Praying for War: The Collin War Chronicles

by W. C. Hoffman

  A loud blast rocked the edge of the farmland, as if a bomb detonated. Trees shivered from the blast wave as it dissipated against their trunks. The smaller trees toppled over. Another boom echoed across the valley and two massive pine trees leaned toward the fields, falling slowly then speeding up as they gained momentum. The Vipers must have used a line of detonation cord, wrapped around the trunks of the big pines, to bring them down.

  Bravo team soldiers in the field scrambled back toward the bridge. The massive trees landed with ground-trembling thumps, kicking up dust and dirt that mixed with the cloud of debris from the explosives.

  Through the smoke, Collin could make out something moving.

  He pointed. “Do you see that?”

  Major Logan looked through his binoculars.

  “I see something moving but it’s too...wait. What the hell?”

  Wind coming down off the mountains cleared out the smoke and unveiled the Viper’s secret weapon.

  Shaped like a massive turtle shell was a metallic structure. It rolled along slowly, moving along the improvised path. The two tree trunks they had felled flanked it, providing cover.

  For a brief moment, none of the Eagles fired their weapons. Everyone had to be thinking the same thing - what the fuck?

  Then an eruption of firepower exploded through the air. Even from the bell tower, Collin could tell the rounds weren’t doing anything to the shell. How could it? The damn thing seemed to be made of steel plate.

  “Christ, that thing must weigh nearly a ton,” Major Logan said through clenched teeth.

  The shell stopped rolling, tilted back and settled against the ground.

  Sensing their ineffective shots, or perhaps on order, most of the shooting ceased. However, the two snipers on top of the dam continued firing. They had the benefit of .50 caliber rounds. Massive rounds that couldn’t be stopped by such simple armor.

  “The .50’s are punching through,” Major Logan said. “Atta boys!”

  The shell levered up and began rolling forward again. It was close to the medical crates. Very close.

  “Damn.” Major Logan slammed his hand against the wall. “We can’t lose that medicine.”

  Another shot by the .50s and the shell stuttered to a stop again. Unexpectedly, a few men sprinted out of the woods toward the shell. Two barely made it before the Eagle’s Nests opened up on them. The third man wasn’t so lucky. His body slumped face down in the dirt, and didn’t move.

  “I’d kill for a radio system.”

  Collin grunted.

  The structure moved forward again to cover the last few feet to the crate full of BT76. Now they knew it was man powered, and given the way it levered up before moving, it must be working like a giant wheelbarrow. That would certainly make it easier to move all that weight.

  It stopped again and didn’t move. Nothing happened for a few minutes. Then another volley of arrows filled the sky at the same time as four men ran out to grab a supply crate. One was shot as they dragged it back under the cover of their turtle shell.

  “No,” shouted Major Logan. “We can lose men, we can lose medication, but we can’t lose the medication to them.”

  He grabbed a purple flag from the rack and waved it.

  “What does purple mean?” said Collin.

  “The end of that damned contraption they built,” said Major Logan.

  A minute passed.

  Major Logan was fidgeting. “C’mon, damnit.”

  Another minute.

  Then a loud thunk sounded, something streaked through the air from one of the Eagle’s Nests and slammed into the side of the steel-plate turtle shell in a loud explosion. Sparks and smoke shot up into the air. Another thunk from the other side of the field. This one hit low, throwing up dirt and hurling the remains of the turtle shell against the fallen tree trunk. Metal plates blown off from the explosions flipped through the air like falling playing cards.

  “Holy shit, Major. You have AT4s?”

  Major Logan smirked at him. “Man portable glory.”

  The few surviving Vipers broke for the woods. Collin was surprised any had survived. Sniper fire chased them the whole way, and only a few made it to the tree line. Collin watched, as the fleeing Vipers were dropped mid-step. He was truly impressed by the marksmanship skills of the men on the dam.

