MSgt McCaleb
“The path to immortality begins with death”
-Unknown-
Prologue 1.3
“Sgt, Sgt, SGT! HEY OLD FUCKER!
I am rudely brought back to the reality of red light, engine noise and a Cpl who was punching above his pay grade and this plane better be on fire. I look at him, I’ll give him credit, he does not look away as I do not give him a friendly look.” Ok shit stain what is so urgent that you must wake up this old fucker? You know we need our sleep or an afternoon nap and I am pretty sure that I am not going to get one of those. “He grinned hooked his thumb over his shoulder, “The Lt wants an equipment check and ordered me to make sure the senility had not caught up with you, oh and to make sure you could still remember how to do an equipment check.” I just smiled at him, and started my check, looked back at him and just kept smiling. And that got him, now he was not sure just what I was smiling about and if it meant he was in deep shit or that I had gone senile. Ah it was good to be the king so as to speak. Baffle them with bullshit whenever possible. Had been my motto for military life for the past 18 years, and look where it got me being paid the big bucks and being tossed out of perfectly good aircraft at the ass crack of dawn, and what awaits us at the bottom? A bunch of religious zealots, who are sex starved and have automatic weapons and other things that go boom (it could be worse they could just be sex starved and no weapons.) and really pissed at us. Just another day at the office. I check all my gear as I have over a hundred times before, only really looking down when something was not right. When it came to my weapons, I went over them with focus. When I pulled out my 870, I always get looks of curiosity. Always did. I loved this weapon, a true multi-tasker, I could breach a door with it and then turn anyone in the room into paste. I got away with carrying it because one fateful day about 10 years ago a Col labeled me “useful” from that day forward if I was in 100 miles of shit that needed cleaning up there was a good chance I got sent to do it with some other poor SOBs who were also “useful”. It did have its perks like being able to carry things I was not “authorized” to have in my kit for this hump. Still not sure if it is worth it. What I was sure of it made me a bit less “expendable”. Everything is good, both knives where they should be, etc. I lean my head back and start to make sure I had my head in the game, or at least look like it..
Old fucker, yeah that about summed it up, I was the oldest in my unit at 37, even my platoon leader. I looked over at him, I think my age has intimidated him more than anything. I will say he did not have his head up his ass and asked me all the right questions and let me run the platoon. Which in my book made him Einstein among Lt's.
When 9/11 hit I was sitting on my couch in NC watching the second jet hit the tower. I was short timing it on my way out. Another reason to be pissed at these rag heads, fuck did I really need another reason? And sure, as the sun will raise I got my invitation to this dance 6 days later and by the end of the month, I was handed this platoon. And it had been the textbook definition of a whirlwind courtship. After Desert Storm, I thought it would take hell freezing over before they gave me another platoon. (ok maybe it did I had not been listening for it when I got my orders). If I had thought about it at the time, it makes sense, they were short soldiers with combat experience, and even shorter those of rank that could be put into leadership experience. I looked around the other Rangers in the plane and I was not 100% sure but I think I was the only one with combat experience. Well, ain’t I special, horse shit. How long was this going to last? My gut told me it was not going to be short. Not by a mile.
Well one thing for sure the little 10-year-old psychopath with mommy issues and enough anger to light the Eastern seaboard that was a part of me would get to work some of that anger off. New Flash, never said I was sane, I just fake it really well. Like right now who I am talking to? Hmmm? I had never quit being a psychopath, just somehow my doctor told me I developed just enough of conscience that I could function in “normal” society, whatever the hell “normal” was. I just do what my gut tells me is right and survive, doing anything to survive. Tact on alexithymia and you have a really fucked up human being but one hell of a solider. As I saw in an old cartoon about a solider and his resume, the interviewer looked at it and said “I can see you just got out.” The solider replied “how can you tell?” “Because you wrote under job skills “I kill things good.” Or something close to that. And if I am honest, it is the only thing, I feel like I do well and the Army must be proud of it since they have not canned my ass long before now. But as the norm no one ever says they are proud of me so I’ll take what I can get.
I closed my eyes for a second and wondered if this time I would not come back, death has never scared me, living to me is a hell of a lot scarer than any combat I have been a part of. But I do know that opinions may vary with most people. I was a solider, have always been one, will always be one. Like Patton I had memories of past wars I had been a part of, and in all I was a solider, always.
A second or so after I open my eyes, I see the doors being opened, doorway checked, and we are told to stand and hook up, and I hear “3 minutes”. I tap the Ranger in front me on his helmet after I check the gear on his back to tell him all is good. Not long after I get the same. Now wait. To me the time flies by, the light goes green, and the party starts, 800 feet 12 give or take seconds in the air. As I leave the door waiting for my chute to pull in the dim light of pre-dawn I see a flying Raven arm’s length from me, seen them all my life, it’s just for a second I have always taken them as omens, good or bad I still was not sure. Not that I have much time to think on that as my chute deploys and I have more to worry about.
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6 months later a village in Western Afghanistan:
½ click outside of said village is the 82n Airborne A Co 3rd Plt:
Damn it’s hot, took us 5 hours to get to here, to help another platoon clear a village; Bad part it’s over 100 in the shade and the Plt Sgt in charge is not here when we get here most of his Plt is here though, seems he is with a squad scouting ahead. “SGT Moree “ I turn and see our Lt has finally gotten here. He and another SFC I do not recognize is with him, “Glad to see you made it safely Sir.”
