Chapter Three - The Things They Wore

Chapter 3 – Anxious Observer

Day 9, OP Bruno, 1411 hours
Max was nudging him with the toe of his boot.

“Wake up sleepyhead, we've got a briefing.” Max said

“I'm getting up, I'm getting up.” he responded while pushing himself off of the ground.

He mopped the sweat off his forehead and snapped his helmet back on.  Something seemed off but he couldn't seem to place his finger on it. “I'm just tired” is all he thought to himself. He rubbed his eyes. Is that really what he was telling himself these days? He let the thought fade. He had a mission. He had to get geared up for this op. He couldn't afford to think about that now. He caught himself running his fingers over the ring in his pocket subconsciously. He had to focus.
He met up with rest of the squad, they were gathered around Dygalo. Staff Sergeant Dygalo was a stout man of Slavic descent. A good team leader, best in the whole company. He ran a tight ship and, only God could help you if you got on his bad side. He was also the only person in the entire Platoon with more time on than Rico.

Rumor had it that during his first trip to Iraq (all the way back in '03 during OIF), his platoon fucked up bad and shot a bunch of civvies and that he personally ended the life of at least one Iraqi child. They busted him all the way down to a slick sleeve and almost drummed him out of the Corps for that. After that ordeal (and several years as an alcoholic), he resolved to become a better Marine. At least, that was the word.

They all gathered around the model of their AO that PFC Johnson had constructed. The model was a master piece of design with full topographical representation on all counts. It had dirt hills and coffee grounds fields, sugar streams and cracker crumb forests. Johnson finished sprinkling a stream down and stood up.

“It's done.”

“You really out did yourself this time, Dylan.” Garza commented.

“Yeah, too bad the Engineers are probably just gonna destroy it once we leave.” Kaeo chimed in.

“I dunno why you're getting all weepy and shit. It’s a Marine's job to wreck and destroy shit. I mean, the fuck do you expect?” Max stated.

Dygalo snatched a stick off of the ground and took his trademark knee “Alright Marines, if I could have your attention please.”
They all snapped their eyes to Dygalo and took a knee as well.

“I'm sure you all know the general plan for this op but, let's go over the specifics. Our mission is to recon a cave fifteen clicks from our current position.” He stopped to indicate the location on the map with his stick. The cave was a pile of rocks nestled behind two crumb covered mounds marked Alpha and Bravo.

“Satellite flyover has this set to be a main staging camp for the guerrillas operating in this area. Now, there are several established trails in the area as well as a road that leads straight to the cave mouth.” As he spoke he indicated two shallow lines in the dirt that traced over the hills all the way across the valley towards their overwatch positions. These lines were marked Diamond and Ruby, respectively. He then indicated a thick line marked Sapphire that snaked around hills Alpha and Bravo to the cave.

“Now we need to be here and here by sun up tomorrow”. He pointed his stick at their two overwatch positions located on a cluster of hills across from the cave mouth marked Charlie, Delta, and, Echo. “Now, given the nature of our mission, we can't use any of those trails I mentioned earlier. The risk of encountering the enemy or giving away our position is too high. After all, this is a reconnaissance mission first. We will be going around the edges of these hills, breaking our own trail.” He traced a path around outside of the mountains all the way around to the back of the hills that contained their overwatch positions.

“Now this route adds about ten clicks worth of walking, but if we move fast we should make it to our rally point before dawn. From there it's a short jaunt to our stations.” He tapped his stick on a rock marked Point India on the backside of hill Delta.

“Once we're there, Bravo will hold on the hill at point Whiskey. Alpha and I will move down to point Quebec closer to the camp. Now, ideally I would like to get in and complete our mission without firing a shot. But, if you are engaged at some point break off contact as soon as possible and head to the rally point. Just in case shit goes south we've got on call artillery. If all goes well we'll be in position for twenty-four hours and have solid intel to send up the chain before the rest of the platoon arrives to clear it out. This is tailor country, so stay frosty at all times. Any questions?”

“That's a negative Staff Seargeant.” Rico replied.

