The Chosen Few by Gregg Zoroya

Author:Gregg Zoroya
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Da Capo Press
Published: 2017-02-13T05:00:00+00:00

Staff Sergeant Jonathan Benton from 2nd Platoon managed to push beyond where Roque and Lancour had been found. He linked up with the stranded Afghan National Army soldiers and Alex Drany, Ferrara’s wounded interpreter, who had killed the old man insurgent. Two Afghan soldiers had died in the ambush.

Samaroo and Sergeant Jacob Walker, working their way up the cliff from the creek, finally spotted Jeff Mersman’s body with the help of an infrared spotlight that the orbiting AC130 gunship shined down on the battlefield like some kind of midnight sun. The twenty-three-year-old Mersman, who had taken a bad fall during the outboard leg of the mission but soldiered on without a complaint, had apparently been blown off the goat trail during the ambush, possibly by an RPG, and tumbled several dozen yards down the steep cliff.

When he finally had come to a stop, the tough soldier—who had to have been badly beaten up by then and possibly wounded—appeared to have still been alive and took steps to help comrades find him. He’d pulled off his assault pack and cracked several chem lights to activate them, scattering them around his location. But no one came in time to save him, and he was shot to death by enemy gunmen. He managed to get off only three rounds from his M4.

When Samaroo and Walker scaled the cliff to reach Mersman, they were surprised by how peaceful he looked, with his eyes closed, as if he had simply laid down and gone to sleep. It was so deceptive that Samaroo called out to him. “Hey, Mersman, you all right?” And Walker moved closer, saying, “Hey, you okay?”

An Air Force Special Operations command helicopter arrived and dropped off two pararescuers, specially trained in medical and rescue operations, but they were lowered to the wrong location, the pilots mistaking a bundle of dropped ammo for Mersman’s remains. It was hours before they finally reached his body, prepared it to be hoisted, and pulled it up.

Meanwhile Ostlund was finally notified about Lancour’s body being dropped, and word reached the men in the field who had first found him. They all were stunned by the news. Shane Stockard, who had joined Silvernale up on the goat trail, was furious and exploded over the radio.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” he raged, demanding to know why they hadn’t been told sooner. It was an unusual display for an otherwise stoic platoon sergeant, borne of frustration, exhaustion, and the loss of his men. Ostlund had to come up on the radio and tell him to calm down.

It was sunup before Chosen Company First Sergeant Scott Beeson finally spotted Lancour’s remains from a distance through a pair of binoculars, wedged between a couple of rocks. Beeson directed Silvernale and Stockard down the cliff so they could recover him. The body was coming apart from the beating it had taken. Silvernale’s heart sank at the sight of it. He was so overwhelmed that he had to take a knee, and it felt like he was suddenly out of breath.

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