Page 3 of Gator's Gambit
“Yeah, I have to agree with Mozart,” Digit seconds. “That had ambush written all over it. It went down way to smooth to be anything else. They knew we were coming – I’ll bet my next paycheck on it.”
The adrenaline subsiding now that we’re finally safe, I’m ready to crash as the helicopter touches down on the ship. There’s a medical team ready and waiting for us, and we make short work of getting Hot Sauce unloaded and handed over. One minute I’m watching them hurry away with the man, the next minute my vision begins to grey, and I feel myself pitching over.
I land hard on the deck and simply lay there, trying to catch my breath and get my bearings. Gentle hands lift me to my feet and support me as I hear Knight tell them to take me to the infirmary. I want to insist I can get myself there, but I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t think I can. Weakness like I’ve not experienced before weighs my limbs down and makes my head fuzzy.
“Chief Petty Officer, what brings you by my infirmary today?” I hear someone ask Knight.
“My man here sustained injuries during an ambush. Our medic patched him up as best he could out in the field. Unloaded an injured teammate; he took a header out of the chopper and onto the deck,” I hear him reply.
“All right then, set him down on the cot and let’s take a look, shall we?”
It’s frustrating as fuck I can’t get my eyes to open, only hearing what’s going on around me and holding onto consciousness by a thread. I feel a tug on my camo jacket and the sounds of snipping. Then liquid, cold on my skin in the chill of the room.
Excruciating agony rocks me as the doctor cleans around the wounded area and then removes the dressing Bear put onme what feels like a million years ago. I see stars behind my eyelids and bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, just to stay conscious.
“Hmm, nasty looking wound that. By the looks of things, from a chunk of shrapnel. A fair bit of blood loss – probably a combination of that and adrenaline subsiding that had him taking a dive. Which is his dominant hand?”
“That one,” I hear Knight reply.
“Ah, fair enough. We’re going to have to operate to repair the damage. I don’t foresee any complications, but your man is going to be out of action for a good few weeks while everything heals,” the doctor says.
“Thanks, doc. I’ll make the arrangements with command.”
“All right folks, let’s get our wounded soldier into the operating room and get him put back together.”
Sick of being confinedto a floating tub, I’m thrilled to finally get home. A week in the infirmary has me about ready to come out of my skin. Back Stateside, we’re transported directly to base for a debriefing with Commander Hurt.
“Take a seat, everyone, and we can get started.
“All right, gentlemen, let’s talk about this mission. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can go get some R and R,” Commander Hurt says, Merlin’s team commander silent beside him. “Anyone have any thoughts on what the hell happened out there?”
Responses of “ambush,” “set-up,” and “trap” echo around the room. It launches the debrief into dissecting everything that happened. Finally, Commander Hurt turns to Bear.
“Bear, I understand you were closest to Merlin’s team when the explosion happened. Did you notice anything before it happened? Any warning signs?” Everyone turns to Bear, but there’s no response. The man is shattered – it’s plain for all to see.
“Bear?” Still no response. “Dermot, you with us?”
“Sorry, sir. I missed that,” Bear replies, looking embarrassed to have been caught not paying attention.
“Yeah, I can see that.” Commander Hurt chuckles. “So sorry I’m boring you.”
“My apologies, sir. I –”
“No need to apologize to me. I get it. All right, gentlemen, I’ve got the crux of the story. I know it’s your downtime, but we can reconvene tomorrow at oh-nine-thirty to finish this debrief. In the meantime, get your asses home and get some rest. I’ll see you all in the morning.”
After an uncomfortable night, despite being eternally grateful to be back home and sleeping in my own bed, I drag my ass out the door, fueled by the three cups of coffee I’ve downed.
I see Dutch parking his beloved Jeep – it’s a standing joke that if he could, he’d marry the damn thing. As I’m pulling into a parking slot on base, I spot him waiting for me, and we walk to the meeting room together.
“I hope this isn’t going to take too long. I’m ready for some serious downtime. This last one took it out of me.”
“Speaking of, how’s the shoulder doing?” he asks.
“Doc’s happy with how it’s healing, so that’s good. We’ll see how we stand when I go for my physical, but I’m feeling confident about it,” I answer with a shrug, hoping the nervousness doesn’t show.
It’s clear Commander Hurt is keen to wrap things up quickly as we’re done by lunch and dismissed. Everyone rushes from the room, eager to get started on some R and R. The guys assaround, laughing and joking on the way to collect their gear from the locker room – all of us thankful to have made it home alive, if slightly banged up. Our team is the last to leave, and as we’re making our way down the hall to the exit, Knight calls out.
“Hey guys, anyone up for grabbing some pie for lunch?”
