Too scared to sleep, she remained
vigilant to any sound, none came. Clandestinely, she peered at the face of her
illuminated watch being sure to keep it covered and out-of-sight of the opening
in front of her. Time ticked ever so slowly. Silence! Save for her cadenced breathing. Quiet!
The night sky mood became a deep
blue-black soft velvet studded with myriad blue-white sparkle diamonds so close
as to be able to reach out and touch them. Ah!
She loved diamonds!
Beautiful! Such an Awesome-wonder world! She vowed to
remain awake but failed her intent.
The soft comfort warmed her, enveloped
her, seduced her. A black hole embraced her spirit.
The sergeant awoke with a start. Her
dreamscape vanished; she was shivering in the freezing cold. Her vacated dream
had been on the Florida beach at her childhood home; she had been basking in
the hot afternoon sun enjoying the pleasant comfort listening to the comforting
surf.
She lay, unmoving, carefully controlling
her breathing, listening intently.
Nothing!
Surreptitiously, the sergeant chanced a glance at her watch. 22:00 hours! Wow! She had slept soundly for over two
hours; couldn’t let that happen, again. Good way to wake up dead.
Surprised that she had allowed herself
to let her guard down, she set aside her self-retribution aside as she realized
she was thirsty---and…suffered hunger pains. Retribution could come later.
Slowly and with deliberate deliverance,
being totally silent, she moved her arm to retrieve her canteen. It sloshed,
slightly, when she removed it from her belt, it was less than half full. The
sergeant grimaced at the slight sound redoubling her efforts at stealth; the
last thing she wanted to do was giveaway her location to any pursuer. Slow! Careful! Quiet!
The cool water soothed her dry throat,
slaked her terrible thirst. Only three small swallows; it might have to last a
very long time. She held the liquid in her mouth, swishing it around, not
swallowing until it had warmed, considerably. The sergeant relaxed, listening,
enjoying the cool relief. Suddenly, she was hungry. Quietly, she fished a
chocolate bar from her fatigues. Good!
The solid chocolate bar was delicious,
she swallowed the first bite without even chewing it; good thing that it was
small; it nearly choked her.; she stifled a cough. A quick slug of water
quelled her choking and she took a deep breath. That slowed her down. She took
careful, small bites and held the delicacy in her mouth, absent chewing, and
allowed the sweetness to melt. Ah!
Suddenly, she realized that she had
“wolfed” down fully half the bar. Well?---Not…”wolfed”.
A flashback to her early childhood days
when she had emptied the scrambled egg bowl when her family had visited her
Dad’s uncle in Tennessee came to mind; she had been only five, at the time. The
aunt was very gracious and simply took the vacant bowl to the kitchen and
whipped up another dozen eggs. How embarrassing! Now, she heard her mother’s
voice, “Don’t ‘wolf’ down your food!” Even in the cool dampness of the rain she
felt her face redden. Damn! Fine thought!
Heather rewrapped the remaining
sustenance and tucked it into a sleeve pocket for later; she tested the volume
in her canteen and noted that it was a little better than half full. Good!
Moving slowly and deliberately so as not
to make any noise that could reveal her position, she carefully took stock of
her provisions and ammunition and ordinance. She had her rifle and five full
magazines of ammo along with four grenades. Quite an arsenal for one little
girl! Also, she checked her vest pocket on her fatigue shirt---Yes! Safe and sound!...Her 3” X 5”
signal mirror.
Hopefully, she would utilize the flasher
come the morning sunrise when she expected rescue
to occur. She resolved to remain awake through the night and perform isometric
exercises tightening and relaxing her muscles to build heat and to remain
silent in the endeavor.
She began to feel better about her
circumstances until she ran out of reasons to not wonder about the rest of her troop. The water rushing in the
valley brought her back to reality, a place she did not want to visit, right
then. She and Revoir had survived the initial attack. Now, the private lay dead
and cold about twenty meters up the side of the opposite rise. The flood waters
below would have picked up and carried away any bodies in the bottom of the
ravine.
She shuddered. No way to know if anyone
else had survived. Just---wait…until morning.
Twenty minutes of silent exercising had
generated a bit of heat within her body. Still cold!
She dared another small bite of
chocolate bar and held it until it completely melted away. That action required
another quick sip of her treasured water reserve, also. Damn! Better slow down!
The sergeant busied herself pushing more
and more sand from beneath her prone body so as to build her little fortress
wall; the work also managed to warm her, a bit, and keep her mind occupied. The
sand behind and under her was still somewhat warm; she had to remain vigilant.
Sometime later, she allowed a glance at
her watch: 03:37! Damn! It’s true:
The night is long!
She tries some more isometrics, holding
the tension longer and longer until a cramp in her calf developed. Finally
relieving it, she concentrated on her sand-moving venture very soon realizing
that there simply was no more surplus of the commodity to work with, she was
down to bare, hard rock. She decided to take a break, listening intently. The
flood in the valley had subsided to only a slight trickle. That’s the desert
thunderstorm, for you, gone as quick as it comes! Silence!
