Sitting in what little shade she could find, Katie watched from across the way as Brad lay underneath his humvee, hammering away at the undercarriage in an attempt to fix what he could.
Ever since the shooting of that boy, Brad hadn't been quite himself. Maybe it was because he was still worried about the fate of the boy, or maybe it was because he was still worried about what could have happened if the shooting had happened due to a call he had made. Either way, Katie was determined to forget about the incident herself and try to figure out what exactly was going on in the head of her once seemingly fearless team leader.
"I brought some water if you want me to fill up your camelbaks," Trombley offered as he shuffled through the sand toward Katie and the others she was sitting with, an obvious attempt to get back into the good graces of everyone who was still appalled by his shooting spree. "Figure I'd save you a trip over to H&S."
Staring up at Trombley for a few seconds, Jacks glared hard before turning his attention elsewhere. "Hey, Garza, hand me that LSA up there, will ya?"
Turning around, Garza reaching for the LSA, joining Jacks in the game of ignoring Trombley. Still feeling slighted, but not wanting to be as rude as the others, Ray shook his head. "Yeah, no thanks, James."
With a forced smile and a small nod, Trombley continued on his way. Watching him leave, Jacks scoffed. "Fucknuts thinks he can buy his way out of shooting those kid by getting us a drink of water."
"I tell ya, Jacks, it's this new generation." Ray took a sip of the red coloured liquid in his water bottle. "In the opinion of this marine, it's all that damn gangster rap and those video games that are desensitizing today's youth to violence."
Pausing, Jacks was silent for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Yeah."
"In the opinion of this marine, you're an idiot." Katie pulled her gaze away from Brad and looked to Ray. "But then again, you aren't the only one. You guys hear that the battalion colours were on that supply truck that was ordered to be left behind? They're missing now."
Garza shrugged. "Yeah, that might as well happen."
"Yup. Might as well." Katie spotted Schwetje and Griego making their way toward one of the humvees where Doc Bryan and a few others were sitting. For a few minutes, she watched as the small group conversed.
Standing up, Katie looked down at Ray and Whiskey. "Watch him for me, will you?"
"Yeah, sure." Ray gave the dog beside him a few scratches on the side.
Katie chuckled. "I was more telling Whiskey to watch you, but that works too, I guess." She smirked at her own dig before starting for the conversation that was taking place a few humvees over.
With her boots on the hot sand being anything but stealthy, the gathering turned to the woman as she approached them. "Corporal Shaw," Schwetje greeted the dog-handler. "I've asked the men to speak freely, should they so wish. Is there anything you'd like to say during this time of clarity?"
Katie looked around at the other men, and by the looks on their faces, knew that they had refrained from telling any sort of truth. Katie might not have been around the block as many as some, but she knew enough to know that when encouraged to speak freely, a smart subordinate never actually speaks freely.
"Ugh, nothing at this time, sir," Katie answered. "Thank you for the opportunity though."
"You are very welcome." Schwetje smiled as he turned to look at Bryan, who was sitting on a crate and cutting sections of fabric to use as bandages. "Doc, how about you?"
"I'm all squared away, sir." Bryan didn't even bother to look up from his task.
That, however, apparently wasn't good enough for Schwetje. "Doc, look, we're all aware how much the men look up to you. I'd like to know what you're thinking."
"I don't think so, sir."
"This is your chance to get a little something off your chest."
Exhaling, Bryan finally stopped what he was doing and made eye contact. "Are you asking me to speak frankly?"
Schwetje chuckled, oblivious to just how much contempt Bryan held towards him. "Yes."
"Well, sir, it's just that you're incompetent, sir," was the only thing that came out of Bryan's mouth, and yet somehow, it was probably the most ruthless thing he could have said.
The ignorant grin dissipated from Schwetje's face faster than a person could blink; the area falling deathly silent as the surrounding conversations seemingly got louder and louder. "I'm doing the best I can." He tried to justify his many questionable actions.
"Sir, it's not good enough," Bryan deadpanned, and without another word from the dynamic duo, Schwetje and Griego walked off.
Baptista chuckled and gave Bryan a pat on the shoulder. "Bom, Doc Bryan, bom."
Bryan didn't respond, and when he glanced up and saw Katie still standing there, looking back at him, he knew what she was going to ask. "No word yet," he muttered, aware that no matter how much she claimed to be trying to forget the whole thing even happened, she was still concerned about the well-being of the boy.
"Okay." Katie nodded in response. "Thank you."
━━━━
"-and it's based on Godfather's experience that this breeds like a fucking yeast infection. Every time an order is questioned, every time dissention is allowed to state its case, there's a corresponding decrease in overall morale." Godfather paced back and forth in front of the small crowd he had gathered. "I can't have people questioning the orders of a superior officer. And if you have a performance complaint regarding subordinates, that has to go through the proper channels. Backchannel grumbling is unacceptable, gentlemen. Unacceptable!
"Now I know some people aren't happy about the pell-mell assault on that airfield. And I admit it was rash, even reckless. But General Mattis had to have our eyes on that airfield. And your recon teams failed in the time allotted. This war isn't going well for us. Resistance in the cities is greater than expected. And the General feels we're killing far too many civilians. Godfather thinks we're going to go back into these cities we bypassed and root out the bad guys. The Iraqis are on the fence about this war. They're only going to bet on the horse they think can win."
