“Motive is obvious. No one wants to stay behind. I feel so fucking bad for the Poles. They’re good people. All of them would’ve been an asset, even if we cut them free in Germany,” Thomas said softly, his eyes tracing the lines in the skin of his dirty palm.
“Damn straight,” one of the others said. He was one of the people that owed their life to the Polish soldiers.
“Nothing left but who? They lost three, and one is in critical? They go from eight to four and a half in twelve goddamn hours? These fucking people man,” Fallon made a fist and hammered it down on the desk. The candle flame flickered.
One of the others spoke up. “Fallon this is hard, but we need to take this for what it is. Yes it’s a shame, but it does make our lives a whole hell of a lot easier. We only gotta cut ten names now instead of eighteen.”
Several men voiced some agreement, but Glen quickly changed their opinions, “We can’t leave ten behind. Eighteen behind was one thing, they could’ve held an area of the base until we could get back here to get them too, but ten… We can’t leave ten behind. They won’t last.”
The Air Force Major, Gary, was there, “We could shave some off the manifest of gear we’re bringing. Try and fit the other ten on. It’d mean bringing less water and food more than likely, but that won’t be a problem if we link up with local forces, and we can scavenge once we land if need be.”
Thomas chimed in, “I like that idea better than leaving ten behind to go crazy or die, likely both, and in that order to boot. Let’s not forget that if we mount a return trip to get the ten left back, we need to know that the base here will be secure to make any kind of landing. I don’t think ten men can manage all that. It’s asking too much.”
A Marine Captain spoke up, “We should leave behind people who don’t contribute sir. People who can’t or won’t help us build a future.”
“Pardon me Captain? Could you elaborate on what you mean?” Fallon sipped water from a coffee mug that said ‘World’s Greatest Lover.’
The Captain gave Thomas a sideways glance, “I think there are people we are bringing that aren’t representative of what we want to have sir. I say we leave behind the lazy, and morally corrupted. Good Christians, and good warriors only.”
“You want me to run around this base and ask everyone if they’re a good Christian? You gotta be out of your fucking mind Devil Dog. I don’t give a fart out of a mouse’s ass what religion any of us practice right now. You got a personal vendetta against a lazy guy under your command you deal with it.”
“My Marines are fine, sir. I have a problem with some of the Navy boys.”
Glen sat forward, ready to get hostile, “Say what you fucking mean to say Captain. We’re all big boys here.”
“Torrance, I respect you. My problem lies with your faggot buddy over there. We don’t need queers anymore. There’s no reason to have ‘em.”
Thomas didn’t respond to the taunting. He’d heard it all, and so much of it from guys like the Marine. Glen on the other hand responded quickly, and violently. The SEAL crossed the distance between he and the Marine in a long stride and as the Marine stood to defend himself Glen put a size eleven combat boot square into the jarhead officer’s sternum. The speed and force of the kick launched him right over the back of the metal folding chair and spun him ass over tea kettle. The Marine crashed into a cheap bookshelf that splintered and fell apart on impact. Thomas sat still, shaking his head.
“Say faggot again you bitch! Say faggot one more time! I fucking dare you! That man is my brother! He’d die for you if he had to, and he still would right here, right now if it meant saving your life despite you calling him a faggot. You have no right to preach about anything right now! You want to talk about being a good Christian?!” Glen was rabid, foaming at the mouth. Two of the officers stepped between the Marine and the SEAL, trying to stop the two from continuing the scuffle. It was a bad place to be.
The Captain got to his feet with the help of the bent metal chair. He wiped blood from his mouth, “Fuck you pal. I don’t need any of his kind watching my back.”
Fallon, impassive in the face of the two men’s rage spoke quietly, ending it, “Captain I want you to debate something in your thick skull very quickly. Here’s your choice, because I’ve already made mine. Petty Officer Ring will be on that plane. I don’t care if he eats pussy or sucks dick, that man has been through it, and has shown time and time again he is indispensible. You on the other hand have failed to show me why I need you in Germany Captain over him. You need to decide if you want to be in Germany with a faggot watching your back, or here in Afghanistan, with no one watching your back.”
