Chapter Two“SHAG ASS. PACK YOUR GEAR. WE’RE MOVING.”
Staff Sergeant Whalen, a 30 year-old lifer with two gaping nostrils in place of a face, roused the troops at first light. “MOVE IT, PEOPLE. MOVING OUT IN ONE-FIVE.”
Extra ammo was distributed. The men had time for coffee but not chow, and the suddenness of the mobilization made the men’s stomachs wretch and pitch with noxious dread.
Moments later, Alpha Company filed out the compound’s gates into a narrow street inside the Citadel and strung out in a staggered column. One file took position along the base of the northeast wall, while the other moved beside the small, single story masonry huts lining the other side of the street. The narrow road stretched for several short blocks and then dead-ended into a tower. The Marines knew they
