Awakening anw-2

by John O'Brien

  “Let’s make our way to the east and see if it’s is clear. We’ll pull the unit through that way if it is and conduct a fighting withdrawal to the LZ. I’m assuming there are casualties so we may have to divert or stall those following,” I said once we were clear and our claymores pulled in.

  “So we’ll assist from outside the lines? Clearing a hole for them to get through?” The assistant team leader asked.

  “That’s the plan,” I said. The smiles were thin but there nonetheless. See, there’s nothing like coming up behind a force and surprising the shit out of them. Especially seeing we had suppressed weapons. They’d never know we were there and it was my plan to keep it that way. I dialed in the freq given to us.

  “Atlas 21, this is Viper, over,” I called whispering. Blank airspace greeted my attempt at communication.

  “Atlas 21, this is Viper Six, over,” I called a moment later. Again, no reply.

  I switched frequencies back. “Eagle, this is Viper, over.”

  “Viper, Eagle, go ahead,” came the response.

  “I can’t make contact with Atlas 21. Confirm the freqs we were given are accurate,” I said.

  “They are confirmed, Viper.”

  “Can you try raising them and act as relay?” I asked.

  “Roger, stand by.”

  Eagle came back a few moments later informing us that they had negative contact with Atlas 21.

  “Copy that, Viper, out,” I said rethinking our plan.

  Without contact, we ran the risk of absorbing friendly fire and unable to relay our plan for getting them out. We had to head inside. The volume of gunfire being poured into the field didn’t make the odds look good but there were soldiers down there needing help and there’s no better reason to try what we could.

  “Okay, change in plans,” I told the team. “I can’t raise anyone down there. We’ll head to the east as planned then I’ll head inside and make contact.”

  We made our way east, creeping just below the crest. The firing at the base of the ridge, just fifty meters away, didn’t let up. The ridge eventually sloped down with the ridge ending just at the eastern edge of the field. The trees lining the open area continued to the south along the eastern side. Only a few shots rang out from there. Behind the few firing on that side, we went on line and crept forward keeping in sight of the team member to our left and right.

  The large-leafed vegetation kept our field of vision limited but the sounds of gunfire guided us in. Luckily only a few desultory shots were fired in our direction from the soldiers in the field. There was an occasional spray of bark from one of the large trees flew as rounds made their way in our direction. My concern was how to exit the trees and make my way across the field without becoming the main attraction for the soldiers firing this way. Lowering a large frond, I saw a man laying behind a fallen log firing short bursts blindly into the field.

  “We have tangos to our front, fifteen meters,” I whispered into the radio. The copy and additional sightings were radioed in from the other team members.

  “Take ‘em out,” I said as I raised my M-4 and centered my red dot on the back of the soldier firing in front of me.

  My carbine kicked slightly against my shoulder and the muted coughs of my short burst were hidden beneath the din of the firing all around. The soldier flinched and then settled to the ground; the only difference in the span of moments between his living and his introduction to the next world was that his Ak-47 ceased firing. The sounds directly around us diminished as the others’ rounds found their marks as well. The area to our immediate front became quiet. Now, how to get to the troops out in the field without becoming aerated? I thought edging to the perimeter, keeping low as rounds continued to pepper the trees around us.

  “Anyone have anything white?” I asked as we drew closer together.

  “You’re kidding right?!” My ATL answered.

  “I have a hankie,” our point man said brandishing said handkerchief.

  “You guys wait here, I’m going in. Keep the comms open,” I said.

  I tied the white, I might also add used, handkerchief to the end of my suppressor. Lying behind the fallen log next to the recently departed, I waved the small flag overhead and started yelling “friendlies.”

  I heard someone shouting close by and noted the decrease in incoming rounds. Raising my head above the log, I saw a helmet bob up just above one of the rises. I stood and ventured slowly out to the edge of the tree line keeping my M-4raised and to the side along with my other arm. I didn’t want to stand there long as the firefight was still in full swing. I yelled “friendlies” once again and the helmet became attached to an arm waving me on.