The young Marine Captain looked at his senior officer, and then walked out disgusted. The office door slammed behind him as he left.
“Everyone out but Ring,” Fallon said hard. The room quickly emptied.
“Thank you sir,” Thomas said, still sitting in his own folding metal chair.
“Shut up.”
Thomas did as he was told.
“Son this is the tenth time you being gay has made my life more of a pain in the ass than it needs to be, and that is a statement of truly epic proportions considering the amount of dead motherfuckers who are outside that thin-assed wall that keeps us safe at night. You understand the sarcasm when I say safe, right?”
“Yes sir,” Thomas said flatly. “It has never been my intention to make your life more difficult. If I could, I would make it easier, but that ain’t the way of things.”
“Ain’t that the truth? Look son, you’re a warrior. Dyed in the wool through and through, and I can’t imagine the things you and Glen have been through. I can’t afford to leave men of your caliber behind, but I also don’t want to leave that Marine behind either. He’s a good leader. A little zealous about his personal beliefs clearly, but a good Marine. I can’t afford to leave him behind either. Patch that up however you can, and that’s an order.”
Thomas nodded, though he was unsure he’d ever be able to see with the Marine eye to eye. “Yes sir.”
“Dismissed,” Fallon said as he lifted his personalized mug again. Thomas picked up his weapon, and left the room.
Glen was waiting outside, “You okay? He tore you a new one, didn’t he?”
The two men fell into step together, “Not so much. He wants me to make peace with the Captain.”
“I don’t think the Captain is interested in peace Tommy.”
“You really need to be a weatherman, Glen. With that kind of foresight you’d be a goddamn ringer. I would make plans based on your forecast.”
Glen put on a newscaster’s overly charismatic tone, “Tonight we’ve got a chance of a shit storm, with highs in the fifties…”
“See? Perfect. I would prepare for a shit storm if I heard that on the nightly news.”
“Well you ought to prepare for it tonight. I don’t suspect that jarhead is going to let me putting a boot into his chest stand for long.”
“I suppose you’re right about that. We should sleep in shifts.” Thomas sighed, and the two men headed back to their billet.
Morning in the mess hall was a dark time. People were up and eating their small meals by zero seven hundred as a rule, and it seemed to Thomas that the room was mostly full with tired eyes and sad faces half an hour prior to normal.
“Looks like no one else could sleep either,” he muttered to Glen as they sat down at an empty table.
“Yeah. Funny isn’t it? After all the bullshit last night, I’d bet all my back pay every single person in this room is more worried that they are one of the ten that are going to get left behind.” Glen stirred a lump of cool, chunky scrambled eggs on his tray.
“I believe the Poles aren’t thinking that. I’m happy the Brits and the Kiwis are sitting with them.” He pointed to the table with the non US people at it. They seemed somber. United in defeat. Thomas scooped a mouthful of the bland egg material and started to chew it. It was flavorless, so he reached for the salt. He only m
anaged a single shake before the container went empty. Everything in Kandahar was going empty.
“Heads up. Some of that Captain’s boys are coming this way.” Glen’s hand slipped below the table and flicked the holster for his sidearm so it could be drawn faster.
Four young Marines with clean faces were walking over towards the SEALs. Two Air Force personnel at the table next to Glen and Thomas stood up immediately and walked away, trays in hand. No one wanted to be near what might happen.
“May we sit with you guys?” A young black Marine asked Thomas. He wore three stripes on his shoulder. As many as the others combined.
“It’d be our pleasure, Marines,” Thomas said as he waved to the open seats. As they began to sit, Thomas recognized them as Marines from Firebase Walker.
The four Marines put their trays down, and slid into the bench seating. All six ate their mediocre breakfast in silence before the black Sergeant spoke again.
