Jack and Jill: Army

by Ansley Gilmore

  ***

  Jill watched the sun inched its way upward in the eastern sky as the warmth of Jack’s body melted into hers. She knew they had work they needed to do. “I suppose Juan-Carlos and Ramiro will be heading out soon.”

  “Okay, let’s get in position,” Jack replied.

  Jack released Jill from his embrace and she lay down on the ground in a position that would give her a good view of the Zaragoza compound. Jill was perched on the soft bed of pine needles behind her spotting scope.

  “Jack, you probably should eat two or three of those cranberries every hour or so.”

  “Right, I will do anything to stop peeing thumb tacks. And, Jill, thanks again for thinking about me like that. I’m sorry I got so mad.”

  “Jack, you can be so sweet.” Jill smiled.

  “You look like you are still limping a lot,” Jack said.

  “I’m still sore. I think the most pain is in my shoulder. Mentally I am doing fine.”

  “Hey, we’ve got movement. Juan-Carlo and Ramiro are getting in the back of the helicopter. The time is zero-six twenty-eight. I wonder where their pilot is taking them today,” Jack said.

  “Zero-six twenty-eight—leave in helicopter.” It was Jill’s turn to record the events. “Yeah, I wonder which drug factory they are going to visit today.”

  Jill and Jack lay still as the helicopter flew over them on its way to its destination. Even with their camouflage suits, the slightest movement would still give away their location. When the sound of the rotor blades faded, they relaxed.

  “So, as they say in the Army . . . ‘hurry up and wait,’” Jack said.

  “Right.”

  “All right, we know we got a little time to kill. Do you want some coffee mocha?” Jack asked.

  “Ooooh. I love the menu at Café Zaragoza.”

  Jack dug out the water, instant coffee, candy bars, and cooker with fuel tabs. He soon handed Jill the steaming drink.

  “So, where did you learn to cook, Jack?”

  “Cook? Ha, my idea of cooking a hot meal is microwaving a bag of popcorn.”

  “You are not going to have any coffee this morning?”

  “No . . . I think I will wait until the cranberries kick in,” Jack said. “Jill, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. What is on your mind?”

  “I am curious about why you joined the Army, and in a combat role at that. You are smart, and could have done anything you wanted. Instead you choose to live a very dangerous life.”

  “First of all, please be careful not to phrase it like that when you are around my mom.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll be careful about that.”

  “No problem. Anyhow, I remember getting a dollhouse and some cute little dolls for my seventh birthday. I was disgusted that I got such a boring and purposeless gift. My mom took for granted that I was a ‘normal’ little girl, and she never gave it a second thought. My brothers always got BB guns, pocketknives, and fishing rods for their birthdays. Me, I just got some dumb doll stuff.”

  “Aw, poor little Jill. I had no idea that you suffered so much,” Jack said.

  “I went to bed that night thinking about the cool stuff my brothers always got on their birthdays, and I went to sleep dreaming about using BB guns to kill bad people. After that, every night I would have the same dream. It was natural for me to become interested in anything that shoots bullets. When my brothers started hunting, I begged Shooter to take me, too. He always gave in to my requests. From there on, it’s history.”

  “I like that story. I bet your mom was disappointed that you didn’t play with the dolls and dollhouse.”

  “I tried to play with it for a little while, just to make Mom happy. But, she figured out that my heart just wasn’t in it. It sat around for a couple of years, and then finally Mom asked me if she could give it to some poor people at our church. It was Christmas time and the family didn’t have money for gifts. I gladly agreed. Since it was hardly used, we wrapped it up and gave it to the parents when their kids were not around. The parents had one daughter and one son. Mom knew that their daughter would like the dolls and house very much. Then, as it turned out, Bird found out their son wanted a BB gun for Christmas. Bird had also asked for a new BB gun, and so he talked to Shooter and Mom. He told them that if they were going to give him a new BB gun for Christmas, then he would like to give it to the poor family, and he could keep shooting his old BB gun. We took the dolls, house, and BB gun to the poor family the night before Christmas. Then the next morning they had a wonderful Christmas.”

