Even from their vantage point, some 30 miles out from the
camp, NESTEGG could hear the blasts from GOD. Psyche Out closed
his eyes briefly, all of his thoughts concentrating on the people
he had out in the field. With a final rub of his eyes, he turned
to his radio operators, noticing for the first time the looks of
anticipation across their faces. He couldn't concern himself
with that now.
Sparks, status reports from all teams, now. I want HUNTER
and KILLER converging on Charlie. Wounded to evac. Able bodies to
conduct a clean sweep of the area He barked.
Immediately Sparks began to relay his orders, as the lieutenant
still spoke, both calling into the headset and listening to the
lieutenant at the same time. Still talking above him, Psyche-Out
continued, turning his back to Carlton, and focusing once again
on the maps. It was time for this to end. Carlton, get the
choppers on the horn, tell them to get set to hit it, I want
wounded out first. Co-ordinate THUNDER and JACKAL for vehicle
transport. Dammit, Sparks, where's the status?
What the fuck was Fastdraw started to say,
realizing for the first time how sore both his teeth and jaw had
become since the crash. Almost felt like he'd been decked in
the mouth. He shook his head to clear the ringing that the
constant gunfire had caused and saw Leatherneck making a quick
pass to check the team's status. He nodded, he'd be fine.
All that was left was to sweep the area. He slapped in a new
magazine before slowly exiting the crater, covering the other
soldiers who were also starting to emerge from various holes.
Holy Shit! He whistled through his teeth. Fuckin'
look at that! The camp was decimated. Anything left
standing after that kind of firepower would be standing on one
leg, taking care of the rest would be a piece of cake. The El-Tee
made a final check of the men himself, determining who was
classified as wounded, and who was fit enough to stay making the
sweep.
C'mon, C'mon, C'mon Fastdraw
said impatiently to himself as they finally started to move out.
If it moves, we shoot it, we get it, let's go, let's
go! He could see a few figures emerging from the south, and
raised his weapon. Almost instantaneously, the large hand of
Repeater was on the muzzle, directing the weapon downward.
Repeater said, in his usual stoic manner.
Big man! Fastdraw said with his trademark half smile,
meeting up with Repeater for the first time after all the shit
started going down. Repeater didn't seem to acknowledge his
presence, but Fastdraw didn't care. He was starting to get
hyped up for the sweep. Sitting in a predug grave was bullshit.
If he had to be in the thick of it, he wanted to be in the thick
of it. Not waiting in some hole in the ground to die. The figures
that were emerging from the distance turned out to be Zap and
Ripcord, plus a couple of others Fast Draw didn't fully
recognize.
Hey, Amigo, Skyboy. He'd said in a subdued
voice, uncharacteristic of the playful banter he was used to
giving. The 'don't-fuck-with-me' look written plain as day
on Ripcord's face told him obviously KILLER saw it's
fair share of shit too.
Leatherneck split up the teams to thoroughly search the area,
Fastdraw being teamed with Zap, Ripcord, and Flash, Repeater
still stuck on Bravo. He and Zap each tossed a few clips to
Ripcord, who was near dry. Bitchin' aircraft took care of
damn near everything. Anyone they encountered still breathing
soon afterwards wasn't. They walked single file, mostly
covering each other, while checking out the dead motherfuckers
lying on the ground. Once in a while they came across a breather.
Armed, unarmed it didn't matter, all clean kills, one or two
shots tops. Despite the fact that they encountered no resistance,
Fastdraw's adrenaline level remained high, waiting for
something, anything to happen. Even Skyboy looked on edge.
All Tango to these co-ordinates, say again, to my mark for
evac. Grand Slam called through the headset. Fuck, HUNTER
and KILLER weren't given the call to pull out yet, just the
wounded. Why would Grand Slam pull them out so soon? What if they
needed they had JACKAL for back up if needed. Dammit.
Pulling back meant trusting the air support was successful.
