Everything Changes (19 page)

They were traveling off of the main roads, taking instead a series of trails that led to the small village their target was holed up in. The trails were little more than dry riverbeds, or
wadis
, and were rough and uneven. Every now and then the whole caravan would stop, and a small squad of men would move ahead on foot, scouting the area, coming back to give the all clear to proceed since it wasn’t unusual for a vehicle to come around a bend or a dip in the road and blunder into a Taliban checkpoint bristling with men and weapons.

After several silent, tense hours, as the sky lightened from pitch black to gray, Vince radioed the lead vehicle that they were approaching their first planned hide, and before long they had all pulled off to the side of the
wadi
and were concealed as best as they could be under some camouflage netting. Jase made the rounds of all the men, encouraging them to drink water and eat a protein bar, doing a wellness check before huddling up under the vehicle himself to grab a little sleep. He’d wanted to take a turn for watch, but Vince had told him he’d rather have Jase as well-rested and alert as possible since he was the only one with advanced medical training and would be responsible for all twenty-four men.

As Jase huddled as best he could on his pallet on the rocky ground, he let his thoughts drift to Carey for the first time all day, wondering how he was doing. Jase squeezed his eyes shut, his mind turning helplessly to the last time he’d seen Carey, how his skin was bone white with blood loss, clinging to life by the merest thread, touch and go all the way. The flight nurse had shaken his head and muttered to Jase that it would be a miracle if Carey made it to Kabul alive, much less to Germany and the trauma unit there at Ramstein Air Force Base. Jase had never considered himself religious, but he found himself praying desperately to whatever, whomever might be out there for that miracle.

When the chopper pilot had made the return trip to the firebase, he’d grimly told Jase Carey’s heart had stopped twice on the trip to Kabul, but he was alive when the med transport plane took off for Germany. After that there had been no information for weeks, until Jase learned just the day before that Carey had indeed made it to Germany and was holding his own.

For the first time, Jase allowed the emotion that knowledge brought to sweep through him. In that cold, lonely predawn darkness, in the middle of the most hostile, dangerous territory on Earth, he let the hot tears slide silently down his cheeks. They were tears of relief he didn’t have to find a way to live in a world that didn’t have Carey in it; tears of regret he couldn’t have done more to spare Carey the pain and anguish he was surely experiencing right then; and tears of happiness, because in that moment, Jase realized he had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with his best friend.

A
FTER
THE
endless daytime hours hunkering down under the camouflage netting, darkness had fallen once again, and as the unit prepared to launch, Jase made yet another wellness check of all the men. Other than being tired and stressed to the max, everyone was in good shape physically, and Jase gave Vince the all clear. They set off again in the same formation as before, two ANA vehicles taking point, the rest spaced behind at random intervals but still as close as safety allowed.

Suddenly Vince’s comm crackled to life. “Rogue Actual, this is Rogue Three. Movement on the ridge about four clicks east, over.”

“Rogue Three, this is Rogue Actual. Good copy, over,” Vince replied.

“Rogue Actual, Rogue Three. No way to tell if it was just shepherds on about their business or hostiles. Over.”

“Rogue Three, Rogue Actual. Copy. Cease chatter, radio silence. Over.”

Jase scanned the surrounding cliffs, looking for movement, anything out of place, his situational awareness screaming. All was quiet, and the vehicles crept ahead at a snail’s pace.

“If it’s not just shepherds but hostiles tracking us, they’re gonna attack at first light, Doc, before we can get hidden,” Vince said tersely.

“Should we abort?” Jase whispered.

“Negative” was the reply. “The
wadi
is so narrow for the next ten clicks that we’ll never get turned around, and we’ll be the proverbial sitting ducks. Best choice is to keep pushing ahead until we have more maneuverability and we can make the call then.”

Jase nodded, knowing the narrowness of the dry streambed was the drawback to staying off of the more dangerous main road, and it was a trade-off that had been carefully weighed and considered when setting the route. Now it looked like the gamble had failed, and the only choice they had was to continue, possibly right into a deadly ambush.

