Page 63 of Salute, To Bravery
“DiMarco, carry Foster and head for the boat, Smith and Denning cover them. We got Parsons and Long’s teams, but we don’t know what other surprises there are out there. Denning, keep your weapon hot,” Anders ordered, and we nodded. “Maelstrom, we’re breaking ground. Move out.”
As one, we headed out towards the boat. The idea was to reach it and sail to the mainland from the island we were on. Once we landed, we’d pass the test, but there had to be some other unwelcome surprise. It couldn’t be this easy. Being carried over DiMarco’s shoulder was embarrassing and annoying. I could have walked, but I understood Anders’ decision. We needed to move speedily. We’d taken out the other two teams and had to reach the boat.
Quietly, we moved through the undergrowth, looking for traps or signs of an ambush. There was nothing. As we approached the shore, we all became more tense and alert. It was here that an ambush would happen, but we reached the boat without issue. And then we saw why. The inflatable had been slashed.
“Fuckers,” Anders spat. We all swapped glances. We needed to get back to the mainland, or we’d lose alongside the other teams. No doubt one of the losers had damaged this when they realised we were going to win.
“Anyone got anything we can repair it with?” Smith asked, and we all shook our heads.
DiMarco scanned the shoreline, undoubtedly in searching an escape route.
“Tree sap?” Denning offered, and while we raised some eyebrows at her suggestion, DiMarco shook his head.
“It would never hold those slashes together,” he drawled. His gaze was focused on the beach, and we could see him working something out. A slow smile crossed his face.
“Cut the inflatable into strips. The rest of you grab those logs. We’re leaving here.”
Curious, I gazed at DiMarco, wondering what the hell he was up to. Surely he wasn’t going to build a raft?
Shere
“Well, that’s surprising,” I said as I watched Anders’ team putting together a raft.
“Are they thinking of paddling across?” Runner, my aide, asked.
“Fuck knows, but they’re not giving up.”
“Sir, they are well over the time allotted for this exercise,” Runner pointed out.
“Yeah, we should send in the rescue chopper, but I want to see what they do. We’ll keep monitoring them for now. And Parsons needs to be arrested. Rape is never allowed, and he was certainly trying to rape her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ve had men and women come back broken and bloody. But nobody ever resorted to rape. Some might have been striped to show vulnerability, but never rape. And we won’t stand for it. He’s heading for a court-marshal. Foster fought him off well, and where did she get the idea for that bra wire weapon?” I wondered.
“Several women in base wear them now. I heard Foster showed them how to make them and also now not to stab themselves with them too.”
“Those teens and their brains amaze me.”
“They’re still teens,” Runner pointed out.
“And? That means we can mould them how we want. That’s all a teen means. Each of them is nineteen now. Legally, they are adults,” I responded, rankled. How dare Runner question me?
I’d deal with him later. I was interested as two team members built a raft with branches and broken trees. Two had axes and were cutting down more. Foster rested, clearly hurt but conscious. Meanwhile, DiMarco was removing the inflatable engine carefully. I finally began to see his plan and was looking forward to seeing if it worked.
Teens; their minds were so creative, and even as jaded as I was, this team excited me.
Chapter Two.
Anders - 2012
Ihated this fuckin’ place. Sand for fuckin’ miles and then mountains. The scenery never changed, and I was as bored with it now as I was the first week after seeing it. We were returning from patrol, there’d been rumours of insurgents nearby, but we’d found nothing.
Denning sat quietly in the back, her eyes scanning the horizon, much like DiMarco beside her. Rogers and Foster whispered between themselves, and I experienced a kick of envy and happiness. Foster, after having been attacked by a couple of drunk grunts whose asses she’d kicked, had approached Rogers to take her virginity. Maelstrom, sitting next to me, had been put out. He’d a well-deserved reputation as a ladies’ man. But Foster said she didn’t want a man whore who wouldn’t cherish the gift she offered him.
I thought it’d been harsh, especially when I saw the expression in my best friend’s eyes. Hurt had shone briefly in there, and it made me question how Maelstrom felt about Foster. But, surprisingly, Foster and Rogers had formed arelationship. Nobody commented, but it was obvious they were together.
Maelstrom kept his eyes peeled for any sign of an ambush. The man no longer resembled the teen who I’d joined up with. We were in our twelfth year of serving and trying to decide whether to join up for a fourth term.
