by Cliff Hedley
Next he headed to the chow tent and overindulged in the lasagne being served. He wandered back, a little too full. The clear sky meant he could see the Milky Way above him in bright display, with none of the usual light pollution in the towns and cities back home. That was one of the things he noticed most in coming here — he could actually get a good look at the stars. He had almost forgotten how spectacular they could be with a clear view, something he’d only had camping out in the Colorado Rockies with his father.
He was in the mood to work off some of the meal before turning in, so he ducked inside to grab his bokken. It was fairly quiet in the area still as he stepped out into the middle of his dojo, the bare patch near his tent.
With a smooth motion, he slid the wooden sword into his belt, near his left hip. He hooked his left thumb over the guard which separated the grip from what would be the blade on a real sword, then placed his right hand over the end of the hilt. He bowed once, then stepped out with his right foot as he drew the bokken out from his belt in a single fluid motion, his left hand pushing it out, then his right taking over to complete an arc. He rolled his right wrist over as he raised the bokken above his head, where his left hand found a grip on the rear of the hilt. He rolled both wrists in towards the centre of the hilt, ensuring he had a secure grip. Then the blade swished downwards, slashing on an angle from right to left, then again from bottom left to upper right. He stepped again, repeating the procedure on the opposite side, before turning, his feet close together to continue a series of slashes and lunges in each direction with the blade. It made a whirring sound as it cut through the air, almost like a hum. To the casual observer, his movements were much like those that Collins had made earlier, though Chase’s experience showed. His motions were more dynamic, more fluid than his understudy’s.
After a minute or two, he raised the bokken above his head at an angle, holding it only with his right hand, before he brought it slashing downwards beside him to signify a shaking off of blood. Then he drew it back and fed it back into his belt, before his thumb once again could lock over the guard, securing it in place. He bowed again, with his hand over the end of the grip, then backed off from his makeshift dojo. He bowed again at the edge of the open space, then drew the sword so he could carry it loosely at his side.
“I’ve still got some work to do before I catch up.”
It was Collins, who had been watching silently from behind Chase, slightly in awe of the way his teacher made every movement look effortless.
“We all have room for improvement, Sensei,” grinned Chase. “And practice makes perfect.”
“Copy that, Renshi. You turning in now?”
“Yep. Long day.”
“See you tomorrow, then. I’ll be up on the hill covering the Roadrunners.”
“Glad to hear it, Sensei. Try not to shoot me if I have to get out on foot.”
Chapter 2
Chase woke, the murmur of snoring and heavy breathing nearby. He hadn’t dreamed at all, it was a good heavy sleep. He felt refreshed and as usual, he figured he was probably awake before he needed to be. He raised his left wrist and pressed the button to activate the night illumination on his watch. Six a.m. He probably had at least twenty minutes up his sleeve before the rest of the barracks came to life and his team started gearing up. He lay in bed for a few minutes, running through his sword work in his head, reviewing his footwork and mentally rehearsing each strike. Then he ran through a series of kata, unarmed self-defence routines comprising all kinds of footwork, blocks, strikes and kicks.
Satisfied with his mental preparations, he sat up in his cot and swung his legs out to the side. Getting the jump on most of the rest of the men was something he enjoyed — mainly for the shorter queues in the mess tent, the freshly cooked bacon and scrambled eggs hot and ready to go, and the fresh coffee. He put back on his clean desert camouflage fatigues and laced his tan leather boots. He checked that his pack was still sitting where he left it and moved quietly out the door without waking anyone. He liked the stillness of the early morning as well. There were already people moving around the base and he figured Collins’ infantry team would be heading out ahead of the Roadrunners to sweep and secure the high ground for the day at first light. It would get a lot busier in the next half hour.
It didn’t take him long to reach the mess tent and as usual at this time there was almost nobody around.
“Morning, private.” Same kid as last night. Chase wondered when he actually got to sleep.
“Morning, Master Sergeant. Bacon, scrambled eggs and toast, all good to go. And the coffee has just brewed.”
Everything in Chase’s world was right as he loaded up a plate with fresh-buttered toast, then bacon, then the eggs with a dash of pepper. He made his way to a nearby table, dropped his plate down, then turned to the coffee machine which was off to the side of the serving area. He smiled his appreciation at the private as he poured himself a large mug and took a sip. It was hot, black and strong without being burnt. Perfect.
He sat down and tucked into his breakfast. He knew the eggs were probably the powdered kind but he’d spent enough nights in the field on little or no dried packet rations to know that a hot meal was a blessing whenever he could get one. He was sure the consumption of bacon wasn’t exactly appreciated by the mostly Muslim people that the Army worked with in the community each day either. The Army had learned hard lessons early. The new approach was to work with the locals and keep them happy, doing their best to respect their culture. The bacon would be the Army’s little secret. Like the eggs, it probably came out of a tin, what with the local supplies being non-existent.
“Morning, Chase.”
“Morning, LT.”
Tucker sat down opposite Chase with the exact same meal, and his coffee was likewise black with no sugar. Both men had left the serving tray of beans alone — Tucker had banned anyone riding in Roadrunner One from eating them, reasoning that four sweaty men in a tin can in the desert smelled bad enough.