  I crouched and ran into the field very much aware of the steel filling the air. With some rounds peppering the ground from fire to the left and right, I dove behind the rise which hid the body beneath the helmet.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” The soldier asked.

  “Oklahoma,” I answered as if it was the stupidest question I’d ever heard. “Who’s in charge here?”

  “Sergeant Connell,” he answered pointing to a group of soldiers hunkered behind one of the larger rises.

  “Thanks,” I said and dashed in a crouch plopping myself next to one of the soldiers lying in the center.

  Crashing on the ground in a rather less than graceful manner, I looked at the soldier lying next to me. Blue eyes, with a sporting of blond hair peeking out from the helmet, met my look.

  “I’m looking for Sergeant Connell,” I said.

  “You found her,” she replied.

  “Jack Walker,” I said extending my hand as best I could lying pressed into the dirt. She returned the shake lightly and quickly.

  “What’s the situation, Sergeant,” I asked.

  “Well, we are pinned down on three sides by at least company strength. There are some blocking our route out to the east. The fire has been increasing so I think they’re being reinforced,” she answered.

  “Casualties?” I asked.

  “Three indigenous KIA with seven wounded. Two soldiers wounded but mobile,” she replied.

  “Anyone unable to move? I mean besides the KIA,” I asked apparently full of questions.

  “Four.”

  “Fuck. That’ll make it harder. “What freq are you on? We tried calling,” I said.

  “The radios are out. Both of them have taken hits. And who are you again?” She asked. “Any idea when our support is showing up?”

  “You’re looking at it,” I replied.

  “What? Just you?” She asked with a measure of shock recording on her face.

  “I’m all you need,” I answered chuckling. “Okay, way kidding. I have a team to the east just in the tree line. We took out the blocking force there.”

  “So, how is it you are here?” She asked. “Don’t get me wrong, we could use the firepower but I was expecting a little more.”

  “We were in the area and heard there was a party here,” I answered.

  “Aren’t you the funny one. Seriously, they only sent you guys?”

  “Apparently you pissed someone off at some point so they sent us,” I replied not able to help myself.

  Her blue eyes and face, although covered in sweat and dirt, were quite attractive but the sound of the rounds buzzing overhead kept my thoughts in line. A line stitched its way across the top of the rise pelting us with dirt clods and dust. I buried into the dirt trying to actually get my back flush with the ground.

  “Viper Six, Viper Five,” I barely heard the ATL say over the radio.

  “Viper Five, go ahead,” I answered as the shower of dirt ended. I was thankful there weren’t mortars at this point or the only thing left of us would be picked up and put in buckets.

  “We have visitors coming up on the east side from the south, platoon strength,” Viper Five said.

  “Roger that. Pull back and set up behind them. On my way shortly. Viper Six, out,” I responded.

  “Well, crap
! There goes our way out,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” She asked.

  “Tangos in platoon strength coming up on the east side from the south,” I answered.

  Sergeant Connell turned and yelled, “Corporal Hedges, we have unfriendly company coming on the east side from the south. Keep their heads down.”

  “What unit did you say you were from?” She asked turning back to me. The soldiers around us were sending semi-automatic fire out to the tree lines on all sides.

  “Yeah, let’s cover that some other time, shall we?” I answered. I looked around as best I could being pressed down. The circle of troops was closest to the north tree lines so I thought that may be our best way out.

  “Okay, our goal is to get to a landing zone a few klicks to the north,” I say showing her on the map. “I’ll leave you my radio and head back. We’ll circle around to the north and clear a hole for you. Try to get the wounded that aren’t mobile onto stretchers. The cheek beating will have to be intense and we’ll have to move fast. We have helicopter assets on standby but for some stupid reason, they can’t assist with keeping our backsides clear.”

