Owen jabs right back, “be fuckin’ jealous. If you loved your wife, you would take her to see any movie she wanted and pretend to enjoy it. Like Corporal said, ‘happy wife, happy life.’” He’s quick to lay on the double meaning, “Anddamn, that night was anoutstandingone. She thanked me quite well – in the car after the show, and when we got back home, too.”
Hoots abound from the back.
“Ahh, yeah, get it private.” Shark chants.
“So that’s how Ellie was made. I got it now.” Ford jokes.
This is a sign we are all anxious to get the hell home.
“Alright men, focus. Let’s continue this conversation back at base.” I arrange my gear around and wait for the radio call giving us the all-clear to move.
Ford mentions he has a video call tonight with hisMadre (mom); according to her letters she is planning his home coming dinner with all his Tex-Mex favorites and is having his whole family there to welcome him back. Ford has a massive Latino American family; at twenty-four he is the oldest child of eight kids. If they are anything like he is, then bless his mother for having survived this long.
We quiet once more as the radio gives us the words we have not so patiently been waiting to hear.
‘All-clear. Back to base.’
Shark gives a quick‘fuck yeah', while Owen grins and woops his agreement. With the truck in gear, we’re off.
Everything is as normal as things could be in this war-torn landscape. The terrain and roads are filled with dips, bumps, and potholes every-fucking-where; they rock the truck back and forth, making us keep our eyes and ears on alert as we slowly creep forward.
IED’s or hidden explosives can also be unseen along the road in this section, so we are more vigilant through the tight passageways until we are in the clear zone.
We quiet once more and focus intently as we enter in an area that could be at a huge disadvantage for us. We are at the lower point of the trip, surrounded by hills and broken buildings. Our enemy might be lurking anywhere there is a bush, mound of dirt, or a pile of rubble, waiting for their best opportunity.
We have trained for this though; we’ll be ready if something happens.
The team in front begins rounding a corner and we lose sight of their truck. As soon as the truck disappears, the distinct pops of gunfire and the tinkling of bullets begin bombarding our truck.
Ford caught sight of the attackers, “target acquired, two-hundred meters.”
I bark out orders for him to begin firing, then radio to Sargent Stark who happens to be in the truck in front; he too has come onto rapid gunfire.
These fuckers had to know we came through this morning and could've been staked out all day.
There they are,I can barely make out their movements, but I see them. In the location of a broken building roughly two-hundred meters out, the enemy is clustered together. My gunner is on the hunt for these bastards as each team blasts round after round onto the enemy, the third MRAP is stationed at a distance behind us, lying in wait for orders.
Suddenly, a flash illuminates my vision, something smacking the front of the truck on the driver side.
A single alarm begins to blare.
“We are taking on RPG fire.” I calmly radio in, the constant ‘Beeep- Beeep- Beeep-' alarm ringing throughout the cab, but we ignore it. I repeat the words over the radio one more time. My body is tense and thrumming with adrenaline.
No doubt my men feel the same way.
“Shark, hand me that fire extinguisher! I think I can put it out!” Owen hollers, Shark handing him the canister by his feet.
The loud caliber gunfire from Ford pounds out above us like a sweet songbird screeching a melody; only this melody has fifty caliber bullets, ready to tear things apart. Like I said, sweet melody.
Ford is relentless in his return fire, not wanting for these fuckers to win.
“Hold your position, Little Bear.” I turn and yell so the gunner can hear me, “Ford! Cover Owen so he can get that fire under control!” I continue listening to the radio and responding when necessary.
Sargent then radios for the other team behind us to aide our truck.
These trucks have come a long way in safety and durability, and I believe this tiny fire on the driver side of the hood should not stop the truck from performing its duties in getting us back to base.
“I got you! You’re good! Go!” Ford roars a little too enthusiastically as his gun spits out more bullets.