“Sir!”
Lieutenant Nelson salutes and marches out of the tent. His disciplined walk doesn’t deceive his fellow officers. Some of them give him a look of pity, others grin in apparent agreement with his mistake being duly punished. The colonel doesn’t bother to look at the reprimanded officer and continues the briefing.
“The only thing Nelson did right was to exterminate the ambushers. My suspicion was right: scavengers from Ghorband are behind the latest provocations. Such provocations, warriors, cannot and will not be tolerated. Additionally to the scavenger ambush, more bad news arrived this morning. The ragheads have obviously replenished their ranks after we bloodied their nose at Bagram, because they tried to infiltrate our territory from the south. Here.” The colonel points at a marker on the map. “Before we punish the scavengers, something needs to be done about this nuisance. Lieutenant Ramirez!”
“Sir!”
“You will assume command over Nelson’s outfit. With them and your own men, you will move to the southern approaches and establish an FOB, here.” The colonel points at a narrow valley on the map, well south of the Tribe’s stronghold. “From that position, you will scout the area and repel any hostile attempts to infiltrate our territory.”
“I knew that Ramirez would get the shittiest task,” the Lieutenant with the cigar whispers to his neighbor who has a huge scar over his Asiatic face. “I just knew it.”
“Yep,” his neighbor replies under his breath. “He always does.”
Their whisper does not escape the Colonel’s attention.
“Bauer and Trang! If you have any tactical suggestions to make, please share your wisdom with the rest of us.”
The two Lieutenants jump from their seats.
“Sir, no, sir!”
The Colonel gives them one of his ice-cold stares.
“Then keep your mouth shut until you are allowed to ask questions.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Good. With Ramirez keeping our underbelly secure, a strike force consisting of two assault teams lead by Schmidt and Collins will proceed to the scavenger outpost at Ghorband and secure it. Anderson’s fire support team will assist the assault teams. Together, they will form Strike Force Anaconda and stand under the joint command of First Lieutenant Driscoll.”
Several Lieutenants frown, especially those who took part in the Tribe’s latest battle—the relief of the Stalker base when it had been besieged by their common enemy.
“Driscoll in charge? Sounds like an excessive body count,” whispers a Lieutenant with Latino features into Bauer’s ear, who sits just in front of him.
“You have any problem with that, Ramirez?”
“Of course not, but is it really necessary?”
Ramirez slowly shakes his clean-shaven, dark skinned head that bears a USMC tattoo on the nape.
“This ain’t all, warriors. Once the scavengers at Ghorband have been taken care of, Anaconda will proceed to Bagram and put it in a chokehold. The Lieutenants in charge will personally ensure that no one and nothing gets in and out. When I see the time fit I’ll lead Task Force Boomslang, made up from the teams remaining at the Alamo, against Bagram and take it together with the task force already deployed there. Lieutenants whom I haven’t assigned a strike team will either join the squad leaders as support or stay here until we all join the main strike force. Questions?”
A moment of silence falls over the warriors. The fly is still buzzing above their heads. Then Lieutenant Trang’s hand flits up. His fist closes and the buzz ceases.
Bauer raises his hand.
“Sir, what about me and my squad?”
“You’re also assigned as reserve and to stay here in the Alamo. Use the time to intensify training the newcomers and devil pups.”
“Sir, I—”
“I’ve made my decision, Bauer.”
Another Lieutenant raises from his chair.
“Yes, Collins!”
“Sir, we’re moving out in almost full force against the scavengers. It seems overkill.”
“I suppose you have nothing against the Tribe stretching itself? We’ve been resting too long.”
A few warriors laugh, but the blue eyes in Lieutenant Collins’ tanned face remain serious. Bauer, Ramirez and a few other officers nod their agreement over Collin’s concerns.
“Nothing against a little exercise, sir, but… with all due respect, we are already overstretched as far as defending our area goes.”
“Permission to speak freely?”
All eyes are directed at the warrior in full armor. The Colonel nods.
“Collins, you didn’t get the Colonel’s point. We move out to purge the western approaches from scavenger scum. If you don’t have the guts to do that — this is the time to chicken out.”
“That’s no option, sir!”
The Colonel resumes briefing his men. “First Lieutenant Driscoll has summed it up very well, Driscoll. We will teach them a lesson they won’t soon forget. But don’t be fooled by how pathetic scavengers are. A few weeks ago, when we saved their ungrateful asses from being kicked by the ragheads and Chinese, those among us who were there could see that the scavengers can put up hell of a fight with their backs against the wall. As the mistake made by Nelson’s men has proven again, carelessness is deadly. Overconfidence too. There is no such thing as overkill, Lieutenant Collins. Clear?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Bauer, I see you have another question.”
“Sir! When will the Top and the witch be back?”
“Whenever he has finished mustering the new recruits and made sure that Nooria is unharmed.” The Colonel halts his words for a moment. “You all know that I was not overly happy when my stepdaughter decided to accompany our Russkie friend on his mission. However, to put it this way: you also know that the women of the Tribe are not entirely subjects to our chain of command.” A wave of low laughter goes around among the Lieutenants. “All I could do was to order the sergeant major to keep watch over her. Until she is back, you’ll need to rely on the corpsmen assigned to your squads. Any other questions? Speak your mind, DiMatteo.”
“Sir, we have recently received a report about a new kind of mutant. I mean, it’s not entirely new to most of us Lieutenants… but that they to appear over ground and in groups of three or four, definitely is.”
Silence falls over the tent. The Lieutenants don’t smile anymore.
“Yes, I am aware of that,” the Colonel dryly replies. “If you’d read the report prepared by Staff Sergeant Rush, you must also know that he called them smiters. One has to agree, it’s a fitting name for those walking juggernauts. I’ve already ordered Boxkicker to issue more incendiary rounds for the .50 cals on our patrol vehicles. Same applies for the squad automatic weapons and M27 rifles. You’re also advised to have at least one in every three M4 carbines mounted with a grenade launcher. Though all this is more the concern of Bauer and especially Ramirez than the rest of you who’ll move east to crush the scavengers. So far, smiters have appeared only to the south.”
“I hate mutants, no matter what they’re called,” mutters the Latino officer.
“That’s the spirit, Ramirez. No more questions? Make your preparations and stand by for my command. We’ll move out soon. That would be all, warriors.”
Seeing the Colonel having finished the briefing, First Lieutenant Driscoll barks a command.
“Ten-hut!”
The Lieutenants stand in attention and the Colonel lets his eyes go around his most trusted officers.
“Dismissed,” he says and lights up a cigarette.
Followed by Driscoll, he walks off towards his headquarters in the tower.
As soon as they have left, the Lieutenants break out in chatter over what they’ve just heard. Bauer, Ramirez and Collins leave the tent. Standing on a rampart and looking down to the cluster of neatly built stone and mud houses in the Tribe’s living quarters, they stand quietly. None of them wants to be the first to share his doubts. Ramirez offers a box of cigarettes. Eventually, Bauer draws on his smoke and begins to speak.