Page 52 of Battle Mountain

“You’re not the only one,” Anthony said. “All of the Marines there that day felt the same way you did, believe me. They didn’t enlist in the U.S. military to be tasked with the job ofpreventinginnocent civilians from escaping certain death. A lot of those people trying to get out were our longtime friends, and they’d worked by our side for years. It was horrible the way we turned our backs on them.

“Anyway, Brittany was on the ground with her unit keeping those Afghans from accessing the airstrip. Those were her orders from Washington, from people who weren’t even there. Allison was up above her, in agony, trying to keep an eye on her friend and her fellow Marines.”

“That’s the day when a suicide bomber got through and killed thirteen Marines,” Geronimo said.

“It is,” Anthony said. “Thirteen brave Americans. Including Brittany Newsome.”

“Allison saw it happen,” Jolene added.

Nate grunted and looked away.

“That’s only the half of it,” Anthony said. “Most people don’t know the whole story of that day. Too many people, especially our so-called leaders,neverwant to hear it.”

“Go on,” Geronimo said.

“Two days before the terrorist attack, Allison’s unit receivedintel that they should prepare for an ISIS suicide bomber to show up at Abbey Gate. The intel specifically said for them to be on the lookout for a bomber posing as a cameraman arriving by motorcycle,” Anthony said, his voice rising. “Another intel report gave a detailed physical description of the suicide bomber. It even said the terrorist would be carrying a backpack with three yellow arrows embroidered on the material. I mean, this intel wasreallyspecific.

“And in the early evening of August 26, Allison spotted the terrorist approaching the crowd. She wasn’t the only one. Two other Marine snipers saw the guy who matched the description getting closer and closer to the people and Marines below them. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He appeared nervous and jumpy, and he wore a backpack with three yellow arrows on it.

“The rules of engagement that came from Washington were ridiculous,” Anthony said with disgust. “The rules of engagement didn’t allow well-trained Marines to be Marines. They couldn’t do anything without specific approval from the thumb-suckers inside the White House. Allison literally had this guy in her cross hairs as he entered the crowd. And when she asked for permission to take him out, you know what they said?”

“What?” Geronimo asked.

“They said, ‘Do not engage.’ ”

He let that sit there for a moment. Then Anthony widened his eyes and repeated, “Do not engage.

“So she asked again,” Anthony continued. “By now, she was starting to panic. The terrorist was walking straight toward the line of Marines at the gate, including Brittany. But Allison got no reply this time. Since the only thing she had been told was ‘Donot engage,’ there was nothing she could do. Then you know what happened next,” Anthony said.

“We find out later that the bomber was well known to us. He was a prisoner at the Bagram Airfield that had been built and run by the U.S. military until the weenies in Washington ordered them to evacuate it and leave all of the weapons and equipment to the bad guys. The terrorist just walked out when the Taliban took it over. And within days, he strapped on that suicide vest and blew it up at Abbey Gate, killing thirteen of our finest Marines.”

“It was not something Allison could shake off,” Jolene said. “When she came home, she was a different person than she was when she deployed. Allison felt responsible for Brittany’s death, as well as for the deaths of the other twelve Marines. She was bitter and despondent, as you can imagine. She railed against her superiors, the administration, and even the Corps itself.”

“It broke my heart,” Anthony said as his eyes suddenly filled with tears. He swiped them away with the back of his hand. “Allison was warned not to go public with what actually took place because the higher-ups were embarrassed. They’d let the future suicide bomber walk out of prison. And none of the officials who let it happen have been made accountable. Unlike Allison, they feel no shame or guilt. No one lost their jobs, much less ended up in prison, where they belong. And all of them are too cowardly to resign.”

“That’s where Axel Soledad comes in,” Nate said. He’d been so quiet that his voice seemed to startle Jolene.

“That’s where Soledad comes in,” Anthony intoned. “They met in town at the Buckhorn Bar. Allison was spending too much time there, and Soledad apparently sought her out. He was ashoulder to cry on, and he hated the military elites for his own reasons. Allison got sucked into his orbit very quickly, and you must believe me when I tell you that wasn’t typical of our girl. It was like Soledad cast a spell on her.”

“It’s like she joined a cult,” Jolene said sadly. “She did whatever he said. And then she was gone. They werebothgone.”

“To where?” Geronimo asked.

They didn’t know, and Allison had contacted them by cell phone only once in the last two months. When she did, she said she was fine. In fact, she sounded calm and purposeful, just like the old Allison, Jolene said.

“But she didn’t mention where she was?” Geronimo asked.

“She said she’d tell us everything one of these days,” Jolene said. “But that she couldn’t tell us now.”

Anthony said that because he had a buddy in the Albany County Sheriff’s Office, they were able to make an official request to the phone companies to determine the location of Allison’s call. It was illegal to do so, because Allison wasn’t suspected of a crime and she’d left Tie Siding voluntarily, but that didn’t bother his buddy, he said. Marines did favors for other Marines.

“And where was she calling from?” Geronimo asked.

“Warm Springs,” Jolene said.

“That’s over the top of the Snowy Range to the west,” Anthony said, pointing vaguely in that direction.

“I know where it is,” Nate said to Geronimo.

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