JACKAL was still there. Hotseat and Heavy Metal. Yeah, he was
usually concerned with saving his own ass first, but he never
really let the team down, he'd be there if they needed him.
Still 5 miles off from camp. Shit. If it wasn't for the damn
idler, she would've taken a closer look.
Tango Eight-Two, say again, coordinates, over. She
stared for a minute longer at the smoke in front of her before
finally keying the radio for reply.
Tango Eight-Two, heading home. Request assist, idler left
badly damaged.
Roger Eight-Two, Eight-Seven on its way. The extract
site reminded her of A10, only to a much lesser scale. Wounded
were everywhere, most sitting or lying on the ground, waiting for
triage before being helped onto the choppers. She briefly scanned
the soldiers, hoping to not see any all-too familiar faces as she
pulled up to her designated Chinook and began attaching the heavy
cables to the lift rings.
We got this. Eight-Seven, White, told her. They
could use some help with the wounded. She balked for a
second, she'd had basic SABC, nothing to the extent of what
Zap had picked up, but preferred to stick with the vehicles.
Still, she knew it was a matter of physics, strength did count
when you were preparing for transports.
She avoided making eye contact with most of the soldiers she
helped with, mostly just applying dressings to wounds or helping
them to settle into the web seating aboard the choppers.
Mechanics were so much easier. The Wolverine had taken a hit,
lost an idler, it didn't cry out. It didn't look at her
with almost pleading eyes hoping she could do something to ease
its pain. It didn't ask her any questions she didn't
have the answers to, questions like 'will I be okay?' Mechanics
were so much easier.
Wounded from JACKAL started to filter in, her heart near stopped
when the VAMPs pulled up carrying more than its share of bloodied
passengers. Walking behind the first one was Hotseat, a small
smile crossing her face when she saw the old tanker intact.
Making eye contact with her, he didn't offer one back.
Instead he crossed to the back of the VAMP where he and another
member of his tank crew helped to unload a mishappen man wrapped
in a poncho, gingerly lying the malformed corpse down on the
field with the other soldiers not fortunate enough to make it
out. She downcast her eyes, not wanting to watch, to see the
string of bodies which were growing in number, focusing once
again on helping to get a wounded soldier aboard the CH-47.
She gave him a quick Hey old man when he was in
earshot, helping his loader aboard one of the choppers. The
comment brought a sobered smile from the older tanker, and a
Hey kid in response before he too became a temporary
for some of the wounded.
More of JACKAL and their vehicles began pouring in, Heavy Metal
being amongst the first in-tact crew to reach the extract site,
Long Range being among the last. Heavy Metal, that was two. Still
four left to go. She wouldn't make eye contact with the
soldier who'd been her temporary leader, the first shirt of
THUNDER, as he drove his Wolverine up to the extract site, he
wasn't worth it. Let him extract out with Grand Slam and
Thunder, better yet, let him try and say something, anything to
her. She'd leave with her team, her entire team, no matter
how long it took them to get there.
The next face she recognized to filter in belonged to the M.P.,
Law, looking worse for wear himself, like he'd seen more
than his share of action as well. Even though not part of their
team, she was happy to see him unharmed and offered him a smile
and quick two finger salute before he was assigned assisting with
the breakdown of NESTEGG. Still four left to go.
The choppers carrying the wounded began taking off, vehicle crews
being the next to go as stragglers from HUNTER finally started
filing in. Lt. Falcon gave the 'volunteers' the go ahead to board
one of the evacs, as he and the other medics were able to once
again getting everything under control with the injured. He was
still too busy for her to be able to ask about her team's
status, besides, she wasn't sure he'd even be able to
tell who she was talking about. Sure, he'd introduced
himself on the C-5, and yeah, from the way he was watching over
his men, he probably was an okay enough guy for an officer, but
still, he wasn't one of them.
She could see Heavy Metal sitting off to the distance and smiled.
