Rourke considered his options. He turned to his aid: “Please radio Master Sergeant Upton my compliments. He made the right call. Advise him and the CP I’m working on next steps.”
“Understood, sir.” The young lieutenant wheeled around relaying orders into his headset.
The colonel needed help from above. With his own radio headset tuned to ROAS Central Command in California, he called it in. “CC Overwatch, this is Blocker One Actual. Over.”
The colonel got a reply from a voice he didn’t expect. “Blocker Actual, CC Overwatch Actual, what can I do for you?”
It was General William Story and not an underling. Good! It meant Central Command understood the severity. Rourke shared the troubling news. “Ah, CC Overwatch Actual be advised a single enemy M1A7 has approached our point position, crossed our border waiving a white flag. They’re requesting a parley. Over.” There was a pause. Rourke assumed the general needed a moment to assess the situation.
Rourke didn’t wait long for confirmation. “Blocker Actual we copy. Stand by one. Over.”
“CC Overwatch, Blocker Actual standing by. Out.”
Waiting for instructions, just steps beyond the battalion command bunker, Rourke lifted his glasses. Through the distance, he scanned the M1A7. Same as before, a man sitting exposed atop the tank, a white flag rippling in the breeze. He lowered the optics and thought back to the history books. Many times, he’d read of opposing forces meeting under a flag of truce, arguing in a last attempt to avoid conflict. Most often, nothing was settled, and all hell broke loose. He never dreamed he’d be in a similar position. Goddammit.
The general came on the line. “Blocker Actual, CC Overwatch Actual. Find out what they want. But you aren’t, I repeat, are not to accept any offers without Overwatch approval. Buy time. Keep your mic open so we can follow. We’ll be in your ear to help. You copy. Over?”
Rourke swallowed. He wondered what the enemy wanted. Nothing good, he reckoned. He answered the general, “CC Overwatch, Blocker Actual copies. Over.”
“Blocker Actual, be careful. We’re unsure of enemy intentions, but by God, don’t start a shooting war. We’re checking on the political front now. Soon as we learn anything, we’ll pass it along. Stay vigilant. Out.”
Colonel Rourke sure as hell didn’t want a war. He joined the ROAS Army of Defense just out of college. Over the years, he enjoyed the military, leading troops, and helping his small country. But this was different, nothing like assisting the populace after an earthquake. Fuck the reminiscing; he needed to get going. He spoke into his radio headset, activating the local command frequency. “Blocker Two Actual, this is Blocker Actual. How copy?”
The baritone voice of Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Rollins came on the line. “Blocker Actual, Blocker Two Actual copies five by. Over.”
The colonel liked Rollins and picked him to lead the battalion. Over the years they’d practiced war together, but never fought in one. Now, it was getting real, fast. “Blocker Two, did you copy CC Overwatch? Over.”
“Blocker Actual, affirmative. Nothing to add here. PB One is reporting the enemy tank has made repeated parley requests. How should PB One respond? Over.”
“Blocker Two, have PB One hang out a white flag and tell them Blocker Actual is coming. Remind the entire battalion we’re under a flag of truce. Safeties must remain on. No accidental shooting. We don’t want to start a war over a stupid mistake. Over.”
Rollins replied, “Blocker Actual, already on it. Be careful out there.”
“Blocker Two, understood. I’ll find out what they want. Afterwards, we’ll go from there. Stay focused. Keep an eye out, and I’ll be back soon. Out.”
The colonel turned to Swaringer and could sense the young man’s eagerness. But this wasn’t a game. In a tired voice, he gave the order, “Get me a jeep.”
“Sir, I recommend transportation with more meat on the bone—better protection. How about an armored Humvee? I can have one here in a minute.” Before the colonel could respond, the young lieutenant continued, “Also, sir, you shouldn’t go. We need you, and I don’t trust the bastards. It’d be better if I went, sir.”
The colonel frowned. He didn’t need the pimply little shit angling for glory. Whatever happened next could change all their lives. The kid might start a war on purpose. Ridiculous. The colonel tempered his anger and wouldn’t overreact, not now. “Lieutenant, I appreciate your concern, but as the ranking officer, I need to go. Get the Humvee, then we’ll drive out together. No weapons either. Let’s not offer them any excuses.”
Lieutenant Swaringer glanced at his own assault rifle. “Roger that, sir. I’ll get the vehicle.” Before leaving, out of habit, the lieutenant lifted his right hand in salute.
“Don’t do that! Doesn’t anybody listen to my orders? We’re in a combat zone!”
Obviously embarrassed, Swaringer dropped his hand and fidgeted.
“Here,” said the colonel. He reached into a side holster and pulled out a SIG Sauer M18. After checking the safety, he extended the pistol. “Store that until we return.”
The lieutenant took the handgun, double-checked the safety, and stuck the weapon inside his own combat belt. “Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?”
“Go get my ride, and do it quick.”
“Yes, sir,” said Swaringer, and without another word, he took off down the hill.
Shaking his head, the colonel watched Swaringer for a moment and then strode after him. Stopping at the edge of the highway, Rourke observed the command post bunker dug into the hillside a few meters away. He knew Rollins was inside issuing orders. Other Command staff would be busy monitoring the US forces through various digital feeds transmitted by multiple surveillance drones. In a fight, the battalion didn’t need Rourke to lead them; that was Rollins’s job. Right now, what they required from their brigade commander was a way to avoid an unwinnable conflict. But how the hell am I supposed to do that?
Chapter Five
DEFENSE
Rourke looked west along the highway and wondered why his ride was taking so long. He worried the enemy tanker under the white flag might grow impatient and do something stupid. After another minute, relieved, he spotted an armored Humvee weaving its way up the highway.
As the electric Humvee pulled up, before coming to a complete stop, a hyperactive Lieutenant Swaringer jumped out. Gung-ho, the young lieutenant pointed at the open door. “Are you ready to go, sir?” Before Rourke could reply, Swaringer added, “Staff Sergeant Lucas will drive. He’s the best guy for the job.”
Rourke nodded. He didn’t care and just wanted to get going. As he climbed into the front passenger seat, he noticed Lieutenant Swaringer getting in behind. After looking over the lieutenant and the rest of his surroundings, Rourke was pleased. There were no weapons in sight. It seemed the young fuck was finally listening. After buckling up, the colonel turned to the driver and asked, “Lucas is it?”
“Yes, sir. Sergeant Lucas, Motor Pool.”
The driver was older, maybe earlier forties. To lessen the tension, the colonel asked, “What is motor pool doing up here on the front line?”
Lucas smiled. “Well sir, it’s a long story, but I’m more than a chauffeur. These troops need me. I drive and fix these damn vehicles. I also helped build our defenses and laid plenty of mines too. Truth is, I’m vital.”
Rourke almost laughed and under different circumstances would have enjoyed conversing with the older man. But the asshole in the tank awaited. “Yes, I guess you are. Now, if you don’t mind, we have a tank to meet. Please get us there in one piece.”
Sergeant Lucas got the message and nodded. He eased the vehicle into the middle of Highway 15 and let the autonomous driving feature take control.