Chapter 19

Somewhen

La via esta duro, amigo…

(The way is hard, friend…)

Since we had determined that neither side of this insane war had anything resembling a laser spotter, it sort of followed that whoever we were facing was most likely the drug smugglers and murderers that the Feebs had been trying to catch on the reservation. I'm guessing that they got caught in a sandstorm and didn't have the brains to pull up and wait it out. Ergo, they landed in our back yard. Well, I hate doing Thomas's job for him, but I don't think he would mind this time.

The enemy on the other side of the dunes kept their heads down and only popped up occasionally to "test the waters."

Donovan looked at the darkening sky and grinned, "Think it is time to stir the pot?"

Iverson grunted and the "locals" exchanged quizzical looks.

"Hey, Chico, usted está lejos de hogar. ¿Sienta un pedacito solo?" Donovan yelled while sitting calmly against the side of the wadi, clearing her weapon and inspecting it for sand. (Hey, kid, you're a long way from home. Feeling a bit lonely?"

"¿Qué importa a usted, puta?" (What does it matter to you, whore?)

Iverson snorted and shook his head, "Real short on comebacks, ain't he?'

"You know, if I was a lesser person, I could really feel insulted over that." Donovan grinned. "Let's see, what should I say next? Oh, yes. ¿Usted besa a su madre con esa boca?" (Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?)

Iverson whispered a quick translation to Moffitt who grinned and passed it along to the others.

"¡Usted no habla de mi madre, perra!" A sudden volley threw dirt and sand over the people in the wadi, but the enemy was too low to get a shot at any point but the opposite side, which had been vacated immediately. (You don't talk about my mother, bitch!")

Cory held her ribs and grimaced. "Él es un hombre joven muy grosero, mi capitán." (He is a very rude young man, my Captain."

"Si, Senorita Caroline, si." Donovan leaned back and closed her eyes. Again Troy saw her eyes flicking back and forth under the eyelids. Faster and faster and then she suddenly opened them with a grin and glanced at her watch. "Nearly full dark."

Moffitt reached over Iverson and tapped her arm, "You're a whole brain thinker, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Donovan looked totally blank.

"Most people depend mostly on one side of the brain or the other, logic or creativity. Not many are whole brain thinkers, but I've seen that eye flicker before."

Donovan thought for a long moment and then shrugged. "I've never heard it called whole brain thinker. When I was in college I participated in a study and "they" called me a shuttle thinker. Seems I bounce back and forth between the two halves of the brain, put together bunches of plans and grab the best from all of them and use that one. I don't even realize I am doing it. It makes it kind of fun when plotting strategic moves, or playing chess."

"Sounds real handy." Troy contributed.

"Well…my plans do tend to work, most of the time. Any plan is perfect until the first time it engages the enemy."

"Sun Tzu." Dietrich looked across at her. "You have read Sun Tzu?"

"Uh yeah, kind of interesting in my mind. I also enjoyed von Clausewitz." She grinned, "I have strange reading tastes."

Troy laughed, "Actually, considering the business you are in, they sound like pretty good reading tastes. Read any of Rommel's stuff?" He grinned sideways at Dietrich.

"Hello? Can anyone get a degree in Military History and not be very well versed in the Desert Fox?"

Dietrich swallowed his pride and asked, "Does Herr Field Marshall survive the war?"

"I'm not going to go there. If I say yes, and you pass it along, then maybe he gets sloppy and steps in front of a truck that he would have otherwise watched for. If I say no, then maybe he becomes so paranoid that he winds up getting himself killed before it is the proper time. No, what I know stays right here in my mind."

Dietrich nodded and looked away to digest that information.

"Knowing the future is not necessarily a good thing, Hauptmann Dietrich." Moffitt added.

Iverson cleared his throat. "Full dark, Cap."

