From A Child's Plate

Chapter Four

The Grass Op

Intro: Elliot decides to actually tell whatt happened during the fateful mission before he gets sent to Rios' squad in Somalia.

Later, after Marco Polo had finished, Rios and Elliot lit the patio lanterns and the fire pit. Then with kids asleep for the night and Samantha's girlfriend gone the group all settled into chairs or settees around the glowing basket with their wives. Only Salem sat alone until Nala re-appeared from in the house where she should have been sleeping with the rest of the kids. She crawled up into Salem's lounge chair and rested lazily back against his chest. They both wore one of Rios' SSC sweat shirts. Elliot's swallowed him but Nala actually had to roll hers up at the waist to keep it from dragging on the ground. Tyson and Samantha both knew it would be futile to order her off to bed so they let her alone. Once she dozed off Elliot could carry her in. All Rios cared about was that everyone seemed happy and that the conversation had remained light. Of course life being what it was that would change.

"The steaks were great again, Elliot."

"Thanks Frankie."

"When are you gonna give in and tell us where you get them man, sharing's a good thing you know."

"Never. You want 'em, tell me and I'll go get 'em."

"Sure beats the hell outta eating grass and worms. Did you really eat that stuff, Elliot? Come on man sounds a little like too Rambo-ie and not real life."

Rios groaned. Salem's mood was happy despite the morning soccer game and Art's revelation about unsealing his juvenile records. He didn't need the man reflecting back to Sarajevo and getting depressed.

"Let it go, Brett."

"No tell us Uncle Elliot, really it's true?"

"Nala."

"But Daddy, Uncle Elliot never tells good fighting stories like you guys do. I wanna hear about the bugs."

"Isn't it time for munchkins to be in bed, kiddo?"

"No Uncle Elliot no; I wanna hear about the grass op."

"The grass op?" Giddy broke in chuckling. She might just be spending a tad too much time hanging around with them. "Look Nala it is true. When we first met your Uncle there he wasn't much bigger than, well, Zoe. Yea…sound about that right, Heck?"

"I'd say so. Probably one-twenty-five soaking wet and beat to shit."

"Your Uncle Elliot well, he'd been through hell."

"Yup, then your mean and cranky old man over there put me through another two months' worth; sorry fat fucker that he was."

Nala looked upside down at Elliot and took his face in her hands.

"That really true?"

"True."

"Daddy you didn't.

"I did."

"The op though, tell us." She whined.

Salem looked around at the group finally locking eyes with Art who was blatantly daring him to share the story in hopes he'd fail at serving up something dreadful enough to garner their sympathies. He completely doubted the legitimacy of Salem's claim and would love to see the young man embarrass himself. Salem looked away, leaned forward slightly dislodging Nala and grabbed the bottle of Bourbon that they'd been passing around. He started to refill his glass, then stopped and held the bottle up studying the swirling contents for a moment. It was two thirds full. He grinned across at Art, tossed his glass at a nearby garbage can getting it in without touching the sides and took a long swig from his new drink.

The mood grew tense again and Heckler rescued it.

"That's my Fifty, spot on with a long gun and a smooth as silk with a hand grenade. Cheers, Elliot."

"Cheers Heck."

"I taught the boy how to do that by the way. Couldn't hit shit when we first adopted him."

"Bugs and grass, Uncle E. like daddy tells you stay focused, Kermit."

The group got quiet and Rios studied Elliot across the fire in the flickering light. His eyes had darkened a bit and his jaw had tensed. He was going to finally tell what happened to him on his last U.N. mission before arriving in Djibouti and becoming one of them. More importantly he was actually going to talk about work which Salem never did. He considered giving the young man a way out but thought better of it after Giddy met his eye and nodded in agreement. He sighed and waited for Salem to speak. After nearly ten years maybe it was time.