Once again the hours passed agonizingly slow as the vehicles traveled as fast as they dared, trying to get out of the narrow canyon and into a place where they could maneuver and get turned around if Vince decided to make that call. Jase tried not to let a feeling of hopelessness overtake him. He was, after all, among the best of the best, the most elite fighting force in the world. Adrenaline surged through him, making him antsy, and it only grew worse as the sky lightened, emphasizing the danger they were in as they became fully visible. They didn’t dare stop, though, having no choice but to push on.

“Contact right! Contact right!” The comm crackled to life moments before the whine of an incoming RPG split the morning air, and the lead vehicle exploded into flame. Jase felt the truck he was in leave the ground several inches as a result of the shock wave before slamming back down, jolting everyone hard. Burning shrapnel ripped into them, thumping into the ballistic blankets.

Small arms fire erupted from the ridge to the left, peppering them all with deadly projectiles, and Vince gunned them forward, screaming into the comm at the vehicle still in front of them, “Rogue Two, this is Rogue Actual! Get off the fucking X! Off the X! Over!”

One of the fundamental rules of ambush was get out of the kill zone, or “off the X.” The ANA vehicle in front of them didn’t move, and inexplicably the doors opened and several men dismounted, crouching, their M-4s spitting toward the ridge.

“What the
fuck
?” Vince forced out between gritted teeth. “Rogue Two, Rogue Actual! Mount the vehicle and move out, over!”

Jase knew the ANA commandos were highly trained and efficient, but the stress of being under attack and being forced to make split-second decisions could rattle even the most disciplined of units. He could only watch helplessly as the exposed men took heavy fire, their bodies shredded into bloody pulp in seconds. One of the surviving men stood frozen in terror, a deer in headlights as he watched his teammates being ripped apart before his eyes. He fell to his knees, vomiting. Jase battled back his own nausea and horror. No matter how much combat injury he’d seen, he was still never prepared for it, even knowing how weapons of war were designed for extreme lethality, to rip, shred, and tear apart. The unfortunate men’s bodies lay in pieces on the road.

The vomiting man managed to pull himself together and throw a colored smoke grenade, which briefly shielded him long enough for him to crawl into the vehicle and gun it forward, knocking the burning hulk of the first vehicle to the side enough for him to squeeze by, and soon the convoy was moving again, though exposed to deadly fire. Jase knew it was only a matter of seconds before another RPG was incoming—just as he completed that thought, an unmistakable whine tore through the air, and the projectile exploded just a little off to the left, thankfully missing all targets.

Vince keyed his comm unit, his voice calm, as he said, “This is Rogue Actual. Take cover behind any large rocks and bail out. Rogues Five and Six, boots on the ground, run flanking maneuver. Over.”

“Rogue Actual, Rogue Five. Solid copy, over” was the reply.

“Rogue Actual, Rogue Six. Affirmative, over.”

The SEALs in the last two vehicles would set out on foot to flank the enemy before they could move behind the convoy and box them in. One advantage they had was the enemy’s lack of cohesiveness and combat experience, something the allied forces were highly trained in and could take advantage of in minutes, giving them precious time.

A large outcropping of rocks appeared ahead, and Vince steered the vehicle behind them, yelling, “Bail, bail,” the minute they’d taken cover.

Jase was out the door in seconds, rolling, exposed for one brief moment. It was enough that he felt the slap of a ricocheting bullet off the side of his helmet; if it had been a direct hit, he would have been killed instantly. He lay gasping behind the rocks, feeling horribly exposed. The other vehicles followed suit, but the gunfire from the ridge was relentless and withering, and soon screams of pain were heard echoing through the
wadi
.

“Go, Doc,” Vince said tersely. He keyed his comm, “Rogue Four, this is Rogue Actual. Doc is on the move. Smoke grenades and cover fire… NOW! Over!” As soon as several smoke grenades deployed and the sharp crack of cover fire started, Jase started crawling as quickly as he could toward the other vehicles and the wounded.

Hunched behind the wide tires of the trucks or the inadequate cover of rocks, he worked feverishly, bandaging, staunching bleeding. Dimly he heard someone radioing for air support, and a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. “Attack helicopters on site in one-five mikes.”

“Copy,” Jase gasped out. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes they probably didn’t have. A sense of calm took over, the fatalism that came with knowing you were going to die. His vision sharpened and his hands steadied as he worked, minute by minute passing.

