The Final Line (33 page)

He was just glad they hadn’t had Zodiac training yet. He wasn’t in the mood for an amphibious operation. Tonight, there were three teams, all with different objectives and approaching from different directions. The rest of the class and instructors had established a base camp and were keeping watch. There was no hunting going on tonight.

All Corey and his team had to do was execute their mission without detection. There would be no patrols to evade. If these Marines applied their lessons and did as Corey ordered, they’d be done in several hours, mission successful. If they fucked up and gave away their position to the Marines standing watch, a mock firefight might ensue and Corey would be stuck doing an extensive after-action all night.

He’d much rather be welcoming Sean home.

Their mission was to get past the Marine encampment, locate a small village several klicks out, and observe it for an hour. During that time they were required to determine if the village was occupied, sketch the layout, and establish dimensions and distances. Once their mission was complete, they had to get past the Marines once again, without being detected. At a predetermined location, they would uplink their intel, then use chemlights to signal for extraction.

Oceanside was cool at night, even this far inland. They all wore their fleece shirts under their armor. As Team Leader, Corey wore a radio headset beneath his Kevlar. Each student wore a sensor on his vest that would react if hit with the beam of a laser mounted on top of the M16s they’d all been issued for the night. Everyone was loaded with blank ammunition. A firefight would make a hell of a lot of loud noise, but casualties would be determined by a hit with a laser.

Corey looked at his team and issued silent orders using hand signals. They would proceed single file, Corey in the lead. He indicated the order in which his team members would follow him in. Next, he signaled the preliminary information he’d been prepped with to start the mission. From this point on, they would rely their own skills to gather intel and execute the mission.

When all five men had acknowledged Corey’s orders, he signaled for them to step off. Rising cautiously to his feet, he took careful, silent steps. He held his weapon to his shoulder, muzzle down, finger on the trigger guard. He dropped his night vision goggles down over his eyes and slowly scanned their surroundings.

He knew the Marine encampment was two and half klicks directly ahead. His orders were to lead his team straight at the encampment so the Marines would have to devise a plan for skirting it, and implement that plan without detection.

Corey’s fingerless gloves kept his hands relatively warm, still allowing him the dexterity he needed to manage all of his gear. Still moving silently, he stepped over foliage instead of through it. He avoided loose gravel and rocks that could shift underfoot, as well as sticks and twigs that might fracture. Corey moved forward steadily, not looking back to check the team. He was listening to see if he could hear any one of them and was pleased that he couldn’t.

Then again, that could be because they’d all lost sight of him and were now lost. Corey still didn’t look backward. If they lost sight of him, they failed the exercise. For some of them, that would be the end of their time in BRC.

Corey flipped his goggles up and looked at the sky. The night was clear, probably why it was chilly. He scanned the stars and identified his direction of travel and the approximate time. With his red penlight, Corey glanced at his watch and compass to verify that he’d read the sky correctly.

Adjusting their direction slightly, more northerly, Corey dropped his goggles back into place and kept moving forward silently. He smiled to himself in triumph when he caught his first glimpse of a parked, manned Humvee. He’d led his team right to the encampment, well within the time he’d been given.

Now the fun began. Corey loved this shit.

He gave an abrupt hand signal, ordering his team to drop to their stomachs in the tall foliage. Corey thought he heard movement behind him, but it was no louder than a breeze through grass and wouldn’t carry to the encampment. Good. Very good. He signaled for his team to crawl forward, one at a time, and join him in his observation of the enemy encampment. If his team did things correctly, they would relay the order down the line and would spend the next several minutes making their way to Corey’s position.

As he waited, Corey lay silently on his belly, watching the encampment through his night vision. One by one, five Marines materialized from the darkness and ranged themselves in the tall grass on either side of him.

Corey signaled for his team to pull back a safe distance so they could formulate a plan for evading the encampment. He would provide no guidance or input. They had to decide for themselves. Pass too close to the camp and risk detection. Swing too wide around and risk not completing the mission in the allotted time.