“Hey we um… We heard about what happened last night after the Polish guys got whacked.” The four Marines all sent out strange messages with their body language. Some were tense, sitting up too straight like they were expecting a fight. The others were slouching, sad and defeated. The SEALs were unsure what to expect.
“Oh yeah?” Glen answered.
The Sergeant sat his fork down on the metal tray. “Yeah. We wanted to talk about it. Apologize for the Captain. He’s been tripping the last two months, and what he said ain’t cool with all of us. Just wanted you to know we can think for ourselves.”
“I appreciate that. I also understand he’s got a right to his beliefs,” Thomas said nonchalantly as he scooped up more fake egg.
The Sergeant looked perplexed. “How can you say that? The man called you a faggot and said you should be left behind. You should be royally pissed off. You got every right to be.”
Thomas smirked. “You know in the past five, six months, I’ve had almost a dozen men here approach me, and ask me to blow them?”
The awkwardness at the table got worse.
“Suck them off. In my billet, in the mess hall here, in their quarters, you name it. I’ve been cornered by two guys at the same time twice, asking me to fuck them. You know why? Because we’re in jail for Christ’s sake. You think I like being locked behind these fucking walls with a bunch of horny assholes that think just because I’m gay I’ll fuck any of them? There are too few women here to satisfy the needs of the straight men, and too few gay men to satisfy the needs of the straight men.” Thomas paused, and let that sink in.
“So you ask me why I’m not pissed off about a Captain that’s read too much of his bible of late? Because he’s entitled to his opinion. Because maybe, he’s got a fucking point. Maybe a fag like me doesn’t belong in a world where I won’t make babies with a woman. Maybe I’m not angry because he at least has the decency to hate me to my fucking face, instead of talk behind my back, or come at me holding a gun, telling me I need to get him off, because he ‘just can’t wait any longer to get home.’ I’m done being angry over me being gay, guys. The only thing I’m angry about is when my friends and family die. And last night, quite a few of my friends died. So Sergeant, yeah I’m pissed off. Real pissed off. But not for what you think.”
The silence lasted for several minutes, and no one wanted to break it. Finally, the Sergeant spoke up.
“I’m sorry man, I had no idea.”
Thomas shrugged.
“We um, we just wanted to support you, let you know that we appreciate what you did for us back in September. We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t come out and gone to battle for us. Captain Allen might be our commanding officer, but we stand beside you guys on this.” The Marines all added their agreement, and the awkwardness abated somewhat.
“Well guys I appreciate that a great deal. But he is your CO, and you gotta do what you’re told, same as me.”
Glen chimed in, “Is he real pissed at me? I split his lip pretty good last night.”
The men all laughed and nodded. A corporal responded, “Yeah he’s real pissed, but he learned his lesson. He was calling for blood most of the night last night, but we got him grounded. He feels a little like an asshole now, which is good.”
“I’ll talk to him later today. See if we can’t squash this,” Glen said.
Everyone seemed to think that was a decent idea.
The two SEALs put themselves near the office of the Colonel at zero nine hundred, when the questionnaires were due to be handed in. Every person remaining on the base made their way over to the office with the single sheet of paper in their hand. Staff Sergeant Mikey waited patiently, taking each sheet and checking it for names, and to ensure that each question had been answered.
Thomas and Glen handed theirs in last.
Dinner in the mess hall had a morgue feel.
The Marine Captain sat alone at a long folding table, pushing his food around in the cafeteria tray’s indentations. He looked lonely, worried, and still angry.
Glen got up from his table and walked over to the officer.
“May I?” Glen asked after the Marine finally looked up.
“Free country.”
“So to speak. Thanks.” Glen sat down. He wasted no time, “Captain Allen I wanted to say a few things to you.”
The Marine officer took a sip of water from a cup and sat it down. “Go ahead.” His voice carried a good deal of anger still.
“I wanted to say I was sorry for kicking you in the chest last night. I never should’ve struck a senior officer, and I wanted to thank you for not pressing charges against me.”