Suddenly the beat of rotor blades sounded above the gunfire, and the words “Apache One, this is Rogue Actual. Cleared hot, over” came over the comm from Vince, authorizing the birds to fire.

“Rogue Actual, this is Apache One. Solid copy. Over” was the pilot’s reply, and HELLFIRE missiles screamed toward both sides of the ridge, annihilating everything in their paths.

“Apache One, Rogue Actual. Confirm target neutralized, over.” Jase heard Vince’s voice over the radio.

There were a few beats of silence before the gunship radioed back, “Rogue Actual, Apache One. Confirmed.”

The sudden silence and absence of gunfire was deafening, and slowly, cautiously, men emerged from the sheltering rocks, and the cleanup began. With more room and the safety to maneuver in, Jase was able to start IVs in order to push pain meds and fluids, and soon he had the wounded as comfortable as he could manage.

He was gratified to see Danny walking toward him, seemingly unharmed. He smiled his relief, and Danny grinned. “Got some today, huh, Doc?” Jase thought that he could happily go the rest of his life without “getting” any more combat. He flipped Danny off, and Danny moved away, his quiet laughter echoing back.

The final tally of dead was seven ANA, the entire occupancy of the first vehicle that had been blown to smithereens, and most of the second vehicle that had been cut down by the gunfire, leaving one survivor, a survivor who was so shell-shocked he was almost catatonic. Jase wrapped him in a blanket and had him lie on his back, his legs elevated to keep the blood flow toward his heart and brain. He would send him along with the more visibly wounded on the CASEVAC chopper that would be on site in ten minutes, according to Vince. Considering how thoroughly they’d been surrounded, how exposed they’d been, the casualty and wounded count was considered low.
Tell that to the dead men,
Jase thought.

He finally was able to sit in the shade of one of the vehicles and gulp a lukewarm canteen of water, delayed reaction setting in as the adrenaline leached away, leaving Jase weak and shaky himself. He forced himself to eat a few bites of a protein bar and sat briefly with his head between his knees, breathing deeply.

As he sat there, he heard Danny and Ali conferring, planning to hike up to the ridge and confirm the hostile dead, search them for intel, take a count. It was bound to be a highly unpleasant task, and Jase offered to spare him the job.

“Nah, man,” Danny drawled. “But you should come with in case there’s any survivors.” It was unlikely, but Jase nodded, grabbing his medical pack, the sense of purpose already steadying him as adrenaline surged again.

He and the other two men made their way slowly up the rough path of the rocky ridge, dodging debris. It was slow going. Ali had taken point, Danny second, and Jase bringing up the rear, all of their weapons at the ready. As they rounded a bend, they reached the first body, clearly the RPG operator, whose eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky, the lower half of his body missing. Jase flinched as he saw the weapon was primed and ready for launch, seconds away from annihilating the forces below if not for the timely arrival of the Apache birds.

Ali crouched and disarmed the weapon, setting it aside for retrieval. They made their way still farther into the depths of the ridge, Ali and Danny briefly out of view, and suddenly the crack of gunfire echoed up ahead. Jase gripped his weapon and cautiously moved forward, rounding the bend himself to see Ali on the ground and Danny nowhere in sight. He surprised a man who was coming from the opposite direction, and Jase fired his weapon. The man jerked and fell to the ground.

Not knowing how many hostiles were concealed, Jase crouched behind some rocks and watched, but no other men revealed themselves. He carefully looked around. Danny was sprawled on the hillside several feet below Jase’s position, the gunfire he’d taken having obviously blasted his body backward over the side of the cliff. He wasn’t moving. Jase turned his attention to Ali. He was pulling himself into a sitting position and wincing, blood spreading over his shoulder.

“Stay put, sir. Don’t aggravate your injury. I’ll be right there,” Jase hissed.

The ANA commander nodded, and Jase left him and carefully picked his way down the hillside toward Danny. He knew he was violating the first rule of frontline battlefield triage, which was to treat the less wounded and more easily accessible one first. But Danny was his friend, and memories of Carey welled up and overwhelmed his judgment. He wouldn’t have left Carey dying alone on a hillside….