Goose had mixed feelings about the church. When he was there, he somehow felt closer to Chris, more connected. It felt as if his son were no more than a baseball throw away, ready for Goose to catch up to him at any moment. But he also felt uneasy because being there created friction between Remington and himself. The captain despised the church and Baker, thinking that they created weakness or a zealot’s belief in the men he commanded and relied upon. As a compromise, Goose attended the church, but he let his postings and other responsibilities keep him away probably more than they should have.
The congregation gathered here came from U.S. Army Rangers and the Marine Corps, from the general populace of the city, from the U.N. Peacekeeping teams, and even—surprisingly—from the Turkish army, many of whom were not Christians. At least, they hadn’t been Christians before the war had broken out.
Every time Baker delivered a sermon, he led people to Jesus. Goose had witnessed that call and those who answered at least a halfdozen times. It was always the same. It had been that way tonight after they had finished their postings. Besides the man currently in the water tank, seventeen more stood waiting their turn.
The soldier in the tank held his arms crossed over his chest while Baker talked quietly to him for a moment. The soldier nodded. He wore his BDUs, which were already soaked from the rain that had lasted more than twelve straight hours. His boots and socks stood in front of the tank.
A six-piece band that played mostly in tune stood nearby on empty ammo crates with their instruments in their hands. When Baker finished the latest round of baptisms, they were going back to music to end the evening service.
With deceptive ease, Baker lowered the soldier into the water. The lights shining on the stage area reflected from the water. Two camcorders from media people played over the scene. Apparently their news directors never tired of the footage.
After a brief moment, Baker brought the soldier back up. Goose saw the smile spread across the soldier’s face as tears mixed with the water that ran from his hair down his features. He turned to Baker and hugged him fiercely.
Baker hugged the soldier back, talked to him briefly again, and helped him from the water tank as he would help a child.
The congregation clapped and called out thanks and praise to God and Jesus Christ.
“That’s a moving ceremony,” a feminine voice said at Goose’s side.
Glancing over his shoulder, Goose spotted Danielle Vinchenzo standing halfway in the evening’s shadows. She looked tired and her hair drooped from the moisture in the air.
“Miss Vinchenzo,” Goose greeted.
“You’re a hard man to catch, First Sergeant.”
“I didn’t know you were looking, ma’am.” During the last few hours, Goose had checked through the Rangers to find out what kind of shape his men were in. Knowing Remington would want to put a mission together soon kept Goose active.
Danielle crossed her arms and watched the baptisms as Baker prayed for each individual. “Does he ever sleep?”
“Five hours out of every twenty-four,” Goose replied. “Captain Remington’s orders. But he doesn’t always sleep all five in one shot.”
“How does he do it? I’m dead on my feet and I’m getting seven or eight, with a few catnaps crammed in there for good measure when I can make it happen.”
Goose shook his head. “You’d have to ask Corporal Baker.”
Danielle frowned. “I did. He told me that God was giving him strength.”
“Then I suppose that’s what it must be.”
After a moment watching the baptisms, Danielle said, “You were there when the retreat from the Turkish-Syrian border took place.”
Goose thought about ignoring the statement but couldn’t because it was too impolite. He did feel uncomfortable discussing those events. People who had not been there had trouble understanding what had happened.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“During our discussions, we’ve never talked about that.” Danielle looked at Goose. “Did it happen the way I’ve heard?”
“I don’t know how you heard it, ma’am.”
“I was told that a delayed explosion from an earlier SCUD launch brought that mountain down that night,” she said. “And I was told that a demolitions team of Rangers or marines sped up into that mountain and planted explosives so the mountain would come down on the pursuing Syrian troops and block their advance.” She took a breath, her violet eyes searching his. “I also heard that Corporal Baker started reciting the Twenty-third Psalm and God knocked that mountain down on top of the Syrians.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Goose said. “I’ve heard all those stories, too.”
“Which one was it, First Sergeant?”
Goose deliberated, knowing he was stepping into uncertain territory.
“First Sergeant?”
“There was no demolitions team in the mountains,” Goose replied. “There wasn’t time. We were running flat-out when the way got jammed up and we got stuck.”
“So was it a SCUD or was it a psalm?”
“Are you putting this in a story, ma’am?”
Danielle was silent for a moment. “At this point, no. I’m trying to stick with things that I can prove or disprove. And I’m keeping focused on the ongoing war effort. I’m also trying to stay with stories that I understand.” She nodded toward Baker. “That’s why I’ve kept away from stories involving this church.”
“You don’t understand the church?”
“I understand church,” Danielle said. “I just don’t understand this one. I’ve been on battlefields before, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Neither have I,” Goose replied. “But then, we’ve never been involved in military action where a third of the world’s population disappeared overnight either.”
Now that the last person was baptized, the band struck up a modern Christian rock song that soon had everyone clapping and singing along. The sound was spiritually uplifting. If the debris of the city hadn’t started right outside the pool of light given off by the tent church, Goose would have sworn the gathering was more like the tent
