Rescuing the Rescuers
The gunfight was over as quick as it had begun.
It was nothing, relatively speaking - just two gunmen above the mouth of a cave who thought elevation equaled concealment. A grenade and two pistol shots had illustrated the fallacy in that, but the blast had thrown a cloud of smoke over the cave mouth.
“Watch for movement,” Voodoo whispered as the pair stalked toward the entrance, weapons up. Preacher grunted by way of reply.
A silhouette stood in the middle of the smoke. Preacher’s finger twitched toward the trigger. Voodoo held a hand up. “Wait.”
The silhouette sharpened as the smoked wafted away, revealing a combat helmet, boots…
It waved at them -
- Voodoo held out a fist -
“Friendly! Friendly!”
“Preacher, blue, blue!”
…and two of the cleanest-shaven GIs Voodoo’d ever seen.
The leader approached them, grinning. “Holy shit. We got you.”
Voodoo grit his teeth. “Goddammit. Where’d you Ahmy boys come from?”
The man motioned behind him. “You didn’t see that Chinook drop out of the sky?”
“We’ve been a little busy up here.”
“We’re the QRF sent to get you guys. Our bird was hit. We’ve lost three men so far.” Voodoo stared. If he was expecting sympathy at a time like this…
“I’m Sergeant Patterson. This is Specialist Adams,” he said, nodding to the soldier behind him.
“Voodoo.”
“Preacher.”
Patterson shifted on his feet. “Command said there were four SEALs on this peak.”
“There are,” Preacher said. “We need to get the other two.”
Voodoo nodded. “About oh-four-hundred, we could hear their M4s below us, then we were ambushed.”
“We lost them after that,” Preacher said.
“Got any suggestions?” Patterson said.
Voodoo turned and motioned the pair forward. “Listen. We move fast, we move with purpose. Watch your target discrimination. A-box shots only, shoot until they drop. Understood?”
The last gunshot echoed off the rocks, and the mountaintop was still.
Voodoo ejected the magazine from his pistol. “Clear left,” he said, sliding a fresh one in.
“Clear right,” Patterson said. “What now?”
“We move,” Preacher replied, heading down a game path, snow crunching under his boots. “Before reinforcements show up.”
“There’s more of them?” Patterson asked, following.
“By the fuckin’ company,” Voodoo replied. “Our intel was off.”
“How off?”
“You get a hot LZ?”
“Yeah.”
“How many gizzies?”
Patterson shrugged. “A platoon, give or take.”
“Congrats. You killed about four percent of the main force.”
Patterson blanched. “In the valley?”
Voodoo shook his head. “On the mountain.”
”Shit.”
“Welcome to the suck, Sergeant.”
It was nothing, relatively speaking - just two gunmen above the mouth of a cave who thought elevation equaled concealment. A grenade and two pistol shots had illustrated the fallacy in that, but the blast had thrown a cloud of smoke over the cave mouth.
“Watch for movement,” Voodoo whispered as the pair stalked toward the entrance, weapons up. Preacher grunted by way of reply.
A silhouette stood in the middle of the smoke. Preacher’s finger twitched toward the trigger. Voodoo held a hand up. “Wait.”
The silhouette sharpened as the smoked wafted away, revealing a combat helmet, boots…
It waved at them -
- Voodoo held out a fist -
“Friendly! Friendly!”
“Preacher, blue, blue!”
…and two of the cleanest-shaven GIs Voodoo’d ever seen.
The leader approached them, grinning. “Holy shit. We got you.”
Voodoo grit his teeth. “Goddammit. Where’d you Ahmy boys come from?”
The man motioned behind him. “You didn’t see that Chinook drop out of the sky?”
“We’ve been a little busy up here.”
“We’re the QRF sent to get you guys. Our bird was hit. We’ve lost three men so far.” Voodoo stared. If he was expecting sympathy at a time like this…
“I’m Sergeant Patterson. This is Specialist Adams,” he said, nodding to the soldier behind him.
“Voodoo.”
“Preacher.”
Patterson shifted on his feet. “Command said there were four SEALs on this peak.”
“There are,” Preacher said. “We need to get the other two.”
Voodoo nodded. “About oh-four-hundred, we could hear their M4s below us, then we were ambushed.”
“We lost them after that,” Preacher said.
“Got any suggestions?” Patterson said.
Voodoo turned and motioned the pair forward. “Listen. We move fast, we move with purpose. Watch your target discrimination. A-box shots only, shoot until they drop. Understood?”
The last gunshot echoed off the rocks, and the mountaintop was still.
Voodoo ejected the magazine from his pistol. “Clear left,” he said, sliding a fresh one in.
“Clear right,” Patterson said. “What now?”
“We move,” Preacher replied, heading down a game path, snow crunching under his boots. “Before reinforcements show up.”
“There’s more of them?” Patterson asked, following.
“By the fuckin’ company,” Voodoo replied. “Our intel was off.”
“How off?”
“You get a hot LZ?”
“Yeah.”
“How many gizzies?”
Patterson shrugged. “A platoon, give or take.”
“Congrats. You killed about four percent of the main force.”
Patterson blanched. “In the valley?”
Voodoo shook his head. “On the mountain.”
”Shit.”
“Welcome to the suck, Sergeant.”