by David Wilson
Chapter Thirteen
About an hour and fifteen minutes from our break, Jeff called in our next checkpoint saying he had the old bridge near the ferry crossing in sight. I called back on the radio telling them to hold up at the bridge for the rest of us to catch up. As I stopped my transmission I heard Jeff yelling at Beth to stop over the radio. I cussed as the next thing I heard was a flurry of gun shots followed by the rapid fire of a heavier rifle which I knew had to be Jeff’s .308. A panicked Jeff came on the radio, “I’m hit, fuck, fuck, fuck, they grabbed Beth, don’t know if she was hit or not, I’m down by the old bridge, hurry.” The transmission stopped again and another volley of shots rang out followed again by the distinctive booming of Jeff’s AR-10. I motioned to the other three to gather on me. “Switch to channel 23,” I said getting nods, “ok, we need to get to Jeff so we are going straight in. If I remember correctly there should be cover at that old bridge. When we get there dump your bikes behind the old brick works, Mat you take a position to make sure no one is flanking us from the West, stay low and behind cover, shoot anyone with a weapon that is moving towards us, Ben and Don, you guys take a position to cover us from the South. I will take care of Jeff, got it?” After getting nods we pushed off and covered the final 300 yards in just a couple minutes. I again cussed myself for letting Beth and Jeff get that far ahead of us.
Arriving at the old bridge I immediately spotted Jeff. Jumping off our bikes and unslinging our weapons everyone moved to take up their appointed positions. Moving over to Jeff I immediately knew he had been hit hard. Pointing at Ben I motioned him to me and we both moved up to beside Jeff. Jeff had taken cover next to the old bridge, but was lying face down on top of his rifle. Rolling Jeff onto his back, I was shocked to see how pale he was. “Where are you hit?” I ask, not that I really needed to ask from the massive bloodstain low on his left side. Not waiting for an answer I pulled my medic shears out of my vest and began cutting away his shirt. “Ah shit that was my favorite shirt,” groaned Jeff. Ben gave a half laugh half cry, “Don’t worry about the shirt you asshole, just keep breathing.” I glanced over at Ben and nodded for him to keep talking to Jeff, “Keep talking to him, we can’t let him slip into shock,” I said. As soon as the wound was exposed I ripped open a large combat dressing and placed it over the wound and instructed Ben to put pressure on it. Ripping open another dressing I switched places with Ben and rolled Jeff onto his right side, applying the second dressing to the exit wound on his back. Keeping my hand on the dressing until we rolled him onto his back where his body weight would keep the second dressing in place. Moving back to my trailer I quickly pulled open my ruck and removed nitrile gloves, a small bottle of Betadine, several female pads, a tampon, two packs of blood clot and my last two large combat dressings and hurried back to Jeff. Pulling the gloves on as fast as I could, I flicked open my pocket knife and nicked open the plastic wrapper on the tampon. Pulling off the wrapper I poured Betadine over the tampon and motioned for Ben to lift the dressing and as he did I stuffed the tampon as gently as I could into the bullet entry hole until there was only about a quarter of an inch still sticking out of the wound. Telling Ben to toss the now soaked dressing I handed him the female pads and told him to again maintain pressure on the wound. Opening both of the blood clotting dressings, I once again had Ben roll Jeff onto his right side. Working as quickly as I could I pulled the blood soaked dressing off the exit wound and pressed the blood clotting dressings into the ragged exit wound. Taking the last large combat dressing I had I covered the blood clotting material as best as I could with the combat dressing. Easing Jeff back to the ground, Ben said, ”Hey buddy, I always said that mouth of yours was going to get you into trouble.” I reached over and grabbed Jeff’s jacket off his trailer and used it to cover him with. Next I grabbed a loose stuff sack full of food and used this to elevate Jeff’s legs against the shock I knew Jeff was falling into.
