Stolen Liberty: Behind the Curtain

by Thomas A. Watson

  “It is now,” Randy said, grunting through the pain before getting up on one knee and lifting his rifle up. “We are getting Book and leaving!”

  “You won’t hear me bitching about staying,” Robbie said as Randy opened fire. “Book, moving to you!”

  Charlie heard Blaster yell and heard a ‘whoosh’, then his world turned to bright light, thunder, and heat. His entire being screamed in pain.

  “BOOK!” Robbie and Randy screamed, jumping over the wall and seeing a burning body rolling around. The hut Charlie had been kneeling by had a huge hole blown in the wall and the inside was on fire.

  Seeing men pouring down the ravine, Blaster raised his SAW, squeezing the trigger and watching the running figures get mowed down. “I have cover!” he yelled as Randy ran over on his destroyed ankle.

  Jumping in the air, Randy dove on Charlie while smelling diesel fuel and kerosene, trying to smother the flames with his body. Seeing Book’s face on fire and knowing that had to be put out first, Randy covered Book’s face with his hands, feeling the fire eat through his gloves. Gritting his teeth, Randy reached up and pulled his shemagh off, using it to help smother the flames.

  Grabbing Book’s melted combat goggles, Randy pulled the melted burning mess off his face, tossing them aside as he held the shemagh over Book’s face. Knocking Charlie’s burning helmet off, he smothered the smoldering hair on the left side of Book’s head.

  Feeling the flames still burning under him on the left side of Charlie’s body, Randy moved over, trying to smother the flames with his own body. Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his and looked up to see Charlie trying to pull Randy’s hands off his face. Moving his hands, Randy sighed to hear Charlie take a deep breath when his hands uncovered Book’s face. “I wasn’t trying to smother you,” he said.

  Looking down, he saw Charlie’s right sleeve all the way to his glove was still on fire. Randy felt his hands burning and realized his gloves were on fire. “Blaster, put out the rest of the fire!” Randy shouted, rolling off and beating his hands on the ground, burying them in dirt to smother the fire.

  Robbie turned around to see Book’s left side still burning and dove, covering Charlie’s body with his. Unfastening Charlie’s burning vest, Blaster glanced over as Randy got the fire out on his hands. Robbie rolled Charlie out of the burning vest, beating at the fire burning Charlie’s uniform. When the fire was out, he looked in Book’s face and saw the outline of the melted glasses Randy had pulled off. The skin was burnt over the left side of his face but his left eye, except for being swollen shut, looked okay. Hearing gunfire very close, Robbie looked up as he smothered the fire on Charlie’s legs with his body. Randy was aiming up the ravine as the hadjis charged.

  “Book, can you hear me?” Robbie yelled, seeing the fire was out and grabbed his SAW while rolling off of Book.

  “You’re yelling in my face! Yes, I hear you!” Charlie shouted in a hoarse voice.

  “Can you move? We need to evac,” Robbie said, raising his SAW and firing off a burst.

  “I can’t move fast, but I’m not staying here,” Charlie said, getting up and realizing he couldn’t see out of his left eye. Hearing a wet slap, he turned to see Blaster spin around, diving to the dirt.

  “Shadow, Blaster is down!” he yelled and tried to reach out with his arm but pain shot through his body. Letting out a yell, Charlie pulled his body over and saw Robbie crawling around the corner of the hut the RPG had hit, holding his left arm.

  “I’m still here, butt monkeys!” Robbie yelled as blood squirted in his face. He looked down and saw his left gloved hand dangling, only held on by a strip of flesh. A bullet had impacted just above his wrist where the glove stopped, nearly severing his hand completely. “Don’t think they sell that at Walmart,” he huffed, yanking a dressing out.

  Randy rolled around the corner gasping and looked at Robbie putting a dressing on. “Shit,” he mumbled before leaning around the corner and shooting.

  “Where’s your damn duct tape?” Robbie yelled, turning to Randy and saw the roll of duct tape on his hydration pack. Grabbing the roll, he wrapped it around the dressing. “I take back what I said, it works pretty good,” he gasped, seeing the bleeding stop.

  A figure ran over before dropping down and all three jerked, spinning with their weapons. “I leave you three alone for two minutes!” Wheaton shouted, looking at the wounded trio. “Can everyone move?”