He could have been on the chopper with the rest of JACKAL. He'd
stayed behind, waiting for his team. It was a small, simple act,
but in her eyes it redeemed him from a lot of the other shit he'd
pulled, especially back in Brazil. He was one of them, a Rogue.
Hotseat soon joined him, the two exchanging a few words she
couldn't make out before sitting back to back on the ground
slightly distanced from the activity surrounding them.
Falcon finally relieved her of the last soldier she'd been
assisting. Duggleby, as his name tape read, had been hurt pretty
bad from what she gathered, his leg looking torn up but
surprisingly free of any blood that didn't look long dried. She
couldn't do much more than hold his hand and try to keep him
conscious and out of shock as he waited for his turn aboard the
chopper, avoiding his questions about his leg. It almost reminded
of her of when Fastdraw had been hit by the sniper, how she'd
fought to keep him conscious, too as he lay hurt and bleeding.
The Hotshot came out of that okay, he better damn well come out
of this okay too.
Still keeping her eyes trained on the horizon she joined her two
tanker teammates as three more aircraft lifted off.
Sit, kid. Hotseat told her, patting the ground near
he and Heavy Metal. Your pacing is making me nervous.
Funny, being nervous was making her pace. Still four left to go
Another smile played on her face. Three left to go. The large
figure off in the distance could only be one person, Repeater.
Six Foot Seven and built like a brick shit house, unmistakable.
The rest of his team, BRAVO, climbed aboard one of the choppers,
Repeater instead joining her, Hotseat and Heavy Metal.
Last I saw they were okay. He said, pre-empting her
question. She smirked, not only because his words helped to ease
her mind, but also because she thought that was the longest
non-task related sentence he'd said to her since A10.
Glad you are too, Big Guy. She told him, not
expecting and not getting a response.
After what seemed like an eternity, the final four soldiers
emerged from around one of the large dunes, the gaits of the men
on her team unmistakable. Her eyes focused on each one at a time,
Fastdraw on the far left, walking with a slight limp but still
confidently, Zap to his immediate right. The smaller Hispanic
soldier raised his weapon with one hand above his head in
greeting, seeing his team by the choppers. Next to him was a
soldier she immediately scanned over, not recognizing him as she
let her blue eyes soften seeing the soldier to the far right.
She said quietly, her heart now racing, a
large smile crossing her face.
Her smile faded just as fast as she noticed his confidant gait
somewhat changed, moredetermined maybe, with the slightest
limp of his own. Fuck. It had to be bad. Even Fast Draw was
remarkably quiet, offering a simple Hey babe while
patting her shoulder in greeting. That was it? No other Fast Draw
comments? She again cursed, wishing she could have done
something, been there for them. She turned towards Ripcord.
Are you She started to say, but stopped
herself. The look on his face told her he wasn't okay. It
was almost as if the whole team'd taken on Repeater's
personality.
Let's move em out, people. Hotseat told
them after a brief pause, the somber mood still weighing heavily
above the seven soldiers. Fast Draw hesitated slightly before
climbing above the craft, clenching his fists into tight balls as
he stopped his neck mid- crack. Ripcord didn't say a word,
didn't even make eye contact with her as they boarded the
helicopter and sat in the webbing. She couldn't help but
stare, his features still hardened, his eyes, dark and focused on
nothing in particular as he stared straight ahead. She wanted to
make it go away, whatever it was, to bring back the light in his
green eyes. Only one thing crossed her mind as she remembered the
small act that always seemed to comfort her. Reaching over, she
grabbed his hand, interlacing her fingers with his, and giving a
gentle squeeze. It seemed to snap him temporarily out of his
trance, as he tightly squeezed back, and turned a pair of sullen
eyes her way. She wanted to assure him everything would be all
right, hoping it would be.