It wasn’t unusual for Tucker to join Chase, or vice versa. They usually arrived around the same time for breakfast, a quarter of an hour or so ahead of the rest of their unit.
“Clear skies today,” Tucker offered. “We should get good visibility out there.”
“Yes, sir. Collins and his men will be up high, so I’m happy about that.”
“I thought you might be. I asked for them. Figured without Mojo that we should have the best shooters watching our backs.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Both men ate in silence until they finished their meals. Then Tucker let out a sigh of satisfaction. “OK, I’ll see you at the truck.”
He pushed back from his seat and handed his dishes over to the private serving behind the counter. Chase followed him a few moments later, handing his dishes over as well. “My compliments to the chef,” he said.
“Thank you Master Sergeant. Tell your friends about us,” the private quipped back.
Chase laughed and headed out of the mess tent to grab his pack. Ten minutes later, he was standing in the motor-pool parking bay, loading his pack into the rear of Roadrunner One.
Next to his pack was a large solid plastic container, which he slid towards himself. He unclipped the two fasteners on one side and swung the lid open. Inside was a ballistics-proof helmet and a heavily armoured suit, worn by all explosives ordinance disposal specialists. Like the sleeve of his desert fatigues, it carried an EOD patch. Chase lifted the suit up, checking for any tears or damage. It had kept well in its dust-free case and he could see no issues with it. Next he lifted the helmet, slipping it on temporarily to make sure the visor was not carrying any scratches that might obstruct his vision. Happy that it all looked good, he tucked it back into the black plastic box and snapped the lid closed. He gave it a pat then slid it back into the Humvee next to his pack, hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it before the new robots arr
ived.
He walked around the side of the Humvee and found Lieutenant Tucker leaning on the hood, with a map of the local area spread out across it. The rest of Tucker’s soldiers arrived quickly, stowing their own packs away in their respective Humvees. Chase could see each gunner check the fifty-calibre machine guns mounted in front of the roof hatch before they completed their prep work and headed towards the command Humvee. They formed a semi-circle around Tucker, who stood in his customary mission-briefing position in front of Roadrunner One. A silence fell across the group, ready for Tucker to begin.
“Listen up, Roadrunners. As you know, we encountered some trouble last night ahead of the canyon road. It could have been a one-off, or we may have insurgents staking a claim on one of our key travel routes. We cannot afford to lose this road to hostile forces or let them dictate our movements again.”
He looked up, eyeballing each of his team to make sure they were listening closely and to make sure they understood the gravity of his words.
“The Colonel has sent infantry in ahead of us this morning. Their job is to take positions at the top of the ridgelines on either side of the canyon. They will move forward and identify then neutralise any enemy activity along those canyon walls. We move in unison with them. While they take the high road, we take the low road. We will begin a slow sweep of the road, looking for anything suspicious. Master Sergeant Chase will be our eyes on point. We have no PackBot, so anything that looks suspicious will be taken out with the fifty-cals from a safe distance. Once the road is clear and the canyon is secure, the infantry team will stay in place while we complete the loop back to base via the village and look for any change in activity there. Questions?”
He was met with silence.
“Good. Then let’s get to it. Every angle, Roadrunners.”
Every soldier in the platoon answered in unison, “Every angle,sir!”
Tucker went about folding his map, as the group dispersed and made their way to their respective vehicles. Chase swung into the front passenger seat of Roadrunner One, instead of taking the back seat alongside Tucker. Today he needed to have his eyes as close to the road as possible. Without a word, the corporal who had been sitting there yesterday slipped into the back seat alongside Tucker. He would be ready to use the fifty-calibre machine gun mounted above them at the first sign of trouble.
Chase reached for the binoculars which were kept in the front and removed the lens caps to check for dust. He gave one suspect piece a quick huff of breath and put the lens caps back on once he was satisfied they were ready to go. He felt the big engine in front of him rumble to life and a clunk as the driver found reverse gear. They backed out first, then slowly made their way along the gravel road towards the gate, pausing so the Humvees behind them could pull out one at a time and join the column of vehicles.
Once they were all lined up, the main gate of FOB Ramirez opened and the Roadrunners headed out towards the canyon. The big tyres rumbled as they clawed at the gravel and dust filled the morning air behind them. Chase checked his watch, smiling to himself that they were bang on time. The time must have hit eight just as the gate closed behind the last Humvee.
Ahead of them, the ridgeline loomed closer as they approached the canyon and Chase motioned for the corporal to slow down. He wanted to see if there was anything out of place near the road before they entered the canyon. He didn’t want to get caught unaware by saving his vigilance for the canyon.
He scanned left and right as the Humvee crawled along, then lifted his binoculars periodically to check further ahead. He could sense a question hanging in the air from Tucker, who was remaining quiet while Chase went to work.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, LT,” Chase offered him.
As they rolled forward, the terrain on either side of the road began to rise up, growing into towering ridgelines. Where the canyon walls started to rise above the height of the Humvee, the driver pulled to a complete stop.