  When the smoke cleared, they could see that half the panels on the left side had blown off. Body parts were strewn about, and a large hole was notched in the ground where the turtle shell used to sit. The remains of the armored shell lay crumpled against the tree. They could see the abandoned crate of medical supplies. It was damaged, but it was still on the field.

  The Eagle’s succeeded in keeping the BT76 out of Viper’s control.

  Sensing the enemy was fleeing, Bravo team moved forward and secured the hooks to the crates. The horses pulled them across the field, while Bravo turned its attention to recovering Alpha team’s bodies.

  “Let’s head down there and check out the packages,” said Major Logan.

  Collin headed down the hatch and ran into Koby.

  “I missed all the action?” Koby said.

  “Yup, we’re going out to check on the medical supplies, c’mon,” said Collin.

  Koby turned around and led the way out of the church.

  Once in the street, they jogged the rest of the way to the bridge. Two soldiers were unhooking the crates, which up close, Collin saw were large plastic military supply crates, the kind he’d seen during his service.

  Collin concluded that he definitely served in the military at some point before the fever hit. Too much of it was familiar to him. With his fighting skills on display in the hospital combined with his knowledge of weapons and the rank structure, it only made sense. He wasn’t sure of much these days but that was one he would bet on.

  Kobyashi looked at all the damage and shrieked. “Ohhh! Look at that mess.”

  “It was quite a battle,” Collin said in a low voice. They lost Eagles, good people he was sure, and that was always tough even if he didn’t know them. He honored their sacrifice.

  “A real ball buster,” said Koby. He held a hand on his forehead.

  Collin could see his new friend going over the work in his head - logging the trees, cleaning up debris, removing body parts, and preparing the soil. He was thankful it wasn’t his job.

  Soldiers crowded around the crates.

  “I can’t believe those heathens attacked us with shovels and pitchforks. Did they really think they could win?” said one of the soldiers, laughing.

  Collin gave the idiot a stern look. It was hard to believe he’d just heard such a remark.

  Major Logan’s fist shot out and flattened the nose of the inconsiderate bastard. There was an audible crunch and the man groaned, stumbling backward. He tripped and fell on his ass.

  “We lost seventeen good soldiers to the Viper’s arrows.” Major Logan kept pounding away at the soldier who held his free hand up in a weak defense. “That’s more than shovels and pitchforks you dumb sonofabitch,” Major Logan shouted with a snarl. Logan punched him again before Collin caught his arm.

  “Major, maintain your professional decorum for Christ’s sake,” said Collin. “He may have a big, dumb mouth but he’s an Eagle too.”

  Major Logan shot him a sharp look and jerked his arm out of Collin’s grip. He turned to face Collin. Leaning in close, he said, “If you ever lay a hand on me again in front of my men, it will be your blood on my hands, not some loudmouth private’s.”

  Major Logan wiped his bloodied hand off on Collin’s shirt and stalked away to attend to his other soldiers.

  “What an asshole,” said Kobyashi when the Major was out of earshot.

  Collin and another soldier helped the loudmouth off the ground. “Get yourself to the hospital. Dr. Horner will fix you up.”

  He nodded and walked away, cupping his nose tenderly.

  Chapter Ten

  Collin followed Major Logan into the Eagle’s Ba
r for the second time that day.

  Walking down stairs to the rec room, they entered into an entirely different type of room. From the neat and orderly first floor to the dim, bar room was quite a change.

  One side of the room had three pool tables with low-hanging lights and hanging on the wall behind them was a faded, battle damaged American flag in a large, oak frame. Collin made a mental note to ask about the flag’s history when the time was right.

  On the opposite side of the room, a bar took up the entire wall. Behind the bar were mirrors and glowing lights to show off the various bottles of liquor. Clinging to the corner edge of the bar was a giant golden statue of a bald eagle with its wings spread and beak open in the middle of an ear-splitting screech. A middle-aged man stood behind the bar, near the eagle, drying glasses and watching the two men. He gave a brief nod to the Major. He eyed Collin with curiosity. There was a dartboard in one corner and an odd assortment of posters covering the wall featuring sexy women striking alluring poses with bottles of various brands of beer. Tables and chairs filled the room with several padded booths along the third wall.

