by C. R. Daems
While that was probably true, both men looked a bit pale. I looked to the woman with a white jacket and stethoscope around her neck. She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“They need some rest. They lost a lot of blood or whatever you Tasmanians have in your arteries,” she said, frowning. I nodded agreement. “Do you need attention?” she asked, looking at my uniform.
“No, but I could use a bath,” I said and turned back the Art and Cedric. “Me and the boys are going for a midnight stroll in search of a party. You two stay and rest. And while you are resting think about all the mistakes you made while fighting the Zinwe that caused you to waste the doctor’s time.”
“Yes, mother,” they replied in unison. I blew them a kiss and left the tent. I had been serious. My father had always stressed reviewing my fights looking for things I could have done better. As I exited the tent, Major Lloyd stood glaring at me.
“Don’t the Tasmanians have food or would they rather you ate elsewhere?” he snapped. “And don’t you salute your superiors?”
Rather than say, “No,” as it wasn’t required, I saluted him and walked off to join my team, who were standing in front of the food tent eating. I smiled after I had turned away, realizing I loved being a Tasmanian and had nothing to prove.
“The major doesn’t seem to like you, sister,” Smitty said, looking back toward Lloyd.
“He’s probably mad that I didn’t invite him to join us tonight for our moonlight stroll,” I said, as I turned toward the food tent. “I’m starved, playing with the Zinwe made me hungry.”
* * *
I managed to get a few hours’ sleep before my TCom alerted me it was time to go.
“All right. I want to look around, hoping to learn something about the Zinwe. What do you suggest?” I asked just outside the Rangers’ bivouac.
“I’d suggest single file since we don’t know the area or the enemy. A little less coverage but we will be less conspicuous and better able to support each other if we stumble on a group or get ambushed,” Todd said, looking at the others, who were nodding.
“Single file then,” I said. “The four with scout training will lead, each taking a turn for thirty minutes. We will go wide of Finley’s group, then directly north. Stop after each has had a turn. At that point we will find a place to rest and wait to see what happens in the morning.”
Todd began walking and the three scouts fell in behind him in single file. I followed with Smitty at the rear. It took only twenty minutes to pass Finley’s camp, which was dark and quiet. After that we slowed to avoid making noise or disturbing the brush and stopped often to listen. Our advantage was our night vision goggles, although the Zinwe were reported to have excellent night vision.
Pete was in the lead when we got a signal to stop and a minute later a soft vibration indicating a message on my TCom. The message read:
PETE: Zinwe camp ahead. Forty Zinwe. Getting ready to do something.
LUAN: go past camp? Wait to see what they do.
I sent and waited. A minute later, Yes appeared on my TCom and Van, who was the scout in front of me, began moving. We moved at a snail’s pace for the next hour before Pete stopped. He waited for Smitty and me, who were at the end of the line, to arrive before speaking.
“Luan, we are about fifty meters past the Zinwe’s camp and about forty meters west of them.”
“Great job, Pete, you have us positioned perfectly—” I began but was interrupted by Van.
“Unless they are heading north back to their villages,” Van said, playing devil’s advocate and grinning.
“Then there is the Tasmanian tradition—kick ass,” Smitty said just above a whisper, which caused it to lose some of its normal bluster.
“My goal is—” I started and was interrupted again, this time by Isaac.
“Watch,” he said to nodding heads and grins.
“Yes, to see what they do. All the information I’ve read indicates they like ambushes and traps and working at night or early in the morning before sunrise. I think it will be interesting to see what this group does.”
“And then?” Smitty asked, obviously interested.
“Depends what they do. Kick ass is certainly one option,” I said, continuing to speak softly. My TCom indicated it was nearly zero four hundred hours and about three hours to sunrise, when the Zinwe would break camp. I let Todd and Van be the lead scouts with orders to stay well back. Our objective was to observe, not to engage. It was almost immediately obvious that the Zinwe were heading directly for the Tasmanian troops, slowly separating so that the forty men were a good ten to twelve meters apart and stretched from Finley’s group to Clifton’s. When Van and Todd returned to me and the others it was just after five hundred hours.
“They disappeared into the bushes and vegetation,” Todd said. “I’d bet it’s an ambush.”
I open my TCom and typed a message to Howard.
Luan: When will the Tasmanians be advancing?
Howard: The three groups have started their advance north. Why?
Luan: Forty Zinwe are waiting to ambush you. I’d suggest one of two options. One, rush them hoping they will rise to engage you or run. In either case we are behind them to catch them if they run or charge them if they refuse to rise to engage you. Or, two, stop and wait for sunrise. I think they will try and leave and we can engage them so you will know where they are.
Howard: Can you give me an idea where they are?
I turned to Van and Todd. “Howard is hoping we can give him some landmark so he will know where the Zinwe are hiding.”
“They are about twenty meters across a small river which I would estimate is about two hundred meters from where Finley was camped this morning,” Todd said. I relayed that to Howard.
Luan: The Zinwe have taken up positions about twenty meters on the other side of a small river that we estimate is about two hundred meters from where Finley camped last night.
The reply came ten minutes later.
Howard: Option one.
