Marine

by Shiralyn J. Lee

  “Invited, my ass,” Bobby laughed out.

  “Shush!” Gray snapped. She wanted to hear Tabatha’s voice again—it was soothing, she hadn’t realized that before.

  “We interviewed Lance Corporal Grayson about what it’s like to be a female Marine, and what her experiences in a war-torn country have done to change her. Here’s what she had to say.”

  “Hello, I’m Lance Corporal Lara Grayson, Gray to the guys around here, and I’m twenty-seven years of age.”

  The boys cheered again when Gray first came on screen, but when she gave her experiences while on tour, it was as though each one of them had been reminded of their own hard-luck story. The room fell silent, and apart from Gray’s voice on the TV, all became fixated with the stories she had to tell.

  Blake stood behind her, and giving her shoulder a compassionate pat, he said in a quiet voice, “Good job, Gray. You’ve made us all proud.”

  Having heard Blake’s remark, Paige turned around and smiled at him in a way that he’d made an impression on her.

  Blake gave a cheeky wink, and tilted his head. “Wanna go for a coffee after this?”

  “Sure.”

  “Get a room, you two,” Gray muttered, while rolling her eyes upward.

  •••

  The night air had a chill to it, and walking across the camp to get to her room, Gray had a sudden urge to be near Tabatha. Thinking the cool air had made her want to cuddle up close with a warm bodied woman, she entered her room, and lifted the laptop open. Michelle had been calling her through Facebook for the past half an hour, so she immediately clicked on call back.

  “Hey, you sly dog, I just watched your interview with Tabatha Steel.”

  “Yeah, I just came back from the chow hall where I watched it with the guys.”

  “I can tell you something right now, you’re going to get women from all over wanting to fuck you. And that Tabatha Steel, I wouldn’t mind giving her a shot. That woman’s hot, man, hot as fuck.”

  Knowing how hard it was to get any privacy, Gray checked to make sure her door was closed properly. “Okay,” she whispered, “I’m going to tell you something and you need to keep this a secret. For my sake, and for Tabatha’s.”

  “Cross my heart. Oh, wait, you mean you did Tabatha Steel?”

  “Shut the hell up. I just said keep it a secret and already you’re blabbing before I’ve even said anything. Neither of us are allowed to make it public, not now anyway. I could get into serious trouble and she could lose her job. So, keep it to yourself, okay?”

  “I will. But first I need to know; does she wear silky thongs?”

  “A lady never tells.”

  “You ain’t no fucking lady. Come on, you can tell me the details at least.”

  Gray leaned in close to the laptop screen. “Yeah, I did her, right up against the wall behind me. But that’s all I’m saying, so keep it to yourself.”

  “Wow, you and Tabatha Steel, fancy that. K.I.S.S.I.N.G”

  “Knock it off.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry about Iggy. I rather liked him. A nice guy taken too early.”

  A shudder ran through Gray’s body, as if Iggy had applauded the comment. “Yeah, he was. I miss him.”

  “You and Zabba must be due to come home soon, how much longer have you got in that hell hole?”

  “Two more weeks.”

  Michelle let out a high pitch squeal, and waved her hands in front of her face. “Oh my God, we can go clubbing and get shit faced.”

  “I haven’t had a drink in ages. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to go out and have fun, not sure if I miss it too much though.”

  “Hey, don’t get all old on me now.”

  “Fuck off. I’m not acting old. Besides, you owe me two beers. Remember the last time we went out? You got shit faced and chatted up that girl, only she turned out to be a married mother of two young kids, just looking for some fun to get away from her boring life. You said, and I quote, ‘if you get me out of this one, I’ll buy you a drink,’ unquote. I told you it was worth two and you agreed.”

  “Oh shit, yeah, I remember now. God, that woman freaked me right out. She was all over me like she was some sort of sex maniac. Even worse, maybe she was, and her husband was waiting in their car and they would have kidnapped me and taken me to a secret place and had their wicked way with my body.”

