Dissension nw-6

by John O'Brien

  The one who trotted over, holding his rifle casually in one hand, appears to be doing the most talking with more hand gesturing. The driver of the truck shakes his head and, although I can’t tell clearly from this distance, appears to start yelling at the other one. His body language indicates he is not happy. I don’t think I would be either if one of my guys just plinked a round at a military vehicle from behind a flimsy roadblock. The driver pushes the other one toward the line of vehicles. Shaking his head again, he then stomps back to the truck. Swinging the door open, he reaches inside and brings something to his mouth.

  “Jack, Lynn, over,” I hear.

  “Yeah, I’m here, go ahead,” I respond.

  “I just picked something up on four sixty-two dot seventy-one twenty-five,” she says.

  Bingo. “What did you hear?” I ask.

  “Well, someone named Sam talking to Roger and he didn’t sound too pleased. He told Roger to round up the troops and then get aloft to report what he sees because, and I quote, ‘Numbnuts here just fired on a military vehicle’,” Lynn answers.

  “Okay, lock in that freq and monitor it,” I say.

  “Will do,” Lynn responds.

  Well, that’s enough for me. We don’t have time to play ‘let’s get to know one another’ as we have to get up to Bangor. I also don’t know what type of aircraft they have that they’re sending aloft. I’m guessing some single-engine civilian type but I really don’t want to find out they have an A-10 stashed away or some World War Two fighter that’s armed. I’ll give the communication with them one shot but I’m not dilly-dallying around. If they want to play games, we’ll roll through them and be on our merry way. I take another quick look around to see if they have mines or some IED’s on the ground. I don’t see any and inch backwards out of the line of sight, rise, and trot to the Humvee. Turning the vehicle around, I drive back to the end of the bridge and pull up next to Lynn. I gather the team leaders around detailing what waits for us over the rise of the bridge.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Lynn asks, stomping one boot on the ground to shake out the chill.

  “Well, let’s try this communication thing once and see if they won’t open the pearly gates for us. If we get ‘entrance denied’, then we’ll roll up and over them,” I answer. I reach in the Humvee and grab the mic.

  “Sam, this is Captain Walker on channel seven,” I say. Silence.

  “Sam, I know you can hear me and it’s in your best interest to respond,” I say, staring at the empty bridge ahead.

  “This is Sam,” I finally hear his words crackle over the speaker in the cab.

  “Would you like to explain why I have a broken windshield?” I ask.

  “Sorry for firing on you, Captain. The boys are a little trigger happy,” Sam answers.

  “Yeah, you might want to get a handle on that,” I say.

  “Are you with the military?” He asks.

  “Is that a serious question?” I ask in response. “And you shot without provocation.”

  “I do apologize but we can’t just have anyone coming through,” he replies.

  “Look, we just want to pass through. We’re not looking for anything other than that and we’re not just anybody,” I say, getting irritated. Time is elapsing and we need to be moving on.

  “I’d like to do that, Captain, but we can’t let you just go through. If we did that, then others would see and think they could try as well. They’d come in and try to take our supplies,” Sam says.

  “What others?” I ask.

  “There are others in the area looking for any weakness and we can’t afford for that to happen,” he answers.

  “Look, we have a safe place and you and your group can join under us,” I say as a way or reconciling this situation.

  “Thanks, Captain, but we have our own safe place here,” he responds.

  “Well, Sam, this is the only route and we’re coming through,” I say.

  “Sorry, sir. We can’t let you do that military or not,” Sam replies.

  I hear the sound of a prop engine revving up across the water. At least it’s a prop, I think getting more irritated by the minute. I don’t really want to unleash the.50 cals on them as they are only trying to protect their own as well but we need to push through. I look up at the unmoving gray clouds overhead seeking an answer. They have none to give. I’m getting tired of this little tete-a-tete. It’s getting us nowhere and I can’t for the life of me figure out why they would want to stop us. Surely they know they have little chance. If that aircraft gets aloft, they’ll know for sure. I ponder over whether to just let it describe what we have on this side but I’m not a fan of just letting an aircraft roam overhead.

