Marine: Outside the Wire

by Shiralyn J. Lee

  “Knock it off, Gray. None of us want to get into any political battles,” Blake advised. He turned to Tabatha, and in an apologetic voice, said, “Lance Corporal Grayson can be a little over-passionate about what we do out here. It’s been a while since any of us have been reminded that we’re not the only ones affected by what this country has achieved, and I’m sure you must be in a state of shock from your ordeal.”

  Iggy leaned into Gray and spoke closely into her ear. “Looks like you lost that round.”

  She whispered back, “I hate to say it, but he’s right.”

  “Oh, the great warrior Gray is admitting defeat to her nemesis, is she?”

  “No! In your fucking dreams!” she retorted.

  He playfully nudged her arm, and although she didn’t want to display it and reveal her hard exterior had a soft side, she shared a quick smile with him.

  As the helicopter hovered, ready to land, the rotating blades created a cloud of dust scooped up from the ground.

  “When we land, the blades will still be rotating, so cover your eyes until you’re clear of the kicked-up dust,” Blake informed Tabatha and Luke.

  The chopper landed inside the basecamp with graceful power, and while the blades still cut through the air as they slowed down in speed, Gray opened the door and jumped out first, with Zabba close behind her, then she grabbed hold of Tabatha’s hand and led her away from the turbulence.

  The wind whipped up Tabatha’s hair, and she held it in place with her hand until they were clear of the blades. “I’m sorry if you feel nothing but contempt toward me. There seems to be some sort of wall you’ve built around yourself, and it’s made you quite bitter toward anyone who’s not wearing a military uniform.”

  Gray whipped her sunglasses from her face and raised her voice above the sound of the chopper, her words slicing through the air with a powerful punch as rage immediately filled her.

  “You’ve got a fucking nerve! What I do, I do for my country; what you do, you do for money. You have no idea what we go through, what we’ve been through, and how it affects us. There’s things we’ve seen, done, and can never talk about. That in itself is enough to fuck a person up.”

  “Who are you angrier at, Lance Corporal Grayson, the media for reporting from inside an insane fucking country, or the fucking bastards who’ve shown no mercy toward their own kind, including women and children?” Tabatha bit back.

  “Go fuck yourself, you stuck up bitch! You have no idea. Just look at you. Who in their right mind would enter this country and wear expensive perfume and designer clothing? They must have smelled you two streets away. Your naivety is what led them to you, and you being captured. And as for reporting on the war, let’s get one thing straight; there’s not one reporter who’s ever reported the truth and nothing but the truth. You all twist your little stories to make them sell, and make you a bigger paycheck so you can go and buy that expensive lipstick you like to wear.”

  Iggy marched past, carrying his backpack and weaponry, but stopped just ahead of the warring women, and directed his focus on Gray. “Someone’s showing just a little too much resentment. I’ve never seen you react like this before, Gray.”

  Realizing she’d just put on a show for the other Marines, Gray clenched the muscles in her jaw and withdrew from the disagreement, and, marching past Iggy, she cut him a cold gaze, then slipped her sunglasses back on her face.

  “What? What did I do?” he asked, following her. “Hey, Gray, are we cool?”

  “Zabba needs a drink, I don’t have time for this shit” she called back over her shoulder, while she continued to march toward the building. He’d hit a nerve with her. She hadn’t meant to voice her anger with Tabatha, it had somehow justified itself when she saw a similarity to Nikki in the reporter, creating an internal conflict, compromising her ability to focus on her moral beliefs. She stopped walking and turned around.

  “Hey, lady, if I’ve acted out of order, then I apologize. I can see you’ve been through an ordeal, and I prayed on your vulnerability, I didn’t mean to.”

  Tabatha supported herself by clasping her hands on to Luke’s shoulder, as the pair of them walked slowly away from the chopper. “It’s okay. You’re right, most of the media do report to make a quick buck. Shame on me for working with the bad guys, eh?”

  Chapter Five

  Even though a risk of macabre surrounded the base camp, serenity somehow managed to soothe its way in, and while the magic of sunset cast deep tonal orange and yellow hues in the distant dark sky filled with stars, brothers bonded in a way no civilian would understand.

  Sitting on folding seats placed in a circle around an oil drum used for a fire pit, a few Marines enjoyed smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. One of them had a guitar, and plucked on the strings while they all participated in light conversation. Solidarity showed when, in the distance, a radio played and The Sound of Silence by Disturbed came on. It was like a switch had been flicked. The Marine with the guitar played along with the song, casting a blanket of tranquility over them all, and soon the brothers were humming in harmony. Each Marine looked at the brother sat next to them, their faces casting dark shadows as light from the flames flickered in the air, and it was a known fact that their bond wasn’t just about fighting together and taking out the Taliban; it was a bond of unsaid words, where they’d look out for each other for the rest of their lives, no matter where in the world they were.

  A moment of silence followed when the song finished—each Marine brought to remember their family and loved ones back home, and it took Iggy to break the solemn mood by saying, “I want everyone to know right here, right now, when I die, at my funeral I want all of you to hum that tune.”