“Alright then, get some chow and round up your gear. We are Oscar Mike are at 1800 Zulu time.”
He set about collecting all the gear he was going to need for the op. He put fresh batteries in his NODs and PEQ-15 then filled up his camelback. After that, he stopped by the tent that constituted their armory signed for a couple claymores, a suppressor for his M4A1 and one of the new M45A1 handguns.

After he had his pack loaded up, He stopped to eat with the rest of the squad. No one really spoke. It was usually like this before an op. Was it, though? When he was just another infantry grunt it sure as hell was. Now that he thought about it this was his first real patrol with Force Recon. Sure he'd done training with them and he wasn't exactly a boot himself. He'd been to Afghanistan; been in some bad engagements, fucked up some Taliban, and seen some good men fucked up just as bad. Although to be brutally honest, he wasn't sure if he'd ever personally killed anyone.

War was just like that, confusing by its very nature. Hell, for most of history war was just a bluffing game. Historically speaking most people fired high to intimidate, only a small percentage actually shot to kill. Modern science and training had changed all that though with the vast majority shooting to kill. And what of that small percentage of natural killers? They were usually concentrated into elite units like this.

No, he thought. He wasn't a real Recon Marine, not just yet. Back in Afghanistan while he was out doing local patrols and pulling
security with the other grunts. These guys were out being the real badasses; rolling around enemy territory with impunity, fucking shit up at their leisure. This mission would be his final test. To see if he was really fit to be one of their numbers. He tossed the rest of his MRE and stood up.

He slipped his hand into his pocket just to make sure the ring was still there.

Then he checked his watch: 1845 local or 1745 Zulu. The sun was just starting to touch the horizon. Final preparations were being made and every one was gearing up. The whole squad was even putting on their war paint.

Marines don't often apply camo paint to their faces, but when they do, it completes their transformation into cold, faceless killers.
Rico referred to it as his “warrior mask”. Much like the heraldries of old, each is unique to the marine. Garza applied bold splotches of color to each section of his face close to the M81 woodland pattern. Max made intricate careful patterns to mimic the MARPAT camo as much as possible. Rico made broad horizontal strips of brown and green. Johnson from Alpha team went for the simplicity of a black handprint across his face. It actually worked pretty well as camouflage.

Dygalo patterned his after a skull; patches of black were painted around his eyes and nose and vertical lines down his mouth area. Green served as the accent color. It seemed rather cliché at first, but something in the back of his mind told him Dygalo had earned the right to wear it. Kaeo opted for simple diagonal lines of black and green. He felt deadlier already.

Dygalo turned to the squad and stuck a healthy wad of tobacco behind his lip and then passed the can down the line.

“Rest assured, there will be no fuck ups on this op. Now,” he paused and straightened up.

“MARINES!” The squad snapped to attention.

“KILL ON THREE!” Dygalo screamed.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

“KILL!” they shouted at the top of their lungs.

Then they were off. They moved quickly but quietly across the valley floor away from the factory and OP Bruno towards the two mountains jutting out of the terrain. Kaeo's job was to be the paceman. He was in charge of making sure the patrol moved at a constant rate and he also recorded the distance they travelled. At their speed he knew that every fifty-six steps he took they had travelled 100 meters. He tied a knot in a length of paracord for every 100 meters they passed, ten knots for every one click they moved. Johnson, their navigator, polled him often on how far they moved to determine when to turn. Even in this day and age some tried and true methods were still the best. He liked it; it kept him busy and his mind off of recent events. That, and how much his pack's straps were cutting into his shoulders.

At fifteen clicks in they stopped to rest. It was a short five minute rest, during which he wolfed down what seemed to be the greatest tasting apple in existence. He checked his watch: 2300 Zulu. They were making good time. At this rate they'd be in position before the sun came up. The stars were beautiful and bright this far away from the city. He stared up and wondered if God really did exist, and if He was a cruel a bastard as Max had suggested.