Thunder echoed a
cadenced “thud” in the fog of Sgt. Heather McGonahue’s mind as a bright light
tortured her eyelids. Had she been captured and the enemy was roughly
interrogating her?
The thunder erupted into 5-shot bursts
from a 50-caliber machine gun! Help was
coming!
Fully conscious, all at once, the
sergeant opened her eyes against the risen sun! Three helicopters were above
the horizon to her east; they were sweeping in and raking the rocks above her
with stinging bees-od-death and destruction. She quickly fished out her
signal-mirror to flash. As the flying trio of black rescue angels flashed overhead of her position she caught the door-gunner
in the second ship give her a big “wave”! Rescue!---Redemption!...Salvation!
As the U.S. Army Sergeant clamored from
her fortress, the ships came around and one settled in the now firm sand and
dry river bed at the bottom of the ravine below her as she tried desperately fought
to hold back tears. She triumphantly waved a salute to each of four other
fatigue-clad soldiers as they came out of the rock outcroppings either side of the
valley.
The team had entered the tiny valley, of
sorts, and gained only about two hundred meters when a 50-cal opened up on them
followed immediately by small arms fire from among the deep shadows. Two
soldiers directly in front of her, spaced at about three meters distance, each,
went down in a hail of buzzing bullets. She recognized the 50-cal immediately;
it sang a song-of-death like no other fear. If a mortar called your name, the
wisdom predicted that, at least, you would hear it coming. Might not do you any
good, but there would be a slight interval to duck; a 50-cal stalked deadly
silent towards its victim. Oh! Sure enough! One would hear the staccato burp five round spread, but the bullet
with your name on it was immediate. Either way---you’re…Dead!
The Sergeant dared a quick look around;
she could see seven unmoving bodies and one trying to pull itself to a rock for
cover. She heard a short bevy of AK fire, saw the body go rigid and then relax,
not to flinch, again. Damn!
The desert monsoon thunderstorm
intensified; in a lightning flash she saw Pvt. Revoir, the only other female in
the squad, across the now flooded ravine just a bit forward of her own position
behind a small protrusion much to tiny to afford her much protection. For the
moment, the torrent precluded any enemy fire, they were probably holding up,
also. McGonahue dared a slight wave toward Revoir, the private failed to notice
as she had her head down. Good!
Trying to improve her tiny fortress
without making too much of an announcement with movement, the sergeant scraped
hands full of sand from behind her to deepen the depression.
A stream of rain had gathered above her
position on the rocks and fell in several rivulets across the roof of her tiny
fort. She imagined that the display might be enjoyable to watch from the other
side. Sort of like a cascading waterfall. She shook her head, trying to
concentrate.
The onslaught suddenly seemed to
subside, even if only very slightly. These infrequent desert thunderstorms
could be fierce but usually were of short duration, ten to twenty minutes, or
so.
Their real danger, aside from the crackling lightning jolts, was the flash
flooding downstream of the torrent, drowning was a much greater hazard than
lightning. The valley was already a raging river with ten feet of rolling,
muddy flood water cascading through the narrow passage.
She peered toward Revoir’s position but
couldn’t see her so she squinted into the rainstorm.
A slight “tink” on the edge of the rock serving as her “roof” and a dull grey
metallic glint as a lightning jag illuminated the darkness screamed panic and fear into her confused brain. Without thinking, even for a
micro-second, she reacted to the danger and flung her body backward and down as
deep as she could get as the explosion immediately shook her sandy retreat. Grenade!
One of the enemy was on the rock above
her! How far away, she couldn’t know, but close.
The flash of the grenade exploding below
her position provided an instant light frame of Revoir across the valley some
thirty meters away. She, too, had been served a grenade. The explosion
propelled the private two feet into the air. In a flash-of-lightning,McGonahue
saw the soldier’s rifle sail into the darkness spinning like the silver baton
of a marching drum majorette..
The sergeant exhaled an audible grunt
from her chest and her eyes widened. OMG!
The sergeant’s military mind processed
the information, immediately. The events revealed that there were at least two
enemy out there. When that reality settled into her consciousness she found
herself surprised at the revelation; she had fully expected there might be “ten”
or more.
Taking a few seconds to recover from the
unnerving experience, the sergeant quickly began to assess her situation. Now,
she knew the enemy had a pretty good idea where she was. And, there might be
only one of her squad still alive. It was a long twelve hours until daylight.
When the Lieutenant did not check in with HQ they would initiate an extraction
order but because of the darkness that evacuation attempt would be delayed
until dawn, at best. She was alone!
After a half minute, or so, just as her
trembling began to subside and she contemplated rescue the sergeant was
abruptly brought back to very harsh reality with another deadly “tink” broke the silence. She had barely
steeled herself for that concussion blast when the grenade exploded, this time
farther down the rock formation and more to her right.
The second attempt did not shake her resolve
as badly as the previous assault; her training had kicked in and she was more
properly reactionary as this second attack, not completely surprised. While the
continued effort was certainly unsettling, her military training led her to
expect it.
Also, the second grenade told her that
the adversary did not know her position, they were guessing. That small success
gave her some confidence that she might actually “win” the contest.
