The Grace Painter (The Grace Series Book 1) by Romang Mark

Author:Romang, Mark [Romang, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Mark Romang
Published: 2013-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

The telltale signs were all there: slumped shoulders, short-tempers and plenty of grumbling. Despite Captain Stovall’s best attempts at encouragement, his platoon’s morale had diminished noticeably. He couldn’t really blame them for their sour attitude. They fought against an unconventional foe impervious to modern day weaponry and battlefield stratagems. This one-sided battle pitted man against nature, and heavy caliber ordnance bore no relevance to the outcome.

For the past five minutes Stovall wrestled with himself over a decision that needed to be made forthwith. How much longer should they continue sandbagging before moving on? The weather conditions deteriorated a little more with each passing second. They were minutes away from annihilation, yet Stovall couldn’t make himself order a withdrawal. Quitting didn’t exist in his vocabulary. At the same time, he owed it to his men to keep them alive long enough to fight another day. He started this mission with three platoons, and wanted to end it with the same amount. Achieving the mission objectives had to come a close second in the pecking order.

Stovall hoisted another sandbag into position as he contemplated his dilemma. The situation bordered on the ridiculous. He and his men attempted to fend off the biggest hurricane in years with nothing more than forty-pound sandbags. They lost ground faster than they could reclaim it. Worse, they were almost out of sandbags.

Stovall paused from his labor long enough to look back along the assembly line and toward where the big, ten-ton trucks were parked. There couldn’t be more than a two-dozen sandbags combined on the trucks’ trailers. Hey, that might be just enough to finish the job, Stovall thought. There was a hole about the size of a football player left to be filled along the top of the sandbag wall. Maybe I won’t have to order a retreat after all.

But then he saw it. Stovall took a fast double take. He rubbed his eyes. It looked like a wall of water? The storm surge! A mammoth wave tracked right at them. The killer wave looked grossly out of place, like it belonged out on a tempest-tossed sea and not in a freshwater swamp.

Stovall bolted from his position and hurried up to Second Lieutenant Cole. He grabbed Cole’s arm. “Lieutenant, get your men onto the trucks, pronto!” Stovall gestured at the wall of approaching death. “We have only a few seconds!”

Yes, sir,” Lincoln Cole replied, and immediately went to work, pointing out the approaching freshwater tidal wave to the unsuspecting Guardsmen working nearby.

Captain Stovall looked around for Staff Sergeant Blanchard. It was difficult to tell who was who. All the Guardsmen wore the same camouflage BDUs--Battle Dress Uniforms--and rain coats. Stovall finally spotted Blanchard halfway down the assembly line. Stovall slogged up the muddy service road and confronted Blanchard. He told Blanchard the same thing he told Second Lieutenant Cole. “Get them loaded up, Sergeant! And they need to wear their life jackets!” Stovall shouted.

The extraction process went quickly. One glance at the storm surge was all the motivation his men needed to double-time it.

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