“Jeff can you tell us what happened?” I ask. In a painful whisper Jeff said, “We came up to here and we had stopped so I could call in the checkpoint, that was when Beth spotted some people over by that blue building, she took off before I could stop her and I went after her. I was about half way to them when she got to them and I could hear them laughing and shouting in what sounded like Arabic to me, that was when they just started shooting at me. I returned their fire and was able to get back to my bike here by the bridge. I really don’t know when I was hit, it all happened so fast. I think I hit at least one of them but I didn’t see what happened to Beth after all the shooting started. I’m sorry I screwed up.” “Jeff you did fine, now just rest. I’ll take care of this,” I said. Ben started to say something than I realized that Ben had stopped talking to Jeff, I looked up and saw the tears steaming down Ben’s face. Ben looked back at me, “Do something, you know all this shit so fix him, do whatever it takes!” he begged. “He’s gone,” I said, “Ben, we did everything we could, there was just too much damage.” “I’m going to kill all those bastards!” screamed Ben. Looking back at Jeff, I saw his blank staring eyes and I reached out and gently closed them. Patting Jeff on the chest I whispered, “I swear I will pile the bodies of these bastard up to rot at your feet my friend.”
Ben reached for his rifle and began to stand up. Reaching out I grabbed Ben by the arm and pulled him back down below the wall around the bridge. “Stop and think before you act. Getting yourself killed is not going to bring Jeff back,” I said. Reaching over to Jeff again, I began pulling Jeff’s .308 magazines out of his chest rig. Telling Ben to stay with Jeff and to keep an eye to our west, I gathered the mags and picked up Jeff’s DPMS.
Duck walking over to beside Don I ask, “See anything?” Don looked at me, “A lot of movement in the windows but nothing outside, how is Jeff?” I shook my head and saw the tears begin to form in Don’s eyes. “Not good, he lost too much blood and there was too much internal damage. We did all we could do, that is except killing all of these bastards that did this to him. Jeff told us that these guys were speaking Arabic. That doesn’t make sense. The ferry is ran by an older guy and his wife.” Picking up the DPMS I began scoping the building. The building was an old farm style two story made out of cinderblock painted a light blue, with the front door being centered on the east side flanked by evenly spaced double hung windows. The second floor had three evenly spaced double hung windows. It was not a large building measuring about 60 feet long by 30 feet wide. There were four white rental vans parked in front of the building. As I was watching the building I saw movement in one of the second story middle windows. I zoomed the scope on the .308 to maximum power and saw a man dressed in what looked to be coveralls like the type painters or car mechanics wear standing in the window and talking to someone in the same room. The man turned towards the window and leaned out of it, “Hey,” he yelled in heavily accented English, “this is what you are going to go. Drop all of your weapons and gear and begin walking back to where ever you came from or we are going to do some really unpleasant things to your friend here. You hear me!”
Still zoomed in I centered the crosshairs on the bridge of the man’s nose and ever so gently stroked the trigger of the .308. The 168 grain bullet covered the distance in an instant and punched straight though the assholes brain housing group and struck the man standing behind him in the base of the throat. The man who had been doing the talking fell forward and tumbled out the window to land directly in front of one of the parked vans. The man inside the second story wasn’t so lucky, we could clearly hear him screaming. My only thought was I hope the motherfucker suffers. Turning to Don I said, “Don, I need you to get over to those trees, do not expose yourself and do not shoot unless they make a break towards you. If they do make a break, shoot them all. Do not hesitate. Find a good place with cover where you can see but don’t let them see you. Can you do that?” Don nodded and I could see he was ready. I continued, “I’m going to send Mat over to our west to make sure they can’t go that way. Get moving, take your time, let me kn
ow when you're in position.” Turning to Mat I motioned him over to me and explained what I wanted him to do and sent him on his way with instructions to radio me when he got into position.