  Randy spun around to look at Wheaton. “Want to see me run on my hands? How’s the rest of the team?” he snapped, then leaned back around the corner firing.

  “Had a kid jump out with an AK,” Wheaton said, shooting a man trying to move around them. “Babyface is the only one mobile. Aaron and Travis look bad. Book, can you move?”

  Seeing the burnt side of Charlie’s body, Wheaton cringed and looked at Book as he pulled up his rifle. “I can move, but don’t know for how long,” Charlie replied with a wheeze, pulling the trigger. “On my last mag.”

  A loud grunt sounded out and everyone turned to see Randy fall back while grabbing his hip. “I’m getting tired of this shit!” Randy yelled.

  “Then quit acting like a bullet magnet. That’s not being ninja-like, Shadow!” Robbie shouted, squeezing the trigger and firing a long burst when two charged them.

  “I’ll cover and you three move to the ride,” Wheaton told them, standing up.

  “Book, can you help cover? Blaster and I’ll take the bodies,” Randy panted, crawling over and getting to his knees.

  “My right eye can see,” Charlie said, trying to grin but the burnt skin on his face didn’t move and sent pain radiating through him.

  “Move!” Wheaton yelled, squeezing his trigger and Randy grabbed the body Book was carrying while Blaster grabbed his. “Leave them!”

  “I didn’t carry Horowitz’s ass across the Stan just to leave him now,” Robbie grunted, dragging the body away with his right hand as he cradled the stump of his left.

  Raising his rifle, Charlie used the remains of his left hand to hold up his rifle, shooting a fighter that popped around the corner.

  The group moved back to the Pathfinder and loaded up the bodies in the back, then saw Cody stand up out of the sunroof shooting. They turned to see a figure that was charging them from the front, drop. “Good shooting, Babyface,” Blaster said, closing the back hatch.

  “Wheat, we are leaving!” Randy shouted, moving to the passenger door.

  Wheaton took off in a run, then turned to fire behind him when he felt pain below his armpits and burning in his chest. Grabbing his chest, he felt his legs get weak, and hammers started hitting him in the back.

  “Cover!” Robbie yelled, lifting his SAW up and used the stump of his left hand to brace the barrel.

  The three turned as eight fighters rounded the corner of the house shooting, and saw Wheaton go down. Charlie jerked his rifle up, squeezing the trigger as Robbie and Randy hosed down the area and saw two go down. Moving his sight, Charlie didn’t see any more standing and lowered his rifle, seeing the other fighters down.

  “Wheat!” Robbie yelled, running over and saw pink frothy blood on Wheaton’s lips. “Dammit,” Blaster huffed, grabbing Wheaton’s vest and dragging him. Feeling something bump him, he glanced over as Randy grabbed Wheaton to help him pull the body.

  Seeing movement, Charlie spun to his right and squeezed the trigger, watching a man grab his chest before crumpling over and falling face first. Two more came around the corner they’d left, and Charlie squeezed the trigger, watching both fall over and his bolt lock back. “Out of ammo!” he yelled, pulling his pistol.

  “Book, get in the damn ride and you drive!” Randy yelled.

  “I can only see out of one fucking eye!”

  “I only got one foot, Blaster has one hand and it’s a standard. You’re out of bullets and we aren’t!” Randy screamed as they reached the Pathfinder. Robbie looked in the backseat.

  “Where is a Suburban when you need one,” he grumbled at the packed back
seat, closing the back passenger door. Shoving Wheaton’s feet in first, Randy climbed in the passenger seat pulling Wheaton’s body in. Robbie moved up, pushing Wheaton and helping Randy get him inside while Cody grabbed Wheaton’s legs, pulling them between the front seats. Slamming the door, Robbie climbed up on the roof and dropped his legs down in the sunroof.

  “Go!” Robbie screamed, seeing a large group come out between the huts and squeezed the trigger.

  With his charred left hand, Charlie braced it on the steering wheel, shoving the shifter into first and popping the clutch as Blaster opened up. The concussion radiated down, making everyone’s ears scream in pain. About to roll down the window to relieve the concussion from the gun blast of Blaster’s SAW, Randy crouched down in the seat, hearing the windows exploding when bullets shattered them.

