Part 29 (1/2)

RUNAWAY'S RETURN

Runaway joined me again at Kilo. I had cooled off by now and more or less kept it civil, though my feelings toward him hadn't changed.

Nor, I guess, had Runaway. It was pathetic.

He was up on the roof with us one night when we started taking shots from insurgents somewhere.

I ducked behind the four-foot perimeter wall. Once the gunfire subsided, I glanced over the roof and looked to see where the shots had come from. It was too dark, though.

More shots were fired. Everybody ducked again. I went down just a little, hoping to see a muzzle flash in the dark when the next shot came over. I couldn't see anything.

”Come on,” I said. ”They're not accurate. Where are they firing from?”

No answer from Runaway.

”Runaway, look for the muzzle flash,” I said.

I didn't hear a response. Two or three more shots followed, without me being able to figure out where they'd come from. Finally, I turned around to ask if he had seen anything.

Runaway was nowhere to be found. He'd gone downstairs-for all I know, the only thing that stopped him was the blocked door where the Marines were pulling security.

”I could get killed up there,” he said when I caught up with him.

I left him downstairs, telling him to send up one of the Marines pulling security in his place. At least I knew that guy wouldn't run.

Runaway was eventually transferred somewhere where he wouldn't go into combat. He had lost his nerve. He should have pulled himself out of there. That would have been embarra.s.sing, but how much worse could it have been? He had to spend his time convincing everyone else that he wasn't really a p.u.s.s.y, when the evidence was there for everyone to see.

Being the great warrior he was, Runaway declared to the Marines that SEALs and snipers were being wasted on sniper overwatch.

”SEALs shouldn't be here. This isn't a spec op mission,” he told them. But the problem wasn't just the SEALs, as he soon made clear. ”Those Iraqis are going to regroup and overrun us.”

His prediction turned out to be just a little off. But hey, he has a bright future as a military planner.

THE MARSH

Our real problem was with the insurgents using the marsh across the river as cover. The river coast was dotted with countless little islands with trees and brush. Here and there an old foundation or a pile of dredged dirt and rock poked up between the bushes.

Insurgents would pop up from the vegetation, take their shots, then squirrel back into the brush where you couldn't see them. The vegetation was so thick they could get pretty close not just to the river but to us-often within a hundred yards without being seen. Even the Iraqis could hit something from that distance.

Making things even more complicated, a herd of water buffalo lived in the swamp, and they'd tromp through every so often. You'd hear something or see the gra.s.s move and not know whether it was an insurgent or an animal.

We tried getting creative, requesting a napalm hit on the marsh to burn down the vegetation.

That idea was vetoed.

As the nights went on, I realized the number of insurgents was growing. It became obvious that I was being probed. Eventually, the insurgents might be able to get enough men together that I couldn't kill them all.

Not that I wouldn't have had fun trying.