I have one of you readers to thank for this story. Said reader sent me a mail and pointed out that I was on story number 99. I had to go on my page to believe it. This story is to thank everyone who has read any of my stories, from the nice comments to the ones that would really like to spray graffiti over them. I've reached that milestone of 100 stories, stunned and amazed in equal amounts.
Now that I've posted this, it gives me a bit of time to figure out what I'm going to post for number 200. Please enjoy your read, I always enjoy writing them.
To my two special friends, who have looked after me all these years, thank you so much. To my beta readers who always seem to point and laugh, you're the best. To ALL my past editors, wow, we made it. Also my friend vcwriter17b, who did the final edit, truly one of the best I've worked with.
*******
Weapons were cleaned and inspected, an automatic process for us all now. Word came down that I was needed in the Command tent. I handed my weapon over and dismissed my men. They went to their own tents to rest up and be ready for mealtime. I walked the walk of the exhausted, the frustrated and most of all, the walk of a person who was one man down.
Even now, a week had past and yet I still see Collins in my mind's eye. He stood up. The fucking idiot stood up, when he should have crawled backwards out of the potential line of fire. I even went to shout at him, when the shot rang out and a hole appeared in Collins, the shocked looked still on his face as he slumped to the ground.
What followed was a chaotic scene of getting a dead man and his kit out of a now hostile zone and onto a helicopter while fighting a staged withdrawal at the same time. When they turned up, the gunships made the difference and bought us the time we so desperately needed to get Collins and the now, two lightly wounded onto the helicopters and back to base. The finger pointing started almost immediately, brought to a halt by the written reports from every man on that patrol.
Even as the command tent loomed ever closer, my thoughts always came full circle. I needed to get out, before I was pushed out.
*******
I knew that yell. "Brendan, could you step in here, please?" I still knocked politely and entered. When the boss calls, you do.
Two officers stood by his desk, staring at me as I came in. One officer did that up and down look. The sneer soon followed.
His eyes never left mine as he said to my boss, "I'm sorry Colonel Phillips, I expected something ... different..."
When he didn't get a rise out of me, he tried the direct route. "How old are you. Private?"
I knew what he was doing, the dick was so transparent. "Twenty-Six next birthday and its Staff Sargent, Sir."
His shocked looked soon disappeared. His head did that up and down thing on me again. Once again, I knew what was coming.
"Forgive my manners, Staff Sargent, but since you aren't wearing any rank, you can appreciate my confusion."
My boss took the shrug of my shoulders as my only acknowledgment and told me that I was to be the guide for this FO Officer. That's when I stopped dueling with this idiot. I'd come across these people before. I admired their bravery and well as their stupidity. As a Forward Observation Officer, this guy found targets for artillery miles behind them. As technology became more available, the task of the FO Officer largely disappeared. After all, it's less expensive if a drone gets shot down than when an artillery officer gets cut off and captured or killed. However, there were times when a human had to be involved.
The dick of an officer unfolded a map, placing it on the table and waiving me over. I was waiting for the command to sit, like I was his pet fucking dog. As he told me where he wanted to be I felt a chill climb my spine. Those mountains were crawling with the bad guys.
"I was there with my troops a few days ago, we left as the bad guys showed up in numbers. You need to pick a different spot."
He watched me for some reason. I'm not sure why. Unless he read the action report, I wasn't going to be more forthcoming. The dick officer seemed to look on my recommendation as a challenge to his authority. He pulled out six pictures taken from a drone a few hours ago which showed the mountain looking deserted. The bad guys had appeared to have bugged out. Even so, it still left me feeling that if they left, what's to stop them coming back any time they wanted too.
"You're a rather insubordinate soldier, even for a Staff Sargent."
This time I stood and looked directly at him. This nonsense had gone on long enough.
"Well, if it will make you feel better, Sir, when we get into a combat zone, I will make it a point to salute the officer at every opportunity."
He actually looked like he was going to take a swing at me, until the woman officer next to him placed her own hand on officer dick's arm. He shot her a look but she seemed to have some sort of calming effect on him. I guess I'd saved my court martial for another day.
Our attention once again went to the map on the table. "We chopper to this point and walk the rest. The fact you've been here a few days ago is why we came here. We need to be on that mountain before daybreak."
His hand swung an arc indicating the area he needed to be able to see when the sun came up. It was bang in the middle of where I was when I pulled my people out the last time. I had a really bad feeling about this job.
When he went into timings, I looked at my watch and figured I had about an hour to pull my shit together. After making my excuses I left them to talk officer stuff and went to get ready.
*******
Even from behind they looked like they were ready for anything. That nagging feeling came back and perched itself firmly on my shoulder. None of the hardware these two carried was official standard British army issue, shoulder rigs held side-arms tight under their arms so I could only see grips and MP5's. Almost nothing these two wore was standard issue, maybe the boots perhaps? Something was amiss with this picture, that was for sure.