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)
No comments:
Post a Comment