Then he spotted Private Braydon Childers, one of the newest recruits to the 75th. Braydon was tall and fit but wore thick army-issue glasses. Stubble showed along his jaw. His uniform was soaking wet.
Goose moved through the crowd. Rangers that saw him looked guilty and turned away, but Goose also noted that they were men who were on break, relieved of digging fighting holes and setting up booby traps.
The only dereliction of duty going on was Baker’s water supply team.
“Private Childers,” Goose said.
“Yes, First Sergeant.” Childers turned in a smooth quarter turn.
“Why isn’t that water supply truck moving?” Goose kept his voice level and conversational.
“We were pumping water from the stream, First Sergeant, just like we were ordered. There were already people here. People from the U.N. task forces and from the Turkish army. A few of the nomads. All of them were doing the same thing, First Sergeant.”
“Getting water?”
“Yes.”
“But that stopped.”
“Yes, sir. One of the men of our water detail was talking about Corporal Dockery.”
An image of the impaled Ranger filled Goose’s mind. From what he understood, Dockery was still alive, though the medical team working him didn’t know what was keeping him alive.
“They say Dockery saw Bill Townsend disappear, First Sergeant,” Childers went on. He looked at Goose. “I was told you were there. Maybe you saw the angel, too.”
The electricity skated across the back of Goose’s neck again. “What angel?”
“The angel that came and took Bill Townsend away.” Childers blinked behind the thick glasses.
Goose shook his head. “I didn’t see an angel, Private.”
“I was told Dockery saw one. He said the angel came down and touched Bill Townsend on the shoulder and told him it was time to go.” Childers searched Goose’s face. “Did you see that, First Sergeant?”
Goose hesitated briefly. “No. No, Private Childers, I didn’t see that.”
A crestfallen look dawned on Childers’s face.
“I didn’t see Bill Townsend disappear,” Goose said. “I turned from him, then turned right back. He was gone that quick.”
Childers smiled. “That’s when the angel took him, First Sergeant. That’s what Dockery is saying.” He looked back at the crowd that had formed down at the stream. “One of the guys talked about that. He said that the angels had come and taken the good men—”
“There are a lot of good men left behind here, Private,” Goose pointed out.
“Yes, Sergeant. I know that. But what I mean is that the angels came for the believers. Men like Bill Townsend and Conley Macgregor and Stan Thompson. We got to talking among ourselves, and we all kept coming up with the same kind of men. Those that disappeared, First Sergeant, were all men who were in church every Sunday, men who prayed before meals, men who spent time trying to talk to the rest of us and explain about God. They were men who believed absolutely in the Savior.”
“Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”
“But we didn’t listen, First Sergeant,” Childers continued. “We didn’t believe enough. Most of us, we’re good men, just like you say. But we weren’t those guys. John Taylor, he spoke up about then and said he’d never been baptized. That’s when Jim Yancy said that Corporal Baker had been an ordained minister back in Ohio.”
Goose knew that was the case. Bill Townsend had told him the story of how Baker had been a young minister until his wife had died in childbirth. He had left home after her funeral, worked at odd jobs to support himself before he’d enlisted in the Army at twenty-nine.
“John asked Corporal Baker to baptize him,” Childers said. “He said he wanted to be saved in Christ before he ended up dead out here.”
Goose looked out at Baker as he dunked yet another man. The corporal seemed tireless, like a man possessed. And maybe, Goose admitted, Baker was. The energy surrounding the stream was a strong current, a powerful force that wouldn’t be denied. He could feel it.
“At first,” Childers said, “the corporal said he couldn’t do it anymore. Said he couldn’t believe. John Taylor, he asked how could Baker not believe when Dockery had seen an angel, when so many people had disappeared just like is described in the Bible. Gone in a twinkling, that’s what Bill used to witness to me.”
“Just as I am, Thy love unknown
Hath broken every barrier down;
Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”
“John Taylor,” Childers said, “he started losing it. He was afraid.” The private’s voice broke. “I guess we all were by that time, though I’m ashamed to admit it.”
“Fear’s nothing to be ashamed of, private,” Goose said. “Every man in this op is afraid. I’m afraid.”
Childers blinked at him. “You?”
“Yeah. There’s something Patton used to say about fear. He said, ‘Courage is fear holding on a minute longer.’ That’s what we’re doing out here. Holding on a minute longer.”
“Baker finally gave in, First Sergeant,” Childers said. “With John Taylor asking him, with me asking him, and the others that hadn’t been baptized, Baker couldn’t turn away. So he baptized us. And once he started, once all those other soldiers figured out what was going on, they came forward, too. You can’t blame Baker. We got it started and he just hasn’t had the heart to turn them away.” He paused. “Truth to tell, First Sergeant, I think Corporal Baker has found him something out in those waters that maybe he never really lost.”
Baker lowered another man into the water and brought him up. As soon as the man was steady, the corporal reached for another and began speaking.
“I still need that water supply truck running, Private,” Goose said. “All your crew has been baptized?”
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
“Get them
