Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 36

Town Battle

Dawson wasn't done arguing. He stood from the snow, his helmet missing, and went to continue his fight with Doyle. However, his comrades had enough; two soldiers flanked him and held him back. He shouted, "To hell with your damned rebel loving ass! I knew you were a –"

He never got the chance to finish. Having crawled from where he was shot, using all the energy he had, Hart followed the convoy and used the distractions to his advantage. When he knew he could make the shot, he placed a large hole right in Dawson's head. The soldiers who held him were so shocked to see their Sergeant's head suddenly blown away they dropped his body. When they spun around to see who fired the shot, no one was there; Hart collapsed from pain and blood loss.

Finally pushed too far, Doyle barked out to his crew, "That's it! We're taking this town if it's the last god damned thing we do!" One of his soldiers went to make sure Hart was dead. Doyle said, "Leave him! He's too weak to do anything!"

He proceeded to issue orders on searching the nearby buildings. No matter how long it took, they were going to blow a hole in every building in town. Unfortunately for him, he was too eager and incompetent. He pointed frantically to the nearest buildings and demanded that they be cleared. There was no one in those buildings, however. Percy had planned ahead, and knowing all too well the simple minded tactics of some of the fresh officers, he prepared the town accordingly. Having been through the procedure himself, he had guessed where Doyle would enter the town, where he would begin searching, and how the buildings would be searched.

The only thing not working in his favor was time. He had mere minutes to clear the buildings, organize the civilians and setup traps. To add to his good luck, Hart and Roberts delayed Doyle's entrance by at least a minute. Roo was a planned tactic, although a last minute one, while Rita's discovery, Jordan's appearance and Dawson's disobedience were unexpected happenings.

Two fireteams were released and sent to opposite sides of the street. They entered their respective buildings at the same time; it was the fireteam on the left side of the street that ran into trouble. Despite their veteran status, they did not believe Percy's men had the capabilities to create traps, so they walked into the building looking just for people. They were able to fully enter before they hit a problem. As they went to move down a hallway the man furthest forward snagged a wire. It triggered a small, anti-personnel mine. He died instantly.

"s**t!" was the only noise anyone outside the building heard. Leaving the body, they immediately began to search the area for anymore, just in case. The small building was clear of people and snares.

Doyle wasn't pleased when he saw the two men carrying out another's body. When they explained what had happened, he called for the second fireteam to return. The Lieutenant told them to dismiss entering the buildings; instead, they would throw one frag grenade into each window. Again he sent out his men to opposite sides of the street. Explosions rocked the block every fifteen seconds as a mess of grenades were chucked through windows. Again, despite their experience, a crucial mistake was made that cost someone their life. The second fireteam strolled across the open street, without worrying about possible snipers. One of Skipper's men took advantage of this and fired a shot. It hit a man in the throat. His comrades followed his body to the ground. Within seconds a grenade was lobbed in their direction.

"Grenade!" someone shouted. Doyle ducked behind one of the Humvees and held onto his helmet as the explosion rocked the street. He didn't need to turn around and see the result. The hurried attitude of his men made him figure those caught in the blast were probably dead.

One of the Humvee gunners saw the man who threw the grenade and proceeded to fire relentlessly in his direction. However, the snipers were quick to take care of that threat. Almost simultaneously, all of the gunners were shot dead. Because a few of the shots were a mere fraction of a second later than the others, the soldiers realized they were dealing with more than one sharpshooter.

The next round of events happened almost at the same time. First, the two men from the first fireteam were joined by another from one of the Humvees and rushed towards the building where the grenade was thrown. The lead entered the building and scurried towards the center without issue. One other was able to enter before the lead stepped on a pressure sensitive trip; he heard the click and immediately shouted, "Get down!" All of the men threw themselves onto the ground face first, pointing their toes to the building, and covered their heads. The blast was so strong it had people several blocks away shaking. The adjacent buildings were caught up in the blaze.

Doyle was knocked off his feet by the explosion. He fell face first into the snow and held onto his head as debris scattered itself across the street. Dizzy and disorientated, he wasn't sure what had just happened. Before he was able to look back, an anti-tank missile struck one of the heavily armored Humvees, sending it and its passengers high into the air as a fireball. Again, Doyle covered his head and buried his face into the ground. A Private grabbed a disposable missile launcher from the back of the jeep and fired it at the building that housed the man who fired the anti-tank weapon.

Another grenade found itself near the Doyle. With his head down, he avoided getting completely blown away, but did not go uninjured. A deafening and distracting ringing replaced his hearing. Still, he was able to pick up the distinct sound of gunfire, although it sounded so distant.

From the church tower, Goldwin watched the scene with disgust. Doyle's men had done a terrible job of gauging Percy's men and were greatly outnumbered, but they still were able to survive. They could clearly hear the shouts of Doyle's platoon, even over the radio in their ears and the roar of the battle. It did nothing more than remind Percy and Goldwin that they were fighting real people – they were fighting Americans. Yet both knew that Doyle was not a noble man, and any fool who blindly followed his orders needed to be taken out. It was surreal to watch the far away men get picked off one by one in the streets. Doyle's men were trapped.

"I shouldn't have allowed Skipper control," Percy bitterly muttered.

"Why's that?" Goldwin asked. "It seems to be working in our favor."

"There was no reason to slaughter them like that," he answered.

A loud whistle screeched through the wind, which signaled Skipper's men had subdued the enemy. Percy and Goldwin abandoned the church tower in favor of surveying the battle's damage. Once on the street they were greeted with a grim sight. Several buildings were on fire, snow was melting because of the heat, medics rushed to the bodies of men from both sides. The remains of the Humvees were ablaze and beside them an injured Doyle was being helped to his feet. Was he lucky to survive that battle against Union? If asked, he probably would have silently shaken his head.