  “Last chance, Sam,” I say.

  “I’m sorry, sir. You can go around to the south. There’s a route to the north from there,” he responds.

  “Yeah, that’s not happening. You either let us through or we’re coming through,” I say.

  “Again, sorry, sir,” Sam responds.

  “It’s your funeral, Sam,” I reply, sighing and shaking my head in resignation.

  Stubbornness is going to get him and lot of others killed. We could radio the sub to let them know that we’re running late but to go all of the way around would take us a couple of additional hours each way. Who knows how long our meeting is going to take and we just don’t have that kind of time before the sun hits the western horizon. I look again to the empty lanes of the bridge stretching across, sigh, and reach into the Humvee to replace the mic. I look over at Lynn who gives me a shrug of her shoulders as if to say ‘we tried’.

  “That could have gone better,” I say in response to Lynn’s shrug.

  “It’s not like we didn’t give them a chance,” Lynn says.

  I still don’t get it. We are on the very brink and need to pull together rather than play games. I can understand Sam’s position though. I’m not certain I would let anyone roll through our area at will but neither would I jeopardize our group with stubbornness. But given the option of strengthening our group with numbers to give us a better chance at survival, I would take it provided our safety and cohesiveness remained. But here we are, facing yet another group of people that we’ll have to fight our way through.

  This is different from out other situations though. This isn’t a group of marauders or bandits. This group across the span from us is just trying to protect their people and resources. Much like we are. If we roll through them, are we any better than marauders seeking their own gain regardless of others? I mean, we could radio Captain Leonard and head on the other route around the Puget Sound tomorrow. That will take us through a few small towns which could be blockaded as well. Either solution doesn’t sit well with me. Well, fuck. We did give them a chance and we are pressed for time. And they did fire upon us without provocation, accident or not. I’m not happy with it but we’re proceeding along our route as planned.

  “Jack, are you with us?” Lynn asks. I shake out of my thoughts and look at the others gathered around in the chill under the gray skies.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Okay, here’s what I’m thinking but I’m open to suggestions. We take two Strykers in parallel up the bridge on the right with the other Stryker and the two Humvees astride on the left. We’ll crest and fire into the road block creating a lane to pass through. Our field of fire will be limited due to the bridge superstructure. Make sure to keep our rounds away from the suspension wires. I’m not all that keen on bringing the bridge down with us parked on it. That belongs on the unfavorable situation list. You dump me in the water and I’m going to be a little upset. We open a lane through on each side and push through. Any questions?” I ask.

  “What do you want to do about the aircraft?” Greg asks.

  The Strykers idling nearby are blocking other sounds but I still faintly hear the props of the aircraft in the distance carrying over the waters. It won’t be long before it powers down the runway and gets aloft. I’m nervous about what they’re about to
put aloft but, by the sound of the engine, it isn’t overly large. If it was an old World War Two bird, there would be a definite roar instead of the motor boat sound coming to us.

  “I’m not a fan of letting it roam freely and give them free intel but this should be over quickly. Lynn, you keep an eye on it and if it comes at us, call out and we motor forward quickly and through. We can’t shoot at it without taking out guide wires so let’s push forward to the other side. If it continues to come at us in a threatening manner, we take it out. I’m guessing there’s another road block farther up the highway. If it follows at a distance, there’s not much we can do but keep an eye on it,” I answer. Heads nod in response.

  “Anything else?” I ask, looking at each to see if there are any further questions or issues. No one says anything.

  “Alright, if there’s nothing else, then let’s mount up,” I say.

  McCafferty stands in the open turret of the Humvee gripping the M-240. She feels the cold through her gloves as they motor up the Interstate. Turning and looking behind her, she sees the nose of the Stryker behind as they make their way through the line of cars in the lanes beside them. The balaclava she has wrapped around her head and the goggles do little to stop the chill from seeping through. The Humvee rocks as they drive over an object in the road. Her splayed feet on the gunners stand helps to keep her balanced but her arm still knocks into the cold steel of the roof opening. Regaining her equilibrium, her thoughts wander.

