The Old Soldier Pub: Story Time

[Sir Neil]

I was a greenhorn sergeant on his first trip outside the wire that day, just a few of us N.C.O.'s riding along with the unit we were replacing. We set up a T.C.P. outside a building I can't talk about in a town whose name you don't need to know.

Locals were milling about, carefully picking their way around us. No open hostility, not even glares, but you could feel the tension building all the same. Which one of them had a bomb under their robe? Was it in that car easing forward? Or did they just have snipers waiting in the shadows beyond that window frame?

We manned the point on foot for hours before we got the signal to mount up. I stayed quiet on the comms, listening to the crew's banter. Then they noticed three teenagers standing on the T.C.'s side of the sidewalk. The gunners didn't like them one bit, each calling out for the others to watch them. Our vehicle was rear security, and I'll never know what the gunner was thinking. Even after all the warnings he hadn't turned half-way toward the teens when there was an orange flash and black smoke. Finally! I'd been expecting an attack all damn morning, and the suspense had been murder.

I looked down and flexed and wiggled. Everything seemed to be working, and I couldn't feel any leaks. Good start. I looked to the others in the armored car. They each thought they were okay, so we let the crew know. The gunner had dropped out of the turret, and was checking on everyone instead of getting back in his turret and shooting. I figured we'd roll through the ambush and regroup, so I sat back and relaxed. Then I saw the truck commander run past my window.

In less time than it takes to tell, I realized I couldn't let these Arizona boys think my unit's a bunch of wimps, so I threw off my seatbelt, made eye contact with the private sitting across from me and jerked my head toward the door. We dismounted and linked up with the truck commander and a corporal and the four of us took the alley as we stalked our prey. We picked our way carefully, mindful of the fact a bomb could be hidden amongst the garbage in the alley, or snipers could be waiting in the buildings on our side. It ended in a T-intersection, and there was no way to be sure which way he went. Then we heard small-arms fire nearby, and the truck commander said, "Let's call it a draw."

We bounded back to the armored cars, with myself and the Arizona corporal as rear security. As we remounted, their corporal told me I handled myself well. I told him, "Next time we do this, I'll pick the alley."

[Sir Neil]

Have I told you about the Lion?

He was a giant of a man, who shunned a regular police uniform in favor of desert camo under a black leather vest. He used to be a SWAT commander in the big city. He'd roll up with his men in technicals and get on the loudspeaker. "This is the Lion of Nimrud! Any terrorists who are brave enough to fight us openly? We're right here. Any true sons of the nation who are willing to tell us where the terrorists are hiding? We're right here. Any terrorists too afraid to come get us? That's okay, we'll be right there." Then he and his men would fight street by street to drive them out. He had letters and certificates of commendation from the area's U.S. governor, and was a shoo-in to make colonel.

Then we handed the reins back to his countrymen, who demoted him and moved him to a backwater sheriff's office. He kept his morale up with the knowledge that the U.S. knew his value, and made only two requests. The first was ammunition. He slept with a submachine gun under his pillow, because the terrorists knew his value as well; but it was almost empty and his department wouldn't give him bullets for a personal weapon. The second request was for us to let others know his story, so he would be remembered.

My principle was able to fulfill his first request. I'm doing what I can to fulfill the second.