“Roger. That was 155mm art…casualties…enemy…about company strength, over.”
Lieutenant Colonel Anderson’s tone held the calm and clarity that only someone not under fire could. “Gator 6, this is Eagle 6. In your assessment, can you disengage and fall back into cover in the AHA, over?” Silence from the radio, but the steady stream of semi and full auto fire in the distance told the story.
Sergeant Major Brown practically hopped up and down. “Damn it sir, we’ve rounded up enough loose vehicles here and no one has made a move to retake the airfield. We could get a company over there to help fast.”
Lieutenant Colonel Anderson frowned. “They’re almost two kilometers away. Our lines of communication are far too tenuous, even with mobile resources. Our force is spread thin enough as it is. I can’t risk dividing it further. Doctrine calls for fire support…XO, keep pestering higher for that close air support! No more excuses from them. Make our situation crystal clear.”
To his credit, the colonel didn’t waste time with “might have been’s.” Nor did the sergeant major bother with “I told you so’s.”
The radio came back to life before either could speak. A new voice called this time.
“Eagle 6, this is Gator 3–7, over.”
A platoon sergeant? The colonel knew the answer even before he asked. “This is Eagle 6. Where’s Alpha 6 actual, over?”
“Gator 6, he’s KIA, break…near as I can tell, I’m Alpha 6 now, over.”
“Gator, Eagle. Can you disengage, over?”
There wasn’t any hesitation. “Negative, Eagle 6. Too many wounded to move and too much open ground to cross anyway, over.” The firing appeared to die down somewhat.
“Gator, Eagle. Can you hold your position, over?”
Again, no hesitation. “Not for long, break…they’ve already flanked us and are in the AHA in large numbers, over.”
Colonel Anderson gritted his teeth and threw a glance at the sergeant major. Brown looked contemplative for a change.
“Eagle 6, they’re keeping us pinned down until they get the Bradley armored vehicles loaded with ammo. It won’t be too much longer until they’re done. When they come, we got nothing to stop them, over.” The colonel chewed on that for a long time, all while fiddling with his VMI class ring.
“Eagle 6, this is Gator 6. Did you copy my last, over?”
The radio operator clicked the mike on and tried to answer. Anderson grabbed it back. “Roger, Gator 6. I copy…break…break…the surrender of your command is at your discretion, over.”
Brown snatched the mike away from his commander. “Wait one, Gator 6.”
Voice barely above a whisper, he growled at the enlisted men. “Let me talk with the Colonel alone.” The two enlisted soldiers melted away fast. Even the XO found somewhere else to go.
“Don’t you fucking dare, sir! You make a command decision right now. Don’t force a junior NCO to make that type of call to save your reputation. Man up and tell them to…” he had to spit the word out, “surrender, or tell them to die to the last man, but it’s your responsibility, not his.”
Someone burst away with a SAW light machine gun on the far side of the perimeter, towards the highway ringing the field. M4 rifles joined in a second later…not all as outgoing fire.
The battalion executive officer came back to their huddle. “The Guard’s just probing the perimeter, sir. Trying to define the battle space. Don’t worry. We have tight 360 degree security.”
Anderson finally spoke up. “Little good it does us when they have armor and artillery.”
The XO finally stopped his perpetual scowling. “We’re working on that, sir. Brigade promised to scramble a few F/A-18 fighters. It’ll take them nearly an hour to get on station here and you’ll have to personally approve every strike, but it’s something.”
The sergeant major needlessly kept pushing the forward assist button on his M-4, an old nervous tick of his. “They don’t have an hour. Minutes, tops. Make a call, sir. I’ll back you either way.”
Anderson stretched out his hand. “Am I allowed to communicate with my command now, Sergeant Major? If you don’t mind, I’d like to be in charge of this unit for a minute.”
“Hooah, sir.”
The colonel never broke eye contact with him as he took the mike. “Gator 6, Eagle 6, over.”
“Gator 6, over.”
“You are authorized, correction, you are ordered to surrender your element to the enemy, over.”
“Say again, over?”
“This is Eagle 6, you heard me. You’ve all done a fine job, but there’s nothing more to accomplish there. This is not Afghanistan. I’m not going to throw any more lives away over this crap, over.” The radio was silent so long the colonel thought he’d lost another leader. The curt reply spoke volumes.
“WILCO, out.”
The colonel bristled at the shorthand for “will comply.” He’d been around long enough to know it also served as polite enlisted code for, “Fine, I’ll do it, you jackass.”
The livid executive officer ran back to their huddle and waved the Sat phone in disgust. “They called them back, sir! Straight from the president! He overruled headquarters. Only explanation was some bullshit about not wanting to ‘escalate’ things. That fucker even relieved General Jacobi for refusing to comply.”
Brown dropped back on a knee. “So? I knew that promise of close air support was too good to be true. Fuck it; we didn’t have the fast movers before. We haven’t lost nothing.”
“No, Sergeant Major. I don’t mean just them. I’m talking about the rest of the brigade! Our follow on relief, the Tallahassee task force…everyone! They cut us off. We’re ordered to hold in place until further orders. Oh, and avoid taking or inflicting casualties!” To the open-mouthed faces gathered around he added, “I swear, you can’t make this shit up!”
A familiar, clanking whine far too close cut off the bitch fest. A short salvo of 25mm high-explosive rounds landed harmlessly in the middle of the airfield. Things just went from bad to worse beyond belief.
Some nearby soldier, valiantly but comically warding off the hulking Infantry Fighting Vehicle with his under-barrel mounted grenade launcher shouted, “Sir, the lead Bradley’s waving a white flag.”
The colonel clasped his hands behind his back so no one could see them shake. “About time! I thought they would never give up!” What an amazing effect one lame joke could have on so many men with so little hope. By the time Anderson stood in the middle of “no man’s land” and saluted his full bird Florida colonel counterpart, the quote had been passed everywhere along the 300 man line. Growing more defiant with every retelling.
“Sir, that proposal is unacceptable.” Lieutenant Colonel Anderson took off his K-Pod helmet as well. More for the opportunity to slide out of the oven for a moment than as a show of trust. Even a winter night in Florida was hot for a Maine man. The armor and helmet added a good 15 degrees, easily.
“I grant you our present situation is unfavorable, but if necessary, the gloves can come off. I will designate this entire base a Free Fire Area and call in the full weight of my air support. We have accomplished our primary objective of occupying this airfield to prevent additional atrocities. We haven’t advanced farther out of concern for inflicting unnecessary casualties, but we—”
Florida’s newly famous Colonel Beauregard, who hadn’t even bothered to put on his IBA body armor, slapped his knee and laughed.
“You’re something else, all right! I wish I had you on my staff back in Afghanistan negotiating with those assholes!” He paused to savor his opposite number’s sour look.