"Sir?" Nate spoke up. "Any expectation of resupply?"
Godfather shook his head firmly. "Zero. Unbeknownst to me, when I gave the order to abandon that supply truck, our battalion colors were on it. Gentlemen, the loss of those colors ... it's one of the most regrettable incidents of my entire career, and Ferrando takes full responsibility for it. But you should be aware that the loss of those colors will be more than offset by the battle streamers we will earn in this war. And we will earn 'em. That I know."
Once the impromptu meeting was brought to a close, Katie removed her helmet from her head and quickly wiped the sweat from her forehead and the back of her neck. Almost impossibly, it felt as though every day was hotter than the last, with the evenings bringing less and less relief from the all-consuming heat.
And now, with a majority of the supplies missing, a silver lining was as rare as a day without Major Sixta screaming in your face.
━━━━
With sweat dripping down every inch of her body, Katie lay flat on her back, staring up at the night sky through the camo netting. She was supposed to be sleeping like Brad was, but she just couldn't shut her mind off. Thoughts kept flooding in, some relevant to the situation at hand, but most not, such as the overwhelming urge to know what the weather was like back home, as if that mattered in any way, shape, or form.
Another reason Katie was unable to drift off for a little while was no doubt because of the constant low and disturbing grunting sounds Ray was making from only a meter or so away. Katie had spent months on end with men in the desert, so she knew the routine, but the laboured breathing and desperate grunting of a man getting himself off damn near right beside her was something she didn't think she could ever get used to.
"Hey, where's Brad?" Walt's voice was a welcomed change of pace.
Immediately, the moaning stopped. "Jesus fucking Christ, Walt. Are you serious?" Ray was clearly upset. "My first combat jack."
"Fuck your jack," Walt snapped. "We're being overrun by armor."
Rolling his eyes, Ray pointed down to where Brad was sleeping next to Katie. "He's in his grave."
Jumping down, Walt gave Brad a hard shake. "Brad, Brad. Alpha counted one-hundred and forty T72s headed our way."
Opening his eyes, Brad didn't say a word before he sat up like a body rising from the dead and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Looking down at Katie, Brad was about to wake her as well, but when he caught her staring back at him, he sighed and slumped his shoulders. "It's go time," he muttered.
Pushing herself up as well, Katie nodded. "Isn't it always?"
Within seconds the entire battalion was on full-alert with men shouting back and forth at each other as they got ready to take on the oncoming attack. Strapping her helmet to her head and grabbing her weapon, Katie made sure Whiskey was safe inside of the vehicle before following Brad toward the general commotion.
"Brad, battalion's going Redcon One and Alpha called in air support," Poke informed the Sergeant as he walked up, Pappy by his side.
With a look of utter exhaustion on his face, Brad took a moment to compose himself—the endless chatter around them growing louder—before he jumped into action. "Ray, get on TAD six and TAD seven. Walt, get up on the berm and man the Mark-19. You have the thermals?"
"Yeah, I got them right here, dawg." Poke pulled them out.
"Well, warm them the fuck up and use them," Brad told Poke and Pappy, his tone indicating that he shouldn't have to be telling them that at all. "Why the fuck are you two standing around with your dicks in your hands? Don't you have teams to take care of?"
"Roger that," Pappy responded as Brad stepped around the two men and walked off.
With a sly smirk, Poke watched as Brad disappeared into the night. "Iceman's back," he commented on the return of Brad's cold and ruthless demeanor.
Katie nodded, unsure if she was happy or not about welcoming back the side of Brad that seemed to hate everything she said or did. "Iceman's back," she repeated before taking off after him.
"Find the reporter, Shaw," Brad instructed once Katie had caught up with him. "If little Miss Rolling Stone gets run over by an Iraqi tank, Ray's band won't make the cover."
"Yes, Sergeant." Katie snickered a little.
As Brad settled down next to Ray and Walt, he pulled out his gun and peered through the scope. "So we're unsupplied, twenty-four hours ahead of the next nearest Marine, and now the Iraqi army has found us." Ray scoffed. "I like the plan, Brad. It works for me."
"It's a town," Brad stated, his gaze still set on the lights in the distance. "... and it ain't moving."
Taking another look, Walt shook his head. "Are you sure?"
"It's autokinesis." Brad lowered his gun and sighed. "You're seeing the involuntary muscle movements of your own eyes. Those lights aren't going to come any closer than they are. It's a fucking town. Thirty, forty kliks out there at least. How far out did Alpha call this?"
Walt, who was starting to look pissed off for being woken for nothing, huffed. "Fifteen kliks."
Smirking, Brad turned on his heel and started to head off. "It's bullshit," he told Poke as they passed by each other. "There's no armor."
Poke cocked a brow as explosions echoed through the night, flashes of light from the town indicating that they were being bombed. "There's no armor?"
Ray watched the light show in the distance. "Apparently the United States Air Force thinks Brad Colbert is full of shit."
"At least I can try to get some sleep now." Katie unclipped her helmet strap and glared at Ray. "And this time, if you wouldn't mind 'combat jacking' somewhere else, that would be greatly appreciated."