Chapter 2

It was always the kids. They might have been wearing bombs or carrying weapons and ammo. They might have been telling the bad guys what we were doing, or, and this was the scariest, they would just disappear.

We got to the point that if the women and kids disappeared, we knew we were in trouble.

We were on patrol in yet another nowhere, noname, neighborhood, looking for, who knows what. They didn’t say it, but we all knew we were bait in the machine. And the worst place to be bait was on point. So it usually fell to the newest rookie to cover the point position. Not far behind would be the sergeant, and safely in the middle, but easily identified, was the team leader. Just look for the radio antenna and bingo, you found the boss.

Our point that day was a youngster named Roof, Michael Roof. He was so new that nobody knew anything about him other than he was from Buffalo, New York. By this time, most of us had learned not to make friends with newbies. If they survived, then they were accepted. But the first patrol or two, it might have been a waste of time, so nobody tried.

I was second behind Roof and I had to constantly warn him to slow down and keep his eyes open. This wasn’t a field exercise at Pendleton, with blanks and flashbangs. This was real life and real bullets.

I had started to notice that things were getting too quiet and that the burka’s and babies had disappeared. So I called up to Mike and warned him to watch his cover Then the biggest warning flag I could think of showed up.

A toddler came stumbling out from a doorway. Almost like he had been shoved or thrown. The kid’s age was indeterminate, but it seemed to be at that two- or three-year-old range. It was bawling and screaming. And Roof did what any normal person back home would do, and the worst thing possible in Fallujah. He went to comfort the child.

He hadn’t taken three steps when a shot rang out. The blood splash from his knee was obvious, and he went down, Screaming.

Now we had two screaming people, the baby, and our point man. The child had plopped down in the dust and was screaming its head off. Meanwhile, Mike had quieted down slightly and started crawling for cover.

Another shot and Mike’s left elbow disappeared. Now he was immobile and in serious trouble.

I was in a good position. I had both cover and concealment from the sniper. And I could hear the sergeant moving people into position behind me. I also knew that the Lieutenant would be calling it in. So the smartest thing to do at that point was to sit tight and wait for the quick reaction force to catch up and flush the sniper.

But today wasn’t going to be an easy one. The sniper started potshoting around the kid. It was obvious, to me, that sooner or later, he was going to hit the kid. But I also knew that he was trying to get me or someone else to break cover. That’s when he hit Michael in the hip.

It was at that point that I blanked out.

I didn’t go crazy, I think. My brain just went into neutral. I ran from my cover as fast as I could. And as I passed the baby, I grabbed its nightshirt and dived for the building on the other side of the intersection. I was followed by two shots that missed clean. When I got to cover, there was a burka in the doorway. I threw the kid at it and, without waiting, turned and went back.

I wasn’t as lucky this time. I got hit in the left thigh. About middle, in the meaty part. Later It would hurt like a bitch. At that point, I couldn’t feel a thing.

Just like the kid, As I passed Roof, I grabbed his collar and yanked him back to cover. I was hit a second time in my right calf.

Once we were both under cover, I grabbed my M4. We were hunkered down behind a brick wall about 4 feet high. I popped up from behind that wall and sent three rounds at the sniper. I had seen his muzzle flashes on both of my runs.

I ducked back down. Waited for half a second and then sent him another three rounds. The sniper had placed himself under a donkey cart. He had good concealment, but his cover was terrible. My second three rounds had impacted just in front of him. And ricocheted right into his face.

Now, most people would think that was the end of it, That the battle was over, nope. A second sniper opened up. Opposite of the first. This one had a clear view of the whole patrol. And when he started up, He hit the third man in the squad. Again, I had seen the muzzle flash. I grabbed Roof’s M203 and aimed the launcher. And scored a home run. The grenade went right into the window he was shooting from. And ended that sniper’s career.

What followed was silence. Or at least I didn’t hear anything. I was told that the Apache’s had arrived, as well as the reaction force. There was even a patrol of Iraqi police that magically appeared. Strangely, right after the last shot.