The Fear That Haunts Me

CHAPTER 15

Legal

Rules of Engagement provide restraints on commander's actions consistent with both domestic and international law and may, under certain circumstances, impose greater restrictions on action than those required by the law. Commanders must be intimately familiar with the legal basis for their mission.

***********************************************************************************************

FPF

"Viking, get on the net with Scalp Hunter, asap," said Theo. "Do what you have to. We're gonna need a controlled airstrike."

"Oh sure, Theo," said Viking. "Let me get right on that." Viking began turning the selector dial. "I just have to get the proper frequency band, frequency hopping, and—of course—TACC channel. You know, no freaking problem."

Viking was now rambling as he started playing with the radio.

"It's a good thing we're the only ones here. We would be screwed if this were a joint operation. But hey, we're on our own fucking program.."

"Actually," I said. "That's not a bad name for a rap band, the OFP crew."

Viking smiled back as Theo stared at me, flexing his jaw.

"Fuck yeah, Kelly," said Viking. He beatboxed, breaking into a groove with his head and shoulders.

I watched as Theo kneeled beside Aaina and touched her forehead. I couldn't see his face, so I don't know if he said anything. But the way his fingers caressed the hair above her forehead was telling. This was very personal to him. It didn't matter why, whether his divorce caused it. What mattered was that we were in a very kinetic, violent area, and Theo would see this thing through for her.

"Hey," I said. Theo turned to face me. "Protocol dictates that we mark with infrared strobes outside three hundred meters. We're still danger close—"

Holding the handset to his ear, Viking yelled out, interrupting me.

"The choice of our demise is quite plentiful," he said. "Do we want Helo's, F18s, or AV-8s? How do you prefer your steak, well done or medium rare?"

I heard the static on the phone, so I knew Viking had gotten through.

"Got it," said Viking. "Scalp Hunter on the net."

Theo took the handset.

"Scalp Hunter, Scalp Hunter, this is Lost Boy six-one. Do have indirect mortar fire, troops in contact, over."

Scalp Hunter immediately replied, repeating Theo's transmission. The gunfire picked up as T-Man engaged us from the ridgeline.

Theo began transmitting. "Grid to suppress, Charlie Whiskey, two–two–niner... tree–seven–one... Grid to mark, Charlie Whiskey two–seven–two... niner–four–seven... Over."

This is where Theo came to life. He was steady, confident, and caring about his squad, our mission, and the people in the village. He was calling down hell and hatred on the bad guys. We were no doubt going to suffer the consequences of this entire operation, but he didn't care... And that's what made him Theo.

"Scalp Hunter to Lost Boy six-one, I have two AV-8 Bravo's holding twelve miles west of your position at angels one-zero and above. Orders to follow."

"Scalp Hunter from Lost Boy six-one," said Theo. "We are marked with I-R strobes topside. Push three hundred meters due south of our mark. Platoon-sized element in the ridgeline, how copy?"

"Scalp Hunter, M-T-O—copy on all. CAS, T-O-T, six plus zero-five—HACK."

Handing Viking the handset, it stirred Theo, ready for a fight. I could hear it in his voice.

"Get Chief and Red over here, now," he said. I depressed my PTT, ordering them to the corral. "Kelly, how many I-R strobes do you have?"

I finished up my transmission to Red, then unclipped my battle pack. Then, unzipping the top pocket, I grabbed them.

"I've got... two," I said. Theo took one from my hand.

"Good. The more, the better. These nut-fucks better have theirs," he said. "We don't need to get blown up because we're not illuminated properly."

Within moments Red bounded in from the barn and Chief from Kilo Three. This was it, the finale.

"We've got five minutes, Marines," said Theo. "Five minutes until Scalp Hunter lights up the freaking ridge." He pointed to the map on his lap. "Push your security out and up. Increase your rate of fire and keep them on that line." His fervor was contagious.

"Every structure you pass," I said. "Send an I-R strobe topside. Test them right now."

I turned on my strobe as Chief checked it through his NVGs.

"There's that beautiful intermittent light. You're good, Corporal," he said. I put mine into my dump pouch.

There were only ten of us left. The villagers had taken a beating in the fight. The elder, two teenagers, and the old man from earlier were all that remained. Two boys, only twelve and thirteen years old, were combat ineffective. Theo wouldn't let them fight anymore. He posted them to secure our casualty collection site. They'd had enough.

My thoughts brushed on the women that were hiding. If we lost, and the Taliban overran us, they'd slaughter Aina and the women left behind. So we had to win this fight.

"You see anything move, light it up. Santa Claus and eight freaking reindeer, light 'em up."

Brass-checking his rifle, Theo looked out at the ridge. "Anyone low on ammo?"

Nobody responded.

"Good. Then don't worry about conserving it."

We nodded, Viking handing me his tin of Copenhagen. I took a large pinch and gave it to Chief, who passed it back to Viking. If we were going to die, I wanted to enjoy my last dip before I did.

"Stay frosty, Marines," said Theo. We braced ourselves to move. "Alright—ready?" He gave us a final once-over. "Go!"

We flew from the corral from behind the stone wall. We were in a full sprint under fire. Red and Chief pushed up to the poppy house. Viking and Theo ran left towards the stony reeds, and Doc and I moved to the stone wall. The elder stayed with Theo as the old man followed me. We were running and gunning, tossing our strobes to the roofs of the huts, a clear visual for the inbound Harriers.

Doc, the old man, and I took position behind the stone wall, kneeling and firing non-stop. The berm restricted our view of the ridgeline, making it more difficult to sight the bad guys.

"Reloading," I yelled. I made myself small. The old man moved to stand behind me as I locked the mag into the lower receiver. I took up my sector. The old man kept firing, then his rifle was silent.

"Damn it, Kelly," screamed Doc. He rushed me. "He's freaking hit."

I couldn't afford to help or watch. So I had to stay on the wall.

T-Man was coming out of the ridge just to my one o'clock. I suppressed no aiming at all. I just pulled the trigger in their direction as they started gaining ground.

"Doc, get on the wall," I said. I peeked over my shoulder. "Screw 'em, Doc. I need you up here!"

He was our corpsman and lifeline, but we needed his rifle. It went against what they trained him to do, but this situation demanded he leaves the old man alone.

"Bravo's in one mike, we're F-P-F!"

Somehow, amid this craziness, I lost the front end of Theo's transmission.

"Did he just say Final Protective Fire?" I asked. Doc didn't respond.

I looked at my watch. We had to hold the Taliban for what would be the longest minute of our lives. We were now F-P-F, the maximum rate of fire.