Machine Learning (Captain Allen and DPD SWAT POV)

Heaven's Gates

That was an interesting one.

Me, cranking a wrench underneath some third world machinery. Dirtied gloves, a t-shirt, and my back to the desert floor. Fassi had needed to take a piss, joked and said he was gonna do it on my legs. I told him I'd shoot him if whatever Jihadist he didn't see while he had his dick in his hands didn't do it first.

And then a scorpion crawled over my arm, and he pulled me out from under the pump by my ankles after I'd screamed like my daughter did when she was 2.

It was a good time.

"Wrangler 2-2, this is Wrangler 2-3."

I cracked my neck, "2-3, 2-2 go ahead."

"Hey, roger, hey – uh...we've also got two foot-mobiles that're moving outside from building. Just kinda'...northeast of your vehicle."

I didn't have to wait long for this, though - for a perfectly normal training exercise to turn into a complete clusterfuck.

A little ways out, two men waved their hands at the convoy – their stark-white "pajamas" bright against the sand surrounding their village.

"Roger, that's affirmative...understand it's about off your 10 o'clock right now?"

I'd walked through the gaps of two trucks, confirming they were who he'd been talking about.

"Yeah, yeah 10 o'clock – about 300 meters out. Might just be locals, keep your eyes on 'em."

"Roger, moving around in white clothing?"

"Affirmative, yeah you guys should be able to get out the glass and see a little bit better than we can from where we're sittin.'"

I held up my rifle, peering through the scope. Tried to see what he was seeing, and identify whether or not they had weapons hidden under their garments. After a gust and a flash of metal, I confirmed that, naturally, they did.

That wasn't a coincidence. Those didn't happen, out here.

"Copy all, looks like I got those two individuals moving, armed and dangerous. I repeat, armed and dangerous. Might be working with the traffic. Over."

"Roger. Be advised, redcon one in five mikes, over."

"Solid copy, redcon, five mikes. Warn 'em and search 'em. On my way."

"Roger."

"2-2 out."

In the last 9 months, I'd done nothing but teach grown men the difference between the barrel and the ass end of a gun. Helped the veteran ANA keep tabs on their new recruits – those who chose to pick up a gun and fight for the Afghanistan government instead of against it. I'd heard stories from shadows of my 18-year-old self, asking when they were going to get the chance to kill someone.

They'd been seduced by the ghost stories of Helmand. The province where the Marines, hell, the United States as a whole, took their heaviest casualties back during the days of Operation: Enduring Freedom.

I was like them, back before I lost sisters, brothers – among them, some of my closest friends. Back when I was just another boot who took orders, idolizing people like me who'd been serving past the 5-year mark.

Now that I was responsible for them, gunning down some Taliban bastards may have lost part of its glory...but pulling my trigger before they could pull theirs gained so much more importance.

I racked my knuckles against the armored vehicle I'd ridden in, "Fassi, on me." I nodded ahead to Pierson, her dog waiting patiently at her feet, and her Afghan trainee looking up the road – alarmed, "You too."

"Think it's Taliban?" Pierson asked, pulling Kaid's leash.

"With movement to the east and these assholes Tokyo Drifting their way to the roadblock, I'd say probably."

"Well if they gotta problem, you say hello with that 40 mike mike for us, Staff Sergeant." Jack gave me a dramatic salute as I looked over my shoulder.

His comment rallied everyone in the Humvee underneath him, "Oorah's" echoing like the seagulls in Finding Nemo.

"Evie, here, is a problem solver," I reached behind me and patted the 40mm grenade launcher strapped underneath my pack, "And you get that bitch hot if I say so."

There weren't too many problems a turret or explosives couldn't solve.

Unfortunately, that went both ways...

We just happened to have a lot more explosives than the Taliban.

"AYE, SIR!"

I began the march to the lead truck, unsure of what was waiting for me up ahead. It was a nice change of tempo from the grueling day-to-day, with the kind of monotony that could make a man insane, just waiting for the opportunity to cross some terrorists off the Most Wanted list.

Because, like I said, we the Marines of the II MEF spent a lot of time waiting...

The years of war with the terrorists, hiding in bushes and mountains, were laid to rest. If you looked past all the poliitcal bullshit, we'd only returned to nullify that boredom. To make sure that the Afghan forces were able to keep the peace, to pave the roads over the trails blazed by the Marines that'd landed here before.

But, you know what they say...

If you want peace, prepare for war.