LAST STAND

LAST STAND

            I hear the muffled groans coming from Lt. Alvarez.  The medic assigned to us as we advance toward enemy lines is working feverishly to stop the bleeding to make the lieutenant stable enough to transport.

            “Doesn’t look good, Doc,” I say with one eye on the horizon.

            “I’ve got to get him back to MASH pronto or your unit will be minus one looie,” the medic confirms.

            I feel for Alvarez, him having a family and all.  None of us want to be here.  Even though we weren’t chased down to enlist, it still is lousy especially for those guys with something to go back to or be a part of.  Hell, I guess that would be all of us.

Yet, here I am, Jake Connors, a sergeant in the U.S. Army, second in command,  just  elevated to lead dog, facing a bunch of insurgents who would like nothing better than to send the rest of us on the trip with Eduardo Alvarez.  The rest of us?  Besides me, only four remain.  Grayson Peeters, a good old boy from Texas with an easy-going nature and dry wit.  Pete Alfieri, a young turk from New Jersey who often let his emotions run high and an angry streak get the best of his judgement.  Andy Simpson, another New Jersey boy, the nerd of the group who had a knack for keeping Alfieri under control.  And Henry Childers, a high-school football star from Florida who had a tremendous physique except for the muscles between his ears.

            Me, I grew up in Rochester New York, the son of a tool and die maker and stay at home mom.  I started college but felt the need to serve my country after seeing the atrocities happening here in the middle east.  I saw it as my patriotic duty and enlisted in the army.  Basic training prepares soldiers for whatever might come our way, and this is one of those times.  They hadn’t prepared us to die.

            “I’m leaving now, Sarge,” the medic whispered, though he didn’t need to with the intermittent mortar fire silencing any conversation.  “I radioed the field hospital about your lieutenant’s condition. They say reinforcements are about five klicks away.”

            “Thanks, doc.  Take good care of Eddie.”  Three miles between us and the boys.  Our assignment was to gain this ridge and hold it until the rest of the gang arrived.  It’s going to be a tough task, especially since nightfall is setting in.  

            “What’s up, Sarge?”  Peeters asked.

            “I’m guessing we’ve got work to do to keep us here and safe, Tex,” I reply.  “Get the others and rendez-vous here. I’ve got an idea.”

            Peeters snickered.  “Well aren’t we suddenly the innovator,” he gibes as he crouches away to the end of the bunker.  He returns within a couple minutes with the remainder of the group.

            “OK, their mortar fire wounded Lt. Alvarez and I’m sure they’re not going to let up until we fail to respond.  They know where the bunker is and they might even try to rush our position.  From what I can gather, there’s ten, maybe fifteen of them, with mortar back-up.  We’ve got to make them think there’s more of us than there are.”  The group looks tense.

            “What’s the chance of getting out of here alive?” Alfieri asks the question on everyone’s mind.

            I look directly at him.  “Hey, Jersey, no one’s going to die here tonight.  Not on my watch.  Our boys are about five klicks away.  Thirty, forty minutes.  That’s how long we need to fend off these jerks.”

            “OK, so what’s your plan,” Peeters wants to know.

            “Tex, you take the right flank, Jersey, you’re on the left.  I’m going to set up some helmets and rifles on the lead edge of the bunker while Andy and Hank keep firing rounds at the enemy position.  Andy, Hank, keep moving shot to shot so it looks like the muzzle fire is coming from different places.  They’re probably not going to rush if they think it’s even strength or they’re outnumbered.  Take cover behind rocks where you can.  After I set up the decoys, I’ll position behind that boulder by the bunker.  Any questions, guys?”

            The group nods in assent and shuffle off to their posts.  I set up the decoys and make my way to the boulder.  Childers and Simpson start their intermittent firing, moving around the bunker as they fire.  I worry it won’t be enough of a diversion to provide the time we need.   I steady behind the boulder, thinking how there always seems to be a war to fight somewhere and things don’t change for the better for the boots on the ground.  Only another mission, another day far from home, and another day where the results of the efforts are dubious.  Maybe it’s time for some of those people who foster the never-ending conflicts to get out in the field and spend some time away from their comfort zone, lugging around a ton of gear and an AR-47 over terrain even a camel hates.

After a period of silence, the mortars resume.  Probably cover for a ground attack. I prepare myself by the rock.  Within minutes, primal screams are heard getting closer.  Five or six of the insurgents scale the front of the bunker and fall into the space below.  My 47 is equal to the task as I gun down the intruders with a hail of gunfire.  I stand to survey the situation.  At that moment, I turn to see another of the enemy standing about ten feet away, the muzzle of his rifle trained on me.  I hear two shots, then check for wounds.  I didn’t need to.  The enemy soldier lurches forward, hits the boulder, and rolls over.  In his place, the vision of Grayson Peeters emerges, a wry smile on his face.

            “Saw this hombre sneak past the front so I thought I might tail him, and he led me right here.”

             “Well, I’m sure glad you followed your instincts, partner,” I said, still unnerved.

            “Me too amigo, though, I gotta say, it’s not as rewarding as standing over a nine-point buck.”

            I give Tex the thumbs up.  “Get back to your post.  We’re still not clear.” 

            The night had gotten darker and I know we depleted the enemy forces considerably.  They don’t know how many we have left.  What they do know is their pals didn’t return with the victory scalp.  I want our boys to get here first.

            Almost on cue, the night skies light up like Independence Day.  The roar of helicopters gets closer and strafe the enemy position.  I feel relief and call for the others to congregate at the bunker.  By the time all arrive, the unit traveling behind us had reached our position.

            I saluted.  “Great to see you Major,” I said.

            “From the looks of that pile of bodies, it seems like we got here a tick behind.  Excellent job, Sergeant.”

            “Any news on Lieutenant Alvarez, sir?” I ask.

            “I don’t know much about that.  We were on our way here when I heard the alert from dispatch.   I’ll have one of the techs radio and find out about his condition.”  “Great job, sergeant.  Holding the line and giving us a chance to advance.  Thank you.”

            I was happy to get the accolades but assure the major that it was a group effort.  I go over and put my arms around Private Alfieri’s neck and shoulders from behind.  “I told you this wasn’t going to be our last stand, Jersey!”

            And so we live to fight another day....