of the convoy, the Husky stopping approximately ten-meters from the suspected IED, the JERRV stopping a few meters behind it.

  In the cab of the MRAP, Joe watched the vehicles come to a stop and the radio immediately crackled with an incoming transmission.

  “Mama Bear to Eagle One. We are in position an
d all clear so far. I am dismounting to do a walkabout. Care to join me, Staff Sergeant?”

  “Copy that, Mama Bear. Give me five.”

  Joe thumbed his PRR. “Eyes on for any hostiles in the area.”

  He opened the heavy door of the MRAP, said, “Dismounting,” into his PRR and jumped down. Closing the door behind him—about to walk away—he glanced over his shoulder and saw Katie staring at him, eyes wide. He gave her a small smile then walked slowly toward the EOD vehicles.

  Joe and Chief Petty Officer Bond paced slowly and carefully toward the suspicious mound of earth in the center of the lane. Joe, alert but relaxed, kept his M4 in a semi-raised position, ready to act in defense of the EOD man beside him.

  He knew that his squad would obey his orders to the letter, could trust them to remain focused and alert to any sign of intruders in the kill zone. Nevertheless, he still felt anxious for Katie, left exposed on the right flank of the MRAP. He was fully aware that he needed to concentrate completely on the task at hand and after a slight struggle managed to push the thoughts of his wife to the back of his mind.

  As they drew closer to the suspected IED, the Navy man, who had been studying the pile of earth intently as they approached, spoke quietly to Joe.

  “You may be right on this one, Staff Sergeant. Looks like a primary and a secondary as you suspected. I only need to find a pressure plate to confirm.”

  At a distance of approximately one-meter, the Chief Petty Officer held up a hand to Joe, halting him.

  “Wait here,” he ordered.

  Joe watched as Chief Petty Officer Bond completed the distance to the pile of soil, walking almost delicately on the uneven surface of the road. Reaching the pile of dust and earth, he crouched down and Joe heard the joints of his knees cracking like gunshots in the silence.

  To Joe, he appeared to survey the disturbed surface carefully, then he reached out, rested the tips of his heavily-gloved fingers on the road and walked them toward the debris until they came up against the slightly raised side. Gently, he began to scrape away the hard soil in long, smooth strokes.