From the Journal of
Jason Forrester
19 September 2012
I believed in this war once. When I enlisted, I asked for
Afghanistan. I thought we were helping
people rebuild their country. When I enlisted,
it looked like we were winning this war.
Now, It feels like it is already lost.
Too make matters worse, the information coming out about what happened
in Benghazi last week is as ugly as it can be.
The politicians back home have lost this war out from under us. Word just came in of yet another Green on
Blue attack. At this point, I just want
to come home.
Afghanistan
3 October 2012
"Staff Sergeant, welcome to
Second Platoon." Lieutenant Harolds
reached out to shake his hand. It was
unusual in his experience, but Jason had only just pinned on Staff Sergeant
today. For all he knew, this was normal.
"Thank you, Sir. Happy to be here." It was a lie, but it was a polite lie. Jayce would rather have been in A Squad, 1st
Platoon, his home platoon and squad, but 1st Battalion, 8th Marines needed a
new Staff Sergeant in 2nd Platoon, so that is where he went.
"Glad to hear it, your
previous Lieutenant had good things to say about your skill as a Fireteam
Leader, and I hope he was not wrong. I
am placing you in command of B Squad, your Fireteam Leaders are Corporal Scott
and Lance Corporal Jaimes. Don't let me
down Staff Sergeant."
"Yes Sir, don't worry
sir. I won't let you down."
"Dismissed Staff
Sergeant."
Jason saluted and turned smartly,
to find Lance Corporal Jaimes waiting for him.
"Staff Sergeant, if you could come this way."
Afghanistan
4 October 2012
"Mount up, it's time to roll
out Marines!"
Most of his squad was already in
their vehicles, with only his RATELO, Lance Corporal Jameson, out of the
vehicle fixing a problem with the central M-ATV's antennae and radio. Closing the door, his driver shifted the
large diesel vehicle into gear and followed Fireteam Alpha's truck out of the
Forward Operating Base and into the rock garden.
They stopped in two small, roadside
towns and his RATELO had turned out to be fluent in the dialect of Pashtun
spoken here. Benefits of being a Mormon
Missionary he claimed.
"I thought Afghanistan didn't
allow proselytization?"
"They do after we invaded
them. I spent two years in Kabul under
armed guard as I went door to door. And
then I volunteered to return as a Marine.
Turns out, they don't hate us as much as they hate prostelytizing
Christians. I am actually safer as a
Marine."
The first village said they had
seen nothing in the area. By the looks
of the Saffron plants the Kansas National Guard had convinced them to plant,
this village was going to be razed to the ground once they left. The drug lords who raised money for the
Taliban's war machine had placed a bounty on the head of any farmer who abandoned
Poppies for Saffron.
From the look of things, it would
be the next village over which razed the saffron growing ones to the
ground. They were growing poppies in the
next village. They warned the Marines
that they had seen a number of suspicious vehicles moving through the ravine to
their west.
"We need to check that
out. Jameson, radio command and tell
them we have intel on possible hostiles and advise them we will be
investigating."
"Wilco, Staff Sergeant."
As they drove towards the ravine,
the Marines in both the lead and rear vehicle visibly on edge and ready for a
firefight, Jayce could only hope nothing was going to happen.
Thirty minutes later, B squad
pulled into the ravine. The machine guns
on the lead and rear vehicle covered the left cliff face, while the automatic
grenade launcher on his own command vehicle covered the right face. Glancing out the corner of his eye, Jayce
could watch the screen of his weapons operator as he manned the remote weapons
station.
Jameson's call of "RPG!"
jerked Jayce from watching the weapons station as twelve lines of smoke
converged on the lead M-ATV and detonated.
The fireball was almost too bright to watch, but this much was clear,
Jayce had just lead them all into a trap.
Jameson jerked the wheel to the
left as the rear door of the M-ATV popped off and spun past the command
vehicle. The passenger doors had been
blown off, and one of them was sticking up at an odd angle from the left face
of the ravine. A wheel had been blown
off, and it rolled down the hill, burning the half-melted hydrocarbons in the
rubber.
The machine gun on the rear vehicle
opened fire as the weapons operator spun the automatic grenade launcher around
and opened fire with a stream of 40mm Grenades.
Just below the chatter of machine gun and grenade launcher fire, Jayce
could hear the sound of 7mm Russian rifle bullets and cartridges slamming into
the vehicle. The occasional ricochet on
the hood sent sparks dancing across the hoof.
Just as they were about to pass out
of the ravine, an explosion sent an avalanche of rocks to block the road.
"Turn around!" Jayce
commanded.
Jameson had already done so, and
the car slid through the 180 degree turn.