  “When you die, Blake will be too busy giving your missus one, and I’ll be fucking your sister,” Gray joked.

  Iggy gave her a sideways glance. “You are kidding…about my sister, I mean?”

  Blake’s laugh started off as a low chuckle, but soon turned into a deep throaty noise.

  “I don’t know why you find that so funny, she really is fucking your sister!”

  Before anyone could retaliate, their conversation was interrupted when Tabatha and Luke approached the group.

  “I hope we’re not interrupting anything?” Tabatha asked.

  Using her foot, Gray pushed a chair in Tabatha’s direction. “Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect.”

  Wearing an army-issue olive-green t-shirt in place of her ripped shirt, and a pair of issue boots, Tabatha sat in the chair. She had washed her face and tied her hair back in a ponytail, and made herself look half-decent, even though she felt naked without her makeup.

  “We met with your Colonel. We’re going to be here for a few days, at least until adequate transport can be sorted out for us. There’s something I’d like to ask you, Gray, and especially you, because you’re a woman fighting side-by-side with a lot of men.”

  “Well, I’m glad you pointed that out. Fuck that would have been real awkward for me to realize it all by myself. Actually, I’m not the only female on this camp. There’s Paige, the veterinarian I take Zabba to on a regular basis. Then there’s Megan, who cooks our food in the chow hall, and there’s been a few others who’ve come and gone.”

  “You better sit down, Luke. Looks like this is going to be entertaining,” Blake informed him.

  Tabatha shifted sideways in her chair to face Gray, then crossed her legs as if she was a TV interviewer about to go live on air. “I’m merely saying that, or rather, I’m asking you, would it be okay with you if I interviewed you, and followed you around with a camera so we can make a documentary on life for women in uniform.”

  Gray snorted a laugh. “Film me? What the hell for?”

  “I’ve mostly reported on civilian women over here; how they’re treated as less human than men. This Islamic law has been customary and religious for centuries. The rights of women don’t exist, and the world needs to protect them. If we could document just a small pi
ece of footage about how courageous you are, and how you’re willing to stand up for your rights—”

  “I stand up for the rights of my country. For those who cannot fight for themselves. Besides, all you’re going to get is a female Marine who hasn’t shaved her armpits in months, and stinks.”

  “Yeah, you got that right,” Iggy confirmed.

  “Yeah, your sister’s goanna love me all over her naked body.”

  “So, will you agree to do it?” Tabatha asked.

  “What the fuck, you don’t even have a camera.”

  “We have laptops and phones. We can do this,” she quickly rebuffed. “Just think about it, at least.”

  Gray sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. She stared at the mesmerizing flames and drummed her fingers on the edge of her boot.

  “Sure, I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter Six

  Gray opened the door to her room after Tabatha had politely knocked on it. She showed her and Luke in to her small ‘cell-in-hell’, as she called it, and offered them a seat, where she’d placed two metal-framed plastic folding chairs facing her cot.

  Luke held out a mobile phone and checked to see if it would pick up the lighting. “This is going to look more like a YouTube video, rather than what you see on TV, but at least I can film with it. It’s amazing what technology can do these days.”

  “It’s amazing what a Marine can do these days, too, even if it is outside their job requirements,” Gray replied. “You know the saying, don’t ask don’t tell, well, don’t ask.” She picked up a canvas bag from behind the cot and handed it over to him. “There’s a video camera, microphone, SD cards, batteries, cable, and a charger. I’ve got desk lamps too, for extra lighting. You can just remove the shades if you want direct lighting.”

  Luke unzipped the black canvas bag and was delighted to find top of the range video equipment inside. “You’re right, it is amazing.”

  Tabatha looked up from the notepad she held on her lap, and noticing a softer tone to Gray’s voice, she momentarily gazed at her eyes with new respect. She’d written some questions inside the notepad, and quickly realizing that she’d been distracted, she whipped her gaze back to her notes and checked them over while Luke set up the equipment. Then, while still looking at her notes, she asked Gray, “Is there anything you want to avoid covering? By that, I mean, any personal information?”

  “Will I need to sign anything?”

  “That’s not where I was going, but yes, I will need a release form signed…that’s giving us and the network permission to air your face on TV.”

  “Then that’s all I can think of right now.”

  “You still don’t trust us, do you?”

  Gray sat on the edge of the cot, rested her elbows on her knees, and looked down at Zabba, who lay on his blanket with one ear pricked. “I trust him. That’s why I have him sleep in here with me and not outside in a cage like the other K9s. He deserves to be treated as my equal, if not better.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” Tabatha replied. “We can use that as our introduction, Luke.”

  Luke gave an upward nod as he removed shades from two desk lamps and positioned them to get better lighting on Gray. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Tabatha crossed her legs, and held a pen with the tip pressed lightly on the notepad, ready to make any notes and record any comments that might arise during the interview. “Corporal Grayson, what was it like for you on your first deployment?” she asked, with a soft tone to her voice. Gray cast her attention from Zabba to Tabatha, and paused for a moment before answering.

