by Mark Tufo
“Major Randing has ordered me to get the dogs off the plane.”
“You’re both majors; how does he pull rank?”
“He was commissioned a year earlier than I was.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Just because he’s been a dickhead longer shouldn’t make him the boss of you.”
“Are you saying I’m a dickhead?”
“Well, less of one, sir. Wasn’t how I meant it.”
“Listen, I knew Randing long before any of this shit ever happened. He was a hard-ass then and it’s only gotten worse. Do yourself a favor get the dogs off the plane, apologize, kowtow a little, and let’s get out of here.”
“With all due respect…”
“Let me stop you there because you’re about to give a great long litany of not-so-good things to say, and ‘with all due respect’ is not a get out of jail free card, Lieutenant.”
“Noted. The dogs stay, I’m staying.”
“Lieutenant, don’t be obstinate. They’re dogs; you have family back in Etna, and a dog, if I’m not mistaken.”
“No offense, Major, but I’ve seen your flying. I’d rather take my chances in that van, probably beat you back and in one piece.”
Eastman looked at me for a moment. “You’re serious, aren’t you.” It was a questioning statement but had no up lilt at the end. “I could order you.”
“You could, sir.”
“And if I told your squad to force you on there?”
“How do you think that would go down?” It was my turn to ask a question.
“I have no desire to see what a mutiny looks like.” Eastman sighed. “So what do you suggest I do?”
“I would never presume to tell a major what to do.”
“You are so full of shit, Talbot. I read your file before I took you out here. I do it with every squad leader.”
“And?”
“And I know you were a troubled corporal, saw a lot of action and performed your duties admirably, although, I saw numerous instances where you had issues with authority.”
“And I stand by my actions. If I remember correctly, the Marine Corps doesn’t want automatons, but rather thinking soldiers so that, God forbid, if anything happens to command, we could still function.”
“You punched a supply sergeant. I’m having a hard time seeing how losing a commander in a firefight applies to knocking out rear echelon personnel.”
“Staff Sergeant Jonders? Putz.”
“You want to elaborate?”
“I hate reliving this shit, but it was Kamdesh…that’s in Afghanistan.”
“I know where Kamdesh is; I was there.”
“After?”
“During.”
“Fair enough. Then you know the clusterfuck that it was. We were assigned to protect the contractors there and the narrow roadway they were working on. Intel, as always, was spot on. That’s sarcasm…sometimes people don’t get it.”
“Again, I was there, Lieutenant.”
“We were told there wasn’t an enemy within fifty miles of our location. We got ambushed, lost three men–two of whom I counted as friends, within the first couple of rocket attacks. Our LT took a rocket to the chest; I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone cease to exist so violently and quickly. We were pinned down as they rained everything they had from the high ground. It was the flyboys that saved our ass.”
“You’re welcome.”
I nodded. “In the ensuing firefight, I lost my helmet at some point and I’d used my flack jacket to…put out Lance Corporal Hennessy. See, a truck had been blown up and shrapnel from the gas tank had doused him. He was screaming and running around; I tackled him and did my best to smother the flames. He lived, but was burned on over seventy percent of his body. That was the point I thought I might become a vegetarian. I didn’t realize that a cooking human could smell like that.” Even now as I related this story, I had to work hard to quell the gorge threatening to rise within me.
“How does this relate to Jonders?”
“When I got back, and after a stiff bottle of something that was supposed to be whiskey, I went to requisition new gear. Jonders wanted to charge me for the lost gear. I snapped; I don’t even remember what happened other than I jumped the counter and laid into him like he had ordered the rocket attack. So it wasn’t the fact that he outranked me; it was more because he was a callous asshole. Like I’d lost my flack jacket just to piss him off, and not to try to save a burning man that smelled suspiciously like a Saturday barbecue. So yeah, I punched him, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“There are other instances.”
“How many stories you want to hear? Not once did I haul off and do something that wasn’t justified, at least, in my mind. I know I’m not cut out to be a soldier; unfortunately, it would seem I’m not cut out to do much of anything else either, but you know what I’ve found out? I’m good at it. I’m good at killing and even better at not dying, and I completely agree with the old adage about not dying for my country–but letting the other bastard do it for his.”
“Fuck, Talbot, you go against almost everything I believe in, regarding my Corps, and still I want to root for you.”
“Weird, right? Damn near the same thing my wife says every day.”
Eastman laughed at that. “I’ll get your dogs home, but you’re going to have fallout when you get back. Not much I can do about that.”
“Don’t worry, Bennington owes me one.”
“What do you have on him? Forget it, the less I know, the better. I’ll get Randing out of here. You watch our perimeter; we should be ready to go in four or five hours.”
“There’s more, Major.” He was listening. “We ended up in a church for a while. There are people there; I promised them I would do my best to get them to Etna.”
“What do you want me to do, Lieutenant? I can’t give you the authorization to get those people. Colonel Bennington will have my ass.”
“Would you turn your back if I did it? Already got my ass all slung up and ready for a good paddling.”
“Shit.” He turned away to think on it. “How many?”