  “You are such a drama queen.”

  “Well, you never know, they could have. I am a looker you know.”

  Gray stretched her arms out wide and yawned loudly. “I need to get some shut eye. I’m beat.”

  “Okay, but keep one eye open for those baddies.”

  “Night, Michelle.”

  “Night, babe.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  News had reached the base that suicide bombers were threatening to strike in a revenge attack. The Marines had sent an interpreter to speak with the elders in the village, to appeal to them not to side with the Taliban. With the work they had done in forming a civil relationship with the locals, it would be counterproductive for them to side with the enemy. The Marines had sent word with the interpreter that they would have no issues in killing anyone who had intentions of killing them, and that any protection they had received over the past few years would immediately cease.

  Gray had been on sentry duty for an hour-and-a-half, keeping watch over the open fields and treelines. Although she maintained a sharp eye for any activity, she had plenty of think time, and found Tabatha to be her main subject of thought. She went over how soft and silky her skin felt, and replayed their sexual encounter, which made her miss having the interactions of a relationship. Maybe that was the price to pay, being a Marine. She’d seen plenty of her brothers receive ‘Dear John’ mail from wives and girlfriends, making it almost as if a Marine had to make a choice—home and relationship, or employment to save countless lives. It was a crappy choice scenario.

  Movement from the treeline caught Gray’s attention, and she immediately placed the butt of her SAW to her shoulder and looked through the telescopic sight. The movement was at 800ft. “Sanderson, I have eyes on movement in the treelines.”

  Sanderson checked through his sight, then through his headset and mic, said, “Be advised, we have eyes on movement at the treeline to our half-twelve.”

  With the base now on high alert, Marines ran to the wall and positioned themselves ready to engage in a firefight. The Colonel gave orders to shoot anyone suspected of making an attack on the base.

  Through her telescope, Gray could tell from the thermal imaging that there were approximately twenty men carrying rifles and making their way through the trees and into the tall grasses. “Sir?” she asked Blake, who’d joined her and Sanderson on the tower.

  He placed his eye to the rubber cup on his telescope, and seeing the men sneaking through the grass like the cowards they were, he gave the order to engage.

  Marines laid down on their fronts, firing at the enemy—a sense of the intoxicating and terrifying rippling through their veins as they engaged.

  Gray viewed the enemy at 800 meters, and locked on to a target through the vertical gap in the stadia line at the correct range, and fired. The target immediately dropped to the ground.

  Ammo fed through the belts as the Marines fired their weapons, and casings splayed, chinking against the rock wall as they struck before hitting the ground. The Machine Guns easily overpowered the insurgents AK rifles—their continuous firing ability deafening, and their strike count accurate.

  Some of the insurgents had pinned themselves down in ditches along the treeline, and others crept along through the grass, believing they were chosen by their Arabic God, and would live to kill the American soldiers.

  “Two fighters crawling at three-hundred meters,” Sanderson yelled out over the heavy volume of gun fire. Gray sighted them through her scope, and without hesitation, she fired fifty rounds, striking both of them.

  “Bomb inbound, cover!” Sanderson yelled.

&nb
sp; A loud explosion went off inside the base. Luckily no one was hurt, as the Marines were positioned to engage from the boundaries of the base, and the bomb had landed in an open area of ground behind them.

  “Send some fucking mortars out!” Blake ordered.

  Sanderson and three other Marines worked together, with one handing the mortar bombs to Sanderson, Sanderson holding the bomb at the mouth of the tube, ready to drop, another Marine ready to fire, and the fourth Marine giving the okay to fire. They worked fast, a bomb was passed, the bomb held, the okay given to fire, the bomb dropped into the tube, and the mortar fired.

  “Rounds Complete!” the Marine passing them, called out.

  Eight mortar bombs had been sent within forty seconds, blasting the ditches where the enemy hid, leaving six insurgent fighters to battle with.