"They inserted us way deep behind enemy lines. Fuck the politics. I didn't understand them then and still don't. Just know we were buried in their territory. Objective was too recon, locate and either take out or call in coordinates for the artillery embedded in the rough mountains around the city."

He took a swig of Bourbon and continued in a low deep voice.

"We were gonna be active for about a month, six weeks tops. We were gonna sweep north and east around the east side of the city. Say from six o'clock to twelve cleaning up as we went then extract out. First two objectives went easy. We took both down with no problems. The third was a small deserted village spotted by aerial surveillance, one our few listed targets. They were bringing ammo for the nearby mortars in through it and we were to take it down. Me and my spotter, Petrovich D. I could never say his last name even though I speak Russian…"

"You speak Russian!"

"Yea Art he speaks Russian, pretty damned good at it too, detective." Giddy snapped.

"Anyway, so I called him P.D.. Me and P.D. were set up in a nice defensive sniper hide. Good visual for the whole little village, we felt like we had our guys covered. We scoped everything, gave Frenchy, our leader, the go ahead and they moved down into the small village. We'd reconed that bitch for two days and nothing had moved. Frenchy figured it had been abandoned. I reminded him looks can be fucked up but he headed in bold as brass anyway."

Salem paused sighed deeply drank from his bottle and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Ellie…"

"S'ok Tyse. It all went down pretty quick. There was six of us down there just waltzing down the dirt road. Again I told him to get his guys under cover stop being so stupid. He cut off his radio. All we could do was watch. The first volley took down Frenchy and two others. Names don't matter they ain't got heads anymore. We immediately tried to triangulate and find the snipers. Impossible. They were too well hidden and using silencers. From the angle that the shots needed to come from we did know that they were up in hills and probably seven hundred meters out easy. We were eight in the opposite direction. Fuck even if we could pin them down we couldn't really reach them. Anyway the other three panicked and instead of going for cover just fucking milled around; in shock I guess. Then bang, well no bang really, another three simultaneous head shots and after ten short minutes, on our fifth day, at only our third target with a month still to go, P.D. and I were alone, 150 klicks behind enemy lines with no supplies but what we carried and our entire squad ambushed."

"150 klicks? What's that in regular speak, Elliot?"

"Oh…right at about 100 miles, Frankie. Not a good place considering our situation and it wasn't likely they would just drop in and extract us; we were working dark and fucked."

"Wish you'd watch your language sonny, mixed company here."

"Another word Art and I'm gonna gag your ass."

"No, Giddy you gag him if you want but me I'm just gonna cut out his tongue."

"Oh, Uncle Heck can I help, I skinned a fish last weekend!"

"See…"

"Shut it gramps!"

"Thanks Giddy. So the good thing is we were about ninety-eight percent sure they didn't know we were out there. We'd dropped off from the main squad two days back to do the surveillance. Bad thing was we had no fucking idea how they'd made the team. They could obviously see them and knew, which was the scarier part, that they were coming. Their snipers were picture perfect hidden. I was green as fuck but I was good and P.D. was better. We never saw anything move out there for two days. The bastards had to have been in place and waiting."

He took another long drink, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of Rios' blue sweatshirt and shook his head.

"Our guys were down there and we had to stay put. We had to let them just lay there. I wanted to call it in but P.D. said no. Whoever set it up might be listening and then our cover would be blown too. Even if the count was short at least we had some distance on them. We needed to wait them out. They were bound to come down and confirm the kills. Besides that there was no way they would pass up looting the bodies. So we waited. We waited for seven hours until just before dark. Then four guys slipped through the door of the nearest house. And again we never saw them; they were that good. Two acted as sentries and two dragged the guys into the house."

"I can't believe you just left them dying like that. Maybe you're not as good as you think you are. Maybe you were just a coupla' cowards too chicken shit to go down and save you buddies. Maybe…"

Art never saw Giddy's wicked back fist coming. The punch knocked him out of his chair and sent him sprawling. Before he could regroup the big man had the old detective by his throat.

