“This cave that big?” Jefferson asked.
“Huge. Don’t expect anything less. Lots of spots they can hide. If there’s a shadow, expect one of them. There are many tunnels, large rooms. Huge! Expect full darkness. Expect them to see you before you can see them. Expect they’re everywhere, because, bud, they sure are.”
“Well, fuck it,” Jefferson replied. “It’s why I brought ol’ Betsy,” he answered with a grin, reaching back, petting his AA-12 automatic shotgun.
“I don’t expect to make it out, but I hope we’ll get a few. That’s all I really want. I prayed for it for the past three weeks, hoping God would give me the chance. I just want the chance to get a few before they get me,” York said.
“Damn, brother — stop being all depressed. We’ve been in some heavy shit before, no reason we can’t make it out.”
“You’ve never been into a place like this,” York said.
“We’re Tier One, best in the world,” Jefferson said.
York looked back to the giant black man, staring wildly, measuring the man up. Jefferson was a man not to be reckoned with, but York felt no intimidation. He sighed before saying, “You don’t get it, do you?”
“S’pose not,” Jefferson replied.
“We’re all going to die here,” York said. “We won’t see our families again, we’ll never see the sun rise again. We’re all going to die here in Khost.”
96
“Now you listen to me,” Dale Comstock said, finger pointed at York’s face. “Stop talking such nonsense. We all know there’s a chance of dying. We accept it, but you’re talking crazy. Keep it up and I pull you from this mission.”
York eyed him, saying, “Sergeant, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from doing this. But don’t worry, I’ll do my part, cover my angles, watch your backs. I’m still Delta. Just trying to warn you is all.”
“What sort of warning is that?” Dale asked.
“In case you have some amends you need to account for,” York replied.
Dale couldn’t understand this. He wasn’t the sort of man who accepted defeat. Sergeant Comstock felt that’s exactly what this was, and he’d have no such talk. Not during a mission, especially.
“Look, don’t worry about my soul and just do your job,” Dale commanded. “We’re going toward the village. Spread out, move slow. We need to cover about four hundred meters and do it quick.”
“Roger that, Sergeant,” York replied.
“There anything else?” Dale questioned. “Anything about the village that might help. Something you noticed, something that might be useful?”
York took his eyes off Comstock and gazed into the distance, eyeing the village. His voice was sad, almost dreamy, saying, “Yeah, there is something I noticed.”
“And what’s that?” Dale asked.
“The villagers. There’s aren’t as many this time.”
“How can you tell?” Dale asked. “I see plenty of movement.”
“I just know. I think those fucking things snatched some. I think they came and took a bunch.”
“After all these years, why?” Dale asked.
“Well, Sergeant Comstock, I think we pissed them off,” York replied. “I think they took their wrath out on that village on account of us.”
“Us?”
“Invading their territory, their home.”
Dale shook his head, quietly observing the wide valley, eyes scanning the hills, the boulders and plants, the village walls and buildings within. He didn’t say a word.
But York did. He whispered, though both of his teammates heard.
“It’s only dying,” York mumbled. “It’s just dying…”
97
Delta Five and Six moved swiftly. They each carried the same weapons — M4s in their hands, MP-5s for close quarters, inside the cave. They carried pistols also, Glock .40 caliber, and as much ammo as they could carry. They had little rations, enough water and some protein if needed, but nothing else. Every pocket, every inch of their body and inside their packs were filled with ammo.
Hernandez and Marcus had served together for awhile now. They were a great team, a duo that worked as one, knowing one another’s movements as if their own.
Delta Five would cover as Six moved. Twenty meters, then Marcus would stop, assume kneeling position and cover for his teammate. A leapfrog, perfect tandem movement, Hernandez would hurry past, tapping Marcus’ shoulder as he passed.
On and on, they moved as a single unit.
Normally, Delta would have stayed together. Nine going in, their force would be their numbers. But Dale had chosen to spread them out as they swept the village first. They had to, there was no other way. Only a western insertion was possible, therefore they’d have to enter the village.
Dale decided to break them up. Three teams. One would cover the northern side, one on the south. Dale, Jefferson and York would move straight in. This wouldn’t normally be to their tactical advantage, but since they’d lost the asset inside the village, they needed to see all parts of it.
It was something Dale didn’t like, but he knew he must think outside the box — asymmetrical.
His specialty.
The pair reached the northwestern corner of the village, ahead of the two other teams. They posted up against a low stone wall. They were fifty meters from the others, and began scanning the village, seeing movement, watching their angles.
“Delta One, this is Six. We’re at the village,” Marcus said into his mic.
“Roger that,” Dale replied. He continued, “Sierra Bravo Four, this is Delta One. Do you have eyes on Five and Six?”
“Negative,” Reynolds replied quietly. “I have zero visual.”
“Roger that.”
“I can switch positions, but this is my best line of fire,” Reynolds added.
Dale thought a moment before responding, “Hold your position. Delta Five and Six can handle themselves. We’re approaching the village, over.”
“Roger. Sierra Bravo Four out.”
Hernandez and Marcus remained still, watching as the other two teams found position. Now all nine were on the western wall, watching, waiting. They had been swift, but the sun arced in the sky, beginning to drop westward.
They needed to hurry.
Once the other teams had reached position, Hernandez and Marcus moved on. They hustled down the northern stone wall, this time Delta Five, Hernandez, leading. The wall was five foot tall at best, shorter in some spots, gaping holes and cracked openings every so often.
They’d move ten meters and stop. They’d scan the villagers, keeping count, looking for any signs of threat. For the moment, they remained unseen and safe.
Hernandez peered around the corner of a broken piece in the wall. He stared up a long alley, then back up the wall. He noticed the stone lessened the farther east they traveled, and pointed up the alley to Marcus.
Marcus nodded his head, agreeing.
They’d have to enter the village.
They remained silent a bit longer, ever-careful before they entered. They watched the alley, looked down it, seeing the occasional passing of an Afghani.
No weapons.
Yet.
Hernandez sniffed the air. His nose tingled. Marcus smelled it too. They knew that smell quite well.
Death.
They remained seconds longer, no visual on any threats. They moved in. They crossed ten meters of open space, tucking inside the alley. It stretched far, and was narrow. It ran the length of two buildings, seemingly to a larger pathway that cut through the village.