To Corey’s pleasure and surprise, his team decided to creep forward for a better look. They wanted more intel before they finalized their plan. Corey ordered them forward and he brought up the rear.

The team came to a stop close enough to see the entire size of the encampment. It gave them a clear idea of how many troops they were up against and what resources they had. Corey watched them communicate as they gathered intel. Very quickly, they settled on a plan for evasion. He ordered them to execute it, as he continued to follow in their wake.

The team belly-crawled west to the edge of the camp. Corey followed them, wondering if they would turn back north in time. One of the team determined they were far enough out of sight that it was safe to get to their feet. Their pace picked up, but still, the team didn’t turn north as soon as Corey would have.

Flipping up his night vision, he gauged the time. Maybe they weren’t that far behind after all.

They quickly and quietly traversed the five klicks Corey knew were between the encampment and the village. Wisely, the team dropped low and belly-crawled into observational position. Corey watched as the Marines divided up the duties of the mission between themselves and went to work.

Monitoring the time, Corey waited for the team to finish gathering the required intel. He wasn’t paying particular attention when his radio went live. “Eagle-two-one, if you copy this transmission, key your mic times two.”

Surreptitiously, Corey pressed the button in the center of his chest twice in rapid succession.

“Roger that. Eagle-two-one, has your team reached the target village?”

Corey keyed his mic twice more.

“Solid copy. Carry on. Base out.”

Corey thought the master sergeant might have sounded impressed. He didn’t have a chance to dwell on that thought, though. Weapons fire suddenly echoed through the previously quiet night.

Resisting the urge to take back command of the team, Corey watched their startled reactions and how they dealt with the change in circumstances. He was proud of them when they almost immediately settled down, refocused on the task at hand, and got back to work.

When the Marines had secured their gear, they silently backed away from their vantage point over the village. It was unoccupied and Corey assumed they’d determined that, but they were still cautious enough to crawl away on their stomachs.

Several yards out, the team climbed to their feet. They resumed their single file trek back the way they had come. Corey watched as they increased their situational awareness the closer they drew to the Marine encampment.

Gunfire erupted once more. The team stopped all movement as they each listened, gauging direction and distance, trying to determine if they were at risk. The sounds of combat moved away from them, growing more distant. Tension bled from the team and they resumed their journey to the extraction point.

When the team dropped down to crawl through the scrub brush, Corey followed suit. The real risk now was that they would get over-confident and complacent. If that happened, they’d start to make mistakes and mistakes would get them detected.

When they cleared the encampment, Corey thought it had all been too easy. Flawless real-world missions were a good thing. Training missions were supposed to go wrong. That’s how lessons were learned.

“Eagle-two-one, if you copy, key times two,” the Master Sergeant’s voice sounded in Corey’s ear.

Corey pressed his mic button twice.

“Advise your current location via Morse.”

It took some time but Corey clicked through their rough location.

“Outstanding, Eagle-two-one,” replied the Master Sergeant. “Can’t let your team off that easy. Be advised, you’ve got incoming. Let them handle it and observe how they adapt and overcome.”

Corey clicked twice in acknowledgment and tightened his grip on his weapon.

The attack came from the right. Gunfire erupted, shattering the quiet of the night. Corey hit the deck, adrenaline flooding his blood stream. His hands tingled, a buzz started at the base of his skull. Even though it was fucking freezing, Corey was still drenched in sweat.

AK47s chattered. Rounds struck the ground all around him. Daring a glance over the tall grass, Corey saw several enemy combatants moving closer. The sounds of their weapons grew louder. If he didn’t do something quickly, they would end up surrounded.

Corey rose up onto his knees. He picked a target and fired. One after the other, he aimed at movement and squeezed off two-round bursts. The urge was strong, to switch to full auto and just mow down his enemy. Corey had better discipline than that. He’d been trained to keep control of himself.