  “Double whiskey,” Major Logan said, rapping his knuckles twice on the bar for emphasis. Then he jerked his thumb at Collin. “And whatever he wants.”

  Collin looked at his options. He shrugged. “Same thing. Double whiskey neat, please.”

  The bartender nodded and pulled down a large bottle and two old fashioned glasses. He filled them with an expert pour, not a drop wasted, and then set each cup before them.

  Major Logan raised his at Collin. “To the Eagles.”

  “To the Eagles,” said Collin. He had no problem drinking to fallen soldiers. They had a rough day out there. He took a drink and savored the smoky flavor as it warmed him up inside.

  Major Logan emptied his drink.

  “Fill me up,” he said to the bartender. The liquor flowed. Major Logan motioned for Collin to drink more.

  Collin finished his double and set his glass down. The bartender topped him up with another.

  Collin sniffed the whiskey, enjoying the smell. He saw a younger version of himself at a party of some sort, probably in university. Collin took a gulp of the whiskey, and as it ran down his throat, he remembered that he didn’t actually like whiskey.

  Turning to Major Logan, Collin set his glass down and said, “You know what the difference between you and me is?”

  “What’s that, sir.” Major Logan looked at him.

  Collin finished his whiskey and held up the glass, once again ignoring the use of sir when being addressed. “You drink to forget, I drink to remember.”

  Major Logan gulped his whiskey and set the glass down with a thud. “Come on.”

  Collin glanced at the bartender who just smirked at him.

  “Thanks,” Collin said to the bartender. The man gave him a little salute with a tip of his head. Then Collin stood and followed Major Logan back upstairs.

  Major Logan led him back to the planning room. As soon as they entered, Major Logan stormed over to the table and swept his arm across the map, knocking all the pieces over. He roared with anger and flipped the table over. It clattered to the floor.

  “Sonofabitch!” he yelled.

  Collin stood in the doorway and waited for Major Logan to cool down.

  Behind Collin in the main room, the Eagles were quiet. They continued dressing down, removing their dirty gear and prepping it for cleaning. Frustration, anger, and sadness were palpable in the air.

  Major Logan pointed out the door. Collin stepped aside and let Major Logan pass. He walked into the main room and looked around at the soldiers; the men and women who fought and defended Goshen.

  He stood with his hands on his hips and his head bowed.

  “Good job today, Eagles,” he said slowly. He raised his head. “We faced a unique threat today and you did your jobs well. We will remember those we lost today, they’ll live on in our hearts and minds. We will honor them and their sacrifices. Let’s take a moment of silence for the fallen.”

  Everyone around the room stood with their hands held in front, head bowed.

  Major Logan said, “Amen.” Which was echoed around the room.

  “Carry on,” he said.

  The Eagles went back to cleaning up.

  “Bring in the crates,” Major Logan said to an Eagle. He had sergeant stripes on his arms.

  “Yes, sir.” He rounded up four guys, went outside, and carried in the large plastic tubs.

  Up close, they were even bigger than Collin estimated. Each one was roughly six feet long by three feet wide and about three feet tall. The Eagles carried each of them in and set them in the middle of the floor. The second container was damaged. Some of the plastic had melted and chunks of metal were stuck where fragments of the steel plate had peppered them.

  Each container had a thick padlock on it.

  “Why do they have locks?” asked Collin.

  “To keep the Vipers out of them,” said Major Logan. “The first time we received BT76 from HAGS, the combination was painted right on the container. But since then, the number hasn’t changed.”

  “Seems like a lot of effort if the Vipers can’t get them open.”

  “No lock is impervious to destruction. It just makes it more difficult for them.” Major Logan smiled like a shark. “One time they stole a box and it proved to be such a nuisance that the Vipers came back to kidnap our unit administrator - or secretary, if you will.”

  “No shit?”

  “Poor girl was tortured because they believed she knew the combination.”