"Warned you Art. I do not give a rat's ass whose father or grandfather you are. You insult my man again and the only thing you will be is a floater in that pool."

"Tye, are you going to allow them to treat my dad like this? Tyson!"

"Shut up Sam, get him up and tell him to keep his mouth shut and then no he might make it through the night."

"Mom! Do something!"

"He's your husband dear you put a collar on him and his barbaric buddies. I'm going to bed. And Art if you were smart you would join me."

Salem watched her kiss a cringing Nala on the cheek, as she headed for bed; ignoring the flitter of goose bumps that he felt at her nearness. They were all so dysfunctional and in such denial about it. At least when he was a kid all the adults around him knew how messed up they were and just went with it. He thought for a moment that maybe he should be the one taking Nala away for her safety.

"So… and for your edification Art, they were dead. Six perfectly executed head shots. We had excellent views of their brains draining into the snow through our high powered scopes. There was no saving them. On top of that these guys were not the snipers. They weren't carrying long guns, just old AK's. Those guys were still out there somewhere watching. For us to go down was suicide.

After about two hours the sentries headed back in. We waited until dark and after the moon hit some clouds and we started down. I'd say six klicks maybe eight it took us five hours just worming on our bellies. We made it into the house and it wasn't good."

Salem coughed and squirmed a little before drinking deeply from the Brandy and flipping his hat around backwards.

"They'd…they'd ah butchered them. Yea...took everything, and yea…butchered them. P.D. was spinning out on me. He'd been with them over a year. Hitchcock and him were pretty tight and now Hitch was in pieces. He wanted to bury the parts of them all. Just dig through the heap, sort them out and bury them. I told him no, could be booby trapped. I'd heard of them doing that, I told him no. He finally just sat down in the corner and just started rocking. I was stuck, twenty-one years old, first real shit storm, second really but that's another story; didn't compare anyway and my spotter, the veteran has just gone section fucking eight on me.

I told him to stay put I was gonna go upstairs and scope the terrain try and see how they'd gotten in and out, try and see if it was safe to move. I went up and was looking out of a back window, from like a bedroom maybe; it had an old brass bed. It was crazy because the glass was still good in the window. I was rubbing it clean to get a better look and bam next thing I know I'm down on the ground, cut to shit with the wind knocked outta me. I panicked. If the snipers were out there I was a target. I scurried into the wood line trying to cover my tracks, deaf and gasping, burrowed down as far as I could into the brush and snow and waited.

Finally once my breath was back and I checked my injuries, right shoulder dislocated. Yea, Tyse that was the first time. Cuts to my face from the glass. Badly bruised ribs slight concussion maybe, I crept back into the street. The house was leveled. Nothing really left. The guys…the guys were gone. P.D. he didn't listen. No one ever fucking listens to me."

Salem paused again this time for longer. Rios got up and retrieved beers for everyone including Salem. When he handed it to him he squeezed his shoulder tightly and patted his head. The younger man looked up at him and smiled a weak ineffectual smile. As Tyson re-took his seat he thought about Salem's last comment. 'No one ever fucking listens to me.' Maybe that was why the man chose never to talk about work. Too many times burned by team mates just ignoring him. Aside from this event he could list off several others.

"What about the grass, Uncle E.?"

"The grass well…I finally worked my way back to our original hide and fixed myself up. Really struggled getting my shoulder back in. I radio in. As soon as Eamon, Major Darvish hears my voice he knows I'm in trouble. We were close. He liked me and despite ranks we played chess and talked a lot. I helped him with his Russian too. I tell him there's a situation. I don't know who to trust though. I don't know who else can hear my coms. He reads me somehow and I hear him say clear the room. Now I have him alone. I fill him in and he's stunned. He also agrees we'd been compromised. He asks if I can proceed with my mission. I tell him sure, not like you can come and get me so if I'm gonna walk out I might as well do my work while I'm at it. He calls for Staff Sergeant Fillmore my squad leader. We're on a three way com and they're arguing. Fillmore says I'm too green that green is bad. Darvish reminds him that I'm green but damned good and finally Fillmore agrees, we come up with a com plan so I don't lose battery and give me the code name Green Giant and that's that.

