“Yes, ma’am.”
Megan gathered her purse and her portfolio. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a job and I’ve got kids depending on me. If you need anything else, let me know. I’ll make time for you. If these people want a fight, they’re going to get one.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Megan let herself out of the truck and turned her steps toward the counseling center. Okay, God, if You’re not going to stand up and be counted, I’ll do it myself. And if You think You can break me, then do it. I’ve got to fight to survive. And maybe I have to fight even You. I don’t know. You haven’t given me many options here. But I’m not going to give up. Do You hear me? I’m not just going to lie down and die. That’s not in me. I hope You understand that. If not, I guess that’s just one more reason You’ve abandoned me.
3
United States 75th Army Rangers Temporary Post
Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 0549 Hours
Riding in the passenger seat of the Ranger Special Operations Vehicle, Captain Cal Remington stared out at the city he’d been ordered to hold no matter what the cost, while the U.S. Rangers, the U.N. forces, and the Turkish army shored up the next line of defense against the coming Syrian invasion. The fact that these combined troops had survived this long was nothing less than amazing. The only good thing about it, Remington told himself, is that amazing looks good on a military résumé.
But he hated the idea that he’d been assigned to a mission he had no hope of winning. Losing wasn’t an option in Remington’s personal or professional plans. He didn’t compromise, either. In his opinion, compromise was the first step toward acknowledging an upcoming loss. Accepting the inevitability of a loss was intolerable and unacceptable to him. He believed that there was always a way out if a soldier looked for it. There was always a way to win.
Although dawn was just a pale smear of pink and gold against the indigo sky to the east, Sanliurfa was awake. As far as Cal Remington could tell, the city never slept anymore. Occasionally it passed out for fitful rest or unconsciousness that passed for sleep, but mostly the city lay awake and fearful in the night. No one relaxed.
During the day, all the people in the city had to work constantly just to maintain some crumbling level of survival. At least during the day they didn’t have to worry about turning on lights that could be seen and used as targets by the Syrian military. Also, if Syrian aircraft chose to stage another air strike, the air force in Sanliurfa could scramble in time to meet them, driving up the Syrian cost of such a venture. Their SCUD missile use had dropped after Allied forces had deployed Patriot antimissile systems along the front lines. The Patriots weren’t exactly the highest of high-tech systems these days—but then neither were the SCUDs. And when Syrian artillery squads got close enough to launch, they were also close enough to the battle lines to become targets.
For the last fifteen and a half hours, Sanliurfa’s defenders had kept the Syrian aggressors and their terrorist allies, who were looking to rack up trophy kills fast, at a stalemate.
Remington wanted to change that, wanted to take the fight back to the Syrians and keep them off guard. He figured such an attack would buy them more time. He’d already put all the key people into play that he needed to make the necessary changes. However, the plan he had in mind would require sacrifices.
Cal Remington didn’t mind sacrifices. At least he didn’t mind them up to a point. He’d sacrificed others now and again to further his own ambitions and for the good of the units he’d commanded. Therefore, he could understand the orders he was presently under, but he also counted himself clever enough to survive those orders.
He knew First Sergeant Gander wouldn’t deal with the compromises that would have to be made. Goose was the most uncompromising man Remington had ever met. That was both Goose’s greatest strength and his worst weakness.
When Goose had a viable plan of action laid out before him, there was not a better soldier in the field. But when things went ugly and sacrifices had to be made, Goose hesitated before making those choices. Only after fighting against all odds, fighting until he finally realized he was going to lose even more if he didn’t back away, only then would Goose make the necessary sacrifices and get out.
That was why Goose would never have made it through OCS. Or, if he had gotten through Officer Candidate School, Remington felt certain Goose would have never risen through the ranks.
Goose was hard as nails, but when it came to his men, he was soft. Too soft.
The RSOV slowed to allow an earthmover to trundle across the street ahead. All the heavy construction equipment in the city had been rounded up, and operators for all of the machines had been selected from the ranks of all three military contingents. As soon as the all-clear echoed over the radio links fifteen and a half hours ago, work had begun to clear the bombed, congested streets so the supply runs could be made and fall-back positions within the city could be reinforced.
“Talon. This is Smoke.” Corporal Dean Hardin’s voice carried clearly over the encrypted channel of Remington’s headset.
“Go, Smoke,” Remington replied.
“Just wanted you to know we’re in position, sir.”
“Affirmative. I’m en route. Hold our interviewee in place.”
“Understood, sir. But this guy, he’s getting antsy.”
“If you have to put a pistol to his head, get it done.”
Hardin’s reply was instant and crisp. “Will do.”
“Outstanding,” Remington said. He knew his irritation sounded in his voice.
The earthmover cleared the street. The private put the RSOV back into gear and sped around
