Earlier, Second Lieutenant Andy Taylor’s First Platoon, going by the call sign “Red six,” had moved back to the airstrip where the colonel had been shot to secure the body they had left behind. Taylor had radioed back that the vehicle and the body were nowhere to be found.
“Whaddya mean you don’t have the body?” Fraley lashed out at Zachary in the middle of his company perimeter, troops watching.
“Sir, the vehicle was rigged with explosives. My immediate concern was for the safety of my troops,” Zachary responded with authority.
“You ever think he might still be alive!?” Fraley barked, his mustache catching spittle as he talked. Zachary looked awkwardly at the man, then his own soldiers, who were hovering around the two men and staring at the ground. He had always followed the leadership maxim to “praise in public and punish in private.”
“And who the hell do you think you are sending those two airplanes away — they were supposed to backhaul some equipment.”
Zachary felt less bad about that, figuring he might have saved the government two airplanes. But the dead colonel was another matter. He was sure that man had a family somewhere and would at least want a proper burial for him.
However, he took consolation in the fact that he still had all of his troops, and remained poised despite Fraley’s ranting.
“I’m calling your division commander and tell-ing him not to send another hothead commander in charge of a ragtag unit to my islands,” Fraley said, launching rockets of spit at Zachary.
“Sir, any intel you think you can give us in light of what happened last night?” Zachary asked, ignoring the rebuke.
“Your clearance ain’t high enough, son. Now move your shit into those buildings, lock up your ammo, and don’t breathe unless I tell you to,” Fraley ordered. “The ammo’s over there, and the boat will be here tomorrow to pick it up. Not hard, Captain.”
“Sir—”
“At ease, soldier. Come down here itching for a fight, are ya?” Fraley said. “Well, you just better back off it, son, and do exactly what I tell you to do. Are you sure you saw a dead body, I’m beginning to wonder—”
“Yes, sir. I’m positive. I’ve stood here and listened to you rag me out in front of my troops, but I will not allow you to question my integrity,” Gar-rett shot back.
Fraley did not budge.
“Listen here, Captain. This ain’t no game, and you ain’t in charge. I’ll have your ass locked up for insubordination next time you talk to me like that.”
Zach stared at the overweight and unprofessional officer. It was easy. He decided to employ the method of voluntary disobedience; in short, he would do exactly the opposite of what the colonel had told him not to do.
As Fraley remounted the Black Hawk, Slick looked at the commander, holding the radio handset in one hand and his M4 in the other, saying, “Boy, what an asshole.”
Fraley’s head turned, as if he heard Slick.
“You said it, my friend,” Zachary said to Slick, who knelt back down and continued to monitor the SCAMP, his FM radio, and the phone line that he had run to each platoon command post.
Zachary watched as the Black Hawk pulled away from the ground, sucking twigs and dirt into the air and spitting them back down upon his troops as the pilot flew low over his company perimeter, blowing hot dirt onto the men.
“Go to hell,” Zachary said under his breath, watching the aircraft fly away. Slick looked up at his commander and smiled, as did some of the other headquarters platoon troops who had overheard the ass chewing. Nobody gave their commander shit and got away with it. They were sure of that.
He called his platoon leaders and platoon sergeants in. This was a time for both commissioned and noncommissioned officers to receive the word straight from the commander. He briefed them on exactly what had transpired between him and the colonel. They shook their heads and offered words of support to the commander, which he quickly hushed.
“Here’s the deal. We will only rotate one platoon at a time into the barracks. The other two will dig fighting positions and defend the primary avenues of approach into your area of operations. Headquarters, you’ll set up in one of the buildings also, but we will change barracks every night to avoid presenting a stationary target. If we have to, we’ll even pilfer the ammunition stockpile. If you haven’t already done so, I want leaders to distribute all of the ammunition we brought to every soldier. I’m talking everything we’ve got,” Zachary directed.
As the commander talked, the group coalesced. They became more cohesive as a result of the simple altercation between an outsider and their com-mander. In all, Zachary figured, things had actually worked out for the best.
“Platoon leaders, you need to sight weapons and give me your sector sketches so I can develop a company fire plan. We want aggressive patrolling within the confines of the base and you have my order to take suspicious personnel captive for tactical questioning.” He did not know if his directive was within the rules of engagement, but he did not want strays roaming around the vacant, windswept base.
Zachary finished the meeting by saying, “As long as we are in this ghost town, B Company is the sheriff.” His leaders smiled and crowed with a few “hooahs,” the standard infantry signal of approval. One of the troops even barked out the name “Garrett’s Gulch,” which would stick. They had to call their new home something.
His briefing had been more like a halftime pep talk at a football game. Indeed, Zachary recognized that part of his job was to motivate these people.
Quickly, they moved out to perform their missions. They checked ammunition, dug foxholes, and determined the location of their machine guns.
Zachary stood in the middle of the activity in the same fashion that a head football coach directs a practice session. In his mind, he gauged his playing field and assessed his position’s strengths and vulnerabilities.
With sudden clarity, he realized this was an away game.
Chapter 25
Matt bolted upright in the bed and was momentarily confused by his surroundings. He was in a plush hotel room, swaddled in thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets, and resting on a bed that seemed to swallow him. In addition, there was the blond woman again, hovering over him.
“My Virginian,” he said, turning and looking at her. She was dressed in a turquoise business suit and had obviously been in some professional environment.
“Time to go,” she said curtly, stuffing her Blackberry into her purse.
“Did you file my report?”
She looked away, then back at him. “I did, with Rathburn, who called back.”
“So, can you give me a status of what’s happening in Mindanao?”
“We’ll do that in the car. The secretary wants you to fly to Manila with him. It’s a short trip, and you can update him on everything during the flight.”
“Manila?” Matt was thinking out loud as opposed to questioning her directly. That would put him in the thick of things, he realized. He would get back to his assigned country and could perhaps pick up the trail of the Predators again. On that thought, he asked Meredith, “Any status on the Japanese float plane?”
“It departed quickly after refueling. It hasn’t been sighted since,” Meredith replied.
“Anyone check the refueling logs?”
“Let’s go,” Meredith said impatiently. “You’ve been out of it a day now, so you should be well enough rested to make a short plane flight.”