Jerry’s words reverberated in her mind.Trust the plan, Olive.
Arnold Air Force Base, Tennessee
December
Jerry hugged the tiled wall of the kill house, a long-abandoned hospital with plenty of rooms and hidden secrets.Simunition smoke stung his nose as he edged around a corner.He held Cassie tight to his chest.Fisher tapped his shoulder, signaling him to move forward.Through the earpiece, he could hear Master Sergeant Wade “Commando” Chandler giving quiet orders as his team cleared the second floor.
They had run six scenarios since 0700 hours this morning, rotating through roles, playing “dead man out” and “wounded man out,” and other gigs while still achieving their objectives.Jerry had yet to take point on the breaches, and, since this run-through butted up against midday chow, he had the pleasure this round.
He looked over at Captain Peña, who motioned with his gloved hand to go through the next doorway.Jerry silently moved to the other side of the door and waited for Fisher to kick it open.Jerry and Timothy “Bourbon” Waller went through first, followed by Peña and Fisher.
“Clear!”Fisher subvocalized, and they moved back into the hallway to clear the next room.The infrared lights on their weapons illuminated the hallway like a bright green carnival ride in their optics.Jerry struggled against the distraction of the shadows and the dusty smell.He always hated training here.
Peña made a motion with his hand, and they all froze as one, waiting.A faint sound of a woman’s whimper came from somewhere ahead.Peña gestured, and they took their positions.This time, Jerry would breach first.He nodded, signaling his readiness.This time, Waller kicked the door in.
In the center of the mainly empty room, the hostage knelt on her knees, her hands clasped behind her back.Her shoulders shook.Jerry immediately lined up the kid standing behind her in his sights.Young, very young.Maybe fourteen.Then the world blinded him for less than half a second, while his optics compensated for the fact that the kid had shone a flashlight in their direction.
Jerry hesitated, confusion at finding a child in his crosshairs combined with the blinding light making it difficult for his brain to connect with his fingertip.In that split second of hesitation, the young gunman fired his pistol, and his hostage slumped forward.Jerry fired three times, all three rounds hitting the aggressor in the chest plate inside a space no bigger than a US nickel.
An airhorn sounded.Everyone lowered their weapons and pulled off their NOGs as the lights in the entire building came up.
Peña spoke into the comms, “That’s a wrap, Top.Mission fail.Team intact.OPFOR dead.Hostage deceased.”
It took several seconds for Chandler to reply.“Roger.What I’m hearing is that some of you will be cleaning weapons tonight.We’ll conduct the after-action review in ten minutes.This afternoon, our hostage is very much alive, and our OPFOR has been arrested and will be spilling valuable intel as soon as we finish our side of the conversation.”
The “hostage” stood up and brushed off her pants.She held her hand down, and the teenage gunman accepted it and let her help him stand under the weight of his heavy gear.“See you next time,” she said with a smile.
Jerry clenched his jaw.He never hesitated.This should have been “one and done.”Jerry held up the motto of the US Army sniper school, “One shot, One kill,” as his professional watchwords.Now he had to explain his actions to his First Sergeant.He did not look forward to the ribbing he knew would most certainly come his way.
They walked out together, the group silent.Jerry hung his helmet on his vest by its strap and rubbed his eyes as he stepped out into the December morning.Fisher slapped him on the back as he went by.Jerry sighed as his phone vibrated in his pocket.He recognized Osbourne’s number.
“Well, well, well.Look at the rich civilian Florida doctor Philip Osbourne, MD, condescending to call little old me.What’s up, Doc Oz?”
“Nothing like working at a Miami trauma center during the holidays.”
A few years ago, after getting injured on a mission in the jungles of Katangela, Africa, Osbourne had lost his leg, after which he had medically retired from the Army.That’s when Waller had joined the unit.
The Army is a small community, and the Special Forces community is an even smaller subculture within the Army.Everyone kind of knew everyone else.Waller and Osbourne had gone through 18 Delta school together, and Waller had actually medevacked Osbourne out of the jungles of Katangela.
Jerry liked and respected Waller, and called him a friend.Waller, an excellent medic, a believer, and a family man, had a generous nature and a childlike sense of humor.Even so, Jerry thought of Osbourne more like a brother.
For a year after Katangela, every time Osbourne spoke to him, Jerry could hear the depression in his voice.It worried him and directed his prayers.That all changed last year after Osbourne began dating Melissa Braxton.Jerry could hear the happiness, the contentment in his voice.
“I imagine it’s about as fun as Mogadishu in July.”
“About as hot.Not as dry, though.You ever get us that timeshare there?”
Jerry laughed and chatted with Osbourne for a few more minutes until Waller called him back to the group.“Great to hear from you.Have to go get schooled by Top now.Dead hostage, and all that.”
“Ah.There are still some ways in which being in a trauma center in Miami is better than running a shoot house course.Love you, brother.Say hello to the team for me.”
Jerry trotted over to the team.Chandler looked him up and down.“Not like you to hesitate, Jerry.”
“No, Top.It is not my default setting.”Heat filled his cheeks and he cleared his throat.“The kid threw me.Didn’t make him a hundred percent as the aggressor before he hit me with the flashlight.”
Chandler shrugged.“You’ve been doing this long enough to know—sometimes kids are the bad actors, or made to be.”
Jerry sighed.He thought about the missions over the years, the people he’d seen through his scope.“I am aware, Top.Just threw me this time.Won’t happen next time.”
