The day had turned hot after the cool of the night. Perspiration beneath the Kevlar-lined helmet crawled through Goose’s hair and threaded down his neck. His BDU was sodden and caked with dirt.
“Corporal,” Goose called out.
The corporal turned and looked at Goose. Wide-eyed in youth and green in experience, the young man looked hesitant. “First Sergeant, I’m Corporal Robinson.”
Goose limped over to the group of soldiers standing at the front of the building. “What’s the sit-rep?”
“First Sergeant, there are wounded trapped inside on the top floor. Could be the third floor as well. We don’t know.”
“Who?”
“Some civilians. Maybe a couple soldiers. Maybe a couple of our guys.”
“How do you know that?” Goose scanned the windows and felt helpless. Anyone who was currently in the building obviously didn’t stand much of a chance.
The lower floor consisted of shops. Fragments of the front plateglass window advertised the existence of a restaurant in English, Turkish, and French. The three upper floors looked like offices, but now all of them were a heaped jumble of broken rock and mortar.
“We’ve been in touch with those people, First Sergeant.” Corporal Robinson tapped his helmet. “Picked it up as radio bleed-over. Had my communications guy run it down because we thought we heard voices.” He paused. “They weren’t talking English. Not at first.”
“What were they speaking?”
“I don’t know, First Sergeant. But they’re talking English now.” The corporal verified the signal frequency.
Goose changed the frequency on his headset. He felt bone tired, then realized he was way past that because he was starting to get the false second wind that, for him, was the true sign of approaching exhaustion.
“ … got to help us,” a man with a heavy accent pleaded. “God, grant us mercy, you can’t just leave us in here to die. Something has fallen against the door. We cannot get out. We’re trapped. We—” The voice ended in a choking sob that Goose attributed to the smoke that filled the building.
Somewhere in the background of the radio transmission a girl screamed.
“I beg you,” the man continued. “My wife and children are in here with me. Please. You can’t just ignore our pleas.”
Goose switched the frequency off. He didn’t need to listen. He stared at the building grimly.
“First Sergeant,” the corporal said.
“Did you send for a fire-rescue team?” Goose asked.
“Yes. They said they’re on their way.”
“When?”
“Couldn’t have been more than a minute before I radioed you.”
Goose had been in between, moving from one spot of havoc and disaster to the next when the call came in. He came to this site because lives were at stake. “Have your com get hold of them and tell them that I’m here and we need them now.”
Robinson spoke rapidly.
“Have com stay in touch with the guy on the radio inside the building,” Goose said. “Find out if he’s familiar with the building. We may need some directions.” He thought the op through, his mind sluggish with too much happening too fast. An idea occurred to him, but he waited until the corporal stopped speaking. “Where did the guy inside get a radio?”
“It’s a shortwave set.”
“Can we isolate where the signal is coming from?”
“Already tried that, First Sergeant. Need another receiving unit to make that happen. We’re on a specialized frequency being broadcast out of Command. The triangulation isn’t possible through the headset units.” The corporal hesitated. “Not quick enough, anyway. If we had a full sat array we could work out of, that would be a different story.” He pointed his chin back over Goose’s shoulder. “Rescue unit’s here.”
Turning, Goose spotted the military fire-suppression truck rounding the corner and heading for the building. Soldiers in Nomex coveralls clung to the sides. The 75th had come prepared for their bit in helping guard the Turkish-Syrian border.
A lanky corporal crawled out of the passenger side before the big truck jerked to a complete stop. He waved and yelled to his squad, getting them up and moving. They pulled hoses from the rig and started making connections.
“First Sergeant,” the rescue squad leader greeted. He looked worn and haggard. A second-degree burn covered the left side of his face. Clear blisters bubbled up from the reddened skin. His eyebrows and eyelashes were burned off. “I’m Corporal Timmons.”
“Corporal,” Goose replied, studying the burn, “are you sure you’re up to this?”
Timmons met Goose’s look with one of his own. “Yes, First Sergeant. We’ve just had a tough night of it. Don’t let the look fool you.
We look ragged but we’re not running ragged. We’re still up and we’re still able.” He glanced at the building. “What have you got for us?”
“Late detonation of a tank or a mortar round,” Robinson answered. “Went off less than five minutes ago. I called as soon as we confirmed the fire. I held my men back because most of them aren’t trained in that kind of SAR.”
Goose knew Robinson had done the right thing under the circumstances. Search and rescue was a specialized field. That was especially true in a building in the middle of an active war zone.
“That delay didn’t cause all that damage,” Timmons responded.
“Negative,” Robinson responded. “That building was hit several times during the initial attack this morning.”
“Been a long time since then.”
“I know. The man we’re in contact with said that he and his family live there. They stayed in the basement during the attack and didn’t come back up until they thought it was safe.”
“Safe?” Timmons said in disbelief.
“They were getting out and had just finished packing when the round went off about five minutes ago. They know other people were killed. They listened to some of them die.”
“And they didn’t notice an artillery round sitting there waiting to go off?” Timmons shook his head.
“Civilians,” Robinson explained. “These people weren’t trained
