A Few Good Men (3 page)

“I could set you up with a pen pal.” Jazzy raised an eyebrow and waited. He didn’t have long to wait for John’s response. There was no doubt in John’s mind.

“I don’t want a pen pal.”

“Why not? Pen pals are fun. It’s interesting to get to talk to new people. And you know, with a single guy like yourself, you never can tell where it could lead.”

First Jazzy was reading chick books and now he was playing matchmaker. “No. I don’t want a pen pal.”

“I could give you Summer’s email and—”

“I don’t want Summer’s email address.” Christ, that was all he needed. He already had one grandmother
…
one who didn’t write sex novels.

“Okay, then go on the support website and pick one for yourself. Someone who interests you. Maybe someone you’d like to get to know better.”

Did this guy never quit?

John wasn’t that hard up that he had to go online looking for female companionship…yet. “Yeah, sure. That would be as productive as trying to find a girlfriend by calling one of those 1-900 phone numbers where you can pay four dollars a minute to talk to some supposedly hot sex kitten. In reality, on the other end of the line is some hideously unattractive, sweat-suit-clad mother of nine sitting in her kitchen.”

Jazzy shrugged. “Hey, she’s got to pay the bills.”

Gonzo walked up, grabbed himself an empty coffee cup and glanced from one man to the other. “Who’s got to pay the bills?”

“Phone-sex operators,” Jazzy supplied, sipping his coffee through the ever-present grin.

Gonzo nodded as if that made all the sense in the world to him. “Mmm.”

John sipped at his own cup, very happy that Gonzo had entered the conversation and taken the pressure off him to get a girlfriend, or a pen pal or anything else of that sort.

“Gonzo, what the hell are you doing awake too?” Didn’t his men know to sleep when they had the chance?

John glanced around the MWR. At least it seemed Morales had been smart enough to sleep when he could. Although at this point, John wouldn’t be surprised to see him swagger in any minute. Then all personnel of Charlie Company, Alpha Section, Tank Two would be accounted for.

“I crashed so hard when we got home last night, or rather early this morning, I fell asleep in the middle of cleaning and stowing my gear. I woke up early when I heard Jazzy here creeping around, so I finished cleaning my weapons right quick and decided to pop on the net and check in with my girl.”

Weapons first, girl second. The leader in John appreciated Gonzo’s priorities.

Gonzo, meanwhile, waggled his eyebrows. “My girl is real appreciative when I send her a mushy love email. She always sends something special back to surprise me.” Gonzo held up a tiny USB flash drive in one hand. “This time she sent some pretty damn good photos. Can’t wait to load them onto my laptop back in my room and have a nice long viewing for myself.”

Jazzy let out his familiar laugh again. “I better give the rest of our roommates a heads up before you do. Tell them to stay out for a bit or they may get a bigger surprise than they bargained for. Don’t want them to catch you cleaning your other weapon.”

Gonzo shrugged casually. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Jazzy shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t. I at least have since learned to knock and take my time when entering to give you a chance to cover up.”

It seemed to John everyone was getting some action…except for him. Although, since the action was with their own right hands, he supposed he wasn’t missing all that much. He did say a silent thank you that he actually had a private room this deployment, small and cold though it was. But lately he was far more interested in sleep than anything else when he finally arrived back at his bunk.

He sipped his coffee again and it struck him suddenly that it was not only drinkable, but enjoyable. “I must be delirious from all the action we’ve seen the last few days. The coffee actually tastes good today.”

Gonzo nodded vigorously. “You can thank one of Jazzy’s pen pals for that.”

Jazzy shrugged. “What can I say? Just doing my part for the war effort.”

John frowned, not understanding. What? Had Jazzy gotten himself a different pen pal, besides the sex novelist? One who’d taught him how to make decent coffee? “Exactly how many pen pals do you have?”

“A few, but the coffee was from Summer. I complained in an email that the coffee here tasted like shit, so she sent us a case of gourmet coffee beans, unbleached filters and a grinder.”

The granny who wrote sex books was also a coffee aficionado? John took another sip. At least he would enjoy the coffee. As for the books—well, one out of two wasn’t bad.

Gonzo, eyes closed, drew in a long swallow of steaming liquid, then released a slow breath filled with satisfaction. “Man, I love that woman. Wasn’t she the one who sent the Halloween candy and the candy canes for Christmas? Candy, coffee and porn. Gotta love that.”

Of course she sent them stuff. Her own kids probably never called her so she’d adopted some soldiers to fill the big empty hole in her life. Probably the same reason she wrote those sex books. But the coffee was damn good, and who was he to judge other people’s empty lives?

Luckily, before John could further consider his own empty life, the radio hooked to his belt let out a squeal. The three all heard the alert at once. “All elements. Red Con One.”

John downed the last remnants of tasty brew and threw the paper cup in the garbage. “Here we go, boys.”

“Damn. I was hoping to at least get breakfast first.” Jazzy tossed his own cup as they sprang to action.

Gonzo and Jazzy took off at top speed for their gear and to get Morales, still sleeping in their shared room. John followed in their wake and popped into his own small, private quarters to grab the rest of his stuff.

Once geared up and outside, instinct led John to his tank through the star-sprinkled pre-dawn darkness. This battle drill had been repeated hundreds of times. Morales, wide awake now, jumped into the driver’s seat and hit the start button, throwing the turbines into a high-pitched whine.

John glanced down and noticed the man’s bootlaces were untied and shoved inside his boots. He had no doubt Morales had been sound asleep just five minutes ago, yet here he was now, alert, dressed—mostly—and leading the charge into battle. They all knew too well that shaving seconds off reaction time by doing things like not tying your laces could literally save lives. One day, those lives they saved might be their own.

