Apex Fallen

by C. A. Michaels

  Jake leaned back around the vehicle into sight. He was waving at Dan, indicating the radio he was holding in his hand.

  “Battalion Headquarters. Commander’s Update Brief has been moved forward by an hour. We need to leave here in the next five minutes if we want to make it in time.”

  ***

  Dan let Jake take most of the notes during the Update Brief. He could pass on the routine weather report, intelligence updates and situational developments occurring in Afghanistan. Dan’s mind was still spinning over the issues he needed to resolve before they shipped out. He had another month, give or take a week, and had probably three months worth of work to get out of the way before then.

  “Company updates,” the major convening the meeting said. Able Company was first up. Dan stood in his place and checked his notebook in front of him. He had nothing written down, but he wasn’t going to let that on. He also knew that he was dirty and grimy – the accumulation of three days worth of roughing it in the wilderness – and he thought he might as well play it to his advantage.

  “Sir,” he said, addressing the half-Colonel at the head of the table. “No Powerpoint slides from Able today, but over the last seven days we’ve hit all our Mission Essential Tasks by day and night, and are validating the platoon headquarters as we speak. All pers are qualified on their primary weapon systems and all secondary qual’s are being picked up in the next week. One of the platoons will be receiving some retraining but otherwise Able will be good to go whenever you need.”

  Dan sat down. His brief was less than a quarter as long as the other three Company commanders, all of whom had power-point after power-point slide to talk to. Both he and Jake could tell, though, that the Battalion Commander was getting irked with the others. Sometimes it pays to put on an appearance, Dan thought. This time round he’d got it right – the Commander had taken a liking, he could tell by his body language as he turned from Dan and Jake to the other Captains and Executive Officers, to a company command team that looked like they were soldiers, not like they were office administrators.

  “Right, men,” the Commander said at the end of the presentation, standing up and waving for the projector to be switched off. “Firstly, let’s set the scene. Soldiering comes first, power-point second, so if you miss your slides because you are training then that’s fine by me.” Dan suppressed a small grin. It could have gone either way, his lack of preparedness, but this time round it had paid off.

  “My main point, though,” the CO continued, his voice low and booming, “is to put in place the key message we will take with us over to theatre. I will be passing this onto the soldiers on Friday, when I address them, but you can hear it from me, first. Our mission is a training and development post, but don’t get complacent.

  “I want,” he said, fixing his gaze on each of the company commanders in turn, “everyone to remember that we are going over there as the US Army. We are the apex predators, make no mistake. We are training the Afghani’s up, so they can do our job as we pull back, but we are to remain at the top of the food-chain throughout. If any of them wants to try and challenge us, to take us on in a green-on-blue insider attack, we will put them down, instantly. When we need to be violent we will be, and we’ll come out on top, always. We are going into a world full of predators, but we’ll keep the warlords and the Taliban down the food chain, and we’ll put the Afghan Army next in order. But we will remain, at all times, the apex predators, both individually and as a team, who are ready to kill and destroy anyone and anything who tries to harm one of us.

  “Remember that. I don’t want soldiers dying or getting injured because they got soft or because they switched off. Apex predators, at the top of the food chain. At all times. Understood?” A general chorus of ‘Hoo-ah’s sounded off around the room.

  ***

  “How are we tracking with the security vetting?” Dan asked Jake as they walked back to their temporary company lines. First, Third and Weapons platoon would be waiting for them there. Two platoon, Dan knew, would still be running through the cordon-and-search stand until early afternoon, trying to get it right the second time round. He’d have to catch up with Bishop and his men later, but he’d pass on everything he could to the other platoons while they were in.

  “Getting there. Bit of work to do over the weekend, though.”