I ran out of food pretty quickly. We all carried some but the bulk of it was also split up between us, everyone toting a part of the whole so to speak. Me, I was… well the smallest and I usually packed a little lighter. It just made sense so I went with it. On top of that, working alone I had to slow down. I had no scout, no rear guard just me. I needed to not get injured that would a death sentence. I called in everything I located and sniped or blew what I could. I don't know what the fuckers ate 'cause I never found shit for rations. All said I was being very effective except for starving to death.

There was about a foot of snow on the ground and always more falling. I'd pack small amounts of it in separate containers in my ruck so it would melt so I had a minimal water supply. Following creeks is running the low ground; not a good plan. I watched what the occasional deer ate and ate that. I didn't risk taking one. I snared rabbits a coupla times but that meant fire and that spelled trouble. I knew they had snipers good ones at that and then there was always the problem of having been sold out. Every time I called in a coordinate they had at least a half assed bead on my position. I needed to be invisible. I ate bark and lichens, stuff buried in the snow. I could get little snails sometimes and ants but single digit temps and humping up and down rugged slopes takes a shit load of calories."

"Did it taste good?"

"No, kiddo but taste didn't count, I just needed to stay alive. Four weeks in I started to feel like I wasn't alone. Eamon said maybe I was just getting stir crazy and suggested I risk getting some better food. I agreed and made my way back toward an old hunt cabin I'd come across earlier that week. I hadn't gone down to it the first time but after watching it for a day I risked it. If nothing else I hoped they had a root cellar. I'd seen shacks like it before that did.

I move down the slope carefully and started to feel secure, then I made my way round toward the back which had good cover from the slope, less sniper advantage. I was maybe eighteen yards out and snap. My leg was on fire and for the first time I truly started to panic. It was a fucking animal trap. Chewed into my right leg from just at the top of my boot and up onto my calf and shin. The pain was unreal. I started crawling in a circle looking for the sniper but nothing…it was just an old forgotten trap. Finally I settled down and tried to open it. It's hard, you can't get leverage and I was weak from not eating too. I finally manage to get it started and a stick cracked out in the tree line. I startled and let the fucker loose. Snap it got me again. I woke up after dark damn near hypothermic and shaking so hard I thought I'd break my teeth. I drank some water, ate my last ants and some bark and went at the thing again. I got it free.

I couldn't move out so I moved into the shack. Place was empty but out of the wind. I risked a small fire, boiled snow in a long flat pan I'd found and tried to clean up my leg. Some of the gashes had cracked into my shin bone and I was afraid for infection. I dosed myself with antibiotics and stitched it that's the best I could do. Problem was walking was near impossible. I reported in and Eamon pulled the plug. He called me back with extraction coordinates and a time line and I agreed. I'd had enough. Some forty-five mortar emplacements later some miscellaneous stuff and the op was over. all I had to do was hobble one-thirty-five klicks to get to my ride.

Two days later I took the trap with me, I don't' know why and moved out. I'd made maybe thirty klicks and stopped to rest. I ate some ants and a bit of a root I'd found in the shack and stood up to move out. My leg buckled in pain and I dropped back down. The bullet splintered the tree branch where my head should have been. I wasn't alone I was being hunted. No shot rang out so he was a sniper and pretty far out with a silencer. I scrambled to some rocks for cover and tried to stay calm. Finally I managed to slip away.

