I looked to Brown, who said, with pain evident in his voice, “You are dismissed, captain.”
I saluted and left the office. Following McCormick onto the street, I said, “Thanks for saving my career.”
McCormick smiled. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got to win the conventional battle for me. I’m going to be off tilting the odds in your favor, but you’re the one who has to lead the regular troops. I’m a killer, not a commander.”
“You can be more than a killer, sergeant,” I said seriously.
“And you can be more than a peacetime officer,” he replied, just as serious. He reached out a hand. “This may be the last we see of each other. Stay strong, Captain Concitor.”
I took his hand and shook it. “Give ‘em hell, Sergeant McCormick.”
Chapter 2: Barker
Most of my squad was taken out at Farmers’ Ridge. Me and my ten guys occupied some grocery store-looking building. We gave the Chicoms a fight, but their tanks took out six of us. I helped carry back Private Gregor, whose right leg was cut off by shrapnel. He bled out on the way back. Goddamn shame. Gregor was just another TED — a Typical Enlisted Dick — but even he put up a damn fight. He kept firing his rifle even with the leg missing and Private Brosnan desperately trying to tie a tourniquet on it. I’m going to see if I can get Gregor a Silver Star for that.
Anyway, we had gotten back to Citadel a few hours earlier. We should have been put right to work digging trenches and getting ready for the Chicom assault, but Lieutenant Williams — the second in command who took charge after Captain Concitor went missing — just told us to get some food and rest. I think that might have been a mistake.
My last three guys, Brosnan, Kowalski, and Nunez, all started getting the shakes when they had nothing to do but think about what had just happened. Kowalski must have snuck in some pot, he ran off to go smoke. It was the middle of the day in a goddamn warzone, I have no idea how he didn’t get caught. Brosnan and Nunez just got some food that they didn’t eat, then lay down for a while. I didn’t have shit else to do, so I just went to sleep.
Two hours later, I woke up when Captain Concitor nudged me awake. “Jesus, sir, I thought you were dead!” I managed to say.
Concitor laughed. “Close, but not quite. I hooked up with another outfit for a little bit.” I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, so I didn’t say anything.
Concitor continued. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after Farmers’ Ridge. Damn brave of you to keep firing at the PLA infantry with all those tanks bearing down on us.”
I shrugged. “Just doing my job, sir.”
“Not quite, lieutenant. I had ordered you to just fire sporadically at the PLA precisely because I didn’t want you exposing your squad and yourself to the tank fire,” he said.
I tried to think of a good response, but after a few seconds I settled for the honest response. “I wanted to win the battle, not keep my squad safe, sir.”
Concitor gave me a good hard look after that. Then he gave a kind of half-smile and said, “I think you’re going to like your new job, Barker.”
“What new job, sir?”
“You’re going to lead a squad under Clay McCormick’s command. Hit-and-run attacks against the PLA outside of Citadel,” he explained.
As you can probably guess, I was shocked. “I thought he was doing ops in China with the Lafayette Initiative?”
The captain explained how McCormick had come back to Taiwan and swung the Battle of Farmers’ Ridge to our side, then took out a PLA company that had been coming to cut off our supply line. “He went off to go find his men. You’re taking what’s left of three squads bloodied at Farmers’ Ridge — sixteen soldiers total.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
His expression softened a little. “You’re a good kid, Barker. You’ve got fighting spirit. Follow McCormick’s lead. He’s a daring guy, more ballsy than I am. If he tells you to fire sporadically, you fire sporadically. He’s got more experience than our whole brigade put together. You and he are going to be playing a high-risk, high-reward game. Don’t go hot-dogging like you did at Farmers’ Ridge.”
I grinned like a kid at Christmas. “Don’t worry, captain, I won’t. I’m ready to get back in the goddamn fight.”
I shook Nunez and Kowalski awake and told them to get their shit together and find Brosnan. I had other things to do. I had to find the other eleven guys who were going to fill out the slightly oversized squad I would be commanding. It took about an hour because the three companies from Farmers’ Ridge had scattered into various little camps after returning from the battle. Most of the soldiers I found were in some stage of dealing with the shock of losing their friends in battle.
McCormick and two other men were waiting for us on the eastern end of the town. My soldiers stood about twenty yards away while I went over to talk to him.
In person, he was a little different from what he’s like on YouTube. Wiry build, an inch or two over six feet, his eyes a cold blue and his hair blond. I always thought he was handsome on YouTube, but, in person, he really wasn’t. It’s his face. He’s only a few years older than me, but his face had that “don’t fuck with me” look of experience. I found out later he’d been fighting for about forty hours without sleep at that point, so he was even grimmer looking than usual. The two men with him looked just as tired, but their eyes were clear as they scrutinized me.
I realized I didn’t know how to address McCormick. He used to be a sergeant, but I wasn’t clear on what exactly he was now. I settled for “You McCormick?”
He gave me a quick once over and answered, “Yeah. Who are you?”
“Lieutenant Amy Barker. I’m commanding the squad you’ve been assigned.”
McCormick was all business. “You have your men?”
I appreciate people who get to the point, but I didn’t like his tone. “I’ve got my soldiers.”
He laughed. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a regular Army unit. And I didn’t see any women at Farmers’ Ridge.”
I could feel anger rising in me. “I was at Farmers’ Ridge, right in the middle of it, killing PLA infantry and taking tank fire down my goddamn throat. You fired off a few missiles from the woods.”
McCormick inclined his head curiously, but he was done laughing. “Hope you enjoyed Farmers’ Ridge, Lieutenant. That was a walk-in-the-park compared to what we’re in for.” He looked over the men standing yards away. “Were these guys all with you at the ridge?”
“No,” I answered. “They were all at the ridge, but only three of my squad made it out. The rest of these guys are left over from other squads that took heavy losses.”
McCormick nodded. He walked past each soldier and looked him in the eye. His gaze didn’t miss any of the shaking hands. When he was done, he walked back over to me and said, “Tell Private Totten to stay behind.”
I looked over and saw Totten looking toward me with a vacant expression, as if he was focusing on something a thousand yards away. McCormick added with a touch of sadness, “The others will get over the shock. I’m not sure he will, at least not any time soon. I’ve seen what happens when you put them back in the field too fast.”
Nodding, I said, “I’ll tell him.” I forced myself to be polite. “Thanks for the heads up.”
McCormick shrugged, the sadness gone. “It’s my ass on the line too. Go tell him and we’ll get moving.”
We crossed the bridge in the middle of the town and then walked east out of Citadel. The street ran along the river for about two miles, during which time McCormick checked in via radio with Taiwanese command. He also glanced frequently at a map on a little gadget on his wrist. After a while, the road veered off south, away from the river and into mountainous terrain similar to what we’d seen at Farmers’ Ridge.