‘We’ve put up listening devices,’ the lance corporal said more authoritatively. ‘And flexible camera tubes that can bend around corners. They’re all low-light. There are people watching and listening. And if they hear or see something, they call us,’ he said — patting the radio beside him. ‘So the theory goes, anyway.’
‘Sounds like a good system,’ Clark commented.
‘Till you have to change the batteries,’ someone griped. ‘You’ve gotta change the batt’ries every six hours,’ their leader explained.
‘Next change is in four hours,’ a man said from across the room — staring at the lance corporal. ‘It’s gonna be dark as night in three.’
‘We’ll go in four’ the lance corporal said sternly. ‘If you want to switch, I’ll take the first run. You can go in the morning.’
The private looked away.
‘Well,’ the colonel said, slapping his thighs and rising to a crouch. ‘The general has a busy schedule. And you do make the point about sunset.’
Clark got the hint. But still he wanted to take a look around. He wandered further into the ravaged apartment. The four resting soldiers all scrambled to their feet. A hand grabbed Nate’s shoulder firmly as he approached a dark hole in the wall.
Nate looked around behind him to see the lance corporal. The man jabbed his finger toward the hole and shook his head. Clark nodded in understanding. This room was even more bullet-riddled than the first. The hole was a meter high, and about the same width. A dozen wires disappeared through it. They ran to sensing devices nearer the enemy troops.
Clark allowed General Cuvier a look. They then went back and crouched by the building’s exit, beginning the unwieldy process of departure. The squad of heavily-armed troops deployed just outside the door. ‘Good luck,’ Clark said to the men.
‘Sir!’ Clark heard. He turned. It was the lance corporal. ‘You’ve done a fine job, sir. We’ll do the rest. Don’t you worry.’ There were nods of agreement from the other three men.
‘Thanks.’ Nate suddenly remembered the purported reason for the visit. ‘You’ve done an outstanding job. All of you. You and your officers should hold your heads high when you get home. And I’ll do everything in my power to get you there as soon as I can — I promise.’
There were more subdued nods from the men this time. But more heartfelt, he could tell, as well.
Everyone jogged the whole way to the helicopters. It felt good to get the exercise. No one had given the order to run. They’d all just assumed that pace. The more he ran, however, the more upset at himself he became. He’d put all these men at risk. Grandstanding by going all the way to the line and trying to stick a toe over. As if that in any way compared to the horrors those men faced. And most of all he was disturbed at how weak he’d become. Not physically, but emotionally. So weak that he had to go to the front under the guise of a pep talk. While really the reassurances he sought were to be received, not given.
The sweat began to dampen his clothes. Physically, it felt good just to get it out. Too many days without a sweat — not even once. But what he really needed was to rid his body of the emotional toxins. The thousand new memories of tragedy and despair. He felt buoyed by the British soldier’s remark. For his, after all, was the opinion Clark cared about most. But it still didn’t purge his mind of the anguish he felt. And into his system was injected the poison of one more wounded man. And of the periodic demolition charge and thumping machine-gun in the distance.
Kate and Woody watched fighter-attack aircraft sweep down the valley. They had followed the forward air observer to a high ridge. The aircraft flew below the high ridges to release their loads at low altitude. The jets rose and banked out of harm’s way, dropping flares to divert heat-seeking missiles. The jet-black canisters left in their wake spun slowly. Air brakes popped out to slow the falling high explosives. They arced their way to earth along an ever-steepening glide path. The strings of bombs struck home with devastating force.
Rings of white vapor spread from the points of impact at astonishing speed. Trees were flattened as if by the heavy step of an invulnerable giant. The booming sound waves then crashed across the high ridge on which Kate was perched.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Her eardrums felt like they’d been jabbed with ice picks. The noise left her head aching as if from a physical blow. And the bombs fell over a mile away.
‘Okay, Dodger Two, you’re next up on deck,’ the Air Force captain said calmly over his radio. The forward air controller and his army security team sat huddled around the radio backpack. Its aerial soared ten feet over their heads.
But there was another radio from which excited voices squawked. This one was manned by an army lieutenant. The shouts it emitted were distorted and indecipherable. In the background, however, was the unmistakable roar of battle.
‘Say again!’ the lieutenant replied. ‘I repeat, will you say again?’
Following a hiss there came shouts of ‘We’ve been overrun!’ The radio crackled loudly and broke up. ‘… past our… and we’re…! We need air — right now!’
The Air Force captain turned to his Army counterpart. ‘Get ’em to call in their position.’
‘Foxtrot Zulu One Niner, can you say your position?’ the lieutenant shouted.
When he got a reply, the two officers quickly found the coordinates.
‘Have him throw smoke,’ the Air Force officer instructed. The orders were relayed. A few seconds later purple smoke began to mix with the gray and black of the battlefield. ‘Tell him to hug the ground. I’m bringin’ it in close.’
As the army officer shouted to the beleaguered ground unit, his air force counterpart spoke in calm tones to the pilot. ‘Make one orbit and acquire the purple smoke. Call it once you’ve got it. Then come in from north to south and drop just past the smoke.
I say again, north-to-south — drop past the smoke. No more than a hundred meters. They’ve been overrun. Do you copy?’
‘Copy that,’ came the cool voice over the radio. ‘Beginning orbit now.’
Woody tapped Kate on the arm and pointed. A banking jet flew just over the opposite ridge line.
‘I’ve got the smoke,’ crackled the Air Force radio. ‘Inbound — weapons hot.’ The jet disappeared into a thin white cloud. It reappeared on the other side to complete a wide turn.
‘Get your heads down now!’ the army officer shouted over the radio. There was a reply of some sort, but no words. Only shouts and blazing gunfire.
As the jet sank lower and lower into the valley, Kate realized how detached you could grow at a distance. From the tops of ridges battles were just loud noise and smoke. What she was missing was the whole point of the story. The real experience of battle could not be acquired by remote observation.
After a final waggle of the streaking jet’s wings all six bombs were released. The pilot pulled the nose straight up. Brilliant flashes lit the drifting purple smoke. A burst of static hissed over the army radio. There was no shouting or screaming. No rattling machine-guns or bursting grenades in the background. Nothing at all to indicate whether the bombs had struck bull’s eye or fallen short… into the Americans.
A pall of black smoke rose into the air in a long curtain.
‘Foxtrot Zulu One Niner, do you read me, over?’ the Army lieutenant called out. There was no reply. ‘Foxtrot Zulu One Niner, do you read me, over?’
The distant gunfire and explosions continued unabated. There was no further word from the desperate unit. The forward air controller went back to his business of pounding the Chinese. The pattern was full and he had a long day of work ahead of him. But the Army lieutenant sat on his haunches holding the mike. He’d been deflated to the point of total exhaustion.