For the next two weeks we dogged one another. He'd shoot, I'd shoot but the terrain and deteriorating weather pretty much made hitting anything impossible. Thing that scared me was I couldn't scrub for food and I was pretty sure he was eating. I also had a time line to meet. Tramping around playing hide and seek was killing it. Toward the end of the second week he actually just stumbled across me. We fought and I caught some luck again. He was a big ass Russian bastard. Big like Giddy but broader, and tough and trained in hand to hand but he slipped and fell in the snow and I pounced. I slammed the butt of my rifle into his face over and over and over then blinded by my own facial injury I just ran. Well limped, hobbled whatever. Got the fuck away from him. To this day I don't know why I didn't shoot him too. Maybe I figured I'd killed him. Maybe I was just so fucking scared of him. Finally I fell down a slope maybe forty feet just rolling and tumbling. I woke up hours later a bloody mess. I stitched up my face, got a bearing and kept moving toward extraction.

Next day just after daybreak, there was light snow flurries falling and the air smelled fresh, he hit me. A through and through left inside, thigh, high in the in the meat."

"I didn't know that Salem, don't remember that wound."

"Guess it never came up, Tyse. I knew I had to just end it. I couldn't run anymore. I laid still playing dead. He was a ways out, it was a beautiful shot but once he moved to confirm his kill he wouldn't be able to see me. I crawled away. I set that fucking trap just outside a little hole in the base of a tree and crawled inside. I hid the trap under snow and brush and myself too then waited and plugged up my newest injury. I was exhausted, starving, hurt and terrified.

Finally I heard a twig snap and snow crunching. I knew he'd see my tracks to the tree. I knew he'd wonder why I'd just caved and hunkered down in it to die. He spent two hours searching the area for me probably figuring the tree was a set up. But his problem was the only tracks, the only blood led to that tree. Finally he came over. I could see him through a tiny slit in my cover. He squatted down, moved in duck walking then he leaned down to peer in and snap. I got his right arm in the trap. I launched out of my hole and just stood there looking at him. He was fucked. His face was a bloody mess from the fight and arm was shredded. I fired three shots from my Deagle point blank into his forehead and passed out.

When I came around I was actually surprised he was still dead. I started to laugh like an imbecile and spin stumbling in a circle. I fell over backwards and flailed my arms and legs making a snow angel. It was madness. Finally I took his rifle. It was beautiful; a Barrett light fifty. I took his knife, eight inch Randall also exquisite. I left him side arm. Don't know why. I loaded a round in the chamber and wrapped his cold fingers around it and set it in his lap. I think a part of me still didn't think he was dead and I wanted him to have a fair chance when he woke up. Who the fuck knows. I was just done in. Then I rolled him into the tree hole and buried him with stones and brush and marked the coordinates. He deserved at least that. To my surprise he had no food. I took his ammo and water and meds, finally I took a bearing and headed out.

Three days later I hit extraction. The chopper showed and I stumbled toward it. I was freaked out to see Captain Judd Freemont exiting. I asked for Eamon but Monte just smiled looked to see if we were alone and went for his sidearm. It was all in slow motion. I dropped, drew mine and fired. Hit him twice in the right shoulder, then ran for the wood line. Took 'em three hours, Eamon and the smell of food to talk me in.

Monte you see was the traitor and he knew I knew. I'd always hated him we had history, bad history form my first days in Sarajevo. Then during my fourth week I was watching a mortar camp and he showed up. Just popped into my scope. He traded a bunch of Nato stamped weapons crates for drugs. I was furious. I tagged him through his left shoulder. I didn't want to kill him just mark him. He had to know it was me; I was the only one out in that forest who could make that shot. When he came out of the chopper I regretted not telling Eamon sooner but I had no idea who to trust. Still I couldn't believe he'd try and waste me like that. It had been Monte who set the Russian sniper on me. Monte's fault I had to kill him, what a waste. I hate him. Now I had to tell Eamon though. Now that Fremont had made his move. He believed me thank fuckin' god. The chopper crew restrained him and I loaded up. I Killed that man because of fucking Monte. He was a good man, had a picture of his son in his gear. Fuckin' Monte! I…I…Seven guys, my guys, my guys butchered, after what I'd already done to save them in the beginning. I'd sold my fuckin' soul to save them on our third op. And my…my sniper, I…"

Salem crumbled and began to sob. Mimi stood and tried to take Nala away. This wasn't something she needed to see. The little girl screamed and plead to stay and fought like a wounded animal.

