“IS THAT CHEMICAL ATTACK?” Cale yelled.
“I DON’T KNOW!” Zach shouted back.
There was some confusion for a bit until McGregor clarified it for them.
“IT’S THE SIREN FOR PERIMETER BREACH. THEY’RE INSIDE THE BASE!” he yelled.
Just then, what they often referred to as “The Big Voice” came over the PA system.
“ATTENTION! WE HAVE A PERIMETER BREACH! ALL PERSONS REPORT TO ASSIGNED DUTY STATIONS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”
The soldiers exchanged nervous glances. This was real, it wasn’t like Halo. Patiently, the group waited. By now, the company had formed a large circle around the company area. The captain and Top were at the center somewhere. They sat there for what seemed like hours. Night vision goggles had been handed out. Nick, who was charged with maintaining accountability of the goggles, had only dispatched them to the machine gunners. They had them for long missions anyway. Nick knew he could trust most of these guys. Cale fiddled with the goggles. Why he would need these, he didn’t know. For now, he left them in their protective soft case.
“This is dumb,” Cale said.
“I know. Night vision with all the lights we have on base? That’s command for ya,” Zach responded.
“At ease the talk,” someone said behind them.
The two fell silent again.
Laundry and a Bite to Eat
Hours before the alert, Libby’s laundry had finally dried. Cale had walked out about fifteen minutes before. She wondered if he had been single, if he would have talked to her. Probably not. Libby loaded up her clean laundry and proceeded back to her CHU. Her roommate was gone, as usual. Jack, an unusual name for a girl, was always in her boyfriend’s room. They’d been fortunate enough to be deployed together. Libby’s own relationship ended because her boyfriend, James, wasn’t sure if he could do the, what did he call it? ‘Long distance thing’. That’s right. It wasn’t until a week later she’d learned he had gotten back together with his ex, with her bottle blonde hair and huge boobs. James had always complained about her.
“She’s a dumb ditz,” he would say. “I can’t even hold a conversation with her. Not to mention her voice, that nasally whining she does.”
He must not have disliked it that much. It hadn’t even been a day before they were back together. Libby hated thinking about him. She had more important things to do, like get ready for her shift at the aid station. Libby was a combat medic, and this week she’d drawn the short straw, the night shift. It would be 2000 to 0600. That meant she’d be reading all night. She was only there in case of an emergency, but with all the convoys being grounded for the time being, she would have the night to herself. She got dressed in her ACUs and walked to the aid station. The medic attending the desk looked relieved to see her.
“Oh goody,” he said.
“Busy?” she asked.
“Yeah. A couple of guards at the south entry point got into a scuffle with a local national who tried to get in. He bit them, and then wandered off into the desert, probably coked out of his mind.”
“Wow. Really? Where are they?” she asked.
“One is in exam room one and the other is in five.”
“When did this happen?”
For them to still be at the aid station was weird, especially for bites.
“This afternoon. The Doc says he wants them to stay overnight, something about weird test results.”
As medics, they didn’t really do anything in a clinic setting. The doctor would only step in if the illness or injury was serious enough, but they’d handle initial checkups and vital signs.
“Awesome,” Libby said sarcastically.
The other medic packed his things quickly. He was married, but he wasn’t like the guy at the laundry facility. Last week he’d made a pass at Libby. They were alone in the aid station and he just flat out asked her.
“You want to go fuck in exam room four?”
She admits she was kind of flirting with him, but wasn’t aware she’d given him ‘the signal’. Even though she was taken aback by his bluntness, she still managed to answer with a quick ‘No’.
He’d looked disappointed by her answer. This tactic had worked with a few of the female medics. It was almost too easy. A little flirting, the occasional light touch, follow that up with just outright asking, and voila! Their panties were around their ankles as he bent them over the exam table. He always picked exam room four, because the counter was the perfect height to set his camera on. Set it to video mode and he was a porn star. He recorded himself fucking every girl he’d taken in there. Who cared what his wife thought? He knew for a fact she was fucking his brother, because his brother got drunk and told him once. His marriage was only for convenience. His wife and he had both agreed to it for the money the Army would pay him.
“You sure?” he persisted. Maybe just one more push.
“Definitely not,” she answered.
“Well, if you ever change your mind--” he said, trailing off.
“No thank you,” Libby said sternly.
Tonight he just seemed anxious to leave. No flirting at all. Or at least that’s what she thought.
“What do you say, you and me go into exam room four?” he inquired.
“Still a ‘No’,” she replied.
He didn’t even try to be charming this time. Apparently the pleasantries were over.
“Fine,” he said.
It had been some time since he’d last gotten laid. For now, he’d just have to go back to his CHU and masturbate to one of his videos. It was a shame; a red head was all he needed to complete his set, and Libby was an exceptional looking red head. “Or were the ‘Iraq goggles’ affecting his vision?” he pondered.
Thirty seconds later he was leaving, and she sat reading her book. The doors to both exam rooms were closed, and the lights were out. It was starting to get dark when the soldier in exam room one stumbled out. His shirt was covered in vomit, and his skin looked pale. The gauze covering his hand had been scratched off. He slumped in the doorway, not looking up.