  “I’m sick of your shit!” Randy shouted, maneuvering his rifle out the passenger window. Cody saw Wheaton’s torso was blocking Randy from leaning out the window and pulled Wheaton’s body back, resting Wheaton’s back on the center console.

  Leaning out, Randy started shooting as Robbie changed belts in his SAW. Keeping his head turned with his right eye facing more toward the driver’s door so he could watch the left side with his right eye since his left was swollen shut, Charlie shoved the shifter in third. “Sharp curve!” he shouted but didn’t hit the brakes.

  Cutting the wheel, the rear barely skidded out with the weight of fourteen men as the Pathfinder’s frame rubbed against the tires, it was riding so low. When they rounded the curve, the village disappeared from sight and Randy pulled back inside and Blaster dropped down from the sunroof but couldn’t sit down.

  “Feel like I’m in a clown car,” Robbie said grimacing, cradling the stump of his left arm. He felt something bumping his back, and turned to see an unconscious PFC Bert Travis, known universally as ‘Pirate’ for his maritime lineage and exploits while on leave, shot through both arms and still bleeding through the hastily-applied bandages. Behind Travis, he could barely make out Corporal Cabrera, clutching at a fresh wound on the outside of his left thigh. Then he heard a grunt and turned his head slowly.

  Trying to grin, Wheaton coughed up frothy blood. “Trust Shadow to find a rice burner,” he said as blood ran out of his mouth.

  Leaning over and panting through pursed lips from the pain in his ankle, Randy tried to grin. “Hey, they had a tractor, but I didn’t take it for us, did I?” he joked, searching for wounds on Wheaton.

  Robbie leaned over to help and watched Randy drop his head, looking under Wheaton’s left armpit. “Entry left side under the arm,” Randy announced, and Robbie moved his right hand under Wheaton’s vest feeling the right side.

  With a grimace, he felt a large exit wound on the right chest wall. “Blew through,” Robbie said, yanking his hand out and grabbing a dressing from Wheaton’s vest. Shoving his hand back under to stuff the dressing over the wound and trying to stem the flow of blood, Blaster looked down at Wheaton’s hip. “Right hip,” he said, seeing a hole in Wheaton’s hip.

  “Troops,” Wheaton coughed, holding up his right hand. Charlie took his hand off the shifter to grab it and Blaster yanked his hand out, grabbing theirs. Grabbing Wheaton’s hand with them, Randy looked at Wheaton.

  “We’re here, brother,” Randy said as Wheaton struggled to breathe.

  “Can you guys watch out for Kristi and the kids? Please? I know they’re mine, but…” he said, struggling to breathe and gasping for air.

  “Wheat, you don’t have to ask,” Charlie said, glancing down at Wheaton.

  “Yes, I do. Please … for me…” he gasped, then coughed up frothy blood. “I promised I would be there. They will never know me.”

  “I will watch her,” Charlie promised, squeezing his hand.

  Squeezing Wheaton’s hand, “I will,” Robbie vowed.

  Randy nodded, also squeezing, “We are family, brother. I’ll be there for them.”

  A peace filled Wheaton’s face and a soft smile split his lips. “Thank you, guys,” he murmured, closing his eyes with a gurgling sigh.

  Chapter Two

  Hardin County, Ohio

  Lunging up in his bed and gasping for air, Randy looked around, panting. Blinking his eyes, he looked around for Wheaton and then realized he was in his bedroom in his own house. Feeling wetness, Randy looked down at the sweat-soaked sheets. Tossing the covers off, he spun around while throwing his legs off the bed and his foot touched the floor.

  Scooting to the edge, he grabbed his prosthetic foot, sliding the nub of his left lower leg into the boot housing. His foot had been amputated two inches above his left ankle. Standing up, he felt the nub slip into the boot that extended up almost to his knee. The boot compressed against his lower leg, distributing the weight of his body off the bottom of his stump. This boot was only designed to be put on when walking around the house and wasn’t strapped on; like a house shoe.

  Randy walked out of his bedroom and down the hall into the bathroom. Turning on the light, he walked up to the sink and stared into the mirror. “You would think after more than a decade, the dream would lose potency,” Randy informed his reflection.