Jordan and Conroy came out from hiding. Both of the men and scurried to the rooftops without jackets on and were freezing in the cold. They ended up wandering until they were near Goldwin and Percy. Conroy felt his stomach lurch, but nothing came out. The first body he saw that day was that of Sergeant Dawson; he practically tripped over it. The burst of gunfire had blown a large chunk of his skull off. The jagged, fractured skull bone looked sharp enough to cut, while the flesh of the brain looked soft enough to touch. The hideous sight was enough for Conroy to feel queasy. As he stumbled away from that body, he ran into the remains of a soldier caught in an explosion.

A comforting hand found its way to Conroy's shoulder. He wiped the disgust from his face when he turned to see who was there. He was greeted by a straight faced Warren. The Minister seemingly appeared out of nowhere, as though he were an angel sent down to ease their minds. Warren asked, "Are you alright?"

"I am, but he's not," Conroy pointed to the remains.

"I thought I was done being a war correspondent," Jordan said. He had learned to keep his eyes off of bodies, but the smell was overpowering.

"Let's pray for them," Warren suggested.

He hadn't realized how well his voice carried and never saw; he bowed his head and closed his eyes. Goldwin and the others did the same, even if it was mainly to avoid looking at the bodies. It wasn't only them. All around that deadly street the men who still were conscious fell into silence, their actions halted. It wasn't just Doyle who had lost men, after all; Percy lost several of his own. Their comrades amongst the dead, some of them were so overcome they fell to their knees.

Percy did not lower his head.

With eyes open, he stared with a sense of sadness at the loss around him. He watched as his men became engulfed in grief. Hardnosed and callous soldiers collapsed and cried, experienced men like Jordan and Warren driven into silence – all of these sights he had seen countless times as a commander. He took it as a moment of reflection upon the day and the cost. Whatever thoughts went through his mind that cold day effected his actions none.

"You're an asshole!" Wallace's screaming voice was heard as it pierced the silence. "Jordan, you bastard! How dare you speak like that of Americans! If this didn't hurt so f*****g bad I'd go over there and kick your ass!"

Jordan winced, "Geez, man, I wasn't serious about it. I just wanted to rile them up."

"As though what he said isn't proven by the actions here today," Warren muttered. "What kind of men are they trying to breed at the military academy these days?"

"Major," Wakeman's voice over the radio blared. "I have a Staff Sergeant from Doyle's platoon that wants to speak with you."

"What is your location?" Percy asked.

"We're right by the church now."

"I will meet him there."

Percy said not another word as he retraced his steps back to the church. Warren matched the Major step-for-step as the others worked quickly to clear the streets and help the injured. It only took a few minutes to arrive at the church at even a snail's pace. The large doors had been opened and several soldiers stood guard. The soldiers offered a salute that was not returned. Inside, they were greeted by Royal who escorted them to Warren's office in the back. Waiting patiently there was both Wakeman and Torres; the stranger was not bound.

When the Major entered, both Torres and Wakeman saluted. This time, Percy responded with one of his own. "I'm Major Percival T. Raymond," Percy greeted. His voice was a bit strained, because he knew this man had fought alongside Doyle. "Who are you?"

"I'm Staff Sergeant Kris Torres," he said. His eyes were blood shot and his face almost purple from the cold. He looked half-starved. "I wanted to personally apologize for the all trouble my platoon leader has caused for the people of Union."

"Why did you not go with him into town?" Percy questioned.

"There was no reason for me to lead my men into harm's way, and there was certainly no reason for us to attack Union," he said. "I had foolish sat idly by when he used our drone to attack previously. I'm not one to question superiors, Major, so when he said it was because a militia was present I believed him. But a fellow Sergeant named Calloway returned after the mission and said his men were forced to shoot at firefighters. That doesn't seem very honorable, Major."

"You're not stupid, are you?" Percy joked.

"I've served three tours in Europe, Major," Torres said. "War isn't a game. Unfortunately, there are certain people who have become either desensitized or disillusioned, I'm not sure which. I didn't join the army to pull the trigger for madmen. I joined to protect freedom, or at least what I thought freedom was."

Percy ignored Torres's reasons. He asked, "What is it that you want from me?"

"If you can, I would like shelter and food for the men of my squad as well as Sergeant Calloway's."

Percy eyed him. He wondered if he could trust the man in front of him, or if it was some sort of elaborate trap Doyle had mustered up. He shook his head and smiled at his own foolishness; there was no reason for him to overthink or be paranoid. That had landed him in more than enough trouble already. Warren was a good judge of character, so he looked at the Minister and waited to see if he made any signs. When Warren nodded as though to say, "He's a good man," Percy went ahead and accepted Torres into his camp for the time being.

"I'll do whatever I can for you, Sergeant," Percy said. "I have more than enough room to store you, but food is another problem. You have to understand that protecting my men comes first."

"As with me, Major," Torres nodded.

"Wakeman, please escort Torres and the others to the barracks. Provide them with a meal and bunks, but do not let them out of your sight."

"Yes, Major!"

The two Sergeants saluted and it was returned. Wakeman and Royal escorted Torres out of Warren's office. There was no time for silence to settle. Warren said, "As usual, you act as though a mere thirty minutes ago you were delivering the milk, not fighting a battle."

"Well, I didn't fight a battle. My men did."

"You know what I meant," Warren sighed. "I just worry. If my son were to have died today, would you still have that complacent look on your face?"

There was no answer from Percy.