CHAPTER FIFTEEN: ENDURE AND RESIST
Damp, wet, and cold. The small room holding the four Americans prisoner fit this description to a T. Each and every soldier was beat up, bruised, underfed, and ready to get out. Despair was at an all time high despite every mental effort to overcome it. One of their own had just been killed, and another one was facing yet another interrogation; it must have been his tenth or eleventh time. They were starting to lose count.
The jail cell door opened up. Four guards – two on the flank with assault rifles and two holding upright a large shirtless marine with a faded green tattoo covering his entire chest, stood at the entrance. Tossing the hulking Gung Ho to the floor like a ragged doll, the jailers slammed closed the door and left just as quickly threw him in the cell.
Standing up, ready to charge the guards while swearing curses at them like the sailor he was, Shipwreck was in bad enough shape himself that he couldn't even make it to the door. Every one of them wanted to strangle the guards with their bare hands after what happened to Leatherneck.
Torpedo and Wet Suit, a little more mobile and in better health than Shipwreck and Deep Six, were the first to immediately move to Gung Ho's side. The tall marine was the worst injured out of the five soldiers; it always seemed like the biggest, baddest, and strongest member of any captured group was the one that was zeroed in on and beaten down the most… and that held true in this situation with Gung Ho. It was easy for them to tell that primitive guards like these loved nothing more than making an example out of the toughest guy and typically beat them the worst. And that was Gung Ho.
Shipwreck cursed again, turning his attention to the beat-up marine. "How's Gung Ho?"
Torpedo replied, "Well, looks like a few broken ribs… broken fingers… oh man, the fingers they did on purpose, looks like deliberate torture. Both eyes black…"
Voicing his concern, Wet Suit said, "We gotta get out of here. We can't let them continue doing this to us. Gung Ho is barely alive." Shipwreck and Torpedo looked at each other briefly, aware of the fact that Wet Suit was having a hard time focusing.
Shipwreck figured that if Wet Suit helped patch up Gung Ho, it would distract his thoughts from what happened to Leatherneck. Ship didn't realize how hard Wet Suit would take his death; hell, he didn't even realize how hard that he would take his death. That Marine was one tough S.O.B. Leatherneck loved the Marines almost as much as I love the Navy, he thought to himself. That's dedication. I just wish we spent more time drinking and hanging out. I wonder if Wet Suit feels the same way, especially with as often as they fought. His head dipped a bit as he stroked his scruffy, dirty chin. It's over and done with - no use dwelling on the past now. For any of us.
Deep Six sat in the corner keeping to himself, his head up against the wall, silently observing the others and quietly listening. He wasn't any more excited about being in here than any of the others, and silently was trying to figure a way out of here before anyone else had died.
As Whisky Team leader, Shipwreck tried to take control the best he could. It was hard dealing with mission failure, especially on this particular mission. Ambushed right when we rolled up on the coast line. Almost like they knew we were comin'… or could see us. No one knew we were infiltrating that part of the coastline by sea, except General Hawk. He obviously didn't tell the enemy we were visiting town. Shipwreck, over the last several days, had racked his brain… desperately trying to figure out how they were caught so easily.
They were armed and ready, waiting for us. But how. Heat sensors? No… they wouldn't have had the range, not to mention it would have been an impossible coincidence to have them in that exact spot along the coast line. Besides heat sensors couldn't have much of a range on small warm bodies in a large cold ocean.
He kept coming back to the only thing he could think of. Satellite imagery? Borovia had to be ready for us, given their hostilities with America. That we can assume. Maybe they saw us getting off the Navy cruiser and into the water, even though we had a long way to the coastline. They would have been spying on the cruiser, no doubt. But Borovia isn't supposed to have that kind of technology. Well, so our Intel says.
He bit his tongue. Mission Failure. Those two words kept popping up in his head. Repeating themselves, over and over.
Shipwreck shook his head, as if trying to clear out the mental monsters in his head. What was done was done. It was time to deal with the present and not the past. "Patch him up the best you can. Then we need to think of a way out of here. You guys need help with him?"
Making an attempt at a weak smile while hoping to lighten up the dark atmosphere, Torpedo let out a weak chuckle, "We got it, Ship. We were SEALs, just like you, remember? Tell me you didn't lose faith in us or figure that we forgot how to apply first aid?"
While he wasn't in the mood to smile, Shipwreck appreciated Torpedo's levity of the situation. Still, gritting his teeth and with a clenched fist and staring at the doorway, he practically prayed for one of the guards to dare enter the cell again. "Next time they come in, I swear, they'll pay for what they did to Leatherneck… and Gung Ho..."
No longer were they going to sit idly by, beaten daily for information, interrogated, and eventually facing execution, like Leatherneck. It was time to act. It was time to escape.