  Dan knew that would hurt Jake, as his son was barely three months old and he’d be wanting to spend every hour he could spare while still in the States with him. Eight month tours were hard enough; eight month tours as a new parent must be an entirely different level of hard altogether, Dan figured. He’d picked up the vibe from Jake’s wife when he’d gone over to his house for a beer and a chat about work last Friday. Normally friendly and smiling, she’d appeared distant and aggravated by Dan’s presence and had barely uttered a word before she’d left the two of them alone. D-day for leaving was getting closer now, and she must be starting to feel the reality of their inevitable separation looming up on them. Thinking about deploying was the only time that Dan felt a semblance of relief at the thought of Rebecca calling it off between them a few months ago.

  Rebecca. He still felt irrationally angry and betrayed by her decision, but he could understand her reasoning. Even though he’d never mentioned it to anyone or had begun shopping for a ring, he had been intending to ask for her hand in marriage. That was before she pre-empted his plans and his dreams. She knew he would be gone for almost a year, and she didn’t want to – couldn’t – wait for that long. Which he would get over, he figured, with eight months in an isolated, barren warzone helping him rearrange his thoughts. He also knew that this would be the last time. Even if he got offered a Staff College slot, he’d already lost Rebecca. After this trip, he promised himself, he’d put his papers in. He’d get out, get a boring but respectable job in HR or in banking and move back home. And, probably, possibly, depending how things panned out, he might even try and find Rebecca, and hope she was still single, and hope she wanted to see him again, and hope that... fuck it. I’ll worry about that when I get back, and I’ll keep my mind on the immediate future for the next eight months, Dan told himself.

  They walked into the temporary offices together and turned towards the meeting area. To their left was one of the platoons – First? – waiting for their First Sergeant to grip them up after the orders group. The TV was on in the corner of the room, and the soldiers were gathered around a few groups, furiously communicating between each other. Dan didn’t give it another thought and kept moving towards the meeting room. Jake, however, looked in, somewhat puzzled.

  “Cell-phones are banned in lecture rooms, aren’t they?” he asked. Dan, distractedly, nodded.

  “Idiots!” Jake muttered. “They’re flashing them around like they think they’re invisible. I’ll get their HQ to sort them out.”

  They hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Able Company’s First Sergeant turned the corridor at speed, and sighted Dan and Jake.

  “Sir,” he called out, briskly. “Something big is going down. We should get to battalion.”

  Dan glanced back at the lecture-room full of soldiers as the situation started to make more sense. They appeared excited and fixated on the news coming out of their phones and from the TV. Something told him that this is how 9/11 and Pearl Harbor would have played out on a military base. The uncertainty and the nervousness the soldiers were exhibiting was palatable in the air.

  “Any idea? Rumors?”

  “Something about San Francisco. Something big, too. Looks like there has been a massive explosion, and it sounds like things are in general chaos.”

  “OK,” Dan sighed. The impact of what was happening was lingering at the back of his mind, but right now he just felt annoyed that his planned routine had been thrown out.

  “Jake, hold everyone here. We’ll go see what is going on.” They left the company Executive Officer behind as both men walked at speed down the corridor, their combat boots squeaking on the polished floo
r.

  They never got to the battalion headquarters. As they left the building and walked into the bright sunlight they were waved down by one of the other company First Sergeants. He had been sprinting and, despite the fact that he was fit enough to ruck it with the best of them in an infantry company, he was breathing hard and had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

  “Sir, we’re all getting to the flight line. It’s massive – the word is it is dwarfing even 2001. Don’t know what, but even Division is in the dark. There are rumors about San Fran, but no-one can get any hard facts right now. All we know is from the confused reports on cable news, and it looks like everyone is mobilizing state-side, everywhere. The battalion as a whole is standing by to move – I guess the Commanding Officer has got some orders, at the very least. Everyone is to get to the Blackhawk sheds as fast as they can.”

  Dan nodded at him but he had already taken off, no doubt chasing down his own men. Dan pulled his phone out so he could call one of the platoon leaders and get them moving, but as soon as he stared at the screen he realized the service was down. Network overloaded, no doubt. His First Sergeant guessed the problem and didn’t hesitate, starting back to the auditorium at speed.

  Within a minute they were back at the door of the company lines. One of the platoon leaders – Second Lieutenant Simon Jared, from Third Platoon – hailed him down the corridor.