  “How do you know she was tortured?” said Collin.

  “We mounted a rescue mission and were able to retrieve her from those bastards.” Major Logan frowned. ”This is the first time in more than a year that the Vipers have tried to steal a crate.”

  “Where is the girl now?”

  “She won’t come near this place. It makes her too anxious,” Major Logan said. “Now she’s a nurse and works for her mommy.”

  Collin realized he was referring to Anna, Dr. Horner’s daughter. He thought back to that first night in the hospital when he’d rescued her from the Vipers. She seemed level headed to him, especially considering she had been under attack from the Vipers yet again.

  Major Logan still hadn’t opened the cases. Collin wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.

  “Are we waiting for something?” said Collin. “Who knows the combination?”

  “Can you keep a secret?” asked Major Logan waving Collin closer.

  When Collin got close enough, Major Logan threw his arm over Collin’s shoulders, and pulled him even closer.

  Collin turned his ear to listen to the secret code.

  “So can I,” said Logan with a chuckle.

  Shaking his head, Collin stepped away. It wasn’t critical that he know the number and in fact hadn’t expected the Major to trust him with it. His little game was still annoying.

  “How often does HAGS make a supply drop?” said Collin.

  Major Logan stopped and looked up at Collin. “How do you know about HAGS?”

  “You guys told me about them. First, at the Council meeting. Then later, when Kobyashi and Dr. Horner were briefing me about the town’s background.” Collin didn’t see what the big deal was.

  “I see,” Major Logan said. “I wouldn’t have told you. I don’t trust you and never did.”

  Odd change in direction, Collin thought.

  “Never did?”

  “I didn’t trust you when you were asleep, and I don’t trust you now,” said Major Logan.

  “Why did you share your battle plans with me then?” Collin gestured at the room behind them. “Why am I even here now?”

  “You’re here with me only because Pastor Pendell wants you to be here,” he said. “I only agreed because of what I saw you do at the hospital. You’re a capable fighter and I need all the help I can get. Especially now.”

  Major Logan knelt down and turned the dia
l. He didn’t try to hide it. If anything, he left it uncovered so Collin could see it. He turned the dial, entering the combination of 01-15-16. The lock clicked open.

  Pulling off the lock and sliding out a metal rod that helped secure the edges, Major Logan lifted off the lid. Inside the thick padded case were shrink-wrapped blue and white boxes. On each box was printed the same HAGS logo that Collin recognized as the one from the sides of the choppers that had made the drop. Two neat rows of six small boxes sat in a cardboard tray, packaged together into bricks of twelve. Dozens of bricks were stacked neatly in the container.

  “This is what my men died for.” Major Logan tore a box out of the pack and tossed it to Collin.

  Collin looked at it with interest. “How many doses are in one box?”

  “Three doses per box in pre-filled injectors. Each box is enough for one person for three months. You just stick yourself in the thigh with an injector every month and you’re all set. We like to give each person two boxes in case a shipment comes late,” said Major Logan. “It’s happened before and it creates a lot of tension in town.”

  “So everyone just gets two boxes?”

  “Everyone but my Eagles. Each of them receive three boxes plus the standard two boxes for each of their family members.”

  “Understandable,” said Collin. “Is there any stored up for emergencies?”

  “Dr. Horner keeps a stash locked away somewhere for emergencies and critical personnel. Whatever the hell that means.” Major Logan stood up.

  “What happens if someone misses a dose?” Collin opened the box and looked inside. A foam block had cutouts for three injectors, as described. The liquid was in a tiny clear tube. It was bright blue like candy.

  Major Logan handed Collin another box. His rations apparently. “If someone misses a dose, they get the fever. Right away or in a month, it’s hard to say. But they will get the fever, they will fall asleep, and unlike you, they won’t wake up. Then they’ll spend several days or months slowly wasting away until their organs fail and they die.”

  Collin didn’t like the way he framed the explanation but he wasn’t in the mood to argue.

  The Major went to the other case and unlocked it.