“And what will that change?”
“Say again?”
He’d heard me. He couldn’t believe I was asking. I sharpened my tone. “Sir, I asked what will capturing or killing Zahed change?”
“Yours is not to question why but to do or die, soldier.”
“Well, if we get him, then that’s one less terrorist here, right? Oh, I forgot, we don’t have confirmation that he’s actually a terrorist.”
“He’s scum. You said so yourself.”
“I did. But frankly, sir, there are too many people attempting to undermine my mission. I’m losing confidence in my ability to complete it and I’m concerned about our contribution to the overall effort here.”
“What the hell is that?” he cried. “The Ghosts fear no one! Don’t throw that crap at me. You will complete your mission — but if you’re telling me right now you want out, I’ll relieve you on the spot and give it to Warris.”
“He’s a yes man for Harruck, so you won’t get jack if you give it to him. He’s not playing for us anymore, sir. Somebody got to him.”
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack, sir. And now I’m supposed to go through him before making a move. I’m letting you know right now that I can’t do that.”
“I understand. Unless your OPORDER changes, you stay on target, all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any more news about your dad?”
I told him about my conversation with my sister. We were waiting to hear more.
Most of my guys picked up minor wounds, as I did, and the doctor was able to remove the pieces of shrapnel from my legs and stitch me up. He’d asked about the scar on my chest, as I suspected he would.
All I said was that I’d been serving in the Philippines and been stabbed with a very interesting sword shaped like a Chinese character. The weapon was now resting comfortably in a glass case at an old friend’s house.
After all these years, the scar still itched. And I could still see Fang Zhi’s eyes as he’d thrust the blade into me. I was just a kid back then. And the missions seemed crystal clear. Ironically, Fang Zhi had questioned his own commanders’ orders and become torn over his duty versus the lives of the men in his charge. Though I don’t regret killing him, I better understood his position after spending time in Afghanistan.
Back in our billet, most of the guys were sitting on their bunks, staring blankly or rubbing the corners of their eyes and trying not to lose it. We’d been a closely knit team for the past two years. We’d lost a family member.
“We need to get out there tonight and get some,” said Ramirez, just after I entered. “They need to pay for killing Matt.”
The response was natural, rudimentary, entirely human, and I felt the same — despite its sounding like a knee-jerk reaction of less experienced soldiers.
Hume, Nolan, and Brown began nodding. Treehorn joined them. Jenkins, the biggest, most intimidating guy on the team, started crying. Smith, who was near him, offered a few words of encouragement.
Master Sergeant Matt Beasley had hailed from Detroit, had tooled around the ’hood in a Harley Sportster, and was a latchkey kid who’d made a name for himself in the Army. I don’t expect my words to do him justice, and you’ll never know him the way we did, but you need to understand how important he was to us.
In recent months Ramirez had become more of my right-hand man, but Beasley had been the first guy to help out, had treated me with respect and had welcomed me into his fold. NCOs could make or break you, and much of my success was due to his experience and guidance. We always had Alpha and Bravo teams, with Charlie team being our “one-man” sniper operation, and Beasley always led Bravo for me. I never once doubted his abilities and knew that if I was ever injured or incapacitated, my guys were in his more-than-capable hands.
I could tell myself that if I hadn’t sent the minesweepers out there, then Matt would still be alive. But I wouldn’t have made that decision. I would have sent them no matter the risk. Of course, I’d seen a lot of guys die in combat — and a lot of guys die just getting blown up while they were on their way to the latrine. Sometimes I took the blame and just buried it. But I’d been working with Matt for a long time, and though I couldn’t help but feel the guilt, I could already hear him telling me not to worry about it.
The guys, no doubt, wanted payback. So did I. And not just against the Taliban.
Before I could speak, a big Chinook rumbled overhead, shaking the hut with its twin rotors.
“That was fast,” said Ramirez, his gaze shooting up to the ceiling.
“Well, that might not be our bird,” I said. He was referring to our having Beasley’s body shipped back to Kandahar.
He nodded. “So, are we game on for tonight?”
I raised a palm. “Take it easy. I’ve got no actionable intel.”
“They’ve been poking around, trying to feel out our new defenses in the defile,” said Treehorn. “There are some foothills in the back with a couple of tunnel entrances — or at least they looked like entrances from where I was at.”
The door swung open, and in walked Captain Warris.
No one spoke.
“Guys, I’m deeply sorry about the death of Master Sergeant Beasley. I just wanted you to know that. I wanted you to know that I’m a Ghost, too. I’m on this team. Not anyone else’s…”
Ramirez raised his hand. “Sir, can we talk off the record?”
Warris showed his palm. “Let me stop you there. I already know where this is going.”
I glanced sidelong at him. “So do I.” There was no mistaking the threat in my tone.
“What’s going on here, people, is a philosophical difference between commanders that’s playing out in the ditches, and we got stuck with the raw deal. I need to be in the loop on everything because I’m supposed to smooth things over between us and the CO. I don’t blame your captain for being upset over what’s transpired here, but for now, we just make the best of it until higher gets its head out of its ass.”
Oh, he was a clever bastard, all right, I thought. He’d let me have it, then had softened his tone to try to win over the hearts and minds of my guys. He had no idea who he was dealing with…
“That’s right, everyone,” I said, widening my gaze on them. “And as I just told you, we have no actionable intelligence at this time, so we’ll continue in our holding pattern. Meanwhile, I’ll be in close touch with the colonel to see if they can get us something.”
“Very well,” said Warris.
We all stood there. You could cut the awkwardness with a bowie knife.
“Uh, yeah, one other thing,” I said. “I always bunk with my team, and this billet is full. I’m sure Harruck has room with the other officers.”
He snorted. “Right. I’ll work that out. And one more thing. Captain Harruck has decided to turn over that weapons cache to the local police chief. Kundi has agreed. They’ll use those weapons to begin arming a new police force.”
“Interesting,” I said. “And where are they recruiting this new police force?”
“From the local villages,” Warris answered.
“Which includes Sangsar,” I pointed out. “Zahed’s hometown.”
“I think it’s a good compromise, rather than simply confiscating the weapons.”
“Before these COIN ops, this wouldn’t have happened,” I said. “The weapons would be gone. No chance of them falling back into the enemy’s hands.”
He sighed. “It is what it is.” And with that, he hurried out, the door slamming after him.
Not three seconds after he was gone, Treehorn looked at me and said, “All right, Captain. Let’s plan this out. Time to rock ’n’ roll. And that fool there? He ain’t invited to this party.”