  “Sir, do you know what –”

  “LT – enough!” First Sergeant Herdmann interrupted him mid-sentence in a firm and brisk manner. The platoon leader knew to be quiet – when the First Sergeant was indicating that it was time to shut-up-and-pay-attention, there was normally a good reason.

  “SHUT IT!” Herdmann roared at the doorway, his voice echoing through the entire building. “Platoon Sergeants, you have ten minutes to assemble and report in at the Blackhawk training sheds on the flight-line. Just yourselves, no time for signing out any gear or picking up rucks, and anyone who isn’t with us as of now will be caught up later. Second platoon will get to us when they get to us; for now it is just us. No questions knuckle-heads, just fucking move.”

  They turned and left the building as quickly as they had entered. Dan didn’t want to be in the way of a hundred soldiers as they stampeded for the door, all trying to avoid wearing the abuse of their NCO’s for being the last ones out. He had to get to the hangers, too, and there wasn’t any time to waste.

  ***

  By the time Dan laid eyes on the Blackhawk hangars he could see hundreds of other soldiers falling out of buildings and running in various directions. Absolute carnage, he thought. Thank god I’ve got my First Sergeant to keep things in check right now.

  There was no semblance of organization on the inside of the cavernous sheds. On the far side, through the large roller doors, he could both hear and see the engines of the Blackhawk helicopters ticking over. The large buildings reverberated with the deep roar of countless rotor blades whacking through the air.

  The company didn’t even stop. As soon as they were within sight of the Blackhawks an overly frantic series of men – Dan couldn’t see their rank – kept waving them towards the helicopters, with ever-increasing urgency. When he tried to find some more details of one of them he didn’t get anywhere.

  “No plan – just get onto them. Sort it out at the other end,” Dan could make out, over the racket.

  Both Dan and Jake, who’d caught up to him in the general rush to the helo’s, paused on the flight-line to make sure that the bulk of the company were boarding, and then they started their sprint out to the doors of the nearest Blackhawks. Jake gave Dan a brief thumbs-up as they split towards two separate helicopters, each with a seat vacant near the door. Jake crouched under the rotor-wash as he bounded into the back of the Blackhawk, and he was immediately seated by one of the door-gunners who barely glanced at his efforts to clip himself into the seat before he was on the mike to the pilot and the Blackhawk was lifting off.

  From his vantage point next to the door Dan could see that there was absolute chaos on the ground with thousands of soldiers all streaming in various directions. At least thirty Blackhawks were airborne, but unlike the lines of soldiers milling around on the ground in various lines, all the helicopters were heading in the same direction. Quite where Dan didn’t know, and he doubted the crewman next to him had any better idea. Despite the uncertainty and chaos, a strange thought loomed into Dan’s mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how he tried, that he would never see Jake or the majority of his company again.

  ***

  They had been airborne for less than five minutes when the Blackhawk Dan was riding in dropped out of formation and banked to the left. The pilot flared the nose of the Blackhawk and the ground seemed to swell up in a rush to meet the helicopter. Dan could just make out the outline of a C130 Hercules transport plane between some hangars before it was hidden by the ensuing dust-cloud. The Blackhawk hit the ground and skidded for a few meters. Dan couldn’t remember ever being part of such a rough landing, but then he was fumbling with his harness and being pushed out by the crew.

  As he hit the ground at a bent-over run he could see that three, maybe four Blackhawks had followed them in, and around eighty soldiers were sprinting away from the dust-storm the rotors were kicking up. To their front a woman in air-force flight overalls waved them towards a hastily placed collection of pallets and forklifts. As the soldiers all fell in amongst each other Dan realized that neither his XO, his First Sergeant let alone any of the Senior NCO’s from his company was amongst them. Fuck’s sake! Glancing to his left, Dan also realized that he didn’t recognize some of the soldiers alongside him. They definitely weren’t Able Company, and odds are they weren’t even part of his battalion. Probably weren’t even infantry. Total cluster-fuck.