Crawling back over to Ben, I squatted beside him. When he did not respond to my presence I reached out and touched his shoulder. “Ben, I know it is tough losing a friend this way, been there, done that and it always sucks and always will. But there is nothing we can do except kill these assholes that did this to your friend. I need you to focus and do exactly what I say. Get your grief and temper under control and lets take these bastards out for Jeff.” Ben took a long shuddering breath, “I’ll try,” he said. I nodded, “Ok, here is what we are going to do, when I tell you to start shooting, begin shooting up their vans, because what we want them to do is get really pissed and do something stupid. Try and not shoot the gas tanks until I tell you to, mostly just a couple round half way up in the cargo areas and a couple into the cab. Just shoot one van each time I tell you too. If they come out and try and move the vans, shoot them. If one of them get inside one of the vans riddle it full of holes. If not, only shoot when I tell you too, four rounds, each van. Got it?” Ben nodded and turned and picked up his rifle and extended the bipod legs. “Get a good prone position here at the end of the bridge. Be careful not to expose yourself too much,” I instructed.
The new leader of the group in the building yelled out that he wanted to talk but I ignored him for the time being. His accent was Middle Eastern too, not sure from where yet but definitely Middle Eastern. I kept wanting to think Arabic but something was not quite right about it. After both Mat and Don reported in that they were in place, the new leader showed up in the window but this time he was holding Beth in front of him as a shield. Looking though the scope I grinned, asshole I could still take you but you wanted to play so let’s play. Beth screamed as the guy pulled her by her ponytail. The new leader yelled, “I not screw around anymore, you guys drop everything and walk away now or we kill the infidel whore!” I looked over at Ben, “Get ready, but don’t shoot until I tell you too.” I snugged up behind the DPMS, the Leatherwood scope was dialed to 16 power and at the 100 yard range the biker’s head just about filled the scope, yup either Iraqi or Iranian from the look of this guy. Backing off the zoom a little I could see a little more detail, yup I thought, definitely Iranian seeing the open collar of the guys coverall and seeing the gold chain around his neck. I carefully settled the crosshairs on the bridge of his nose and gently applied pressure to the big rifle’s trigger. The guy’s head pretty much exploded the same as the first guys from the 168 grain hollow point match grade bullet. His body continued to stand for a second or two before it got the message that it was dead. Utter silence crept in for several seconds with nothing but the sound of the one round echoing into the distance. Then a chorus of Farsi, I’ll assume cussing, erupted from the building. Beth was once again jerked back from the window disappearing from sight. Turning my radio back to the original channel I pressed the transmit key, “So which one of you camel fucking, Khamenei sucking assholes want to take over negotiations next? Get your next pick of a leader on the radio now. You have ten seconds.” I turned to Ben, “Get ready,” I said, counting down ten seconds. Reaching ten, I nodded at Ben and he triggered off four rounds. I had been hoping they were watching, but they failed to notice the .308’s punch straight though the panel vans sides and from the sound of it into something solid inside the second van. An idea formed and I ask Ben, “You think you could throw one of those exploding target cans as far as those vans?” I ask. Ben grinned and said, “I could from over there where Don is.” “Go grab three cans of that stuff, don’t mix it until you get over there and throw them in among those vans or the side of the building,” I said.
My radio came to life and another Iranian accented voice spoke, “Who are you guys?” An idea popped into my head when I again heard that accent. Pressing the mic key, “I am one pissed off individual right now. As your late leaders found out. First you come into our country and attack our water plant, killing all of the workers there and now you have grabbed one of my friends. I don’t have time to deal with idiots like you. You will release the girl or we will begin shooting up your vans one every thirty seconds until you do and then I will kill everyone of you no good son of a bitches if one hair on her head is harmed. This is not a negotiation. You have thirty seconds to release her.” Now I have to admit, the string of curse words and name calling that followed was impressive, but Lee Emery could have done better, not to speak ill of the dead, but he still owes me over 300.00 dollars for the last bar bill he struck me with. Ben was back from his mission and had resumed his position behind his rifle. After about a minute I nodded again to Ben and said, “Ben, put a full mag into those vans, make sure you shoot out all of the glass so they will hear it please.” Ben began firing round after round down range, striking each of the vans in turn. This time we had their attention judging from the chorus of cussing coming from the house. Their commander came back on the radio with panic in his voice, “Stop, do not shoot the vans, you will kill everyone if you continue to shoot the vans.”