“Are you okay?” Libby asked, as she got up to help.
The soldier only moaned quietly. As she approached him she could smell that he had soiled himself, as well as vomited.
“Great,” she said aloud.
She attempted to assist him back into the room, and help him lay down. His skin felt cold and clammy. He was clearly disoriented; his full weight bore down on her as she moved him to the exam table. Just then, he seized her arm and bit into her flesh. White hot streaks of pain shot through her body, and she pushed him to the floor.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” she screamed at her patient.
He only whimpered. She closed the door, and locked it on her way out. She cradled her injured arm, careful not to disturb it.
“That fucker just bit me!” she thought.
She opened the emergency medical supply box mounted to the wall. She removed a bottle of alcohol, some gauze, and a role of medical tape. With her back to the exam rooms she laid the supplies on the desk, and grabbed a white cotton towel out of a cabinet.
“First things first. I have to stop the bleeding,” she said aloud, as her medical training instantly came to her.
She applied firm pressure to the bite with the towel. The pain was beginning to subside now. The sirens began blaring outside. The patient in exam room five was coming out now, probably to help her. She could hear him getting closer. Just as she’d turned around to talk to him, he tackled her, coming over the desk.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” she yelled.
Libby managed to turn and face her attacker. His skin was pale and he had vomit on his PT uniform. Her arms were pinned to her body, with his full weight on her. His teeth kept chomping. He leaned in to her neck.
“Maybe I should have gone with him into exam room four. Then this wouldn’t have happened, “she thought, as her patient sunk his teeth into her neck.
His bite was deep, and she knew immediately, b
y the way her neck gushed blood with every beat of her heart, that she was going to die. She could hear the big voice,
“…PERIMETER BREACH! ALL PERSONS REPORT TO ASSIGNED---” as she bled to death.
Today really wasn’t Libby’s day.
The Waiting Game
Cale and Zach sat scanning their sectors with precision. The sun had been down for some time now, and everyone was beginning to feel restless. Some of the soldiers ignored their sectors, while they played with the night vision goggles. Cale’s were still in the case. What was the point if the flood lights still worked? No one spoke. Every time someone started to, they were immediately hushed by the platoon leaders.
The siren was still sounding, yet none of them had seen anything of interest. The constant wail of the alarm grew to annoy the soldiers, as they sat in their fighting positions.
The big voice hadn’t broadcasted for about thirty minutes now. Cale checked his watch. 2205. His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten yet today. At the center of their perimeter, the leadership radioed base command.
“Just sit tight for now,” the voice over the radio ordered.
“Roger. WILCO,” the captain said.
That was one of his favorite things to say. WILCO of course meaning ‘will comply’. It was made popular by a television show from long ago. The name of the actor escaped him right now.
“Didn’t even provide you with a SITREP,” Top chuckled.
“I noticed that too,” the captain replied.
They didn’t know what was happening-- no one did. A call from the main gate said they had hostiles inside the base, but nothing followed. Command sent a QRF (quick reaction force) team to investigate, but they went silent too. That was an hour ago. Why they didn’t share this knowledge with anyone else was unknown.
Back on the firing line, Cale could smell rain. This was the rainy season. The cooling breeze whipped up dust, and the soldiers not wearing eye protection shielded their eyes. Cale wasn’t wearing any eye protection; he couldn’t see anything through it in the limited light.
“This better not be some dumbass exercise,” Zach whispered, “that would really piss me off.”
Cale agreed with a nod. Neither of them would put it past the higher ups to do something like this. Everyone was required to ‘dummy cord’ their weapons to themselves. Some soldier somewhere left his rifle leaned against a tire of an Armored Security Vehicle (ASV), so when they moved the vehicle it crushed his weapon beyond repair. There were all sorts of red tape and dumb rules thought up for incidents like that.
“It would be over by now if it were an exercise,”Cacy said from the next group to the left.
“AT EASE!” someone shouted from behind.
Despite the siren still blaring, they needed to exercise noise discipline.
“Eat me,” Cacy said under his breath.
He thought it was stupid to pretend they had the element of surprise by being quiet. Here they were in a circle with flood lights all around them. Yeah, makes perfect sense. The soldiers fell silent again. Cale wasn’t sure how much time had gone by. They continued scanning their firing lanes. In the middle of their perimeter, the radio crackled as someone finally broke radio silence.
“There is something wrong,” the operator said in a whisper. Without using proper radio etiquette, he continued. “I don’t know why, but they’re eating each other outside.” The operator spoke frantically while still whispering. “QRF returned on foot.” (quick reaction force) The radio crackled out, but came back on a half second later. “They’re pounding on the door. They want in,” he was barely keeping his cool. “They attacked the major. Oh, God.”
Banging could be heard in the background.
“They bit me. They fucking bit me!” He was now talking louder. “FUCK YOU!” he yelled.
The banging grew louder.
“There’s so many of them!” He was shouting now.