  Dan had either been running or sitting down for the past 30 minutes and he was starting to feel annoyed. He felt as useless as the Private soldiers all around him, and he wasn’t used to that feeling. He didn’t like it, either. Pushing to the front of the group he started to make his way to a gaggle of flight-suit wearing, clip-board wielding figures – air force personnel, no doubt.

  Dan’s way was suddenly blocked by a tall, almost scruffy-looking soldier with sunglasses on who nodded towards his right. As Dan turned, he saw a few more men, all dressed in the dark-green jungle variant of multicams, all wearing sunglasses and baseball caps leaning against dumped pallets of equipment. Unlike everyone else Dan had seen, this group didn’t seem to be confused or on the edge of panic. Over the noise of the Blackhawks that were still sitting on the edge of the runway and over a loud whine – the C130 engines starting up – the central figure of the group called out to him.

  “Over here.” Dan moved to him and had to crouch behind one of the pallets as the leader spoke into his ear so he could be clearly heard.

  “Welcome aboard! We weren’t sure we’d get anyone to come with us, as everything seems to have fallen apart in the last few minutes, so you guys are a bonus. We’ve just been stood to from another task, and are working to SOCOM.” Dan could have guessed that these men were part of SOCOM, or Special Operations Command, given their dress. Regular infantry didn’t get to look cool – it was against the regs – and the Oakleys and back-swept baseball caps were a dead give-away for SpecOps guys.

  “So something big has happened on the West Coast and, since no-one knows what is going on, if enemy action is involved or not, we’re securing and reinforcing key locations as part of a contingency plan codenamed Athena. Jump in with us, and bring a platoon’s worth of grunts with you. The rest will be gripped up by the Air Force folk here and will come in on a second tap.”

  The man leaned back, gently slapped Dan on his arm to let him know the conversation was over and returned to his group. Turning back to the gaggle of soldiers he had left behind, he could see that they were being handed body armor and helmets out of one of the pallets. Having turned up with nothing but their uniforms on them – clean fatigue as the
army called it – it was a near-miracle that someone had managed to arrange to get some equipment to them at this end at such short notice. Then again, given that this was a SOCOM show, things worked differently to the regular army so perhaps it wasn’t such a miracle, after all. And it didn’t sound like this was short-notice but a pre-established plan, for use in the event of an emergency. Dan pushed his way to the front of the line and discarded the first two sets of armor until he was handed a large set. Beside him a corporal started to complain about his queue-jumping, until Dan turned and the corporal saw the captain’s bars on Dan’s chest. Grabbing a helmet Dan moved back, grabbed the first Staff Sergeant he could see and told him to grab forty men and assemble them behind the aircraft, a four-engined C130 Hercules transporter.

  For the first time Dan realized that the armor and helmets they had been issued were in the old, digital grey ACU camouflage that didn’t blend in with their multicam uniforms. They weren’t going to be a fashion statement, and the platoon’s worth of men falling in near the Herc’s lowered ramp looked like a rock-show. They didn’t even have rifles or side-arms, making them look even more amateur and disorganized . He hoped that the SOCOM plan knew they were unarmed and part of their plan catered for that as well.

  By the time the Staff Sergeant had found him and confirmed his platoon was ready, the twelve-man SOCOM squad was already boarding via the ramp. Dan guessed they should follow, and as they walked up the ramp an Air Force loadmaster handed them each a tan package. Dan realized it was an old desert-camouflaged MOPP suit for survival on nuclear, chemical and biologically contaminated battlefields. Shit, Dan thought, something is terribly, terribly wrong.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dan was thankful that there were only 60-odd soldiers in the back of the Herc that, if loaded to capacity, would have easily packed in double that. It was hot and cramped enough as it was, and he needed all the space he could get as he fought his way into his MOPP suit and then donned his body armor on over the top. It was hard enough working your arms and legs into the confines of the suit on the ground, but doing so in a dark, vibrating fuselage of the C130 that lurched its way along the taxi-way to line up for take-off was an order of magnitude harder. By the time the Herc had turned onto the runway and the pilots opened up the four engines, everyone was inside their suits.