“Thirty-eight. Women and kids, too.”
“You know the deal at Etna. They all going to be able to contribute?”
“Doubtful.”
“They know this?”
“They do. They’re stuck in that place and they’re running out of food. At the worst, they would have someplace new to hole up.”
“How long to retrieve?”
“Couple of hours without any problems.”
“And what are the odds of there not being any problems?” he asked. Fair enough question.
“You really want an answer?”
“When the plane is repaired, Lieutenant, I have to go whether you’ve returned or not.”
“You won’t, but thanks for the heads up.”
He was shaking his head. The desire to flip Randing off was a physical need, so much so that I figured it best to go in and check on the dogs. Harmon had fashioned some water bowls out of MRE wrappers and duct tape; they’d slobbered all over the place and were now looking for a place to nap. Holly barked at me, Chloe came over without any prompting from me. She licked my hand; I choose to believe it was in thanks. I got down on my haunches and petted her head; I was looking over at Holly, who barked again.
“You already forget who I am?” She let her head dip before hesitantly coming closer. She tried to remain standoffish, but there is only so much butt patting a girl can take before she caves. I was winning her over one scratch at a time. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” I asked as we were face to face.
“Huddle time,” I told my squad, wanted them all within earshot.
“This about the church folk?” Winters asked.
“It is. I promised those people I would try and get them out, and I hate not fulfilling that. The problem is, we do not have Eastman’s blessing. Anyone goes out there with me can count on being in some hot water upon our ret
urn to Etna.”
“You know we’re with you, Lieutenant,” Stenzel said.
“I know that, and thank you. I need to leave some people behind to watch Eastman’s back.”
“I’m a private, sir…can’t bust me any lower,” Harmon said, smiling.
“I’m only taking Tommy; space is going to be at a premium.” BT was pissed, like I wasn’t taking him to Disney World as opposed to back into a hostile situation. As Tommy and I headed to the van, Randing was getting on his plane. I gave him a weak wave, which he ignored completely. BT walked with us; pretty sure he was going to attempt to force his way into the mission.
“Do you think he should call a doctor?” I asked BT as I got into the van.
“Who?”
“Randing.”
“Why? No…you’re about to give me some half-assed joke you think is hilarious and I might have found funny in the fourth grade. Screw it. Let it out–not like you’re going to hold it in any way. Never met anyone with less self-control.”
“Not gonna do it now. You ruined the mood. If I’d had the opportunity to let it flow naturally, it would have slain.”
“Oh, whatever, so now you’re not going to tell me? You are such an asshole! I’m not going to beg for one of your lame jokes. We’re talking Talbot, so it has to be something gastric related, although, that word seems a little above his vocabulary.” BT was talking softly, attempting to reason out what I was going to say. “Smelly farts?” BT asked, looking up hopefully.
“Gunney, I hardly think that’s appropriate military decorum, especially when it concerns senior officers,” I said. I’ve yet to understand my fascination with giving the mountain of a man a hard time; I would imagine those that lived in the shadow of Vesuvius did all in their powers to appease the volcano gods, not provoke them. Then I completed the thought–what good had it done them? In the end, they’d been blown away or covered in ash and lava. Might as well have fun while you’re going down. “We’ll be right back.” I was trying to appease him. He didn’t believe me; easy enough, especially since I didn’t believe me.
“You know I don’t like not being able to watch your back.”
“I know that, man, I do. Tommy, lets go.” We pulled out of the airport and onto the highway.
Chapter 10
Mike Journal Entry 8
“They’re already on the road,” Tommy said not more than five miles from where we’d left.
“What? Who?”
“Jason, his son, and the others.”
“How many ‘others' and how do you know this?”
“Lyle is open.” He didn’t explain further; I guess he meant his mind. “It wasn’t purely luck that he was on the roadway.”
“What…you just reached out and touched him? Like AT&T?”
Tommy looked befuddled.
“Don’t give me that crap. Of all the people I can’t ‘date’ myself with, it’s you. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Yes; I’ve been alive for a great many years. It doesn’t mean I spent a bunch of them in front of the television.”
“Are you going all elitist on me?”
“I loved Bonanza.”
“There’s a lot not making sense right now. Bonanza?” I asked, halting my other thought.
“Hoss was my hero.”
“Okay, back to it. Jason didn’t look like he’d leave if the building was on fire. Why now, and how do they know where they’re going?”
“Lyle convinced him to come, and I gave them directions before we headed out.”
“This is all a little too coincidental. Too easy.”
“You can catch a break every once in a while, Mr. T; not everything needs to be a deadly quest.”
“You say that but it seems for every easy thing handed to us, we have to pay double for it on the back end.”
Tommy smiled and let the back of his seat recline.
“How long?” I hated waiting–drove me nuts, as a matter of fact. Too much time to get myself in trouble.
“Fifteen minutes.” He placed his hands behind his head; I stepped out of the van to look around. Tommy seemed at ease; I wasn’t getting that kind of vibe, I was at an agitated unease. I slowly did a complete turn, looking in every nook and cranny I could. I saw nothing, but that didn’t quell my whipped up innards. No matter what the kid said, something was up. No, I couldn’t just “catch a break.”
