Chapter One

 

 

(Erbil – Northern Iraq)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The air was heavy and acrid, smelling of gunpowder and decomposing flesh. The entire Iraqi village had been laid to waste by ISIS dissidents two days earlier. Four US soldiers had been searching for survivors, identifying and counting the dead, when an ISIS sniper opened fire from a secure, elevated position. The rebel gunman killed three of the soldiers, badly wounding the fourth. It had taken hours for the wounded soldier to crawl to a working radio to request help, for himself and two other remaining survivors.

When the ISIS assassin began his assault earlier that morning, a mother and child had taken refuge in the single abandoned stone building that had not been leveled by ISIS RPG’s during the initial attack.

The area had been cleared and considered secure after the initial attack. The ISIS rebels had fled, or so it was believed. One sniper remained behind, deciding to martyr himself and kill as many American soldiers as he could.

Trevor Bootstrap Saunders wiped sand from his goggles for the third time in ten minutes. His two buddies had their weapons cocked and were ready to move with a second’s notice. The skies were gray, but not from clouds blocking the sun. The heavy wind had kicked up sand, limiting visibility. He and his two buddies found cover behind a disabled Iraqi tank, about thirty-five yards away from the mother and child. 

The three Navy SEALS were on their way to their extraction point when they picked up the distress call. They answered the call from the wounded soldier and arrived ten minutes earlier, taking refuge behind the tank. The wounded US soldier was passed out, lying next to Trevor.

“Boot, this man is stable for the time being, but we have to get him out of here soon,” said Dave Candy Rogers.

“Roger that,” Trevor replied. “What’s the word on the rescue chopper?”

“They’re working on it,” Candy said, “but all the choppers have been deployed. Best guess . . . two hours.”

“Two hours?” Trevor barked. “We can’t wait. We have figure out how to get that woman and her baby out of there . . . and this man needs attention, now. If we can get to the Jeep, there’s a civilian hospital less than thirty minutes south. We have to neutralize the shooter, though, or we’ll never make it back to the vehicle.”

Two more sniper bullets whistled by, just over the tank.

“Damn, it’s hot,” Ray The Blade Meadows, complained. “Back home, the wind always means a cool breeze. Here, it’s just hot air.”

“It’s a hundred and nine degrees outside and we’re in full gear,” Candy said.

Trevor heard two more of the sniper’s shots pinging off the tank. The men all ducked.

“Anyone have a read on the target’s position yet?” Trevor asked.

“No,” Blade answered. “There’s too much sand kicked up. I can’t see much past thirty feet.”

“If we can’t see, then neither can the shooter,” Trevor replied. “He’s only shooting at the tank to keep us pinned.”

“Boot, how far away you figure he is?” Candy asked.

“From when I hear the sound of the gunfire compared to when I see dust kick up, my best guess is, he’s about fifty yards northeast, give or take ten yards.  We need to move now while the wind is limiting visibility.”

“I don’t know, Boot?” Blade asked. “Maybe we should just wait here for reinforcements?”

“Negative,” Trevor said. “The mother and child have been holed up in that building without water for who knows how long. They can’t take much more in this heat. The wounded man needs medical attention. He can’t wait two hours.”

“If we could get this soldier back to the Jeep, there’s a medical kit,” Candy said. “I might be able to patch him up until we make it to the civilian hospital. That’s his best shot.”

“Well, we don’t stand much of a chance while that sniper is still shooting,” Blade noted. “Wind or no wind, that son-of-a-bitch can shoot. He’ll pick us off.”

“The wind will die soon,” Trevor said. “I’m going after the woman and child.”

“What’s the plan?” Blade questioned.

“You two are going to pop out and lay down a steady stream of cover fire,” Trevor replied. “I’m going to make a run for it. When I reach them, you duck back down.  I’ll assess the situation and give you a visual nod. When you get the signal, pop out again and lay down more cover fire. I’ll carry the child and the mother will run alongside me.”

“I don’t like it,” Blade said. “Even if you make it back without getting your fool head blown off, how do we make it to the Jeep in one piece?”

“Same plan,” Trevor replied. “You and Candy will lay down cover fire. I’ll get to the Jeep and drive it here. The tank will provide cover for us while we load the woman, child and soldier. We’ll position you and Candy in the back of the Jeep. I’ll drive. When the Jeep is exposed, you two will lay down a steady stream of cover fire until we are out of range.”

Blade sighed in exasperation.

“A fool’s mission,” Candy said. “Why don’t you just shoot yourself in the head now and be done with it?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Trevor snapped back.

Candy looked down, shaking his head, no.

“At least let me go,” Blade said. “I’m smaller. You’re six-feet-six with shoulders damn near as wide as this tank. You’re a pretty big target, Boot.”

Trevor nodded. Blade was right about the target size, but his well-intended SEAL brother was also a much slower runner. Trevor had been a high school running back and had maintained much of his youthful speed.

“No,” he replied. “It’s my dumbass idea. I’ll take the risk.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Blade said.

Trevor extended his hand and pointed northeast, “Aim about fifty yards in that direction. Hopefully you get close enough to make the shooter lower his head when he hears the gunfire.”

Blade scratched his chin, “You know, when this guy figures out we are firing blind and that we have no idea where he’s actually at, he’s going to find his courage.  Even if you make it there in one piece, he’s going to fire at you on the way back, and no matter how you look at it, the woman and child are going to slow you down.”

Trevor nodded, “Gotta risk it.  Get ready.”