As he returned to staring straight ahead, she noticed for the
first time how worse for wear he actually looked. He had dried
blood splatters over his chest and arm, causing her to grab the
front of his vest for a better inspection. He immediately tried
to shrug it off with an 'I'm fine' gesture, as she breathed
a sigh of relief, realizing the blood wasn't his. She let
her free hand travel up over his back towards where she'd
seen what looked like scortch marks, the charred fabric leaving a
thin black stain on her hand which she wiped off on her knee. The
action caused her to glance down towards his knee, noticing for
the first time the small stain of blood below the rip by the knee
of his BDU pants. She shot him a questioning look as she dropped
his hand. She grabbed the fabric surrounding the tear with both
hands, ripping the cloth to see the damage, despite the small
protest he'd put up. The tear revealed a gash which spread
near across the side of his knee cap. The wound didn't look
too deep, but then again, she was no medic. Shit! He was hurt.
I'll get Zap She told him, starting to
stand up, causing him to grab hold of her arm and pull her back
into the webbing.
It'll hold. He said in a low tone, motioning
over to Zap. Just let him sleep. Glancing towards
where he'd gestured, she could see Zap's head hanging
against his chest, the rocking of the chopper as well as sheer
exhaustion lulling him to sleep.
Then just let me wrap it. She asked with near
pleading eyes. The same exhaustion made him comply, nodding
slowly, too tired obviously to put up a fight as she took a knee
in front of him. She went about it as she pulled a dressing from
his ALICE gear and applied it to the wound, checking to make sure
there were no other wounds. Like the blood on his chest, most of
what sprayed his leg wasn't his own. Satisfied that his knee
was at least cleaned and bandaged, she returned to the seat on
the opposite side of him so as not to accidentally knock into his
wound. Going to once again grab his hand, she spotted the bandage
hanging loosely out of the front of his left sleeve. Carefully
grabbing his wrist, she first tugged off his black glove before
carefully opening the cuff button of his BDU shirt. Cautiously
she lifted the fabric up before pulling it backwards, not wanting
to risk hurting his already exposed wound. Peeling away the rest
of the plastic and bandage which covered it, she saw for the
first time the scope of what'd taken place in England. His
mangled flesh was still pink and raw in places, other places
already healed or healing into thick scar tissue. The sight of it
caused her to sharply draw her breath in through her teeth, an
action Wally couln't hear, but unfortunately, he could see.
He tried with no avail to shrug that off too, Covergirl holding
fast to his upper arm while removing another dressing. Working as
quickly as she could, she covered the wound with the before
letting him once again button his sleeve to keep it covered. She
hadn't let him pull his glove back on, instead grabbing his
hand to hold in hers once more.
She shifted her gaze towards Zap, as he still was nodding off,
still clutching in his hand the picture he carried of his family.
As it slipped from his unalert fingers to the floor of the
aircraft, the soldier next to him bent down to scoop it up. Her
eyes hardened on him as he took a moment to stare at her
teammates photo before quietly slipping it into Zap's ALICE
gear. Beside the soldier she didn't know was Fast Draw, his
head hanging all the way backwards against the chopper's
hull, staring straight up at ceiling, shifting uncomfortably from
time to time. As obnoxious as it usually was, she found herself
actually missing his post-mission rants. Towards the other side
of her was Hotseat, the older tanker resting his head in his
hands. She took a second to put a hand on his arm as well,
knowing his driver had been lost. He patted her hand in response,
but still didn't look up or towards her, causing her to drop
her grip on his arm and swing her eyes towards Heavy Metal. Like
Fast Draw, he'd sat staring skyward, once in a while taking
a moment to glance at a picture he held tightly. Finally, towards
the back sat Repeater, his eyes glazed over as he stared forward.
The mood between all the soldiers was just as solemn as they
reached the airport in Riyadh and began to board the C-141. Many
of the wounded had to remain behind at the nearby airbase, too
unstable to transport further. She could see in Falcon's
face that it bothered him to have to leave his men behind, but he
had no choice. Even Law who'd seemed so happy-go-lucky at
the start of the mission looked down.
