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Desert Fury
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Desert Fury |
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Alicat Member Elite
since 1999-05-23
Posts 4094Coastal Texas 
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Desert Fury *** You never forget the sand and heat. Mostly the sand, as pervasive and insidious as smoke, getting into everything no matter how protected it was. Sand in MRE's, sand in bedding, sand in toothpaste...wherever a grain of that stuff could be found, there it would be. And the person I'll never forget is Sarge. Kinda funny really, as he was rather nondescript and quiet. Medium height, medium build, tan skin and brown hair. What grabbed you were his eyes, large and hazel. Mostly. Sometimes they burned gold and at other times turned a deep green. As I said, he was rather quiet but there was a deep intensity to him of rabid rage and anger just beneath the surface. Above all else, he was a man of Faith. What burned in his core deserved the capital. *** Like most of us, he found himself in Iraq and being the Sarge, he led our squad. Being religious, he also served as our de facto field chaplain on that occasion where we came under heavy insurgent fire and one of the guys got hit bad. We managed to find shelter and pulled him to safety with Sarge providing cover fire. That was the beginning of the end of Sarge. He knelt down besides Charlie, inspected the wounds, then laid his hands on Charlie's chest. His head went down, then whipped back suddenly as Charlie began to cough, then sat bolt upright gasping for breath. His wounds were gone with only stains to mark where they had been. Then Sarge stood up and barked orders. "Smoke, flash, frag over the berm. In that order, on the mark. Go!" The smoke grenade went off, with the flashbang a moment later and Sarge was running towards the insurgent position carrying only his bayonet. A few bullets whizzed by him when the frag detonated over the berm, and then Sarge was over and vanished from view. It got very quiet, and after a quick debate we went looking for Sarge. We found him passed out and covered in blood, his bayonet still in hand glistening darkly. Around him were 7 very dead insurgents. As we hauled Sarge back to shelter, he muttered one sentence. "Nobody dies if you believe." Having seen what happened to Charlie, who was the first one over the berm when we looked for Sarge, we did. *** Something happened to Sarge. The best way any of us could describe it was that he was touched by God. He moved with purpose and deliberation, and every command or order, even if delivered in a whisper, was automatically obeyed by our squad. Or at least that's how it felt, like his voice cut through everything and hit those special buttons in our brain. Basically we became an extension of Sarge. He had a knack for finding the enemy, as if hearing their movements on the wind. Sometimes we'd march all night, sometimes we'd slowcrawl, sometimes we'd stay put. It didn't really matter how we moved, we always sprang the ambush. And left no survivors. Sarge made very certain of that. We'd strike, lay waste, then vanish, always on the move to the next ambush point which Sarge was reading off an internal map. It was almost like he had spent his entire life here, reading the landscape and towns like his own palm. There were times when he'd put us on guard while he walked ahead. That was another thing about Sarge...he was always in the lead, always first on the scene. He expected you to follow, and damned if we didn't. Anyhow, he'd go on ahead of us at times but still in sight, rifle in one hand, bayonet in the other. For a time it seemed like he danced through a rain of lead as both sides of the street would erupt in gunfire. We'd cover him as best as we could, but he'd always end up missing, only to be found later passed out, surrounded by the dead. We began hearing of the Desert Fury and started getting reports of insurgent movement out of any area we were entering. Word got around that those who came against Sarge never lived to speak of it, that he preferred his bayonet to any firearm, and that he did not lose one soldier under his command. And that got respect, among us, among the people, among the militias. *** Then there was the other side of Sarge. We knew of no family, or at least he never spoke of one, and instead of saving his pay for when he was stateside he would spend it there, in whatever town we were in. If we went through someone's house, he would come back later, remove his boots, and scrub their floor clean of whatever we tracked inside. He would buy groceries for people and used local businesses whenever possible to help others. He seemed happiest when he was spending everything on those who might have wanted to kill him. And then there was that one time when he put out word that he wanted to speak with local militia leaders and offered them a meal and hospitality. He had locals erect the tent, furnish it, and make the food while he waited outside sharpening his bayonet. A male teen tossed a paper wrapped rock at Sarge's feet from the safety of an alley. At first we thought it might be a grenade, but Sarge very calmly picked it up, unwrapped the paper and read it, then spoke to the teen. I couldn't hear him too well, but I did catch the word 'hospitality'. An hour later a group of about 30 armed men could be seen walking towards us. They stopped about 20 feet away as Sarge got up to meet them, signaling for us to follow in two columns. Several strange things happened then. Sarge got within five feet of them, bowed with his arms outspread, welcoming them in the spirit of hospitably in the Name of Allah. Then he barked a command and our two columns found themselves at attention, forming a pathway. Against all reason and rationality, three of the men followed Sarge back to the tent, where he handwashed and dried their feet. Me and Charlie were placed on tent guard on one side of the flap, while 2 of the insurgents were placed on the other side. The rest of our squad and the rest of that militia stood warily eyeing each other, waiting for something bad to happen. And nothing did. We heard laughter and toasts from inside and learned one of the men inside the tent had married off a daughter, while another was celebrating a birthday. Food was brought out to both groups, and there were muted whispers of the Desert Fury and how such a thing had never happened before. It was a haven there, as we heard fighting all around us, but it all seemed to avoid where we were. We knew it wouldn't last for long, just long enough to celebrate two men whom Sarge seemed to know. When they came out, they quietly gathered their men and walked back down the street. We enjoyed a cease-fire for the remainder of the day and got some much needed rest and several hot meals. *** For those many months, not one of us died. Not one of us was injured. And all of us believed. But it didn't last forever. One day, about eight months in our first tour, we were on patrol. Sarge suddenly stopped short and walked back to us, his eyes burning gold. "There is a time for all seasons and in all things