  No time was wasted in taking them out, and with the sound of Machine Gun fire filling the air, one by one, the lives of the enemy were taken, and silence fell.

  A few moments passed while they assessed the situation. It wasn’t until Bobby had placed his hand on the edge of the wall and screamed like a girl, that a sense of normality was brought back amongst them.

  “You’re kidding, right? We face the fucking Taliban every day, risk our lives in firefights, take the roulette chance on being blown up by and IED, and you scream over a spider on your hand?” Blake teased, then let out a quick burst of laughter.

  Gray pushed her helmet up from her brow to get a better look at the wimp. “Would you like me to remove it for you?” she playfully tormented.

  “Fuck off, the lot of you. Those things have fangs,” Bobby snapped back, as he jumped down from the wall.

  Patting Gray’s upper arm, Blake told her she’d done a good job in spotting the enemy.

  “Have you heard back from the Colonel yet about Zabba? He’s been on two deployments now, and I want to take care of him when I return to the US. The last time I went on leave, he showed signs of separation issues, and—” She looked down at her boots, unable to say she also suffered from the separation.

  “I haven’t received any information directly. Maybe you should speak with Colonel Brooks.”

  “Yeah.”

  •••

  Gray stood in front of Colonel Brooks’ desk and saluted him.

  “What can I do for you, Lance Corporal Grayson?”

  “Sir, my application to take Zabba with me and give him a permanent home, have you made a decision on that yet…Sir?”

  “He’s very attached to you, isn’t he? I can see that. We’ve had many K9 Units come and go; some of them are given to new handlers, and others leave with the handler they’ve become accustomed to. The Military spends thousands of dollars on each K9 in training them, and shipping them out to different countries. We consider them as much a soldier as a human. That’s why we have to consider every avenue. Can he work with someone else, is the question I’m asking?”

  Blood rushed through Gray’s veins, heating her body temperature. She clenched her fists at her sides, but stood rigid, hoping he’d give her the answer she was waiting for. “I’m not sure, Sir. I can’t answer that question.” She hated telling him that. What she wanted to say was, ‘Fuck off! He belongs with me!” but that wouldn’t get her where she wanted.

  “Hand him over to Corporal Walker. I’ll send them on a trial together to see how they work out. Whatever the results, you will have my answer by the end of the day.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She saluted, turned sharply, and walked out of the room with a sensation of sickness building in the pit of her stomach.

  •••

  It was the longest day Gray had spent in Afghanistan. Eight hour patrols had passed quicker than her having to wait for the results of Zabba training with someone he didn’t know. She paced the room, back and forth, all seven feet of it, then picked at the splinters in the plywood, then opened her laptop and scrolled through Facebook, reading the many posts from random friends about her TV celebratory status. She didn’t care about that; she wanted her closest friend, her partner.

  The hours ticked away, each one feeling like an entire day.

  “For fuck sake, someone tell me what’s happening,” she grumbled. She couldn’t take it any longer, and stormed out of her room, out into the base grounds. Spotting Blake, she raced over to him. “I can’t take this. If they don’t let Zabba come with me…”

  Blake placed his arm over her shoulders and pulled her in close. “It is what it is. We come out here, all hard, killing the enemy, expecting to be injured or killed, and we get soppy over a dog. I feel for you, Gray. I’m sure you’ll hear something soon.”

  “I just can’t stand the thought of him being here with someone else. We’re a team.”

  “And if that’s so, then he’ll be flying home with you.”

  “Gray, the Colonel wants to see you,” Sanderson called out to her from the doorway of the building.

  Not even waiting for him to finish his sentence, she ran straight over to the wooden building, flung the door open and marched inside. “The Colonel wants to see me,” she told the Sergeant.

  “Go ahead.”

  She couldn’t mentally prepare herself for the worst outcome, it was impossible in her mind for anyone to be so callous in treating a K9 soldier with lesser consideration than a human one. She opened the door, quietly marched in, saluted the Colonel, and waited for him to speak.