  “I like that story,” Jack said.

  Jill paused as she wondered what kind Christmas memories Jack had. “Yeah, we got up Christmas morning, and everyone in my family felt sorry for Bird. We didn’t call him Bird back then, just Johnny. Anyhow, we didn’t know it, but Shooter had a special surprise for Johnny. He had made arrangements for Johnny to take a flying lesson that afternoon in a real airplane. When Johnny found out, he was soooo happy. He loved model airplanes, and that Christmas day he got to fly a real airplane. He told Shooter that was a lot better than getting a BB gun. That was his first of many flying lessons. He loved flying, and hence we gave him the nickname Bird. He was in the tenth grade at the time. When he turned sixteen he got his pilot license, and when he was eighteen he enlisted as a pilot. The rest is history.”

  “I think you’re lucky to have the family you have.”

  Jill sensed his remorse over his situation as a youth. Poor Jack. I feel so sad when I think about how he grew up without his birth parents.

  “I have one more question, Jill. It’s about the BB gun.”

  “What do you want to know?’

  “You said that you wanted to kill bad guys with the BB gun. Do you have any animosity toward me because I’m the trigger man for this mission?”

  Jill was touched by the thought of Jack showing concern for her feelings. “No, Jack. I’ve learned over the years that I am comfortable working either as an individual contributor, or as a member of a team. When I am on a team, I know that I can’t do it all, but I can find satisfaction in doing my piece of the puzzle. In our case, I know that you are a much better shot than I am, and so I find my happiness in providing you whatever support you need so that you can be successful. It’s actually very satisfying to me, and in the end it is the best for the mission, and the Army.”

  Jack looked like he was pondering the things Jill had just spoken. “You look at things differently from most people. The lieutenants I’ve known in the past see me as a servant to them, but you talk about giving me the support I need to do my job. It makes me feel like I am an important part of the team, and not just a soldier that has to follow orders.”

  “You are important, and I am glad we are working together.” Jill smiled.

  Jill peered through her scope at the Zaragoza compound. After a long silence, she spoke. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about our code word for the helicopter pick-up.”

  “I was wondering if you were going to get to that.”

  “To prevent any bad guys from trying to swap places with us during the pick-up, Major Phelps wanted us to have a code word.”

  “Right, I figured as much.”

  “He said I could pick the code word, as long as it was pretty hard to guess. I picked the phrase ‘arm wrestle.’ I thought we could both remember the arm wrestling that happened at Johnny’s Pizza.”

  “I can remember that. Good choice.”

  “Hey, I think I hear Zaragoza’s helicopter returning,” Jill said.

  Jill and Jack lay motionless as they quietly listened. Finally the helicopter came and landed. Juan-Carlos and Ramiro got out and walked into the house.

  “Twelve sixteen, Juan-Carlos and Ramiro return on the helicopter,” Jill recorded in the notebook.

  “Jill, did you see the appendage under the belly of the helicopter?” Jack asked.

  “I am not the expert on helicopters. What are you talking about?”


  Jack’s riflescope had a zoom, and he turned it to maximum power. He looked carefully at the helicopter’s belly and said, “The belly of a Hughes Little Bird typically is smooth and slightly curved. Juan-Carlos’s helicopter has a protrusion. It looks like it could be a gun.”

  “That could be nasty if he has a lot of firepower on his helicopter,” Jill said.

  “It looks like it is a water-cooled 50-caliber machine gun. He could do a lot of damage with that kind of gun.”

  “What do you think we should do about that, Jack?”

  “I’ll have to kill the pilot right after I kill Ramiro. Otherwise it could get really bad for us when we are trying to make our egress. I really don’t want to have to face a flying machine gun when we are trying to get back to friendly soil. Especially a 50-cal.”

  “Point well taken.”

  “Hey, here comes Ramiro and his girlfriend. She’s down and dirty: dirty boots, old torn jeans, and a ragged blouse torn in several places. I wonder what’s going on.”