She relaxed, even allowing herself a
small “congratulatory” smile. Yes!
She could “Win”!
The torrent lasted another fifteen
minutes, gradually diminishing until it finally flickered out taking the
lightning and thunder and rain to the southeast; it got dead silent and very
cold.
Whoever was above her had gone silent.
They might have retreated to a tidy camp of food and warm fire, or, just be
waiting for her to make a mistake with noise or other give-a way. She tried to
breathe quietly, remain calm. At least, no more grenades came her way. Twelve
hours to go.
(Part 3 of 4 Tomorrow)
Cold desert-rain!
A thunder-echo cacophony of resounding
reverberations caused by huge raindrops hammered the overhead rock outcropping
illuminated in yellow-white lightning jags as the night time desert storm
raged. U.S. Army infantry Sergeant Heather McGonahue hunkered tightly against
the back of the huge desert rock squinting against the onslaught of the deluge.
She involuntarily shivered against the chill wishing for some of the previous
afternoon heat which she had so derisively cursed between gulps of water in an
effort to replenish fluids and quench her thirst.
“Damn!
The bad luck!” She whispered against
the rain chill. “Never rains when you need it! Kind of like a cop being around
when you need one.” Imperceptibly, she shook her head.
She involuntarily laughed at her little
joke immediately reprimanding herself for always “seeing the humor in any situation.” This
predicament was anything but “humorous”. In fact, she reminded herself, again,
her very survival demanded clear thinking and proper decisions to make it
through this horrendous challenge. She would rely on her military training to
persevere.
Heather shook her head at the dichotomy,
desert sand had an unpleasant personality trait so different than she had
experienced along the Gulf beach near her childhood home in Fort Myers.
Ocean sand was firm to the feet and
always cool from being caressed by the constant surf resulting a flat, smooth
surface; desert sand was loose and unstable, often “marching’ as the dunes traversed its host desert on constant,
often wild, winds which sculpted the grains into ripples like lake water waves
or dapples when the Sirocco howled; no matter the weather condition, desert
sand was forever Hot! As Heather
huddled in her makeshift “fort” she couldn’t help but wonder if even the cold,
heavy raindrops could cool the tortured “dragon’s breath” of the incessant,
agonizing heat. A slight fog began to form in the air cooled the desert
surface.
The fierce firefight which had caught
her squad somewhat by surprise, partly, if not entirely, because of the
inadequacy of her newly arrived novice Lieutenant, had decimated its members;
six KIA including the Lieutenant, four severely wounded to the point they
probably would not survive absent focused medical attention which was needed
immediately. She seemed to have fared the best of the lot but had twisted an
ankle in fleeing the initial onslaught of the well planned ambush. She put the
minor pain out of memory, mentally running a checklist of defense.
She had “smelled” the coming rain,
something she had inherited from her grandfather; he always foretold coming
rain and, better, could call out a blizzard snow better than any meteorologist.
Heather had inherited the knack, for whatever it might be worth.
The sergeant had warned the Lieutenant
of the approaching storm, saying that they ought to “dig-in” until it passed. Overruled! He had his orders and no damn
rain shower was going to thwart his completion. The onslaught of raindrops
coincided with the fusillade of enemy fire emanating from both sides of the
narrow valley. Ambush! Perfectly
executed and decimating.
The Sergeant had suggested several times
to her superior, by rank if not by pragmatic experience, that they should skirt
around the escarpment outcropping saying that it was too much a natural ambush feature.
The officer, overeager to prove his leadership acumen and anxious to show his
superiors his value to the “cause” ignored her warnings and proceeded, with
caution, into the shallow valley flanked on both sides by steep cliffs rising
to about a hundred meters above the entrance. The setting sun blinded then to
their enemy secluded in the waiting shadows.
“Intel shows that this trail leads to a
wide valley about a half mile ahead,” The L-T spoke in an arrogant voice as he
consulted a field map. “My briefing with the Captain said that we were to dig
in and set up a clandestine reconnaissance line on the western slopes to
surveille any nighttime truck or convoy activity moving material. That pass is
the quickest direct way.”
“Yes! Sir! Lieutenant,” McGonahue had
agreed, passively, so as not to appear argumentative; she wanted to get his
attention in order to impress upon the naïve officer the eminent ambush danger.
“This pass through the rocks is a textbook example of the ‘perfect’ ambush
set-up.”
“Okay, Sergeant. I note your concern. We
don’t have enough daylight to go around and still set up our surveillance
cordon.” He looked her in the eye. “We go straight ahead. Is that clear?”
She had nodded acquiescence knowing it
was a disastrous mistake to proceed. “Yes! Sir!”
Why in hell the “intel” spooks, she
considered that they must be CIA types, couldn’t utilize drones for their
surveillance of the highway crossed her mind. She reprimanded herself, again. “Damn! That’s just practical me trying to soothe my anger toward the
lieutenant for not listening to me. Hell!
I’d be better off if he was a ‘spook’
back in the rear.” She shook her head.
(Part 2 of 4 Tomorrow)
