I wasn’t sure how long I slept—not long enough—when Caro’s alarm woke us before dawn. The right side of my body ached from where I’d been lying on the concrete floor. I stretched out cautiously.
“Sebastian!” she gasped, obviously surprised to see me. “What are you doing?”
“Hey, baby.”
“How long have you been there? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Couple of hours,” I yawned. “I didn’t want to wake you—you looked so peaceful.”
She crawled across the narrow mattress and wrapped her arms around my neck, burrowing herself against me.
“You didn’t even take your boots off,” she murmured into my neck, her lips tickling my skin.
I laughed quietly and kissed her hair. “Didn’t see much point.” I climbed to my feet reluctantly. “Gotta go, baby.”
“Already?” she said, disappointment shading her voice.
“Yeah, need to get a wash and shave before dawn patrol.”
“You’re lucky,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m relying on baby-wipes while I’m here. You’ll get to know me in a whole new way, Sebastian.”
I winked at her. “Looking forward to it, baby. See ya later.”
The sun was just beginning to appear behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the compound. I took a turn in the shitter, then lined up at the outside water butts to take a cold shave.
After I’d stowed my shaving kit, I booked it back to the comms room.
A different radio operator was in Mark’s seat, but Jankowski was there again. I didn’t have time to do more than salute.
“Hunter, you’ll be out on foot patrol this morning. Grant wants some hearts and minds work, and he’s hoping that you’ll pick up on any vibes from the locals. Go get some chow before the briefing in 20 minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
I decided that my two Shiite terps should stay at the compound today. I didn’t want any trouble with the locals.
They didn’t seem to care when I gave them the news—it would be an easy day for them where they could sit on their asses, drink sweet tea, and still get paid by Uncle Sam.
I left them as they started their morning prayers, then walked over to the line for breakfast. I could see a bunch of bootnecks flirting with Caro. She was laughing at them, a huge smile on her face as she snapped some photographs. I couldn’t help my hands balling into fists, and I had to concentrate really hard not to say or do something that was going to piss her off. But it really went against the grain to see her surrounded by horny guys and not do anything. This relationship stuff sucked balls.
She saw me and threw a soft smile in my direction. I heard her voice, and knew that she was trying to reassure me.
“Gentlemen, it’s too early in the day for all that.” All of what? “I haven’t even had my breakfast MRE yet.”
I relaxed a fraction as the banter dropped back a notch, but I could tell that they liked her—even more when she shared a bottle of soy sauce that she’d brought with her to try and make the MRE rations taste better. Breakfast was more noodles and unidentified meat—also known as ‘Meals Rejected by the Enemy’ or ‘Man Ready to Eat’. Whatever it was, it tasted like ass and was about as chewy.
I was surprised when Grant sent for Caro to join the morning briefing. She wasn’t going to hear anything particularly interesting—I’d already had my main orders from Jankowski.
The small ops room had gotten pretty crowded with all the officers and gunnery sergeants when Caro arrived. I could see the fuckers looking her over with appreciation. I wanted to blindfold every bastard there. Even Grant almost smiled at her.
“Right, men: this morning we’ll have four patrols moving out. Sanders, I want you and your team with me heading northeast along the river bed wadi. Romero, northwest by the edge of town. Jankowski, your men take the old market area with Holden flanking you at 100 yards.
“Hunter: you’re in charge of the terps—brief them before we go. The population here are Sunnis. Are any of your men Shiite?”
“Two, sir,” I answered quickly. “I’ve told them to stay behind today.”
“Does that leave us short?” asked Grant, frowning.
“No, sir, but one of the teams will have to have Angaar: his English is so-so.”
“Then send one of the others with him.”
“They don’t get along, sir. Could cause problems.”
“Then damn well make sure it doesn’t!” Grant snapped.
I didn’t argue the point further, but I wasn’t happy with the order.
As the meeting broke up, Caro raised her hand.
“Which team would you like me with, Captain Grant?”
He looked up, clearly irritated, but Caro’s expression stayed neutral.
“Perhaps ‘like’ was too strong a word, Captain,” she suggested coolly.
I had to try really hard not to smile at that, and I saw Jankowski and one of the other officers grin openly.
“You’d better come with me, Ms. Venzi,” Grant muttered, somewhat unwillingly. “And you, Hunter.”
“I feel like Fox Mulder,” Caro murmured loud enough for Grant to hear, but not loud enough that he’d feel the need to reply. “The Marines’ ‘most unwanted’.”
Grant frowned, but I could tell he admired her being ballsy. I was so fucking proud. I had to leave the room or I’d have given myself away.
The dawn patrols left the compound on foot: the overt mission was to scout out the area and get a hands-on idea of the terrain. The two patrols checking out the marketplace had the most dangerous job. Those old bazaar buildings provided plenty of places where IEDs could be planted. Snipers were also a concern.
But my patrol was heading up the river wadi to try and find some locals to talk to. I pulled on my body armor and helmet (40 pounds), before shouldering my day pack (35 pounds) and picked up my M16 (nine pounds loaded). Gunners and radio operators carried more. The temperature was already in the high-nineties: it was going to be brutal.
I didn’t usually get nervous on patrols—not since the very first time—just more aware. But having Caro with me, I was about ready to shit myself, even though she’d been positioned in the middle of the patrol for safety. I was up front with Grant so I couldn’t even keep an eye on her from this position. I kept telling myself that the best way to keep her safe was to do my fucking job.
Grant grunted at me.
“Hunter, you’re the terp—you take point.”
We’d walked about a mile up the trail to the wadi when we saw our first locals.
Four kids, aged about eight or nine, were sitting in a patch of dirt. They stood up in a hurry when they saw us, looking scared, but I called out a greeting to them, grinning when they stared at me in surprise.
I directed all my questions to the oldest boy. Afghans were big on hierarchy and it was easy to offend if you didn’t follow their rules.
I asked him if he’d seen any Taliban lately. I didn’t really expect him to answer truthfully, but he pointed up into the foothills.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Caro taking a photograph. I hoped like fuck the boys didn’t see her; if they knew we had a woman on patrol, the news would spread through the area like wildfire.
I asked the kid how long they’d been there, and Grant wanted to know what we were saying.
“He says there are Taliban up in the hills, sir. They moved into position during the night. He doesn’t think they’ll come out in daytime. Not sure I’d take that as an ironclad guarantee, but it could mean they’ll hit us at dusk or first thing in the morning.”
I couldn’t help glancing worriedly at Caro.
“Anything else?”
I sighed. “He said his father has promised to get him a rifle like mine when he’s ten.”
There was no chance that this fucking war would ever be over when kids were being used to carry it forward. And it was a tribal country—I wasn’t sure a dose of democracy would work here, but I left that shit to the politicians.
Then one of the kids spotted Caro and gaped, openly pointing her out to his little buddies. They immediately started asking a ton of questions, and I couldn’t help smiling as Grant asked me to translate.