“BT, can you hear me?” I’d grabbed the walkie out of the van.
“You cannot already be in trouble,” he replied.
“We’re good…going to be back sooner than expected. Apparently, they’re coming to meet us.”
He wisely didn’t ask how over an open channel. “See you soon, out.”
On cue, I saw a bus coming. Couldn’t hear it.
“Electric,” Tommy said. He had soundlessly exited the van and was looking as well. He waved as they got closer.
The bus slowed down; Lyle was hanging out a window and yelling enthusiastically. Jason was driving; didn’t seem quite so happy. In fact, it looked like he’d somehow bitten down on an overly sour lemon. The bus had no sooner stopped when a man in a blue flannel shirt stepped off. I remembered seeing him at the church; he was one of the ones holding a gun on us, but he’d not said anything then. Apparently, he wanted to now.
“James M. Lemon,” he said as he extended his hand. “The M is for Motherfucker.”
“Okay. Nice beard,” was all I could think to say.
“You getting us out of here?”
“That’s the idea. Everyone with you?”
“Fourteen. The others wouldn’t leave.”
I looked over to Jason, who had not left the confines of the bus and would not allow his son to do so either.
“Fourteen it is.” The other twenty-four had sealed their fate. I could not help those that did not want it.
James followed me back to the van. “Don’t you want to ride on the bus?” I asked as he hopped in.
“I figured you’d prefer my company, let’s go.”
“You heard the man, Tommy.”
Relief covers what I felt as we drove back onto the tarmac. That lasted for all of ten minutes.
“Lieutenant, we have a situation.” It was Winters. I hoped briefly it was just Randing heading into round two. We turned as Randing was firing up his engines in preparation for takeoff. So it wasn’t him. Didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out where this was going or to explain what I had been feeling while we were on the highway. I knew it was Randing’s mission to get those scientists out of here, but right now it felt like he was abandoning us in our time of need. Prick couldn’t wait to see if we got our ride fixed, and he sure as hell didn’t care if we made it out of the battle that was coming. They were on the runway to our left, and I sincerely hoped he saw my finger as he taxied. “How are you going to explain that at your court-martial?” BT asked.
“He makes me wish I had more middle fingers. Let’s see what Winters wants.” He was a hundred yards in front of our plane, looking through his optics across the airfield. The question now was: how many and how long did we have?
Winters handed over a small pair of binoculars. “They’re at the far side, and they’re moving. I think they’ve found a way in, but I’m not sure where.”
I was watching the line of them. They looked like ants following a chemical trail to a picnic. They were heading to the small concourse building. Once they found a way out of that building, they were going to be immediately to our right.
“Winters, get the rest of the squad up here. We’re going to need to watch those exits. I was pointing to a half dozen doors. Major Eastman…?”
“Little busy.” I could hear him straining; guarantee it was the last bolt on whatever they were trying to remove.
“Going to need a revised number on repairs.”
“I’m not Scottie, Talbot. I said four or five hours and I meant it.”
“What is it with you military guys and the nerd references?”
BT asked.
“Funny that you know what he meant.”
“I also know Barry Manilow songs; doesn’t mean I’m singing them out loud to people.”
“Mandy?”
“Well, yeah, of course…I mean, that’s a classic.”
“Copacabana?”
“How does anyone make it through a summer without that one?”
“I write the songs?”
“Don’t fuck with classic love songs.” With that, he turned away.
At some point, Winters had taken the glasses back. “I see them.” He was pointing to the building. Didn’t need the magnification to see the line of them moving through the airport and with a quickness.
“Major, far be it for me to tell you how to do your work, but you might want to shoot for ‘good enough’ on the repairs.”
“Good enough? You want duct tape on your ride home across the entire US? How bad?” he asked when he realized why I was bothering him again.
“Couple hundred so far, more on the way.”
“You there, Sergeant!” I heard him yelling.
“Yes, Major.” It was Tommy.
“There’s an M2 in the back of the plane. Looks like you’re going to need it.”
“He has a .50 caliber machine gun in the back of the plane and we’re just finding out about it now?” BT asked me.
“Damn thing is close to ninety pounds without ammunition…you want to run around with that thing?” I was moving quickly to the plane. We needed to set up a defense and in the middle was going to be that machine of war. Tommy let Kirby help him carry it, but I knew the boy could hold it by the barrel with his arm fully extended if he wanted to.
Harmon and Grimm were waddle-walking a large ammunition can; Corporals Rose and Stenzel were right behind them, carrying another.
“This ought to be fun.” I honestly wasn’t sure if I was being serious or sarcastic. On one hand, firing a machine gun is just fun–it is–I don’t know specifically why. It would be much better if we were blowing up bottles of soda, an old car, maybe even a washing machine. Instead, we had bloodthirsty zombies. The fifty cal was not going to be kind to them. Tommy and Harmon were working quickly to get the weapon set up. As of yet, no zombies had broken through.