Donovan looked around the sky. "So it is. Okay, Troy, do exactly what I showed you. Slow look up, duck you head down if you see any bright lights, a direct light can blind you for a long time. Pan from right to left. I'll go from left to right. You are looking for anything that looks like these monstrosities." She hefted the NVG and handed one across to Troy. "If you see a weapon pointed in your direction, hit the dirt, fast. This is just a "look see." Not an attack."

"Got ya." Troy grimaced as he put on and adjusted the heavy headset and settled it over his eyes. "Damn! Everything is green!" He looked around at the members of their little group and grinned as he saw Tully giving him a very vulgar signal. "Nice, Tully. I'll remember that."

A low laugh came across the cooling sand, "You do that, Sarge."

Iverson snorted and made a few adjustments on the straps and then turned to check Donovan. "Looks like you two are good to go."

Looking like some kind of alien insects, the two warriors from radically different "worlds" slowly inched their way up the side of the wadi until their heads, from nose up, were above the wall. It took only a couple of seconds to find their goal and another few seconds to survey it and then Donovan yanked on Troy's shirt and they slid down the wall to the base of the wadi.

Donovan pulled the goggles off and rubbed her eyes. "I hate those things, and I love those things. I love what they can tell me, but I hate the weight and the eye distortion. I always get a headache."

Troy looked at the device in his hand and nodded very slowly. "Yeah, I can get behind that. Makes your eyes feel like they are dancing around."

Iverson and Dietrich looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "So? And just what did you see, Cap?" Iverson asked briskly.

"Looked like four of them." She looked over at Troy and he nodded his confirmation. "They've got NVG, but their discipline sucks. They have a small, barely visible fire which is hampering their night vision and they are clustered in one small area instead of being spread out."

"Sounds like shooting fish in a barrel."

"I'd say so," said Troy. He tapped a three beat with his nail on the barrel of the Thompson, a pause and then a two beat.

Tully went face down in the sand and started slithering toward them. He slid down into the wadi and then duck walked to Troy. "Yeah, Sarge?"

"Listen careful. Keep your head down, and behind the jeep. In fact, pull your helmet over your eyes. Get Watters (two t's, please, ma'am) to hold it there and be ready to yank it away on signal. As soon as the signal is given, you are up, look for the green light and drop that bazooka in their front door. Got it?"

Tully switched the matchstick to the other side of his mouth and grunted. "Got it, Sarge. Oh, hey, gimme a couple of minutes to get back, brief Jasper and get the baby ready." He turned away and began his return to the jeep.

Troy looked at Donovan, "Jasper?"

She grinned, "Airman Watters' (two t's, please, ma'am) first name. I'd say they swapped a lot of war stories over there."

Troy snickered, "Hope your man doesn't start chewing on match sticks."

Donovan rolled her eyes and then put the NVG back on. She did a test to ensure the odd green light was working, and then carefully turned it off. She turned so that she was facing the wall of the wadi, crouched, and then nodded at Iverson.

He dropped what looked like a black cloth bag over her head and placed one hand on her shoulder. "Wait for it."

Dietrich and Troy popped up and slammed several rounds at their opponents. The return firing was ragged and bunched up.

Moffitt flexed his hand around the portable spot and waited for Iverson's signal.

"Eyes closed. Heads down. Moffitt!"

Sergeant Moffitt bounced up like a Jack-in-the-box and pressed the switch on the portable spot. And incredible blue-white light filled the desert night and cries of pain could be heard from across the sand. Moffitt killed the light and dropped back onto the bottom of the wadi to run a sleeve over violently watering eyes.

"Ready, ready, now!" Iverson pulled the bag from Donovan's head at the same instant she hit the switch on the T2000 green laser spotter. She was erect and aiming through her scope. The green light played over what appeared to be a battered van and several moaning men.

"KAWOMPH." The bazooka left the tube and slammed onto the green dot with fatal accuracy. There was silence across the sands, not even a moan could be heard.

Troy pulled on the NVGs and looked over the edge of the wadi and waited several long minutes before removing them and grinning. "I think all those fish are dead. But, we need to make sure. By twos, spread out, stay low, and converge on the camp over there. Shake it."