The rest was over before he had any more time to think about it. The patrol maintained the pace and they were up at point India by 0400 Zulu, an hour ahead of schedule, plenty of time to get into position. Just as planned, they broke down into fire teams. Dygalo led Alpha down closer to the cave. Bravo took an overwatch position on hill Delta just a cunt hair over 1200 meters from the opening. And then they watched and waited.

Around sunrise, and every four hours or so after that, a group of the guerrillas would emerge from the cave to go out on a perimeter patrol while the previous patrol would go back into the cave. They did a rather lazy job, never going out further than 400 meters from the mouth. However, as Dygalo expected, they were all over the trails. He made a rough sketch of his view on the hill in his journal marking the locations of guard post. At around 0700, Dygalo passed their report up the chain. Kaeo listened in over his own radio.

“Raptor 2-1 Actual to Raptor 2.”

“Send it 2-1.” came in response.

“We've got eyes on and there is a definite enemy presence in the area, at least a company sized element. Looks like we were right they're using the cave as a forward operations base, Break.” The line fell silent for several seconds while Dygalo gathered his thoughts.

“There are six guard posts around the periphery of the cave all of them manned. They're dug in pretty deep with patrols all around the area. However, we've remained undetected. How copy, over?

“Solid on all 2-1 Actual. The rest of Raptor is on schedule for insertion. Good work. Stay on station and keep me apprised. Raptor 2, out.”

The link fell silent. The rest of the platoon was to be inserted by Humvee for the raid at 2200 Zulu. It'd be dark by then which would maximize their advantage and make infiltrating easier. Raptor 2-1's mission
now was to keep them up to date then before the raid take out any sentries and preserve the element of surprise for as long as possible.

Kaeo was laid down next to Garza inside a thicket of shrubs. It wasn't exactly comfortable but they had good camouflage and a commanding view of the area. Max and Rico were dug in about fifty meters to their right. Garza as the squad's machine gunner was forced to lug around the squad's M240G but this at least was a good place for it.
Rico spotted it first.

“2-1 Alpha, 2-1 Bravo, I've got eyes on a lone vehicle cruising up MSR Sapphire.” Rico whispered quietly on the squad's net.
Kaeo picked up his binoculars and looked down. It wasn't hard to spot: a beat-up looking KAMAZ 4x4 with the cloth cover on came rolling down MSR Sapphire.

“Roger Bravo, we tally.” Came back over the net.

Kaeo watched the KAMAZ rolled right up to the cave's entrance and stop. Several men unloaded from the truck and lowered down someone from the back. Kaeo switched to his spotting scope for more magnification. It was a serious looking man in a wheel chair with a beret and an eyepatch over his left eye. Was he really a man, though? He looked awfully young. Several more personnel came out of the cave, a few women among them, and stood at attention. Then the people who had been helping unload fell in with them and saluted the wheelchair bound one. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A group of them and the kid proceeded inside the cave with a few left behind to guard the truck.

Staff Sergeant Dygalo, however, was surer of his senses.

“Raptor 2, Raptor 2-1 Actual be advised, we have eyes on enemy HVT at this time. Request that go time be pushed to right now, over.”

“Roger 2-1 Actual, sending it up the net to Raptor Actual, break.” The line fell silent for what seemed like an eternity. He watched
the guards around the truck mill around while he waited.

“Raptor 2-1 Actual, Raptor 2. That's a negative. Proceed on schedule and hold position how copy, over.”

“Solid Raptor 2, Request permission to at least snatch the HVT.”

“Negative 2-1 Actual. Hold position, over.”

“Solid Raptor 2, holding position, out.”
Kaeo swore that could almost hear Dygalo's teeth grinding over the comms on that last transmission.

They waited and watched for over two hours. Then the wheelchair bound kid rolled out of the cave. Was saluted again by his entourage then loaded back onto the truck. Which proceeded to drive down MSR Sapphire into the distance.

He hated the feeling of being forced to sit on his hands, and he could tell every marine in the squad hated it too. At least the raid was still on for tonight, which promised a real trial by fire for him. A chance to prove himself, to himself. He thumbed the ring again.