there is balance. A life was granted" he said nodding at Charlie, "so a life must be given. It's time for me to keep a promise. Just sit tight and wait. You'll know what to do when the time comes." That was the longest speech he ever gave us, then turned and sprinted ahead. With his rifle in one hand and bayonet in the other, he stopped alongside a house about 80 feet down the road, then ducked inside. Then all hell broke loose. As one we raced for that house and knew how things had changed as the last ricochet ended. We found Sarge surrounded by the dead bleeding out from the same wound locations as Charlie once had. We also found one of the largest weapon caches we had ever seen, and we knew what to do. As one we felt his spirit pass and something in the air changed. We wired the house and double column, one before and behind, we carried Sarge out, and as we exited the house the other houses emptied onto the street, following at a respectful distance. On the edge of town there was thunder and the shockwave swirled the dust kicked up by our boots. We walked all the way back to the Green Zone in silence, and for those two days we were followed by that swelling crowd. We learned later that others went before, spreading the word and protecting Sarge's honor guard. For the first time, no mortars fell in the Zone and Baghdad was silent except for the snap of the flags whipped by wind. One of the men whom I recognized from that strange feast day walked towards the checkpoint carrying a white flag. From what I understand, an odd request was made, and even odder, it was granted. For the next three days there was a steady procession in and out of the Green Zone, citizens and fighters silently walking past the Desert Fury. And in all that time, Sarge looked just like he always did when we'd find him passed out after a slaughter. No smell, no decay, not even the ever-present flies. The only sounds were the shuffling of feet and the snap of flags as we took turns standing guard over Sarge. *** And there it ends. Sarge was shipped back and buried in Arlington. His posthumous CMoH and other awards were presented to his squad and commander, as no living family members could be found. For the rest of that tour, and even into the second one for us who stayed on, not one of us died, not one of us was injured, and we all believed. Ali 7/20/06 Written from a dream. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Alastair Adamson - All Rights Reserved | |||
Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Ali~ This is one by-gawd heck of a story~ I've read it through twice ... and will return for several more readings, I'm sure~ Just wanted to offer  for a job well done~A dream, huh ? WOW ! *Huglets*  ~*Marge*~ ~*The sound of a kiss is not as strong as that of a cannon, but it's echo endures much longer*~ |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
I really REALLY enjoyed this bro. and you know, I am funny bout prose. But I didn't throw the book across the room. *smiling sweetly* and yep, I critiqued this as though I'd written it myself. So...if you'd like THAT critique, I'll e mail it to you. (Critique, being critique, sometimes seems like an attack, and I'll be danged if I'll attack a protoge of Sarge's.  Seriously though, I am trying to be a kinder, gentler serenity, and I have been accused of ruthlessness before, but lawsy, ya'll should see what I do with my own stuff  )But on the whole the balances tipped to a HELL YEAH thumbs up read. I'll send this url on to my prose eating buddies if you don't mind. Much enjoyed and congrats on writing such a cohesive story in such a time frame. Amazing.  |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Alistair... I believe...that it was a dream. But you made it real...giving foresight to an event like this that could actually happen, some one day. But now you've also done the improbable... put yourself in a position where I will ask that you continue writing out your dreams. Some of us need them. Thank you, sir. |
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kayjay Member Elite
since 2002-06-24
Posts 2015Oregon |
I like what Karilea said. Yet, there are those in our lives who seem born to lead, to lead a life of their own and rise above the strife. We so desperately need them. Well done. Ken Through rubble and trouble and dark of night |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Ali Profound, to say the least!! you dream good, for the telling of this one touched the place within me that does believe. PS....However, I believe in the good....and not that there has to be payback. Good makes good, no payback necessary!  |
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the quell Member
since 2006-07-19
Posts 144Liverpool, UK |
Moving, profound, well-observed and very original too. At least I've never read anything quite like it before. I enjoyed the read immensely. You're a wonderful writer. Where black, bleeding roses await the Thirteen, |
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Alicat Member Elite
since 1999-05-23
Posts 4094Coastal Texas |
Thank you all for taking the time not only to read this one, but also in offering your responses. I had this dream fall of last year, and was sitting here letting my mind unwind and daydreaming that it popped back in full clarity and I started typing it out. There was a major change from the dream to here, and that was perspective. In the dream, I was Sarge and could feel everything he was experiencing internally and externally. But how on earth do you convey that especially given the ending? So I opted for third person perspective, someone seeing Sarge from the outside and commenting on observations. Which was a lot more satisfying from my own reading. And Sis? Thanky for the private critique. You nailed several things right on the head. |
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quatro Member
since 2003-04-29
Posts 392Galveston, Texas |
Alicat, This was very easy to read and very discriptive. AWESOME! I felt the awe that was felt by the writer for Sarge. I've not visited here in a long while and every now and then I like to come back and just browse to see what everyone is writing and hopefully get inspired to write something myself. But you have showed me that I have been looking for my muse in the wrong place. You have inspired me to go back home and go to bed so that I may dream and concoct as great a piece such as you have created! If I wasn't at work, I'd be going to bed. Thanks for sharing. I look forward to reading more. |
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artexeres Member
since 2006-08-01
Posts 156south africa |
having being involved in the South African bush war i can relate a lot, this is a nice read and the stuff heros are made from, he sounds the perfect soldier, however after doing my tours of duty and having seen combat, i shy away from it, it makes no sense as we look only from our own stand point of view. i learned that the same hurts and sometimes irreconcilable grief is felt from all humanity, a good read and it kept me captured and one can only respect men of sarges calibre. |
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