She held fast to Ripcord's hand as he slept, or rather,
attempted to sleep, almost afraid to let him go. She'd feel
his hand relax as he drifted off, his thumb no longer
methodically rubbing up against hers, his head sometimes resting
briefly against her shoulder, but it never lasted long. Whatever
was haunting him forced his heavy eyelids to shoot open shortly
after they'd close. She stayed awake to keep him company for
the duration of the flight, even if they weren't doing any
talking. She wanted to make sure he was all right. He had to be
all right. She promised.
They'd arrived at Pope Air Force base near 02:30, landing at
the Pit about an hour and a half after that. The wounded able to
make the trip were met by medical personnel and ushered to the
infirmary, those uninjured forced to endure a quick debriefing.
She'd looked around the hull of the C-141, remembering how
crowded it'd seemed before Saudi, not wanting to notice how
it'd thinned out considerably.
I know it's late Psyche-Out told them, standing
at the front of the front of the aircraft, before the troops
could de-board. But you all know the drill, debriefing upon
arrival. It won't be anything you haven't heard before,
S.O.P, we were never there. His call was right on the
money. She barely noticed as Colonel Courage spoke to the group,
making eye contact with no one as he droned on about the UCMJ,
the JCS and an onslaught of other acronyms that she wasn't
paying attention to, instead letting her eyes scan the large
room. She couldn't help but notice the respective
still sitting together, NESTEGG, HUNTER, THUNDER, KILLER, and off
to the side, her team, the seven of them. Wait Eight.
Her eyes drifted to the end of the row of seats, some newcomer
sitting next to Zap. Covergirl smirked and shook her head
slightly. Zap was always picking up strays.
Once outside the debriefing room, the men and women dispersed,
even her team opting to head out to their respective dorms to
grab some much needed rest. As soon as she was away from the
others, she relaxed against the wall, next to where Ripcord was
leaning his shoulder against the wall, placing his head against
the plaster, still looking forlorn. She stared at him in silence
for a brief moment or two before bringing her hand gingerly up to
the side of his face, him cupping her hand with his, again
gripping it tightly.
Are you all right? She finally asked, in a whispered
tone, afraid of the answer. His normally bright green eyes
searched hers before dropping. She thought maybe he hadn't
heard her, he didn't respond. She was about to ask again
when he answered just as quietly.
She closed her eyes before casting them downward,
letting her hand drop from his cheek, but still holding fast to
his hand.
"Do you want to tell me?" She asked, as he once again
stared silently for a few seconds before answering, choosing his
words carefully.
"I had to do some things out there." She slowly nodded
her head, not wanting to push, and chose her words just as
carefully.
"It doesn't change who you are."
"Doesn't it?"
"No. It doesn't. What happens on the battlefield, you can't
control that, Wally. You can't think black or white, right or
wrong. You do what you have to."
"That's not the problem, he corrected with a shake of
his head. That's the easy part. Killing only gets easier.
You don't allow yourself to think on the on battlefield. You just
react. It's easy to forget the meaning of sin out there. It's
afterwards. When you realize the horror of what you've done. That
when the demons come alive."
"It's not sin. It's necessity, it's life, it's death, it's
us or them. My grandfather used to say that everyone has to walk
on the dark side of the street sometimes. As long as you don't
lose sight of the light, you'll be fine. You haven't lost sight
of it, Wally. It's still there."
"I didn't this time. He shot back. But what
about next time?" She had to think before answering, unsure
of how to convince him how determined she was.
"We worry about the next time when we have to, when it
happens. I made a promise to you, I said I won't let you slip.
You won't. I don't make promises I can't keep." He slowly
let out a sigh, once again staring off into the distance.
"I know. But that doesn't mean I still don't worry about
it." He didn't get it. Her blue eyes softened as she
turned, facing him and staring into his apprehensive eyes.
"I can't tell you not to worry. All I can tell you is no
matter how dark it gets, I'll always be there for you. Demons or
no demons, you won't slip, Wally. You won't. I
promise."