  “Okay. The wounded are already on ponchos. We’re getting low on ammo so it’ll have to be soon. I’ve already given the order to conserve but we’ll lay down cover fire for your dash out of here,” she said.

  “Viper Five, Six here,” I said into the radio.

  “Go ahead, Six,” My ATL responded.

  “What’s the situation there?” I asked.

  “Tangos are moving to the tree lines and infiltrating north. It looks like they’ll link up with the north line soon,” he responded.

  “Any place still clear? I’m on my way out,” I asked.

  “It looks like the Northeast corner is still clear if you hurry,” he answered.

  “Okay. I’m leaving my radio here and on my way. Don’t fire and meet me twenty-five meters inside the tree line,” I told him.

  “Copy that. Viper Five, out.”

  I took off my radio and handed it over.

  “See you on the other side,” I said.

  “Cover Fire!” Sergeant Connell shouted.

  The intensity from our side picked up considerably and the return firepower diminished to a degree. I rose and started running in a crouch towards the Northeast. I just as suddenly stopped with my boots almost skidding across the torn up field. Returning, I plopped back down next to a rather startled Sergeant Connell.

  “Mr. Walker, or whatever you are, the woods are that way I believe,” she said pointing in the direction I was headed.

  “Yeah, I came back to ask for your number and see if I could treat you to dinner sometime,” I said even surprising myself.

  “You’re kidding, right?!” She responded with an incredulous look on her face.

  “No, I’m quite serious,” I replied.

  “If I give you my number, will you then get the fuck out of here?”

  “Yep.”

  She gave me her number right then and there. I reached down, pulled my knife from its sheath attached to my lower leg, and scratched her number into the crane stock of my M-4.

  “And your name? I mean besides Sergeant Connell,” I asked hesitating with the point of my blade against the molded plastic.

  “Lynn. Now get the fuck out of here,” she said shaking her head.

  The sound of the firing was intense. Yells from the soldiers nearby added to the field filled with sound. Green and red tracers streaked across the battlefield. I began my run once again. Bullets impacted the ground at my feet and I heard the occasional zip as others passed close by my head. I concentrated on only the run and the trees to my front. It seemed like there was no way my body could fit in the open field without coming into contact with the steel filling the air but I made it and plunged deeper into the dense undergrowth of the jungle to be greeted by a boonie hat rising above a large patch of fronds.

  We made our way around to a position behind enemy soldiers inside the tree line to the north. We found one end of the line and, with ourselves on line, began to systematically roll them up from behind. Our suppressors weren’t heard and they had no idea we were there. We stayed back in the jungle until we cleared most of the north line. It wouldn’t be long before they realized that the north end wasn’t firing so we didn’t have the luxury of time to roll them up entirely.

  “Atlas 21, Viper, over,” I said taking our spare radio.

  “Viper, Atlas 21, go ahead,” Lynn responded. The firing through my earpiece when she had her mic open was loud in the background. It mixed with the firing we were hearing but slightly out of sequence.

  “The way is clear. Move your folks. We’ll cover the flanks and fold up behind you. Head north to the LZ,” I said.

  “We’re on the way. Atlas 21, out,” she replied.

  They made their way across the field and through our flanking line. We folded up behind the fast moving soldiers. Enemy soldiers ran across the field in pursuit and we heard others crashing through the jungle to either side. Setting short-timed fuses in claymores, we put these to the side and rear to slow any advance and make them think twice about running after us. We then took off on the tail of Atlas 21. Bullets smacked into the trees around us as fire continued to be directed our way. Five loud, ground shaking explosions filled the air behind us. The rounds that followed us tailed off. We planted our remaining claymores, with both timed fuses and trip wires, in our path and off to the side of it as we made our way north.