An unknown number of shots were heard. The captain, Top, and one of the lieutenants looked at each other in confusion. Was this a fucking joke? It had to be.
“OH SHIT!” the radio continued, “they broke down the doors!”
Sounds of a struggle followed. The radio fell silent. No one was transmitting on the other end.
“What the fuck was that?” the lieutenant asked.
“This can’t be for real,” Top replied.
The captain listened silently, as the other companies discussed the situation with each other. Their radio chatter filled the room. Somewhere off in the distance a firefight started. Judging by the direction and the faintness of it, it had to be either the Romanians or the Australians.
“Go tell everyone to stand fast!” the captain barked.
There was no need for everyone to start shooting at everything that moves. The LT ran out of the operations office to deliver the message.
He Said Fall Back
The siren stopped abruptly. It had been twenty minutes since they’d been told to stand fast. That was right after they heard the Romanians and Australians open fire. Their shots could still be heard from time to time. The surge of adrenaline made all of them hyper vigilant, and Cale’s heart was thumping so loud he could hear it in his ears.
“What was going on over there?” he thought to himself.
A couple more shots were heard in the distance. Cale looked through his scope. He and all the machine gunners were issued scopes, just in case there was a suspicious object on the side of the road. They could check it out from a distance without being inside the blast zone, in the event it was an improvised explosive device.
He panned back and forth. The light illuminated objects at least a hundred yards out. Outside of that he could make out the shapes of barriers, vehicles, and buildings. Nothing moved.
At the center of the perimeter he could hear shouting over the radio. Everyone could. Whatever this was it wasn’t good, because the next company over suddenly opened fire. Cale could see that the side farthest from his company’s area was the side firing.
“What are they shooting at?” Zach asked.
“I dunno,” Cale replied, “but whatever they’re shooting at isn’t shooting back.”
“ROE much?” Zach said.
ROE stood for Rules of Engagement, something that was preached to them every day. The ROE changed all the time, adapting to counter-act insurgent tactics. But to fire openly without being fired upon, now that was weird. Cale looked over at Zach. Zach’s face reflected the same fear Cale was feeling. Inside the company’s operations building, the captain reached an executive decision.
“Kill the lights in the company area and motor pool.”
“Why?” Top inquired.
“We need the element of surprise, and we won’t have that if we’re lit up like a Goddamn Christmas tree.”
“Roger,” Top replied, as he walked out the door.
Outside, Staff Sergeant McGregor and the other platoon leaders awaited their orders.
“Shut the generators off. We’re switching to night vision.”
The group answered back in perfect unison, “Roger.”
One by one, the generators were powered down, and the order was yelled for those who had it to switch to night vision. The area fell silent, the hum of the generators died out, and darkness spread across the perimeter.
Cale turned on his goggles. He could see everything in the area in an eerie green light. He could see people moving in between barriers and buildings now. The goggles offered no depth perception, but Cale knew the distance between their trucks and the barriers. The group was spread out, moving slowly, about one hundred fifty yards beyond their motor pool.
“What do you see?” Zach whispered.
He was unable to see anything past ten feet. The clouds blocked out the moonlight.
“People,” Cale answered.
“What are they doing?”
“They’re just walking. It’s weird. Some of them are just standing there, looking up.”
“Any weapons? C
oalition? Local National? Describe them, I’m blind here,” Zach said sounding annoyed.
“Local National. I’m not seeing any weapons in their hands, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have explosive vests.”
Just then, the light of infrared from Cale’s goggles reflected back.
“Wait a second.”
Cale looked more closely. US soldiers in war zones were required to wear subdued flags in place of the normal red, white, and blue ones. These subdued flags were made of a material that would reflect any infrared shined at them. Just in case a soldier was separated from coalition forces or captured, he could then move at night, and a coalition aircraft might see him.
He definitely saw it shine back. He panned his sight across the group again. There it was again. There was someone out there with the insurgents. He looked closer. Whoever it was, they weren’t being restrained or forced to stay. The soldier just stood there staring. At this distance Cale couldn’t make out their faces but he could count them.
“We have friendly’s out there,” Cale whispered to Zach, “I count eight or nine friendlies, and maybe two dozen unknowns.”
Cale wasn’t sure what to call them. By now he wasn’t the only one to notice, either. Someone down the firing line shouted out what they had observed. Whoever it was, they wanted to be the first to say it. He’d probably get a medal for it too. Cale didn’t really care for any of that. He just wanted to get home safely, and sooner rather than later.
“STAND FAST AND HOLD YOUR FIRE!” shouted one of the platoon leaders.
He’d need to consult with Top before any further orders could be given. Zach and Cale sat, as the warm night breeze blasted dust at them. Inside the perimeter, they could hear shouting. It was no doubt about trying to figure out their next move. To defend yourself is one thing, but to willfully shoot at a friendly was another.
Cale observed the group as one of their numbers broke off. He was walking straight toward the perimeter. He was wearing ACUs, but Cale still couldn’t see his face. He was making a run for it, escaping his captors at any cost. This guy would absolutely get a medal.
Blood on the Sand (Z Plan) Page 3