  She thinks of her parents and is filled with mixed emotions. There is joy at finding her dad alive and having him up here with her, but there is a tremendous sadness that settles in her heart thinking of her mom. The sorrow and grief threatens to overwhelm her and she feels warm tears fill her eyes. Keeping most of her attention focused on the area around her, images of her mom form in McCafferty’s mind.

  She remembers her mom puttering around the kitchen with flour covering her hands and in her hair from some baking project. She always had fresh pies and bread ready to deliver to neighbors or to take to church, the smell of fresh bread permeating the house. Her mom standing over the kitchen counter humming while kneading the dough. Memories surface of her mom tirelessly roaming about doing laundry, sweeping, and changing bed linens. She remembers her mom putting on her favorite dress for church and helping McCafferty with hers when she was young. There were the times when her mom took her out with her new bicycle and taught her to ride, picking her up the many times when she fell in the their dusty yard. Always dusting her off and giving her words of encouragement. Clapping when she managed to make it down the entire driveway on her own. The twinkle that always shone in her mother’s eye. The memories of her mom waking early and herself waking to the aroma of breakfast wafting through the house. The peace and contentment McCafferty felt waking to the smell of bacon as it drifted in her room.

  Although her dad felt he ruled the house and made the decisions, McCafferty always knew her mom actually did but with a softer touch. Her mom never had a bad thing to say about anyone and would admonish her dad gently when he would make critical comments. McCafferty remembers going to the grocery store and her mom chatting with anyone and everyone in line. Now she is gone like so many others, just another on the long list of those lying in the emptiness of the world. McCafferty reaches under her goggles and wipes away the tears that are running down her cheeks.

  “I love you, mom, and miss you so much,” she whispers.

  Although grieving for the loss of her mom and thankful for her dad making it, she is also thankful for those around her. Even though under constant tension and danger, she is relieved to have found herself in such good company in this strange new world. She is grateful for the camaraderie of Red Team and the bond they share; for Jack and Sergeant Connell. Grateful for Jack and his leadership even though she mentally shakes her head at his plans and actions at times. She’s glad for Sergeant Connell and respects her toughness in the same way she does Gonzalez. She has grown close to Gonzalez in the past few months and admires her quick wit and her ability to maintain her composure and humor in pressure situations. Yeah, she’ll follow any of them to the ends of the earth. Which, she thinks, is here and now.

  She knows they’ll make it through this together but she wonders if the stress won’t get to them eventually. Her tours in Iraq and Afghanistan have shown her that, even with the best of them, the strain gets to everyone eventually. The hope arises in McCafferty that they reach a point of safety soon as she has seen an edginess grow among the other soldiers. She feels it within herself; jumping at any sudden noise.

  The one thing she is most thankful for is that they don’t have to venture into any more darkened buildings. That creeped her out each and every time and filled her with more fear than she has ever known. The quiet was probably the worst part. A shiver runs down her spine as she remembers the buildings, the dark under the green glow with lasers tracking, the shuffle of footsteps on dusty floors, and the occasional whisper or quiet voice on the radio. The team or teams venturing farther into the building not knowing if there were any night runners within. She remembers the tension pulling her every nerve tight not knowing when or from where an attack would come. The attacks always came on suddenly and they were lucky if they had any advance warning by hearing something or catching a glimpse. Sometimes they were set upon by a mass of them which forced them out and other times by only four or five. Any thought of a night runner fills her instantly with an intense dread.