  Turning on the water and cupping his hands before splashing water on his face, Randy rubbed his hands over his silver-streaked shoulder-length brown hair. “Need to shave,” he said, looking at the stubble around his goatee.

  Glancing at his watch while he turned on the shower, “Well, had to get up soon anyway,” he mumbled.

  On Randy’s return home, he’d stayed on the family farm in Hardin County, Ohio, during his rehab. Learning to walk again with a prosthetic was harder than he’d imagined, but learn he did. Now, he had several prosthetics and could run just as fast as he did before that fateful mission. While he rehabbed, Randy got an Associate degree in Machining and Manufacturing.

  His mom and dad helped him build a small house and shop on the farm, and when he wasn’t helping his dad work the farm, Randy ran his own business out of the shop. He really liked being a machinist; working with metal appeased him.

  Stepping into the shower, he looked down at the pure carbon fiber appendage with a sigh. Then his eyes moved up his body to the scar on his right hip where he’d been hit, then his right shoulder. It wasn’t until they’d pulled into an Army outpost and a medic had stripped him, that Randy saw where a bullet had passed through his deltoid.

  “Had bigger wounds that generated more pain to think of,” he said, grabbing a rag.

  Everyone else, like him, discovered they had more wounds than they’d thought. The biggest wound was on the inside. Seeing your team killed and injured was the most difficult to deal with. Like the others, he’d made peace, but the memories still hurt.

  Out of everyone, Charlie’s, or Book to the team, rehab was the longest.

  Grabbing a towel when he got out and dried off, Randy sat down on a chair he kept in the bathroom. Taking his ‘boot’ off, Randy grabbed the rag and washed his stump. Drying the stump off, Randy shoved a towel down into the boot, soaking most of the water out.

  Putting the boot back on, he stood up and moved to the sink. Lathering his face, Randy grabbed the razor. “We kept our word, Wheat,” he said, nodding at his reflection and then started shaving his face.

  Even during rehab, the three had kept tabs on Wheaton’s wife and kids. Once a week, each talked to her on the phone and visited at least once a month.

  They’d been there for every birthday Clark and Emily had since they’d gotten back. Emily, now eleven but would turn twelve this weekend, only had pictures of Wheaton. Little Emily was born six months after Wheaton died. Wheaton had been allowed to stay back from deployment for Kristi’s first pregnancy. They had been in a car wreck on the way back from the doctor’s office doing a one month checkup on Clark. Wheaton and Kristi were banged up but luckily, Clark wasn’t hurt. Then Kristi came up pregnant in the months they were recovering. The first sergeant tried to keep Wheaton stateside after the doctors released him for duty from
the injuries he’d received in the wreck, but higher ups sent him to the Stan. Randy, Charlie, and Robbie had already been in country for almost a year but stayed for another deployment after seeing Wheaton show up.

  The trio had been together since Ranger School, and Wheaton had been a sergeant in the 75th Rangers when they were first assigned to his platoon. For five years they stayed together, only being separated for advanced schools. Rinsing his razor off, Randy smiled, thinking about when he’d attended Pathfinder school.

  Keeping a watch over Kristi, she’d never asked them for anything, nor did the kids. At times, Randy thought they should give her some space but until she told them, they would hold on to the vow. But truth be told, now they saw her as part of their family. Hell, even his mom called Kristi more than he did.

  The kids thought of the trio as uncles and called them that. Cody, or Babyface, found them when he was released from the hospital and discharged from the Army. The day Cody showed up at Randy’s family’s farm, he’d stayed part of the group.

  In the twelve years since hell, the vow they’d pledged was slowly replaced by a family commitment they felt for Kristi and the kids. Though she was a few years older than them, they saw her as a little sister.

  Six years ago, Randy had called Kristi to check on her and Kristi had answered the phone crying. To say the least, Randy felt panic grip him when she answered. Come to find out, the sewage had backed up and no plumber could make it for ten days. The one plumber that did, quoted her a price that was the equivalent of a new mid-sized sedan to fix the problem.

  “We’ll see you in a few hours,” Randy told her and hung up. Yelling for Cody to pack up and load the toolbox, Randy called Charlie, who was in law school and told him what was going on and he was heading to Chicago with Cody to help. After hanging up, Charlie went to his professors and told them it was a family emergency and jumped in his car, never waiting for approval.