Marines nearby shouted. They had to complete their uplink, then make it to the extraction point. He was hopeful for a moment, his team was getting to their feet, returning fire. They moved forward again. Corey had the rear. It was his job to cover his team’s six. They were outnumbered and had too far to go. Corey was going to die executing this mission.

His fear and dread gave way to acceptance. Corey was going to die, but he’d die making sure his Marines made it to the chopper safely. Round after round he fired, moving backward in the wake of his team. Bullets sang as they passed within inches of him. Men shouted all around him as they fell, wounded and dead. Corey kept moving, he kept firing his weapon.

His men shouted. They stopped moving and took cover. Corey ducked behind a small boulder surrounded by scrub brush. He rested his M16 on top of the boulder and fired at any target he could see. The enemy was almost on top of them. Soon, Corey and his team would be flanked. It wouldn’t be long after that they’d be overrun.

They were on the move again. The rotors of the chopper grew louder than the gunfire. Corey felt the thump of the blades in his chest as they sliced through the air. The helicopter set down just a few yards away. His team had a chance. If Corey could cover their retreat, his Marines might live.

Corey broke cover, firing rapidly. He aimed at the targets he could identify. He backed quickly toward the chopper. Gunfire sounded from all around him. Cory knew he’d be dead before he got there. He fired relentlessly, covering the retreat of his Marines.

The sounds of AK47s were growing closer. He was being overrun. There were too many hostiles advancing on his position. Corey kept firing, backing toward the sound of rotors and the shouts of his men. He couldn’t take his eyes off the hostiles to see if his Marines were safely on the bird.

Corey took a knee and continued to fire. He was going to die, this desert was going to be his grave. There were too many hostiles pressing toward him. It didn’t matter. He’d defend his position until the chopper lifted off with all of his men secured inside.

There was a shout behind him. Fuck. One of his men must have gone down.

“Staff Sergeant Yarwood!”

He couldn’t look back. If his attention wavered, his position would be overrun.

There was a tug on his armor. “Staff Sergeant! Our ride’s here. Get on the bird, Sergeant.”

The voice behind him was surprisingly calm, close to death as they all were. Another tug at his vest. Corey dared to glance behind himself.

“Come on, Staff Sergeant. We’re waiting on you.”

The Marine was a young corporal. Corey should recognize him. All he knew was that a Marine was urging him to his feet and into the chopper.

Standing up, Corey fell back to the open door of the bird. Several hands pulled him roughly into the chopper as it lifted off. He sat up and looked around. None of the faces were familiar, but they looked happy. They smiled at one another triumphantly.

Corey watched as a few of the Marines bumped fists. There were no wounded men inside the chopper. Had they left anyone behind? Corey couldn’t remember seeing any bodies.

“Mission completed successfully and zero casualties,” one of the Marines crowed over the roar of the chopper’s engines and rotors.

Mission complete? What mission? Corey searched his memory. He looked out the chopper door. The landscape was familiar, but it wasn’t Iraq or Afghanistan. It looked like fucking California.

“How’d we do, Staff Sergeant?”

Corey looked at the Marine who had addressed him. He blinked several times, recognizing the face and struggling to recall the name.

Training. This was a training mission.

“Did you complete the uplink?” he asked.

“Yes, Staff Sergeant,” answered several Marines.

“Did any of you get dead?”

“Hell no!”

“Fuck, no!”

Corey shrugged. “Then you did your jobs.”

He looked away, staring out the chopper door. He remembered the names of the Marines who had just spoken to him. They were his team, but he was their instructor. Corey remembered the Master Sergeant’s radio transmission just before they’d been ambushed.

Corey breathed quick and shallow. The chopper seemed to tilt and he grew light headed. He wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. If his Marines had completed their intel uplink and made the extraction without taking any casualties, they had done a damn good job of adapting and overcoming.

Fuck. Corey had only the barest recollection of the ambush itself. He’d been convinced it was real. He’d been sure his team was being overrun and they were all going to die. It had looked and sounded and felt so fucking real.