Delroy tried to speak but didn’t know where to begin. What was wrong with him? Why had he come all this way just to sit here like this?
“A message of faith then, Chaplain?” Cranston said.
Face burning, Delroy remained silent.
“Come now, Chaplain Harte,” Cranston said. “Surely after the distance you’ve come with Captain Falkirk’s blessing, you can reveal to us your personal visions or prophecies.”
“Todd,” Marsden said in mild rebuke.
“This man didn’t come here to be ridiculed,” Mayweather said.
“No,” Cranston agreed in a harsh voice. “I’m sure he didn’t. But I will tell you this: if he was in my command, I’d have him up on charges of dereliction of duty.”
Heaviness filled Delroy’s limbs. He felt like he’d been beaten.
“Nothing to say, Chaplain?” Cranston asked.
“No, sir.” The answer was dragged from Delroy only by years of training and discipline.
“Then I suggest we call an end to this,” Cranston suggested. “With a downed plane in Poland and the Russians hysterical over it, I think we’ve got more pressing business to attend to.”
“Chaplain?” Marsden looked hopeful.
“Aye, sir?”
“Was there anything else you wanted to say?”
Delroy hesitated. He searched his mind for the fire he’d felt back on the Wasp. But he couldn’t think of a single thing. “No, sir.”
Marsden seemed to sag in his chair. “You’re dismissed, Chaplain Harte.”
“Thank you, General.” Wearily, Delroy stood, put his hat on, saluted, and turned on his heel. He walked toward the door in total, agonizing defeat.
Turkish-Syrian Border
40 Klicks South of Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 0153 Hours
Goose stood in the darkness at the front of the Hummer. Clouds and dust obscured the stars, and he gave silent thanks for that. If there were any Syrian scouts around that the Ranger perimeter teams hadn’t been able to find, the darkness would help cover the fact that the first wave of the retreat was going to start in minutes. Most of the wounded had been loaded an hour ago.
Below in the stream, the final wave of men was finishing up with the chaplains and Corporal Joseph Baker, who had not once stepped from the stream. The big man had at times taken brief respites from the baptisms, during which he had conferred with people he had pulled from the water.
The men held torches they’d made from materials salvaged from supplies that were going to be left behind. The torches flickered in the slow, soft breeze that had turned cold as soon as the sun had gone down. The land was giving up its heat now, and Goose knew from experience that a chill would fill the harsh terrain before morning.
Goose had set himself up on perimeter watch. Movement on patrol helped him work through the anxiety that crashed through him as he wondered how the night’s preparations for the evac were going.
Remington’s assigning him to the baptism hadn’t interfered with carrying out the retreat. Goose knew the Ranger captain had known that when he’d made the assignation. A good first sergeant made his position redundant because he’d trained the men to know what had to be done already and the captain knew everything had already been considered.
Also, Goose had monitored the activities of the different units and squads he’d set up through the headset. His headset was chipped for all the different frequencies in use. He also knew that Remington deliberately hadn’t completely cut him out of the loop.
As he walked, Goose kept his eyes moving like he was on point. In the darkness, his peripheral vision was best. He carried the M-4A1 in both hands. At least the cortisone shot Mkchian had been generous enough to give him had kicked in and calmed the damaged knee. The joint still felt puffy and a little leaden but moved well enough, and he felt only occasional twinges of pain.
Other Rangers stood guard as well. Some of them had gotten baptized. Goose could see that their uniforms were still damp, and the men stood huddled in blankets to block the chill wind. On the eastern ridgeline, Turkish soldiers put into by position by Captain Mkchian stood guard as well.
A hundred yards from the Hummer, Goose spotted the hulk of a RSOV. Remington. He knew Remington wouldn’t allow anyone else to take one of the vehicles this close to the retreat window. As he got closer to the RSOV, he saw that Remington had come alone.
“Hello, Goose,” Remington said, sitting in the seat with both arms wrapped around the steering wheel. His voice was neutral.
“Captain,” Goose replied.
“Is this circus about finished?”
Goose looked over his shoulder. Fewer than a dozen torches still burned where Baker and the chaplains spoke to the latest group of men that had been baptized. Pockets of men strode back up the hillsides. One man threw his torch into the stream. The water extinguished the flames at once.
“Yes, sir,” Goose said. “I told them they had to be done by two. They finished up about ten minutes ago. They’re clearing out now.”
Remington sucked air through his teeth. It was one of the few unconscious mannerisms he had, and this one denoted extreme irritation. “You realize we’re living out a Chinese curse.”
“Sir?”
“Knock off the ‘sir,’ Goose,” Remington said. “This is just you and me.”
Goose stilled the immediate “yes, sir” that almost escaped him. Despite Remington’s words, Goose knew they would never share the equality they’d had as enlisted men together. Not unless something changed. Goose knew he wasn’t going up to officer, and Remington would never willingly leave.
“A Chinese curse?” Goose prompted.
“To live in interesting times,” Remington answered. Goose nodded.
“Of course, some of the men who have been baptized out here have come back talking about these being the end times,” Remington said. “I guess Baker and the chaplains are pumping them up about that.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Goose said.
“You mean you haven’t been down for a dip?” Remington seemed surprised.
“No,” Goose answered. He’d been baptized when he was thirteen, with Pastor Moody on one side and his dad on the other. He