Jazzy and Gonzo, as loader and gunner, prepped their areas and stowed gear—thermal systems, night sights, radios and more. John prepped his tank commander’s station and used his radio to check on the status of the crews in the other tanks of the platoon.

They were all ready when the order came over the airwaves. John and his tank crew, otherwise known as White Two, were to lead the platoon to the hot zone to assist in recovering a wheeled vehicle that had slipped off the path and was for the moment precariously dangling over a cliff. That situation in itself was bad enough, compounded by the fact that at that location enemy contact was a definite. Rescue would mean securing intersections along the way and clearing the route of improvised explosive devices while checking for ambushes before they could even attempt to pull the vehicle to safety. All in a situation where time was of the essence.

The platoon rolled swiftly but carefully along the most direct route, all eyes peeled for danger. Mere minutes into the journey, the hairs on the back of John’s neck stood on end. “Hold up, Morales.”

The forward motion of the tank slowed to a stop.

Blocking their way was a huge obstacle. It was obvious it had been deliberately laid out across the road to prevent any forward progress. It looked to be constructed of palm trees and scrap metal, among other things.

“There’s an approximate hundred-foot-long obstruction across the road. Probable IED.” John reported what he saw to the platoon leader in the tank directly behind him.

Jazzy shook his head at the tactic. “Jeez. Not too obvious. Why don’t the baddies just put a flashing neon sign pointing at it that reads
Attention, stupid Americans
?”

Exactly. The obstruction was far too obvious. The insurgents definitely did not want the Americans to miss this one. The question was why?

John evaluated the situation. To the right of the main, blocked road was a dirt path just wide enough for the tanks to pass through. To take that route would most likely send them directly into an ambush if not another, more carefully hidden IED.

That left them only one choice—eliminate the blockage on the main road. John reported his assessment to the leader.

“I agree, White Two. Fire a round into the obstruction.” The lieutenant gave John exactly the order he’d already had in his mind.

“Yes, sir.” He forwarded the instructions to his crew.

The crew sprang into action. When Jazzy had loaded the round, John issued Gonzo the order to fire. The main gun released a deafening blast followed shortly by the sound of the IED in the road exploding upon impact, sending debris and palm fronds everywhere.

“Whoo hoo! Just like the fourth of July,” Morales whooped as the dust settled.

Except fireworks didn’t generally rock a seventy-ton tank or the ground it sat upon.

Jazzy’s brow rose. “Damn glad we weren’t on top of that when it blew.”

Gonzo let out a long breath. “No shit.”

John agreed whole heartedly. He’d had that particular pleasure more than once, and it was not one he wished to repeat any time soon.

“What’s your evaluation, White Two?” The sound of the platoon leader’s voice came over the radio as he asked John’s opinion of the situation.

“I would assume there is a secondary farther on, sir.” From experience, John knew that to be a favorite trick of the insurgents.

Lull the Americans into a false sense of security by letting them think they had disabled the IED and then hit them just past the original with a second better-hidden, usually underground, device. It was dark, and there were plenty of places to hide an explosive that would detonate when they passed over it.

“Hit the area with two more rounds,” came the order.

“Yes, sir.” Gladly. Nothing more satisfying than blowing the shit out of something. “Jazzy, load another round. Gonzo, aim twenty yards past the first location.”

“You got it.” Jazzy hit the knee switch, slapped a round in with a resounding clank and locked it down.

“Fire.”

Gonzo aimed and fired just past the original point. Nothing.

“Again. Aim farther north,” John ordered. In an area covered in debris and rubble, the ground toward the north edge of the road looked a little too smooth.

The prior series of actions was repeated, only this time with very different results. Upon impact, the ground erupted with a cloud of dirt and a huge explosion that would have detonated directly beneath their tank if, after three prior deployments in the sand box, John didn’t know better. He knew the baddies by now. In fact, he was starting to think like them. John wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Morales released a curse beneath his breath. “The second one was almost as big as the first.”

And much better hidden. John hoped that was all and the baddies hadn’t learned a new trick, such as three IEDs in a row instead of only two.

The radio sounded again. “Good job, White Two. Proceed.”

Great. Proceed on an unknown path that could still contain more death risks. Sacrificial lamb, anyone?

John took a deep breath and squinted into his viewer. Best take it very slowly… “Tract pad, Morales.”

At John’s order, the driver followed his instructions and moved as slowly as the monster vehicle could travel over the area where the two IEDs had detonated. Silence filled the air, broken only by the creaking of the tank’s tracks and John’s orders to Morales of where to drive on the road, not that he knew they would be the correct instructions.

Would the threat be in the middle? Off to one side? Was the road clean and the danger passed? They were all just guessing here. But Gonzo and Jazzy were two more pairs of eyes, searching the side terrain for any anomaly that could signal danger as John and Morales concentrated on the path in front. All the while, White One protected them from behind.

Finally, they reached a clear stretch of paved road where John felt confident they could pick up the pace. The platoon needed to get to that stuck vehicle before it took a header over the cliff or came under attack.

The tanks made good time after that, and it wasn’t long before Morales glanced over at John. “Looks like them up ahead, sir.”

John saw the scene clearly, the truck listing at a dangerous angle over the steep embankment. The personnel standing armed and ready, watching for an attack though they were basically sitting ducks waiting to be rescued. They all, to a man, looked overwhelmingly relieved when the reinforcements showed up. White Two was the hero riding in on the white charger to save the day.

“White Two, secure that damned vehicle before we lose it and I have to explain why.”

John had already known what he had to do before hearing those instructions. They would basically be using the tank as an overpriced tow truck as they attached the stuck vehicle to the tank’s tow hook with cables.