Captain Allen snorted, “And in what military court would I find justice on that matter, sailor?”
“Fair enough. I also wanted to try and clear the air on my buddy Tommy.”
The Captain visibly ruffled. Just the mention of the SEAL’s name caused him distress. “I don’t care to talk about that, or him anymore.”
“Yeah I’m sorry but I’m talking about it. And you need to listen,” Glen said flatly.
The Marine Captain took his tray and started to stand, but Glen’s hand shot out and snapped shut around the officer’s wrist. Captain Allen glared down at the still seated SEAL, a darkness growing in his eyes. They were a second away from clashing again.
“Sit, please. I’d rather we talked like gentlemen. I can beat what I want to say into you, but that won’t solve anything.”
“I don’t like gay people, and I don’t want to talk about them.” The Marine still stood, still angry.
“I don’t think we’re in a position as human beings to like, or dislike anyone that can keep us alive, Captain Allen. Have a seat please.” Glen was firm, and after another moment of the mess hall staring, the Marine sat down. He didn’t eat.
Glen let go of the wrist and started speaking.
“Tommy is a good human being, Captain. He has killed dozens and dozens of insurgents, saving SEALs, Marines, and soldiers all at the same time. He has given medical aid to children, adults, and animals, all while under enemy fire. He has received years and years of special operations training, and has given up a personal life for his nation. He is a patriot. He is a brother, and he is a son. I would die for him right now if it meant he’d have a chance at living and I know for certain he’d do the same for me.”
The Captain sat silently, listening angrily.
“He reads books. He likes comic books too. He plays football, and baseball, and could compete as an Olympic swimmer, if he felt like it. He has a brother in the Navy, and had a brother in both the Army and the Marines. They’re all straight, if you’re curious.”
“Good for them,” the Marine quipped.
“Good for them, exactly. But you know what Allen? We’ve got Tommy, not them. And he’s the best man on this damn base, and you need to understand that if you’re a good Christian, then you need to see that God has put Tommy where he is for a reason. You need to understand that you have been put here to work with us, to rebuild this world in a better wa
y, and if God has seen fit to have Tommy be a piece of that new world, then you need to search deep inside yourself, and at the very least, accept him as the world class, tier one shooter he is.”
Captain Allen looked long into Glen’s eyes, searching for the lie, but there was none. Glen had said everything in truth, to the best of his passion, and the best of his ability.
“I’ll think on it sailor. Dismissed.”
Glen stood and picked up his tray, “Thank you, sir.”
Everyone was gathered. The weather turned warm the following morning, and the Colonel elected to have everyone meet outside. Everyone was asked to leave all their weapons behind, with the exception of the officers. They were providing security for when the bad news was announced.
Colonel Fallon spoke loudly, over the cool Afghan wind, “Before we get into this, I want us all to share a moment of silence for the men we lost two nights ago. Everyone bow your heads.”
Everyone did. The loss of life was a powerful thing, and the loss of life now was something much worse. It spoke to darkness that there should be dead due to needless greed.
“I’ve received everyone’s paperwork, and we’ve gone over them. In the light of us losing eight men, things have changed. We cannot leave behind ten people to hold this base, so we’ve made cuts on what we’re bringing with us on the plane so we can bring everyone.”
The gathered didn’t quite put it together.
“We are leaving no one behind.”
An eruption of joy happened. Soldiers, Airmen, Marines, men and women alike all grabbed at the person standing closest to them, and embraced them in relief. The Colonel gave them several minutes to let all that tension escape.
“Of course this means there will be other sacrifices. We cannot leave a humvee behind, despite that being a lot of weight we could cut. We will be bringing 67 bodies, and the vehicles we are bringing can only fit 20. We will have a lot of people on foot, and we need the vehicle weapon platforms for support. Everyone will be allowed to bring their weapons, their clothing, and forty pounds of miscellaneous gear. No more. If you need a weight allowance, Major Locke will approve it.”
Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 10): The Last Resort [Adrian's March, Part 2] Page 10