  She pulls her focus back entirely to the area around her as a bridge looms ahead. It’s actually two bridges running in parallel. The light green of the towers and suspension lines rise toward the gray clouds hovering overhead. The lanes widen as they rise upward and are lost from view as they reach the top to begin their downward arch on the other side. Her Humvee pulls to an opening in the middle just before the bridges. She braces for the stop keeping her weapon aimed at the topmost part of the spans, alternating between the two bridges. McCafferty first hears and then sees Sergeant Connell’s Humvee pull up adjacent. Jack emerges from just in front and below her, walks over to the other Humvee, and talks with the First Sergeant. Upon his return, she hears him tell them that they are going to the crest and scout the other side. She hears Gonzalez give a “Hooah” and smiles as she visualizes Jack’s customary eye roll at the phrase. They all get a kick out of that and do it as often as they can without overdoing it. With him having spent some time with boots on the ground, Jack’s not like the usual Air Force zoomies with their swagger and country club demeanor but he shuns anything he sees as gung ho.

  The Humvee lurches forward and they proceed slowly in the middle lane up the arch of the bridge. McCafferty glances at the blue waters below, turned more leaden by the clouds overhead. She tenses as they approach the crest not knowing what to expect. The far side of the bridge is slowly revealed the closer to the top they come. A loud crack and bang coming from the windshield just ahead and below startles her. Hearing the whine of a ricocheting bullet as it passes just off her left and into the air above, her heart races with the sudden release of adrenaline and she cringes to her right before bringing the M-240 to bear to her immediate front.

  McCafferty hears Jack shout “Fuck!” below her but the rest of his words are lost as she is thrown forward from a sudden halt. She is pressed there as the Humvee is thrown in reverse and begins to traverse quickly backwards. Pushing rearwards, she rights herself just as the vehicles comes to a stop and quickly brings the gun to bear once again. Ahead, only the top of the lanes are in view. She remembers catching a glimpse of a line of vehicles strewn across the bottom of the bridges on the far side before Jack drove them back below the crest.

  “Everyone okay?” She hears Jack call out.

  She hears Gonzalez’ response and smiles although the near miss still has her heart racing. Inside, she couldn’t agree more with needing a new set of fatigues. Her hands shake from the adrenaline. Expecting something or someone to appear at a moments notice, she keeps her
weapon trained on the empty lanes ahead of her.

  “Good here, sir,” she replies after hearing Robert answer.

  “Okay, good, wait here,” Jack says and exits the Humvee.

  While keeping an eye to the front, she watches in her peripheral as Jack runs across the road and vaults a railing near the edge of the bridge. He almost disappears from sight as he first crouches and then crawls along the outer walkway. Her heart has slowed somewhat but nowhere near normal and she feels the chill creep back to her hands and face. Hearing the conversations between Jack and Sergeant Connell, she watches as Jack returns a few minutes later and they drive back to the group.

  Rubbing her gloved hands together to shake off the chill, she observes the team leaders meet while keeping an eye on the gray lanes arching ahead. The adrenaline has subsided to an extent but some remains as she knows action is imminent. Jack reaches in to grab the mic and she listens in on the conversation between him and whoever is sitting on the far side of the bridge. Having served in the sandbox a few times, she is used to this kind of action and the having to wait, but to have to do this here, in her own country, just feels strange. Her body and mind are tired after days of constant danger and not knowing what to expect from minute to minute. It’s getting to her and she feels the weariness of it all. Her only hope is that they reach a point of stability where they can unwind soon. The only thing keeping them together right now is their camaraderie; their watching after each other.

  She hears Jack’s sigh as he hangs up the mic. She knows he must be tired as well and feels his exasperation. As if the night runners aren’t enough, they have to deal with others. The chill settles deeper into her bones and the mental tiredness seems even more pronounced. The conversation made it clear that they are going into yet another battle. She shakes her head wondering what it is about human nature that creates these situations. Can’t they just see they have to be pulling together rather than isolating themselves. She can almost understand the marauder mentality more than this situation. They’re just bullies who take what they want and always have. Here, the two groups aren’t that much different from one another and have much of the same ideas and goals. Mentally, she hopes that Jack will decide to take the other route mentioned. She’s just doesn’t want to be involved in yet another firefight. They are bucking the odds as it is and every engagement lowers those odds even more.