“Howard has selected door number one,” I said. “We can’t cover the entire Zinwe line.” I lay thinking for several minutes. Seven-to-one odds weren’t good especially in the jungle where the visibility wasn’t good. “What if we split into three groups of two and space ourselves twenty-five meters apart?” I said and awaited comments. Everyone nodded and before I could say anything, the group separated into pairs with Todd crouched next to me.
“Where to, Fox?” Todd said, smiling.
“How about the middle?” I asked, not really caring. Under option one the risk would be the greatest if the natives decided to retreat. Forty would roll right over the six of us. “If the natives decide to stay and fight, try silent killing, and if they retreat, make each shot count—every bullet that misses will be heading for our brothers.” That probably didn’t need saying as all of my team had years of experience, but I guess it didn’t hurt to remind them.
“Middle is good,” Todd said. “How close?”
“Close enough to see each other. I don’t want you hogging all the action,” I quipped.
“Just try not to shoot me,” he quipped back as he walked to my right.
After some time resolving possible distractions, I settled down to wait whatever was going to happen. Nothing, to my surprise. Then I realized Howard had decided to wait until after sunrise. The Tasmanians would be more exposed but so would the Zinwe.
Then the recognizable sound of grenades and Howard’s strategy was clear—the Tasmanians would charge the river as other Tasmanians remained behind lobbing grenades into the area I had identified. That would not only kill off some of the natives but also restrict their ability to shoot at the oncoming troops. The question which was soon answered was what would the natives do? I expected them to retreat. They did but only in hide and seek tactic. In ones and two they would abandon their current cover back eight to twelve meters to new cover.
That proved very effective until they came into our sig
ht. I began with throwing knives, throwing three, killing one, seriously wounding another and missing the third as the knife was deflected by leaves. Finally, the surviving natives cut and ran right into us. I killed two as I was extra careful to shoot center mass knowing a missed bullet could wound or kill a Tasmanian in pursuit. Todd got the one who got by me. Actually, none of the fleeing natives were a threat as they didn’t know Tasmanians were behind them and weren’t prepared to fight when they encountered us.
Howard came walking toward me ten minutes after the first Tasmanians had reached our position.
“I guess that answers the question I had about you,” Howard said, looking me over.
“I wasn’t sure about being in a unit run by a new…sister, but she’s fun to be around,” Todd said, with an ear-to-ear grin.
“Do you think we can push on?” Howard asked no one specific.
“Yes,” Van said. “Their camp is about an hour back and we didn’t see any other groups while going to or from their camp.”
As he talked the four group leaders had joined us.
“Let have Luan’s unit escort the wounded back to the rest area. They probably need a rest as they were up all night, and maybe tonight.” He looked at me. I shrugged, not having given tonight any thought. I needed to see any maps they had of the area and what the terrain looked like. I supported one of the wounded men to take some of his weight off his wounded leg.
“Almost worth being shot,” he smiled between a grimace of pain, “getting helped by a woman, of course the dried blood isn’t the best perfume.”
I agreed with him. I had a clean set of fatigues in my duffel bag but thought crawling in the jungle would just give me two dirty uniforms. I vowed to wash this one before I retired. I dropped the wounded man off at the medic tent and met Clare as I exited.
“Is any of that blood yours?” she asked. “Your uniform looks like a Halloween costume.”
Just then Shirley and another woman walked up. “Which unit are you with, Private?” she asked, managing to hide a grin. “What do you think, Beth?” Beth was one of the women who had participated in my unofficial class.
“No rank and the flash is covered with…muck. The newbie’s a disgrace to her unit,” the woman call Beth said and grinned.
“Come, Jolie, before someone mistakes you for a Zinwe and shoots you—” Clare said but was interrupted.
“Or worse yet, the major put you on report for not keeping your uniform clean,” Shirley said, hooking her arm in mine and dragging me toward one of the small streams. There we stripped to our underwear and washed our uniforms and bathed.
“I hear the Tasmanians ambushed sixty natives,” Beth said, lying in the shallow water with her eyes half closed. “I wish I had been there.”
“That’s the trouble with rumors. There were only forty and they were there to ambush the Tasmanians’ advancing line. It was a good plan but like all plans they seldom survive contact with the enemy,” I said, pausing for effect. “My unit had discovered them and notified the advancing Tasmanians.”
“The rumor makes a better story,” Beth said and gave a wry smile.
When I looked up, five Zinwe stood on the riverbank looking down at us. They had earsplitting grins like they had found gold nuggets in the water, and maybe they had. Several were rubbing their crotches while another stood waving his rifle at us and then the bank, for us to come out.
“Ladies, now would be a good time to remember your Gong Luan training,” I said and heard several gasps of surprise and shock. “We have five men that want to party, so let’s party.” I stood and began to climb toward the man with the rifle pointing in my direction. I smiled as I approached him and his grin got even bigger. The other three women had left the water to the obvious delight of the four remaining men. As I approached the man with the rifle pointing at me, I pulled down my halter and his eyes went immediately to my unimpressive breasts, but he didn’t seem to mind. I stepped forward with my left foot, turning my body away from the rifle’s muzzle, as my left hand grabbed the barrel, pushed it up and out of his hands and as my left hand went to the trigger guard, my finger slid onto the trigger. The gun now lay on his shoulder upside down.