Candy and Blade readied their weapons. When they were ready, Blade nodded.

Trevor called out, “Go.”

The two SEALS stood and popped out in clear view of the sniper, firing a steady stream of bullets northeast as instructed.

Trevor took off as fast as his legs would carry him, toward the building.  He heard his friends continuing to lay down suppressing cover fire.  He made it half way to the building before he saw the first sniper bullet kicking up dust in front of him. He ran faster. His heart was pounding. Two more bullets pelted the ground just in front of him. One of them landed just inches from his foot.

He made it into the building. He took off his helmet and breathed deeply. The heat was nearly overwhelming. His hair and face were dripping with sweat. The air was so warm, it felt like his lungs were burning.

He was shocked to see the mother had been killed. A young girl of no more than five-years-old, with pink ribbons in her hair, and a flowered print shirt, was sitting beside her, crying and hugging the woman’s dead body. The mother had taken a round through the forehead. From the way her body was positioned near the window, it appeared the woman decided to identify the position of the sniper and paid the ultimate price by exposing herself.

The little girl saw Trevor and instantly started to scream, not understanding who he was or that he was there to help her.

He continued to gasp for air, holding his palm toward her in a vain attempt to let her know he was friendly. Pulling a water bottle, he offered it to the girl. She recoiled in fear. He downed three-quarters of its contents in one long gulp and poured the remainder over his head.

“Do you have her?” he heard Blade screaming.

“I have the girl,” he yelled back. “The mother is dead.”

He pulled a second bottle of water from his pack and offered it to the young girl. She looked at him suspiciously. He smiled at her, “You probably don’t understand me,” he said, “but I’m here to help.”

He pointed to the American flag patch on his sleeve and then held his arms in a baby rocking position, hoping she’d understand he intended to carry her. He smiled, hoping she’d realize he was friendly.

She finally reached for the water and drained its contents within seconds.

“That good, huh?” he chuckled.

He reached for her. She recoiled and latched onto her mother’s dead body.  He touched her, trying to pick her up. She wailed again. He forced the issue. She began to flail and kick at him. He began stroking her hair and calmly began to shush her.  After several seconds, she seemed to acquiesce. Her body relaxed. He winked at her and smiled.

“We’re coming out,” Trevor called out. “Are you ready?”

“Boot, no! The wind has died down,” Candy screamed back. “That son-of-a-bitch damn near hit you in a high wind. He’ll pick you off for sure. Don’t do it. You’re a sitting duck.”

“No choice,” Trevor gasped. “I’m coming.”

“Wait. I think I have a read on the shooter’s position,” Blade said. “If I can get a clear shot…”

“I’m going to draw his fire,” Trevor called back. “I’ll use my body to protect the girl.”

“Give me another minute,” Blade barked.

“I don’t have a minute,” Trevor replied.

“You’re a real piece of work, Boot. You know that, right?” Candy boomed.

“One or two people may have mentioned that to me in the past,” he said. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Blade called back. “Make it fast, Boot.”

“Roger that,” he said. He held the girl on his left side, positioning his own body between her and the sniper’s line of sight.

“Now!” Trevor screamed.

He saw Blade and Candy pop out and begin covering fire. Trevor took off. Before he made it ten feet the Sniper’s first bullet kicked up sand less than two feet in front of him. He charged forward, as fast as his legs would carry him. The young girl he carried began screaming. Trevor wrapped both arms around her and twisted slightly to his left as he ran, using his back to shield the child from gunfire. If the sniper found his target, it would be Trevor who took the bullet, not the girl.

At the half way point Trevor felt an impact, followed by a burning sensation on the outside of his right thigh. He instantly began to limp.

“I’ve been hit, guys!” Trevor called out, continuing forward as fast as he could go.

“I see him. I’ve got the bastard in my sights!” Blade screamed. “Three more seconds.  Hurry, Boot.”

Trevor was now dragging his right leg, holding the girl firmly, continuing to move forward.

“I see you, you son-of-a-bitch!” Blade barked in the direction of the sniper. Blade zeroed in on the sniper’s position. Candy stopped shooting, hoping the sniper would expose himself to take a shot.

Trevor heard Blade’s gunfire—pop, pop, pop. Trevor listened for the sniper’s return fire. Five seconds went by . . . then ten . . . then twenty. There was no return fire. The sniper had either been hit or hunkered down again.

Trevor made it back to safety behind the abandoned tank. The girl began to cry again. Candy took her from Trevor.

“How bad are you hit, Boot?” Blade asked.

“Bad enough,” he replied. “I don’t hear the sniper shooting anymore.”

“I saw blood spray,” Blade said, “Once I spotted his position, I let him have it, but good. I know I hit that bastard. He could not have lived.”

“Good work,” Trevor said.

“You saved the girl,” Blade said.

“And you got the bad guy,” Trevor replied. “Candy provided great cover—team work all around.”

“I just got the call,” Candy said. “Medical chopper is fifteen minutes out.”

“Fifteen? Dammit,” Trevor yelled. “Now they come? Crap, I don’t believe this.”

Trevor gasped.

“What is it?” Candy asked. “The wound?”

“No, I’ll will be ok,” he replied. “I was just thinking about my wife. I haven’t been home in seven months. I was due to be home in three days.”

Candy looked at the wound on Trevor’s thigh. Blood was oozing despite the pressure being placed on it.  He shook his head, “Sorry, Boot. That’s not gonna happen.”

Trevor glared at Candy, “You’re a real buzz kill, you know that?”