  Ramiro and his girlfriend went to the barn. Several minutes later, they both came roaring out of the barn on a four-wheeler. They raced down the horse trail that they had used the previous day. Ramiro’s girlfriend was squeezing her arms tightly around Ramiro’s chest as he gunned the throttle and bounced over the rough trail.

  Jill made the appropriate comment in the notebook. “Thirteen thirty, Ramiro goes four-wheeling.”

  “Looks like a late lunch today,” Jack said.

  “Speaking of lunch, my stomach is growling.”

  “What would you like me to cook for you?”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re the ‘wicked cook from the West,’ aren’t you? How about a veggie burger to go,” Jill said.

  “Coming right up.” Jack rummaged through the MREs until he found two veggie burger meals. He then tore off the ends of two MRE heaters, inserted a packaged veggie burger into each heater envelope, and added water from his water bottle to each envelope. The water activated a chemical reaction that created heat and warmed the food to a piping hot temperature in only a few minutes.

  “Coffee?”

  “But of course.” Jill was enjoying having someone prepare her meal, even if it was an MRE.

  Jack pulled out Jill’s metal cup, stove, and water bottle. He inserted a fuel tab, lit it, and set the mug with hot water on the heater. Then he poured a pack of coffee in the water and waited.

  “Would you like salt, pepper, or Tabasco sauce?”

  “Salt and Tabasco sauce,” Jill responded with a smile.

  Jack handed the condiments to Jill, and a few minutes later he handed her a piping hot cup of coffee. Jill sipped the coffee while waiting for the main course.

  “So, your mom mentioned that you had a lot of boyfriends in the past.”

  “What! When did she say that?” Jill used an indignant tone.

  “When we were saying goodbye at the pizza shop,” Jack said.

  “Did she really say ‘a lot of boyfriends’?”

  “Well—no, but she did use the plural.”

  Jill did a quick headcount of her past relationships. “I think there was a little misunderstanding. There have been several guys, but our relationships have been out of necessity.”

  “Necessity? What does that mean?”

  “In high school, I was asked to go to the prom a couple of times. At the academy, I went to a couple of formal events with soldiers. But face it, these guys just needed dates, and I happened to be available—so they asked, and I accepted. None of the relationships went very far past the formal events.”

  “Hmm, so you never had any romantic interests?”

  “Ha! Think about it. How many guys would want to date me for very long when they found out that I would rather shoot a 30-06 rifle than go to a movie? Or worse, go camping rather than dinner and dancing. Or worse yet—”

  “Okay, okay, I get the idea. But why wouldn’t a boyfriend want to go hunting or camping with a woman?”

  “Come on, Jack, that’s the sort of things guys like to do with guys, but they don’t want to do those things with girls.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they . . . well, it’s not . . . hmm. I guess things just aren’t done that way.”

  Jack was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure that there is some guy out there that will like you for who you are.”

  “Hey, I don’t want your sympathy.” Jill was glad that Jack had asked about her past boyfriends because now she could ask about Betsy. “Sooooo, Jack. Tell me about Betsy.”

  “Betsy? Not much to tell. We met through some mutual friends. They thought that I would like her because she was attractive, and she liked to party. So we dated for a while . . .” Jack stopped mid-sentence.

  Jill waited for Jack to finish his sentence, paragraph, and story; but he remained silent. “Aw, come on, Jack, don’t stop there. You have to tell me more than that!”

  Jack rolled his eyes, paused, and continued. “As it turned out, the only thing we had in common was our friends. I am not much fun at a party because I don’t like to drink.”

  Jill remembered that Jack didn’t take her offer of a beer at the pizza shop with her family. I know that Jack impressed my mom when he asked for a diet soda.

  “And, after getting to know Betsy a little, I realized that all she wanted to do was get married, and make babies.”

  “And . . . is there something wrong with marriage and babies?” Jill asked.