Jameson gunned the engine. As
they passed the M-ATV which had once been the lead vehicle, Jayce could see
that the Marines who had ridden it were twisted with agony and flame. Looking in though, he could tell they had
been dead as soon as the rockets hit.
Lance Corporal Jaimes was missing his head.
An IED detonated in between the two
remaining M-ATV's, and a hastily fired RPG round detonated against the wall to
his right. As they neared the exit, a
five ton truck emerged from nowhere and swerved to a stop, blocking the road.
"Oh, shit!" Jameson cried out as the twin PK Machine Guns
built onto a pintle mount opened fire.
One of the Mujahedeen with an RPG opened fire, rocking the M-ATV as it
slammed into the right wheel.
"OUT! GET SOME COVER!"
The entire squad bailed out,
heading for ditches on either side of the road.
That was when things went from bad to worse. A pair of old 37mm Spade Mortars hidden in
the shoulders of the wall opened fire.
With a sustained rate of fire well above 10 rounds per minute, his
entire unit was going to be slaughtered.
"Jameson, get in touch with
command. Tell them we need air support
ASAP."
"Beirut actual, Beirut actual,
this is Beirut Bravo-Two-Bravo. We are
in contact with the enemy and need close air support ASAP. Over."
Jayce lined up his M16A4 on target,
and opened fire on what he thought was human movement on the cliffside above.
Four minutes later, with only 2nd
Fireteam's Automatic Rifleman and his RATELO left alive, a pair of AH-1W
SuperCobras roared over the cliff to
their back and opened fire. A pair of
Zuni rockets destroyed the five-ton truck blocking the road, as 70mm Hydra-70
Rockets and 20mm Gatling
Cannon fire tore into the hillside from which the
weapons fire was coming.
Behind them, a pair of Seahawks
deposited members of the Battalion's QRF dropped in and established a perimeter
around the wounded. Two medical corpsman
rushed over to Jameson to staunch the bleeding from his left arm, as the QRF
provided covering fire to get Jayce and the Automatic Rifleman, Private First
Class Reynolds, into the Helos.
Reynolds was asleep before the
Seahawk even left the valley, Jayce was uncertain he would ever manage to sleep
again.
Afghanistan
9 October 2012
Jayce just stared at the door for a
moment, uncertain if he was going to enter the room beyond. Seven days ago, he had stepped in there as a
newly minted Staff Sergeant, ready to take command of a squad for the first
time. Now, now he was entering to kill
his career.
Finally, he worked up the courage
to knock. "Come in."
Lieutenant Harolds was doing
paperwork when Jayce opened the door, and his mixed feelings on seeing Jayce
walk in was written plain across his face.
"Good morning, Staff
Sergeant. Have a seat. Is there anything I can help you with
today?"
Jayce took a deep breath,
"Lieutenant, I want out."
Harolds looked like he had been
slapped, "I am sorry to hear that Staff Sergeant. Is this about the ambush?"
"Yes, Sir, it is."
"The board of inquiry cleared
you on all charges."
"I am aware of that, sir. But I left a man behind. Four of them in fact. A Marine never leaves a man behind."
"Staff Sergeant, they were
dead instantly. You did the right thing,
trying to keep your men alive."
"That's what everyone keeps
telling me, sir. But for some reason it
rings false. I should have stopped to
help them. It's what a Marine does. And on top of that…" Jayce trailed off, uncertain at that
moment. How much should he actually tell
the Lieutenant.
"Bad dreams, Staff
Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you talked to the
counselor?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what did he tell
you?"
"Colonel D'Artesia says it is
too early to tell if this is just a short term problem, or if I have PTSD. The Colonel says I need to wait another few
months before I can be diagnosed."
"Christ. This is not something they train you to deal
with at Annapolis." The Lieutenant
stood and turned to face the window.
"What did Colonel D'Artesia recommend?"
"Wait and see,
Lieutenant."
"What do you want me to do,
Staff Sergeant?"
"I want you to sign off on a
discharge, sir. I left a man behind, I
am not fit to be a Marine."
The look on Lieutenant Harolds'
face was one of frustration and pity.
Jayce could see it plain as day in the window's reflection. "Let me talk to the counselor
myself. I am going to have to kick this
up the chain either way."
"Thank you, Lieutenant."
"Don't thank me yet Staff Sergeant,
I would rather have you here. Do you
remember what you said to me when I first arrived three months ago?"
"Yes sir, 'Just remember your
training, don't ignore your senior NCO's, and keep your head down. The fact you bothered to ask a lowly NCO shows
you are wise beyond your years.'"
"That is why I don't want to
lose you, Staff Sergeant, you are willing to cut the Mickey Mouse bullshit if
necessary. I hate to lose you,
Forrester."
"Thank you sir, but I think it
is best for everyone."
"I will talk to the Captain,
you are dismissed Staff Sergeant."
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