Tucker keyed the radio. “Hawkeye One, this is Roadrunner One. We are in position.”
“Acknowledged, Roadrunner One. We see you,” the reply crackled. It was Collins. “Nice and slow, Roadrunner One. We’ll clear the high road ahead of you. Call out if you see anything.”
“Copy that, Hawkeye One.”
Tucker tapped their driver on the shoulder and Roadrunner One moved ahead, enveloped by the canyon. One by one, the rest of the column followed. Chase leaned forward in his seat, straining to see as far ahead as possible, as he felt the tension rise around him along with the rock walls. Any explosion in here would be more devastating than in the open and rock-fall from above was an added risk.
They passed the first section, a mostly straight piece of road, before slowing further as they met what the Roadrunners called “the S-bends”. This next section was a tighter piece of road, formed where a river had once cut through the rock. The rock walls actually overhung the vehicles in some places, which would make it harder for Collins and his men to see down to the Humvees. It looked to Chase like an ideal place to lay an IED. There just wasn’t a far enough line of sight around the twisting corners. They would have to take it very slow through here.
“Sir, I’d like to take a walk. I need to see better, so I’ll get out ahead and take a good look.”
“OK, Chase. Be very careful. You want to suit up?”
“Only if I need to get a close look at something suspicious, sir. Otherwise I’ll keep my distance — and please tell Collins not to shoot me.”
He was trying to alleviate the tension but Tucker just stared at him, reluctant to let him go out. They both knew, though, that it was the safest option.
Tucker keyed the radio. “Hawkeye One, this is Roadrunner One.”
“Hawkeye One. We see you’ve stopped.”
“Affirmative, Hawkeye One. Chase wants to take a walk. He requests you not shoot him.”
“I’ll do my best, Roadrunner One.”
Chase knew he was meant to hear the non-committal response and made a mental note to give Collins a hard time later. He grabbed his helmet and fastened the chin strap. Next he grabbed his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder. The high, twisting canyon walls cast shadows on the road ahead, making it hard to see any changes in the colouration of the road where something might be buried. The road had sections of sunlight and shade, a patchwork of light and dark.
Chase took a breath then moved slowly ahead, checking the surface of the road, then the sides, then the canyon walls. He looked higher up for any hiding places, then once he was certain that this section was clear he moved forward to the next bend. He waved for Roadrunner One to follow at a safe distance, then motioned them to stop a safe distance away before he moved into the next section of the S-bends. He was on his own now. Collins and his team would struggle to see down here. Any gunshots or bomb fragments would ricochet around the rock walls and the blast would be concentrated on Chase.
He focused on his breathing, his breaths long and slow. He knew this in turn would keep his heart rate low and help with his concentration. Again, he checked the road and the surrounds. Still nothing. He waved again to Roadrunner One to follow at a safe distance as he moved forward into the next bend. The road here was a mix of dirt and sand, or fine dust. It must have swirled around inside the canyon walls, building up as the wind left it behind. The smell of dust in his nostrils had already built up, after only a hundred metres or so of walking.
Again the section was clear. The canyon walls were sheer here, with no place to hide. He moved forward again, then froze after a few steps. As he rounded the corner, looking into the next section, he could see a small mound. It might have just been dust that had built up, or a rock. What made him suspicious was that it was more or less exactly where the driver’s-side wheel of his Humvee would go. It was also under a patch of shade, making it harder to see if there had been any movement of the earth. If it was an IED, it was exactly whe
re he would put it. Whatever was under there had caused the dust to settle unevenly. The mound of dirt and dust around it seemed a little steeper than the gently undulating swirls that covered the rest of the road. That was all he needed. He keyed the radio mounted on his chest.
“Roadrunner One, Hawkeye One, this is Chase. I might have something here.”
“This is Roadrunner One. Can we get a shot at it with the fifty?”
Chase looked at the angle before responding. No way to shoot at it from the Humvee. Another reason why he would have chosen that spot himself.
“Negative. You will not have a shot, Roadrunner One. Hawkeye One, do you have eyes on me?”
“It’s tight, Chase. I can see you but I only have a partial view of the road in your position. Our view up here is obscured by the overhangs.”
“Acknowledged. Can you see where I’m pointing?”
“I can see you pointing, Chase. Not sure about what you’re pointing at.”
“Can you see just beyond the bend in the road, at the shadow and in a couple of feet from that canyon wall? There’s a small mound there.”
There was a pause while Chase waited for Collins to figure out what he should be looking at.
“Negative, Chase. I can’t see all the way to the ground. Hold there, we are moving around.”
“Acknowledged. Holding.”
The more Chase looked at the suspicious mound right in the road, the more he considered it a risk. He studied the well-worn tracks in the road in each direction. They were otherwise smooth, so this was either a single rock in an otherwise flat section of former riverbed, or something was out of place. While he waited for Collins to manoeuvre, he started thinking about how he would tackle this if he had to. Because he couldn’t see the exact edge of whatever it was, he would start excavating wide, slowly sweeping the dust and dirt away so he could get in from the side. He hoped to find a rock but his gut told him to be careful. He was a strong believer in Murphy’s Law.