  Several explosions later, all fire in our direction ceased. I notified Eagle that we were inbound to the LZ. Lynn radioed that they had made it to the LZ. We were ten minutes behind with our pickup fifteen minutes out. In short order, we were all picked up and airborne. The adrenaline and exhaustion of the day swept over me. At that time, a cold beer sounded like the best thing in the world. I looked down at the number and name etched into the stock of my M-4 and smiled. Looking out of the open door to my right, I saw another Black Hawk in formation. In the open doorway sat Lynn, her helmet off and her short blond hair hanging limply. She was staring at the steel floor and looked up. I gave her a head nod which she returned and smiled.

  The slamming of a hatch on one of the Humvees is startling. “Yeah, good times,” I say as we both snap out of our remembering at the same moment.

  “It was certainly interesting,” she replies.

  Whispers of the Mind

  The sound of hatches being closed echoes across the silent lot signaling it’s time to go.

  “I love you, Lynn,” I say leaning over to give her a kiss.

  “I love you too, Jack,” she says.

  With a final squeeze of her hand, we separate and I make my way to the Humvees and awaiting teams.

  “Make sure to keep intervals and the guns manned,” I say with the chill of the morning seeping through my fatigues.

  The others give tired nods and we pile into the waiting vehicles. A gust of wind gives my pant legs a final shake before I climb into the passenger seat. The closing of the doors and engines starting ends the tranquil feel of the morning. Through a gap in the overhead clouds, the sun gives its first peek above the range of mountains turning the blue of the pre-dawn into a dull orange glow. With a final look to Lynn standing in the shadows of the building, we start off. I give a wave to which she replies in kind and watch her get smaller in the side view mirror until she disappears as we pass over the rise of the entrance road.

  A tear trickles down her cheek as she watches the vehicles motor up the entrance and vanish behind the hill. This wasn’t the homecoming she envisioned at all. Lynn had pictured coming home to Jack and settling into a routine of them and that of a stateside base. Instead, we have this, she thinks looking around the parking lot bathed in morning light. Silence once again returns. Her thoughts go back momentarily to their meeting bringing a small smile to her worried face. He has skills in the field but he can be such a dork sometimes, she thinks lovingly. I just wish he didn’t think he had to
do everything himself or push himself. Or think he is the one making a mistake when things go wrong.

  “He’s pushing himself too hard. He plays at not being tired but I know he’s about to fall down from exhaustion and worry,” Lynn says to herself looking to where the vehicles disappeared moments ago. The rustle of the remaining teams, emerging from the interior behind, brings her back to the here and now. With a final “Stay safe, Jack,” she turns.

  “Form up,” she yells wiping away any sign of tears.

  The drive north is a quick and uneventful one. We pull onto the base and bypass the guard shacks. I think back to when we entered here for the first time seemingly an aeon ago. My stomach flips for a moment thinking back to the discovery there. The pant legs of the guard still project outward from one of the shacks. The terror and fear that must have filled those final moments; trying to fend off the horde with ammo running low and the knowledge that it wasn’t going to be enough. Fighting in the dark, surrounded by shrieks, and perhaps not knowing what was happening, only that someone or something was attacking and your time was limited. Watching your comrades fall as they ran out of ammo. The finality of being surrounded when your own ammo was depleted and being pulled to the ground. Those final moments must have a lingering effect on this place to pull those images into my mind. Yeah, that must have really sucked, I think as we proceed past.

  We drive through the empty base that still has a ghost town look. The tall grass of the once perfectly manicured lawns in front of the buildings adds to the effect. The dark windows still look outward giving both a melancholic and menacing feel. I cast my mind outward and have a faint sense of night runners housed within some of the buildings. I feel some of them stir as if sensing my probe. I quickly shunt my thoughts to the back of mind and the feeling of them disappears. I’m not used to this at all and it gives me the creeps. I don’t understand it and am definitely not about to mention it until I do.

  The menace of the windows staring back as we pass becomes more and less frightening; more so because I know for a fact that night runners are housed within and less so because of that knowing. Some fear is based on the unknown. Some of the menacing aspect the windows portray is not knowing what is behind them. Knowing diminishes some of that but brings another scary aspect; knowing for sure that they are there.