  “As a booter, you expect to be engaged in firefights from morning to night, and every day, until the enemy has been taken out, but it’s often not like that. You can spend months not engaging in any action.”

  Tabatha opened her notebook and wrote down the word ‘booter’, followed by a question mark. “Could you inform us what a booter is?”

  “A new join coming in from boot camp. You’re pumped and ready for action. It’s a real eye-opener when you realize that it’s nothing like in the movies.”

  “How does it feel to wait around, not engaging in firefights?”

  “Boredom can send you over the edge sometimes. This is when you really get to know your brothers, which is a good thing, because you need to know who you’re defending your country with. It takes just as much will power to be in a godforsaken country like this, away from everything you know, and to wait it out through intense heat and extreme cold. And don’t forget the sandstorms. Those are a real tester.”

  “Can you tell us about the first time you were engaged in a firefight?”

  Gray looked down at her feet and swallowed hard.

  “Do you know what a bullet stopper is?”

  “No.”

  “It’s the point man of an infantry fire team, the guy at the front of the column, leading the way, who is the first to be engaged by the enemy. Our squad was selected to do the overwatch on a mission. That meant we had to climb to higher ground to maintain it, which is hard because there’s always higher ground above that, and that ground is usually occupied by snipers. When we reached a certain point, we radioed in to advise that our element was in position. Just after we reached that point, on the other side of the river, half way up the opposite mountain, a shot was fired directly at our unit. Andy was our point man, and he immediately shouted “Contact! Contact! Contact!” and then dropped for cover behind a rock. Mike yelled at us to get down, so we all ducked for cover. We were catfued—”

  “Catfued?”

  “Completely and totally fucked up.”

  “Oh, I see now.”

  “The fire was coming from high up the mountain, and one of them had a machine gun. It’s a real clusterfuck how fast you have to think when you’re in that situation. We returned fire, and then found ourselves taking on fire from three different points, forcing us to return fire in all three directions. Bullets were striking a giant boulder where Andy thought he was protected, but fragments of the rock chipped away in front of his face. He yelled back at us that he was in a bad spot and had to move. He really was a sitting duck where he was. Mike yelled at him to pick a spot and he’d cover him, and Andy pointed to a position he could make a run for.” Gray paused and vigorously rubbed her nose, then cleared her throat.

  “Mike yelled, ‘Go! Go! Go!’ and Andy ran from his bad spot and further down the mountain to get better cover. Two other Marines followed him, while the rest of the squad engaged in a fire-fight with the snipers. Andy kept shouting at the two Marines to move, while they were all being shot at. They made it to the protected area, and Mike called out to let him know when they were set. Andy confirmed they were set, then Mike sent the rest of the squad down the mountain. He was the last one to go. The rounds were just flying at him, and zipping over the rocks. He almost made it, just another ten feet and he would be… alive—” Gray hunched over and looked down at her feet, and then to Zabba. “He was one of the best squad leaders.”

  Although Tabatha only had Gray’s words to go by on this story, she couldn’t help but feel moved by what she had just heard. “You call them by their first names and not by their ranks?”

  “It’s not my place to give out their full names without their family’s permission. These were, are my brothers. We have the greatest respect for each other, and that extends to their family members as well. Mike was a Second Lieutenant, and we followed him with pride.”

  “As you find yourself living amongst a lot of male counterparts, have there been any issues or complications with that?”

  “I had to prove myself to them in the beginning. Sure, it’s not easy for any female in a lot of situations where male population outnumbers the female kind, but it’s how you handle yourself that gets you recognition and respect. There was one female Marine who earned herself the nickname, ‘Groundsheet.’ Yeah, that word in itself gives you a visual, doesn’t it? Sometimes I hear a few guys refer to a female as a split tail, bu
t they don’t say it to her face. They call me Jayne Wayne.”

  “What about personal hygiene?”

  “When you’re on a patrol, or a mission, the last thing you think about is hygiene. We’ve been camped out in mountains and terrains for weeks at a time. There’s no showers, or home comforts. And it’s also safer to smell like the locals rather than smell like a broad looking for action. What soldier, male or female, wouldn’t be tempted by aromatic perfume when camped out in a shit pit?”

  Tabatha rolled her eyes, knowing this was probably aimed at her. “Yes, you have a point there.”

  “I still wouldn’t change what I do. When it’s called up on the radio to beef up extra security for a Battle Damage Assessment, you go and do a BDA, where, for instance, a bomb was dropped on the enemy by air support. Sometimes a unit is forced to use air support, when it becomes a do or die situation. That’s how we survived our first attack after Mike died; it was the only way out.”

  “I’ve heard the term Swivel used a lot. What does that actually mean?”

  Luke focused the camera on Gray’s face, while biting his lower lip so he didn’t let out a snicker.

  “You keep your head on a swivel, which means you’re always looking around, staying sharp. You have to have a sense of urgency outside the wire, or you’re just a dead man walking, if you don’t.”