Duty(64)

“Calls gotta be screened by the battalion commander, sir. And coordinated with the other side. What's up?”

“My . . . my girl's pregnant, man. It was in my email. Can we do something?”

The Staff Sergeant thinks, then nods. “Yeah, sir. Here, my computer has a video camera, and I spliced in a video chat system. It ain't great, totally off the books, and getting it through the mail server can take a long f*cking time sometimes, but I can get you a one-minute video that we'll be able to send back to her email. I figure every new Daddy’s gotta be able to say hi back home.”

The Sergeant lets me log off the other laptop and onto his computer, where he has me set up a new message before turning on the camera. “Okay, sir, just hit this button here, and you’ve got yourself one minute. I’ll give you some privacy on it.”

The Sergeant moves away, and I take a deep breath, trying to think of everything I want to say in my minute. Finally, I hit the button, and a timer in the corner starts. “Lindsey? Hey, babe, it's me. Oh my God, I just got your email, and to say I'm happy is an understatement. In this place, this kind of news is exactly what I needed. Of course, I'm worried about you. I don't know how we'll handle the work side of things, but that's not the point. I was thinking, when I get back, we need to talk about maybe—”

Suddenly, there's an explosion outside, and I jerk my head to the side, trying to look. Outside, someone screams, and then another rushing sound fills the air. “INCOMING!”



The terrorists hit the sleeping areas first, lobbing their two mortars right over the heads of our perimeter defenses and into the cluster of tents that everyone slept in. They aren't real mortars, more like pumped up fireworks, which probably saves a lot of lives when they impact, but still, four men die, along with a dozen other casualties.

I'm working the perimeter, making sure that every swinging dick in Alpha company is online and covering our ass when a runner from battalion comes up, calling for me. “Lieutenant Simpson!”

“Yeah?” I ask, checking that fourth platoon is set up. I tell their platoon leader to adjust his machine guns some to better integrate with third platoon, then turn to the runner. “What do you need?”

“Sir . . . battalion commander is asking for you, sir. He needs Alpha Company's commander.”

“I’m sorry, but I don't know where Captain Stephens is.”

The runner tugs at his rifle strap, and I realize what happened and head back with the runner. As soon as we're out of hearing distance of the line—the troops don't need to hear this—I look over. “Is he KIA?”

“No sir, the rocket hit his tent though. He's knocked out and severely wounded. The medics say it's lucky he hadn't taken off his Kevlar yet. It saved his life. But you're in charge of Alpha now, sir.”

We reach the battalion HQ area, and I report to our commander, Lieutenant Colonel Kierney. “Sir?”

“Guess you heard already,” Kierney says, his face half-covered by a bloody bandage, but still, he's on his feet, his eyes sharp and clear. “Here's the situation. With nightfall upon us, the Aviation guys are saying they can't get choppers in here until morning.”

“Why the hell not, sir?” I ask, fuming, then take a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem, Aaron,” Kierney replies, smiling painfully. He's one of those leaders that calls subordinate officers by their first names in stressful situations, and he has a flawless memory for them, too. “My language to the brigade commander was a little harsher than that when he told me. But, while they can't land a chopper, even for medevac, the Air Force does have a surveillance Predator in the sky, giving us eyes on, and it has night vision. It’s going to loiter in the area for as long as possible. Brigade says that they expect further attacks throughout the night. Some local warlord or another wants to prove how big his dick is, and he decided trying to kill us is the best way to do it. Our job is to hold out until relief can come at first light.”

“Well, Spartans have taken on a million men before, sir,” I reply with a little bravado. Fuck it, this is the time for that sort of talk. “They'll find us pretty tough to kill.”

Kierney grins, nodding. “Damn right. Here's the deal. I've got Headquarters Company covering the north, west, and southwest sides of town. Alpha's got the rest. That might sound easy, you covering one-third while HQ's got two-thirds, but you have the hot angle. I'm tasking one of the grenade launchers over to you as well. I want it covering the main road to town.”

“Roger, sir. I'll get my platoons reorganized, and when that Hummer comes up, I'll have a spot ready for it.”

“Good. And keep your company radio man with you, just in case. You're the old man now, Aaron. Good luck.”

“Molon labe, sir.”

I hurry back to the company area and go from platoon to platoon, readjusting the positions as needed. Just as the last of the twilight disappears from the sky, a Humvee comes over, the forty millimeter Mk 19 grenade launcher on it a welcome sight. With range out to a mile, and better yet, the ability to drop grenades in an arc, it's a massive dose of firepower for the company. I already know where to put it, behind a half-destroyed wall that will give the Hummer some cover and concealment while still giving the gunner on top a pretty good field of fire.