Already angered and upset by the total failure of her squad's ambush, Lieutenant Kozak became depressed when she saw that the bumper number of the approaching Humvee identified it as the division G3's vehicle.
The appearance of a captain, and not the G3 himself, did nothing to improve her state of mind. The captain, no doubt, would tell the G3, who in turn would tell the division commander, who in turn would tell the corps commander, etc., etc., etc. Still, there was nowhere to hide and no escaping the inevitable. It had been her plan and now she would take the beating.
Going up to the Humvee after it stopped, Kozak saluted and reported to the captain in the passenger seat even before he had a chance to get out.
The captain, returning her salute with a casual wave of his hand, reached over to retrieve his map from his driver and climbed out without a word.
Moving around to the front of the Humvee, he laid his map out on the hood, looked at it for a moment, then turned to Kozak. As he did so, she recognized him as the same captain that she had bumped into on her first day at Fort Hood. Remembering the small kindness he had shown her when she had lost a clip off of one of her badges, she was about to say something about that, but then decided not to. That had been, she realized, another time and place. Right now, under the circumstances, it didn't seem like a good idea to start with idle chatter.
When the captain was ready, Kozak realized her assessment of the situation, this time, had been on the mark. Captain Cerro, his eyes shaded by the brim of his helmet, stared down at her. 'Lieutenant Kozak, what was your mission?'
Assuming a relaxed position of parade rest, she looked up at Cerro's hidden eyes. 'To establish an outpost with one squad, sir.'
'What, Lieutenant, was the purpose of that outpost?'
'To provide early warning to the company of the enemy attack.'
'And did you accomplish that mission, Lieutenant?'
Kozak hesitated before answering. Maybe she did. Perhaps the Bradley had reported in. Or maybe the company had heard the engagement. She didn't know and told Cerro that she wasn't sure, attempting to explain that maybe the squad's Bradley had escaped and reported, or had reported before it had been destroyed.
Cerro, however, didn't let her finish. 'Why don't you know, Lieutenant?'
'Well, I am temporarily out of contact with my platoon.'
Placing his hands on his hips, Cerro leaned over toward Kozak, the brim of his helmet almost touching hers. His voice, when he answered, was harsh and cold. 'Temporary my ass, Lieutenant. You're permanently out of contact with your platoon. Your ability to move, shoot, and communicate was degraded one hundred percent for eternity. That's because you're dead, remember? Dead, D-E-A-D, dead. And do you know why you're dead, Lieutenant?'
Taken aback by Cerro's aggressive stance, Kozak was about to take a step back, but changed her mind. Instead, she held her ground, allowing the brim of her helmet to make contact with the brim of Cerro's. 'Yes sir. We screwed up.'
'Correction, Lieutenant, you screwed up. Again, what was your mission?'
As Kozak pondered Cerro's last repetitive question, she fought back the urge to move back and away from him. She could feel his breath on her face and the unrelenting pressure of his helmet touching hers. His stance was, she felt, quite intimidating. No doubt, she thought, it was meant to be. For a moment, she allowed her eyes to drop down and look at the narrow space of ground that separated the toes of her size-fiveand-a-half narrow combat boots from his eleven wide jungle boots. She hadn't been treated like this since she was a plebe at West Point.
Then, suddenly, it dawned upon her what Cerro was driving at. Looking Cerro in the eye, Kozak regained her composure. 'Our mission was to provide the company with an early warning so they would be ready when the enemy came. By concentrating on the antiarmor ambush, and not putting the Bradley where it could use its sights to see the enemy and its radio to report, I set us up for failure.'
After a pause, Kozak noticed a slight softening in Cerro's expression.
Though she wouldn't call it a smile, it was close enough. Standing upright, and folding his arms across his chest, Cerro, and Kozak in turn, relaxed. 'Bingo, Lieutenant. You win your first brass ring. Your commander, no doubt, expects you to take the initiative. And, if he's anything like me, doesn't explain everything, including his reasons for giving certain orders, to his people every,time. What that means, is that you are going to have to learn when you can use your initiative, and when you need to follow his orders to the letter. I'm here to tell you, learning that isn't easy. Some people never do. Hopefully, you will. Understand?'
Kozak nodded. 'Yes sir, understood.'
'And another thing, Lieutenant, you need to use your NCOs.' Turning to where Kozak's squad was assembling, Cerro waved his hand.
'Your platoon sergeant never should have let this happen. If he warned you and you ignored him, that's an ah shit on you. If he didn't, then he isn't doing his job and you need to talk to him. Bottom line, Lieutenant, is that while you are getting paid to think, you don't have a monopoly on it and, more important, you don't have the experience yet. Your NCOs do. Use 'em. Clear?'
Again, Kozak nodded. 'Yes, sir, clear. It's just that, well, this was my first time out and, well, I wanted to make an impression. You understand, don't you?'
For the first time, Cerro laughed. 'Yeah, I understand. And you succeeded.
You've made one hell of an impression on this squad, the rest of your platoon, and no doubt, your company commander. You better hope he has a short memory or a forgiving streak a mile wide.'
Kozak winced. She was not looking forward to explaining herself to Captain Wittworth. Cerro, seeing her squirm, put his hand on her shoulder.
'Listen, I know exactly what you did and why you did it. Every new second lieutenant that's worth a damn comes out of Benning hell-bent for leather, ready to make his mark on the world. If he's a natural, and very lucky, he pulls it off. If he's like the rest of us, he makes a lot of mistakes and gets beat up often before he learns his trade.' Turning his head toward the squad, Cerro pointed. 'Don't ever forget, Lieutenant, that the lives of those soldiers depend on you and your decisions. So don't let your ego, pride, and ambitions override your common sense and training.'
He looked back at her, and their eyes met. 'Do what's right, and what you're told, and you'll do all right. Got it?'
For the first time, Kozak smiled. Stepping back, she saluted Cerro.
'Yes, sir. Got it. Thank you, sir, I appreciate it.'
Again, with a casual wave of his hand, Cerro returned her salute. 'No problem, LT. That's what I get paid for. Carry on.'
Slowly walking along the beach, with his right hand resting on the smooth and narrow hips of his latest lover, Alaman found it difficult to believe his good fortune. Everything, even the reactions of the American public and their government to the first small raids along the border, was playing into his hands.
Leaving the chore of creating a viable force from the remnants of his personal bodyguard that had survived the Mexican Army raid at Chinampas to Delapos, Alaman had left Mexico, seeking a secure base from which he could mobilize his vast resources, talents, and network to achieve his goal of returning to Mexico. Though his reputation was tarnished as a result of his failure to foresee the military coup, there were many who still needed Alaman's talents and connections. Some even shared his dream of a new Mexico where their opportunities to conduct their illegal trades would be greater, not less, than before the military coup of June 29. It was, therefore, not difficult to find a place that suited his needs and tastes. At the home of an associate on Grand Cayman Island in the Caribbean, Alaman had found an ideal site where he could work from.
Building upon the contacts he had had in the United States before the revolution, Alaman quickly found new contacts, including people within the United States Border Patrol, who could provide the information that Delapos and his team leaders needed. With information on everything, ranging from schedules and patrol routes to weapons used and personalities involved, Alaman's tiny army hoped to create an effect all out of proportion to its size. With that in hand, and anticipating future needs, Alaman was currently working on establishing contacts in the Texas National Guard, a feat that was proving more difficult than he had anticipated.
