Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Escaping the Dead) (8 page)

“Water,”
the man pleaded. 

Robert
yelled the request back at the men and the young soldier tossed him a small
bottle of water.  Robert opened the container and helped the man sip.

“Why
did you run at our gate?”  Robert asked.  “Why didn’t you stop?”

“We
didn’t run
at
your gate, we ran
to
your gate.  We ran from them,”
answered the dying man.

“Ran?
Ran from whom?” Robert asked. 

The
man gave Robert an exhausted and sad look.  He raised his hand, pointing over
and behind the men standing at the back of the truck, “From death,” he said.

Robert
strained to look into the distance.  It was difficult to see from the
darkness of the covered truck and out into the hot bright sunlight.  Far
off in the distance, through the waves of heat on the pavement, he could make
out a large group of people headed in their direction.  Robert looked back
down at the man and saw that he had passed.

“Well
shit, here it comes,” Grumbled the Lieutenant looking in the same
direction.  “Right on time; that would be the villagers from town coming
to protest the dead civilians from last night.  I’m sure this truck full
of bodies isn’t going to help things.”

“L.T.,
the man in the truck said they were running away from that group, maybe it’s
more of what just happened inside.  I don’t think they are protestors,” said
Robert.

“Well
nice story, but he can’t help us now.  Let’s get back to the barrier and
get ready to meet our guests,” the Lieutenant argued.

Robert
and Bolder turned, closed the tailgate, buttoned down the canvas cover on the
truck, and then headed back to the camps gate and barriers.

“I
have a bad feeling about this Bolder,” Robert mumbled.

“I
know, just stay sharp bro. I got your back,” Bolder said.

They
moved behind the barrier and took up a position just inside the open
gate.  Robert saw the mob moving closer.   Yeah they were
definitely pissed off, they were even running!  Robert had seen protests
at Bremmel before, but usually they were pretty well orchestrated.  This
one appeared to be spontaneous, with no leader, and they were coming fast.

An
Afghan soldier moved to the barrier and started yelling through a bullhorn,
commanding the mob to stop approaching the base and to keep their
distance.  Several more Afghan soldiers dragged a heavy roll of coiled
wire across the road blocking the entrance to the barriers.  But they kept
coming.  They passed a sign far out on the road that warned that violators
would be shot if they approached the base.  The mob continued to
run. 

The
lieutenant ordered warning shots, and the machine gunner fired quickly over the
crowd, but they didn’t slow, didn’t even flinch.  “Gas!” the lieutenant
shouted.  The soldiers on the barrier fired tear gas canisters into the
charging mob, but the mob didn’t respond.  The CS Grenades bounced off
some of the protestors knocking them to the ground, but they got back up and
continued running. “Shotguns up!” the lieutenant yelled; panic growing in his
voice.  The Afghan soldiers raised shot guns and readied themselves for
the mob.

The
first wave hit the wire with a screeching roar, but that was quickly outdone by
the sounds of the screaming crowd.  Protestors were tangled and pushed
deeper and deeper into the wire by those behind them.  Eventually they
collapsed and were pressed to the ground covering the jagged strands of barbed
wire.  Screaming protestors from the back began to climb up and over the
fallen, and resumed their charge at the base. 

“Open
fire!” the lieutenant screamed frantically as he stepped backwards.  The
first volley of shotgun rounds dropped a few of the charging protestors, but
most of them made it to the barricades.  The Afghan soldiers were firing
as quickly as they could with little effect.  They racked and fired into
the crowd, quickly reloading as they expended every round.  The rioters
continued screaming and breaching the barriers, the shotguns having no effect.

Robert
quickly noticed why.  They were firing crowd dispersal rounds and rubber
bullets that bounced off the crowd or only temporarily slowed them.  The
lieutenant was expecting protestors not a feral crowd of rioters. The mob
started to push over the barriers.  As the barricades tumbled, the mass of
people flooded towards the gates.  “Weapons free! Fire!” the now fully
panicked lieutenant screamed.

Robert
saw several of the Afghan soldiers drop their guns and turn to run; others just
stood paralyzed by fear as the protestors breeched the barriers and swarmed
them.  The M2 machine gun on the tower opened up into the crowd, knocking
them down, but his angle was wrong.  They were too close to the gates now, too
close for him to stop them all.  The rounds carved a path through the mob,
but others continued to pour in and quickly filled the void as the gunner
reloaded. 

 
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