Battle Dress by Amy Efaw

Battle Dress by Amy Efaw

Author:Amy Efaw [Efaw, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2010-10-27T16:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 11

THURSDAY, 5 AUGUST 0045

I have a fine incipient case of split personality,

The masculine lined up against the feminine.

This is no place for the feminine.

—DICKEY CHAPELLE, WOMAN WAR CORRESPONDENT (KILLED WHILE COVERING THE VIETNAM WAR)

SIMULATED BOMBS SCREECHED through the air and white lights flashed, then hovered like spotlights over the woods we’d soon enter. We should have been snuggled inside our sleeping bags. But instead, we sat shivering on metal bleachers and watching the starless sky spit drizzle, the water beading on our ponchos and rolling off. With camouflaged faces and vacant stares, we looked like veteran troops as we waited out the minutes until it was Third Squad’s time to go out on our first night patrol.

Finally, Cadet Daily stood up. He tossed Cero a roll of green duct tape. “Pass that around, Zero. Tape everything metal, Third Squad—flashlights, M-16 straps, LCE suspenders—and anything else that makes noise. Including your mouths, if necessary.” He tossed a wad of olive-green cord to Ping. “That is what we call dummy cord, Third Squad, invented especially for knuckleheads like you. Go ahead, Combat. Help them tie their weapons to their bodies. Leave only about three feet of slack, max. I don’t want to spend the few hours of rack time we’ll have left tonight beating the bushes for an M-16 that was lost in the dark. Now get hot. We’re moving out in a few.”

After Cadet Daily had inspected our tape and tie jobs, he formed us into a single-file line with Kit in the front and Ping in the rear. “Remember, Third Squad,” Cadet Daily said, “this is a tactical patrol. As soon as we move out, noise and light discipline will be enforced. That means no talking and no flashlights. Tonight realism is the name of the game. You got that?”

“YES, SIR!”

“I’ll be on point, and Ping, you’ll bring up the rear. Remember—no crowding. Keep your intervals, about two paces between men.” He pointed at the two fluorescent squares on the back of Kit’s helmet. “Keep the ‘cat eyes’ on the back of the helmet in front of you in sight at all times, Third Squad, and you’ll be good to go. I won’t tolerate any weak excuses from anyone who wanders off. Understand?”

“YES, SIR!”

“Now, for all the noise out here. When you hear a whistle and seconds later an explosion, that’s ‘incoming’—you hit the dirt. When you hear a pop and seconds later you see bright light flooding an area, that’s an ‘illumination flare’—you freeze. This ain’t rocket science, Third Squad. Just use your heads. Stay alert, stay alive. That’s what it’s all about. Now let’s move out.”

We followed Cadet Daily into the woods, peering into the blackness, silent as snakes. The rain had softened the earth, muffling our movement. Even after my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could barely make out the shapes of the trees enclosing us. I held my weapon out in front and pointed it toward the trees, watching for any sudden movement. Years of running cross country had taught me to make split-second decisions about footing.



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