As I watched the building I saw a window on the second floor slid up a few inches. Turning to Ben I said, “Ben I do believe our friends are about to return fire, get completely behind some cover over there. Move over to your right about seven or eight feet, wait until I tell you to, then pop back out and shoot another couple of rounds into the first van, do not stay exposed, there is a sniper set up on the second story.” Ben nodded and scooted back and to his right taking cover behind the stone wall of the low bridge. Just as Ben moved back, there was a furry of shots fired from the houses second story. I zoomed my scope up to max and sure enough the muzzle of a rifle came back out as the individual finished changing magazines. Aiming a couple of inches above the muzzle I squeezed off two rounds hoping to catch both the rifle and the shooter with the rounds. My rounds were again followed by much yelling and cursing in Farsi. Turning from the rifle I said to Ben, “Ben, go ahead and shoot another please.” This was followed by a few seconds of silence then the boom of Ben’s rifle filled the air. I grinned, but it turned to a frown as another howl of protest came from the building. I began to wonder just what in the hell they had in the vans that they were so worried about. All of the vans were fairly new, so I knew none of them where in running condition after the EMP. I took the time to call Don and Mat and warned them that they might attempt to send out someone to flank us or to move to the vans before long and to be ready for them. Knowing both of them were ready I again went back to scanning the building. As more than thirty seconds had gone by I took the time to squeeze off a round into the gas tank area of the closest van, punching a new set of holes though and though the van. Just as I had squeezed off the shot, a series of shots rang out to our south, followed by the unmistakable sound of an RPG rocket motor followed closely by an explosion. Don’s voice came over the radio, “Scratch three more rag heads from this side,” he said, “looks like they have some heavy weapons with them. Haven’t seen one of those damn thing since Nam, anyway he wasted that one into the ground about half way between us after I shot his ass, looks like they were making a break for it towards the river.” “Good job, keep a close eye out. I don’t know what they will try next but we need to get this wrapped up before dark,” I replied.
Thinking hard, I really did think these guys were some of the terrorists that had hit the water plant. We had killed at least five of them, but I was figuring that each van had at least four shooters. But what did they have in the vans they were so worried about that would kill all of us. I didn’t like what my inner brain was telling me. Could it be some type of chemical weapon? Turning back to my rifle I could see two of the three exploding target canisters Ben had thrown. I glanced over at Ben who was grinning ear to ear, he shrugged, “The third one is there among the vans somewhere, it landed just past the first van I shot.” I grinned back, “Why don’t you introduce our little friends by shoot
ing that one closest to the window on this side.” I keyed my mic and give Don and Mat a heads up just before there was a rifle shot followed by a tremendous explosion beside the ferry building. Peering though my scope I could see that all the windows on this side of the building were gone. “Well,” I said to Ben, “I bet we have their attention now.” Switching my radio back to our original frequency I said, “Last chance, send the girl out now or your vans go up in flames next.” The reply came back in the next instant, “Hold on, let's talk about this.” Holding the mic button down I turned to Ben, “Ben shoot the next van.” The terrorist screamed back into the radio, “We are letting the girl go. Do not shoot the vans anymore!” I keyed the radio again, “I’m tried of talking, just so you know I grew up playing with the lion’s tail, so get the girl with all of her equipment out here within the next 30 seconds or your vans and everything in them are history.” The reply came back, “Look, let's talk about this.” Calling out to Ben, he didn’t wait for me to finish telling him to shoot again, before another shot rang out and hit another of the vans. This time the guy screamed into the radio, “Ok, Ok, Ok, she is coming out, just stop shooting the vans!” I replied, “With all of her gear to include the radio.” “Yes, yes she is coming out with all of her gear, just take her and go,” the man replied.