“Sorry it took so long Sgt had to wait for the Sgt here to meet up with me.” SCF Moree this is SCF Williams, he is the replacement for the platoon Sergeant for the unit we are lending a hand to, the last platoon Sergeant was wounded as well as the platoon leader so instead having the platoon sit on their asses till a someone could be sent up to take command there was a Ranger unit nearby and a MSG McCelab offered to take over the command till a replacement could be sent up. So the platoon could continue on with securing this village, they met some locals on the way here that tipped them off to the enemy presence in the village and a rough number of fighters there. Seems to have been reliable enough for the MSG to ask for help.”
SCF Willamns spoke up, “Sir do you think he might have jumped the gun?”
Lt. Clay pulled out a piece of paper, opens it. “No, no offense gentleman I wish I had him. I had a bit of time so I got the 411 on him, not a lot of E8s in front combat units even the for the 75th. So there had to be a story there. He has a shit ton of combat experience, joined in 82’ first combat mission was Grenada, then Panama, and Desert Storm, I think there is probably more but some things are redacted, deployed to Honduras, spent 6 months with the IDF in a training exchange, and a few other things. CIB, 2 Bronze Stars w/Valor, 2 Purple Hearts, HALO and HAHO qualified Brigade Combat Team, CQC instructor, Expert in several weapon platforms that is the short list highlights. Asked around, found out that he was short timing when 9/11 happened, had 30 days left, they called him up and handed him a platoon in the 75th, he only has had about 30 days with that platoon. During Desert Storm he was involved in a friendly fire incident, that killed his best friend, he was in charge of the unit that was involved, he was cleared as they were already engaged when a sand storm moved into the area and comms were buggy. Honestly, I loved to have a look at his whole file. Since I do not see him, my guess is he is off scouting as I see most of his unit here?””
Yes, Sir you are correct”. I looked back up the “road” at the other platoon, they were up and moving around, a lone soldier was walking toward us. “Sir, looks like he is back, and headed our way.”
It only took the MSG a few minutes to get to us, he did not ask where we were, just straight to us. There are soldiers, then there are SOLDIERS, the way he walked was like he owned the place and no one would question that, he was truly in his element. You could drop him in any combat zone in any environment and the only thing that would change is his gear. He was an apex predator here. He had the same bearing as other combat vets and SF guys I had met, my father talked about men like him he saw in Nam. If you could clone soldiers to market you could bet, he would be one on top of the list. It’s also a good bet that he does not give a shit about rank or anything else for that matter, he will give you his opinion you can could get over it or die with it. I can see now why they called him back; men like him are not common, I’d serve under him in a heartbeat. When he got closer, I could tell he was a big man at least 6’2 close to 200lbs. He has got to be a beast in hand to hand. I am confident in my leadership, but there is no shame in asking for pointers or an extra set of eyes. Think I will talk with him after the talks to the LT.
3 hours later inside village
You would think that when someone dies there would be more fanfare. Nope, here the most it gets is a cloud of dust as the body hits the ground, maybe some pretty red mist, that’s about it.
I was in my element here, somewhere I was comfortable and knew all the rules. Organized chaos. And doing one of the most dangerous things you can, house clearing. Plain and simple, urban combat sucks big purple donkey dicks, (I have no clue where that came from).
Only reason we are here is that the fuckers are dug in and for some reason they want to limit collateral damage. I.e. not bomb the place into the stone age. At least the platoon that was with us got to share the suck. And it sure as shit it sucks. More than normal. They are dug in, and per the religious zealot asshole play book, human shields are in play, thus it was slow going. Really slow, been at it for hours now. And one of two things happen, your men lose patience and that gets them killed, and the indigenous killed as well. Or, they just zone out, go on auto-pilot, and you get the same results. And that is where I am at, as I am leaning up against a wall trying to keep an eye not only on my men but the other platoons grunts across the street, their platoon Sgt asked me for advice and if I could try to keep an eye on his men when I could, would have done it any way but I like the fact that he asked, he’ll make a good leader. They are doing things by the book, there are times for that and other times when you throw the book out. Knowing when to is key, sadly a lot of times that is only learned when shit goes to hell in a hand basket. The Sgt in charge is not incompetent just seems to me a bit overwhelmed, so I am watching my people with one eye and his with the other.
Fuck it’s hot. Lest we have the other side cleared, still a squad or two others there looking for stashes, they’d found a couple of spider holes over there as well, and that will make your asshole whistle a tune.
I watch my guys stack ready to breech the door, seeing that they are doing it as they should, I go to take a drink of water, just as spit the bite value out, I hear from my left several women screaming and running toward us,” la tatliq alnaar ealaya! la tatliq alnaar ealaya!”, (don’t shoot, don’t shoot) fuck, not good. And everything for me slows down, I bring my weapon up, I was one of the rear most grunts, where the fuck did, they come from, that area was cleared. I see 4 women with small children in their arms 50 meters away, and in front of them half a dozen children running toward us with duct tape over their mouths, fucking ambush. I flip the M4 to burst fire out the corner of my eye I see all the grunts in the street start to bring weapons to bare and moving to cover, there is a is a low brick wall now to my left a couple a steps away. As I am moving to cover, I yell, “auf! arfae yayday ka!” (Stop! Hands up!) A couple of times.
I clear the wall and drop behind it, bringing my weapon back on target, I repeat for them to stop and put their hands up, at that moment I see movement on a roof about 40 meters away at my 1 o'clock, and I yell that “ 40 meters, 1 o’clock high!” as I pull my sight to the roof, a raghead with a PK pops up and opens fire as I do the same on him, my first rounds I can see the impact his chest and shoulder, as I see that I feel a round then another impact my chest plate. Then there is a flash of bright light and darkness, my last thought was short, fuck
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