As the closest man realized what I had done, he swung his rifle in my direction, but I fired before he could, hitting him in the chest. He stumbled backward and collapsed. The other three men had been in the process of turning their rifles on the three women approaching until they saw me firing at one of them. After a short pause they realized I was the threat and their guns began to swivel in my direction. But before they could fire, the women crashed into them and the shots went wild. The man I had wrestled the gun away from stumbled away, pulled a long knife out of his belt, and lunged toward me with an overhand strike to my neck. I raised the rifle overhead, blocking his downward strike. As he brought the knife back for another strike, I swung the butt of the rifle into his head. He collapsed like a rag doll.
“I froze,” Beth said. “Until I remembered your training. I realized what you planned to do but knew you couldn’t take all five men by yourself and would need help. My mind was clear and I saw exactly what I had to do.”
“I see the difference now,” Shirley said. “If your mind is clear you act immediately; otherwise, it could take several seconds for you to react. Like this time, those three or four seconds could make the difference between winning or losing, life or death.”
We decided it was time to leave and donned our wet uniforms, knowing they would be dry in an hour. It was midday and the sun had everything it hit hot enough to fry eggs. I was hungry and went to the mess tent and fetched a plate of stew and several glasses of reconstituted milk, found an empty area, and sat. Soon I was joined by my unit, including Art and Cedric.
“We hear you were partying naked with natives in the river,” Smitty said, as he sat.
“They were a lot of fun, and they gave us their rifles. I thought it would be a good idea to test them for accuracy at various distances.”
“Can’t shoot very far in the jungle because the vegetation is so thick, so it doesn’t matter,” Smitty said.
“True, Smitty, but there’s some hilly terrain coming up, and they will have the high ground. And the jungle won’t look so dense looking down from a thousand meters up.”
“The doc preannounced us fit for duty,” Art said into the silence that followed. He looked better than when I saw him yesterday but hardly fit for combat. I smiled to myself. Of course, that was just what the Tasmanian qualification school was looking for—men who could fight when others couldn’t have risen if their girlfriend came into the room naked.
“Where are you taking us tonight?” Cedric said.
I laid out several of the maps I had collected.
“You tell me,” I said. They all examined the maps for a long time.
“That terrain will be difficult country,” Todd said.
“And the Zinwe will have the high ground as we proceed inland and it gets hilly,” Isaac said.
Just then, Howard appeared and proceeded to sit.
“Well, Fox, where do you intend to go tonight?” Howard asked.
“I thought I would leave early and scout the terrain almost to the foot of the gorge. I’d like to camp there for the day, so that the next night I can scout the area to the top of the gorge. That area at the bottom would be a perfect killing ground if the Zinwe position troops at the top. If the ground is level, you would have trouble seeing ten meters ahead, however if you are looking from a thousand meters above, I’ll bet you can see a lot.”
“Since you will be in enemy territory, let’s set up a protocol in advance,” Howard said. “I will text you each day before we begin our advance. If you can’t talk, and it’s safe to continue give one click. If not, give two clicks. In that case, we know to wait until you contact me.”
“Some very nice Zinwe troops donated their rifles to us. I plan to test how accurate they are at several distances. Would you like to come along?” I a
sked.
“Donated?”
“If you want to be picky about it, we took them because they didn’t need them anymore. They died by misadventure,” I said.
Smitty choked on the coffee he was sipping, spraying the table and Cédric who sat opposite him.
“That’s Jolie’s expression for anyone who messes with her without her permission,” Smitty said. “The poor natives must have thought they found a diamond mine when they ran across Jolie and three female Rangers bathing naked in a shallow stream.”
Now it was Howard’s turn to choke on what he was eating.
“Misadventure?”
“I’m told that was what she told Colonel Zimmerman when he told her a woman in the man’s barracks could be a problem. She said misadventure was the third way you could fail the Tasmanian qualification school,” Smitty said. Everyone beat their hands on the table in unanimous appreciation.
“All right, let’s go see how accurate their rifles are,” Howard said.
We made our way to the edge of the camp and set up targets at twenty-five, fifty, and one hundred meters. Then Pete, Todd, and I took turns shooting at targets. At all three distances, the rifles where off by anywhere from a couple of centimeters at twenty-five meters to thirty at one hundred meters.
“That means the better the shooter the safer you are at one hundred meters,” Todd said, smiling.
* * *
We were within a couple hundred meters an hour before sunset when I decided to stop.
“We’re going to stay here until it gets dark,” I said, not wanting to get too close and risk discovery. “I want two men on watch at all times. They will rotate every three hours.” I let Smitty determine the two-man teams and their order. As Todd and Art left the area, the remaining six of us settled down to eat and sleep. An hour later, I received a text from Howard.
Howard: Leaving camp.
I opened one of my MRE, meals ready to eat, packages and typed my response as I settled down to eat.
Luan: We encountered seven small groups of natives consisting of 8 to 12 men on our way to the gorge. Could be more.