"No! No! Let me go! My Uncle Elliot, mine, let me go! He needs me! Grama stop it, no! Daddy!"

Finally Zoe stepped in and helped her wrestle Nala free. She was clutching Elliot in a death grip round his neck and sobbing uncontrollably with him.

Then Tyson was at his side, and Giddy and Heckler and the three simply wrapped themselves around the sobbing man and held him for nearly a half an hour. Brett, Frankie and the other guests including Art could only watch in silence. None of them could even begin to imagine such hardship and betrayal. Only Art remained untouched. Even though he'd never in all of his years in law enforcement experienced such hurt and camaraderie he couldn't bring himself to feel any empathy for Elliot.

Finally he calmed down and they released him. All had been crying and none were ashamed of it. They'd all been through a lot with Salem and to hear his story broke them as much as it had broken Elliot to tell it. Rios retrieved Salem's Bourbon and took a long drink, then, Giddy then Heckler. Salem sighed deeply and shook his head.

"They just…just de-briefed me, handed me my mail, told me to pack my gear and shipped me straight to you guys. Didn't even see a medic really till I hit Germany. Even then it was in and out. Eamon figured with the shit storm coming over Freemont it'd be better to get me clear a there. Eamon knew top and that top needed a man, told me you were great Tyse, that you'd have my back no matter what imagine my disappointment. But anyway here we all still are."

"Yup here we are. And I guess it just goes to show Nala was fucking right. Green is good, especially god damned fuckin' damn good in vegetables and little skinny ass bitches named Salem. And Fifty here, he's living fucking proof. To our Fifty!"

He raised the Bourbon slammed back a mouthful and passed it round.

Three rounds later Salem settled back into his chair seeming to doze. The conversation fell to nearly whispers and steered well clear of anything to serious. After about an hour the peaceful mood was again ripped apart. Salem lunged up from his chair screaming and stumbling around. Rios moved to him immediately.

"Don't take her! Leave my, Ellie be, you can't have her! Leave my daughter. No, no, no, don't take her from me! I'm sorry! I'm…"

"Salem, Ellie it's Tyse Elliot stop, Salem!"

He held him in a crushing bear hug from behind and tried to get through to him. Finally Salem went limp and Tyson sat him back down on the edge of a chair. He knelt down and took his sweaty face between his hands.

"Bad dream, Ellie, it's over. Come on now, gonna get you off to bed. You've had enough for today."

They went into the house and the group was left to decipher the odd nightmare.

"Elliot has a kid?"

"No Brett that's just it he don't. What the hell Giddy, what the fuck was that all about. He's never had that nightmare before."

"Hell if know but it's late and maybe we should all head in. The beach tomorrow and a volleyball game to win. Let's go."

Zoe though held back.

"Zoe?"

"I'll be right there, Heck just going to douse the fire and snuff the lanterns, get the sleeping bags set ok."

"Ok, but Tyse usually…"

"He has his hands full with Elliot, Heck. I have it this time."

She went around snuffing the lanterns and then the fire pit while trying to erase Salem's screams from her mind. The dream secured for her a belief that she'd long held about the young man. He had a secret, a very big secret and it would tear him up if he didn't talk about it. She'd lost a child very young and for years she'd always felt an odd affinity to Salem that she couldn't quite explain. The way played with the kids, the glimpses of sadness she often caught him in, it all reminded her of herself during the first years after her daughter had died. She snuffed the final lantern and sighed.

"Well Elliot Salem, they say 'it takes one to know one' and Giddy has also sworn for years there's a piece of your puzzle missing and now I think, as crazy at it's gonna sound I might have figured it out."