“Where did you get this?” he asked as he gratefully took the bowl and spoon being offered.
Smiling, Sergeant Childers replied, “One of the families staying above us came down with a pot full, and even brought some bowls. There is some bread over there, and some beer, if you want it.” He pointed to a table, where several of his soldiers who should have been sleeping were helping themselves to some bread. One of the soldiers held out a beer for him as he walked towards them.
“I suppose General Order Number One doesn’t really matter if you are surrounded by a division of Russian soldiers, does it?” the lieutenant said jokingly as he took the beer, lifting it to his lips and taking a long drink. Typically, US Forces are not allowed to consume alcohol in a combat zone, but being surrounded and cut off from the world did have its advantages.
As the soldiers ate their soup, bread and beer, their exhaustion returned. Many of the men who had finished eating now found a spot to curl up on the floor and quickly went to sleep. Soon, Sergeant Childers was the only person left at the table with him.
Lieutenant Taylor thought back to their conversation a couple of days ago, about why they had joined the Army. “Hey, you never did get to finish telling me why you joined the Army. I told you my story,” he said jokingly as he took another drink of his beer.
“I suppose it’s only fair. I still can’t believe you went to Yale and here you are, leading a platoon of infantry in Ukraine,” Childers replied in jest.
Luke sighed before continuing. He stared out one of the windows as he remembered back. “Before September 11th, I was a mess. I was in my sophomore year at the University of Texas A&M. I had no idea what I was doing with my life. I spent most of my time partying, getting drunk, or smoking weed. Then, one day, I got in trouble on campus and it looked like I was going to get expelled. Somehow, I managed to talk my way out of that problem, but I was still unsure of what I really wanted to do. I decided to take a year off school and get a job.”
“My uncle worked for an oil company, drilling wells. He offered to help get me a job, so I could make some money and figure out if I really wanted to finish college or just work with him. I was making good money too, $35 an hour, but it was backbreaking hard work. I had been working with him for almost three months when the Towers were hit. I couldn’t believe someone had attacked us like that. Watching those people at the top floors jumping out of the windows, falling to their deaths like that… well, it angered me. I made up my mind that I was going to join the Army.”
Pausing for a second to finish polishing off his beer, Childers continued, “My father had served in Vietnam, and my grandfather had served in World War II, so it wasn’t an uncommon thing for people in my family to volunteer. When I joined, I said I wanted to be a Ranger. My recruiter laughed at me, but signed me up for it anyways. After completing infantry school and jump school, I was sent to try out for the Rangers. After a few grueling months, I made it. I was placed with the 75th Ranger Battalion, just in time to deploy to Iraq for the invasion.”
Sergeant Childers rubbed his face and eyes for a second, looking out the window again, lost in thought. “Following the invasion of Iraq, my unit deployed to Afghanistan. We lost a couple of guys on that deployment. Then, we were sent back to Iraq again in 2006 and 2007. During the Surge in Iraq, my unit was deployed up in Mosul. We were out on a mission to snatch a high value target, some Al Qaeda leader. When we broke into the guy’s house, I was moving up the stairs to the clear the second floor with a couple of other guys. As I rounded the top of the stairs, I saw several flashes from a muzzle. I felt something hit me in the chest and legs. I went down immediately, before I could get a shot off. The guy following behind me shot the attacker.”
Childers began to rub his left thigh, which seemed to be having phantom pain from the memory he was talking about. “I was out. The next thing I knew, I woke up at a hospital in Balad. They said I had been shot twice in my left leg, shattering my femur. One round hit me in my right shoulder. The docs told me that were flying me back to Germany to have my leg fixed. I ended up spending the next eighteen months rehabilitating my leg. I wasn’t able to walk on it with any weight for nearly six months while the bone healed. They had to place a rod and a lot of screws in there to hold everything together. Unfortunately, my jump days were over, so I was out of the Rangers.”
He sighed, and then continued. “After I was released back to active duty again, they sent me to be a drill sergeant. I did that for a couple of years, continuing to strengthen my leg and shoulder, and then I got orders to the 2nd Cav. I couldn’t have been happier. I was going to pin on Master Sergeant in a couple more weeks, before we got sent over here. I suppose my promotion has probably come through,” he said, snickering.
Lieutenant Taylor let out a soft whistle. “Man, that’s a crazy story Luke. Well, I for one am glad you made it out of Iraq all right; we’d be in rough shape without you here with us.”
Childers nodded slightly, the left side of his mouth coming up in a half smile. He didn’t really know how to respond to direct praise like that.
“So, what’s the scoop from the meeting?” the sergeant asked, changing topics.
Lietenant Taylor pulled out a map and showed Luke the rally point where they would be linking up near the Russian lines. Taylor spent a little bit of time bringing him up to speed on the details of the night mission, and then the two of them joined the rest of their men in getting a few hours of shut eye before the action started.
It was nearly 1800 hours as Lt. Taylor’s platoon approached what remained of their company and another American unit that would be going through the tunnel first. When they entered Ukraine, they had started with 128 soldiers in their company, but now they were down to just 39 fighters. All of the others had either been killed or wounded.
Taylor saw Major Graham walking towards him, and asked “What’s going on, Sir?” He hoped nothing was wrong.
“I just wanted to make sure your guys are ready. Do you have full loads of ammo and grenades? We have some extra over near that Humvee,” Graham explained, pointing to a vehicle that had a small group of soldiers eagerly collecting additional ammunition for their weapons.
“No, we loaded up earlier,” Lieutenant Taylor answered. “My guys are ready to go. Do you still want my platoon to lead the way?” He secretly hoped that another unit may have been chosen instead.
Graham just nodded, “Yeah, I want your group to try and penetrate through that area,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map. “That old guy we talked about earlier said there is a bar there that was run by the Ukrainian mafia that has a tunnel running underneath it. The passageway connects to another bar on the other side of the Russian lines, here,” he said, pointing to the two locations.
“Once your men get through, I want your group to try and identify if there are any anti-tank guns and take them out. If you are able to, I want your guys to hit those objectives quietly. Once the shooting officially starts, that platoon of German tanks over there is going to try and push through to your location.”
Major Graham spent another ten minutes going over everything with Lt. Taylor and SFC Childers. Following their platoon would be the rest of their company, and then a British infantry unit would pick up the tail. The one thing that gave them pause was the uncertainty of whether or not the Russians had a quick reaction force (QRF) nearby to rush to that position once the gunfire began.
Childers looked at the map, and then back up at Major Graham. “We’ll cause some chaos, Sir. Just make sure those tanks press home their attack once the shooting starts. If there is a Russian QRF, we won’t last long without backup.”