  “Lance Corporal Grayson. Well, I’m going to get straight to the point.”

  Say yes, say fucking yes.

  “There seemed to be some disciplinary issues with Zabba. It seems as though his attachment to you has clouded his ability to do his job. I’m not saying that he can’t be retrained, or that he can’t continue to work with you, but given he’s been deployed twice, I’m not so sure investing a lot of money in retraining him would be satisfactory. There’s never a guarantee on these matters.”

  Would you just fucking say it.

  “It would be in the best interest of the military if he were to be sent home with you while you’re on leave. And as per your request for homing him once he gets to his retirement years, we can look into that. It’s quite a common request, and usually with the results the handler wants to hear.”

  The sound of church bells rang in her head. She had no idea where they came from, but she must have connected them in her past to something happy happening in her life. “Sir, thank you, Sir.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A C-17 waited on the tarmac at the military airbase. It was time for Gray and Zabba to fly home to the States, and the start a new life together. Gray, wearing her utilities, looked around at the surrounding mountains, then at the blue, cloudless sky. “I’m not going to miss you while I’m away.” She held Zabba on his leash, keeping him close to her legs, while she shook Paige’s hand and thanked her for taking great care of Zabba’s medical needs. Then she made eye contact with Blake. “I’m going to fucking miss you, big guy.”

  “Give me a hug,” he said softly.

  Gray’s heart ached. She’d become emotionally attached to Blake, and hadn’t considered how it would feel to say farewell to him, even though it was just to go on leave. “You’re my brother for life. When you leave here, I’ll fly to Texas, and we can get shit faced in a bar together.”

  “I’d like that,” he said. “Now get on that plane before I order you to do another patrol.” A pool of tears built in his eyes as Gray and Zabba turned and walked toward the plane.

  “You’ll be seeing her in a couple of weeks,” Paige reminded him, trying to keep his moral up.

  “I hope so.”

  •••

  The C-17 was only half-filled, with a mix of soldiers leaving Afghanistan to head back to the States, and a few wounded soldiers, some critical. Gray sat in a jump seat along the side of the aircraft, and facing the cargo area. There were no windows to look out of, and the seat was uncomfortable. She kept Zabba by her feet, and got him to lay down—he rested his jaw on her boot
and yawned. It was going to be a noisy fourteen-hour flight, so she placed earplugs in her ears, closed her eyes, and for the first time in months, she fell asleep without fear of an enemy attack.

  They’d been in the air for several hours, and Zabba woke Gray by placing his paw on her knee. Gray had slept heavily, her head tucked down onto her chest and her arms folded. She opened her eyes, and was greeted by her partner’s watery, adorable eyes. “You need to go crap, don’t you?” She took him to the end of the seated area, and behind the cargo, she opened a plastic sheet and got him to do his business on it. “Fuck, what did I feed you yesterday?” she giggled. She tied the corners of the sheet together and dumped it inside a garbage bag. “And now, let’s start the cycle all over again.” She took him back to her seat and plucked bottle of water from her backpack. “There you go,” she said, while he lapped his tongue through the running water.

  •••

  It had been a long, uncomfortable, boring journey, but finally the plane landed at Tacoma Airport, Seattle. Through the crowds of people making their way to baggage collection, or straight to where their loved ones were waiting, Gray and Zabba calmly walked as if they’d belonged there all the time. No one knew, or had to know, what they’d endured, she just wanted to get them into a safe environment and drink a beer with her best friend, Michelle.

  “Here, over here,” a female voice yelled above the crowd. Michelle held a white board in the air, with the names Gray and Zabba on it. “Chauffeur for Lance Corporal Grayson, and Private Zabba…that is what I call him, isn’t it?”

  “Just Zabba will do,” Gray confirmed as she threw her arms around Michelle’s neck. “Oh my God, it’s good to finally be home. Fuck, you smell good.”

  “Oh, it’s new, and I put it on especially for you. Issey Miyaki, your favorite.”

  “You look good, Michelle.”