  “Well . . . ah . . . of course not.” Jack paused before proceeding. “But right now is not the time for me to live that lifestyle. I am an Army sniper, and I could easily be killed on a mission. That would leave my wife with no support, and my children with no father. I don’t want to do that to anyone. It just wouldn’t be fair to them.”

  Jill was impressed with his response. I like the fact that he thinks about other people and not just himself. I think Mom would really like Jack if she got to know him.

  “Were there any others?”

  “Ha! Jill, you are like a dog with a bone. No, there weren’t any others, just Betsy. Look, we have movement,” Jack said. “Ramiro and his girlfriend are returning.”

  They both looked through their scopes to see what was happening.

  “It looks like her sleeve is totally torn off,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, must have been a really rough ride. Maybe they tried to go through some heavy brush.”

  “Are those bruise marks on her arm and face?”

  “Yes, I wonder if they flipped the four-wheeler,” Jill said.

  Ramiro slammed on the brakes when the four-wheeler passed in front of the house. His girlfriend jumped off and began yelling at Ramiro.

  “I wish I could hear what she is saying,” Jack said.

  “She looks mighty mad,” Jill said.

  Ramiro got off the four-wheeler and stepped toward his girlfriend. They were standing nose-to-nose and yelling at each other. After a few seconds of heated debate, Ramiro reached out, grabbed his girlfriend by the neck, and threw her to the ground. Then he grabbed her blouse by the collar with one hand, and began hitting her in the face with his fist. After hitting her several times in the jaw and cheek, his fist finally landed on her nose. Blood flowed from her nostrils, down her upper lip, dripped on her chin, and onto her white blouse. The sight of blood did not stop Ramiro. He continued striking her face with his fist, and each blow brought more blood. At first, his girlfriend struggled to get away, but after a while her fighting subsided. Finally her limbs stopped struggling, and her eyes slowly closed. Ramiro let go of her blouse, and she slumped to the ground. He stood slowly and looked disdainfully at the limp body. Then he sneered, turned, and walked into the house.

  “I am going to enjoy killing Ramiro,” Jack said.

  “I am going to enjoy seeing you kill Ramiro,” Jill said.

  They both continued to look through their scopes. They waited to see if Ramiro was going to come out and help his bleeding girlfriend. Nothing happened. Minutes went b
y. The body lay limp and wasn’t moving.

  “Someone has to do something. She can’t just lie there. She needs medical help.” Jill was frantic with emotions.

  “Yes, and Ramiro needs to be taught a lesson.” Jack’s voice dropped an octave.

  Several more minutes went by with no movement.

  “Jack, we must do something.”

  “We can’t. The mission comes first.”

  Jill regretted her comment. I should not have said that. It is okay to think something like that, but I must be careful not to let Jack think that I am emotionally weak enough to sacrifice the mission just because Ramiro’s girlfriend got beat up.

  Finally, after several more minutes, the front door of the house burst open. Tonya came running out. Right behind her was Juan-Carlos. Tonya sat next to Ramiro’s girlfriend, lifted her bleeding head, and rested it in her lap. Juan-Carlos wiped the blood from her face with his handkerchief so he could see the damage his brother caused. After checking her eyes, nose and mouth, they gently lifted her and carried her into the house. She appeared limp and lifeless.

  “Do you think she will live?” Jill asked.

  “I don’t know. She was beaten badly.” Jack’s voice was still low and focused. “I will never understand how, or why, a guy could do that to a girl. He would have to be really messed up in his head, or on drugs.”

  “Bingo. Drugs—the magic word. He certainly has access to them.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably the cause.”

  Jill picked up the pen and silently wrote in the notebook, “Fourteen thirty-three. Ramiro beats up girlfriend.”

  Several hours passed with no movement. Jill wondered if Ramiro’s girlfriend was going to live. The mail carrier came by at fifteen forty-five, but no one was there to take it from him so he left it on the large table in the front yard. Juan-Carlos did not come out and use the swimming pool, or water his flowers. The children did not play in the yard. Ramiro did not go fishing. No one appeared outside for the rest of the day.