Caspian Hope – Written By Stephen Fahey. Part 59
Climbing back down I sent Grubber up to Longshot and had L2 arrange a two-man detail to take the foot patrol and another five-man detail to take their camp. Tony, Grubber and I would give supporting fire from Tony’s location on the peak and the four remaining men would back-up the two assault details. Once the patrol was taken everyone was to converge on the camp. No shots were to be fired if it could be helped and once it was secured Tony, Grubber and myself were to be waved down.
In a matter of seconds we were lined up. L2 was to lead the camp detail and I assigned Tyk to take out the foot patrol. I had ordered no blood to be spilled on the enemies’ clothing, but that doesn’t always go as planned. I would have to work with whatever was left over once the assaults had been conducted. With thirteen souls to guard, including my own, I was prepared to spill all the blood necessary to get us home.
“Once Longshot gives the signal you’re to move out.”
Taking him by the shoulder and walking a step or two aside I explained, “Kill them all if you have to, but only if it’s absolutely necessary. Understood?”
“Wait for Tony’s signal, I’m heading up.”
And up I went. As I approached the peak Longshot’s hand went out and I glanced down at L2 & Co. who were staring up waiting for the signal. With a flick of his wrist Tony sent the men on their way and then came back to a rested position behind Eleanor. All was ready.
“Where are they?”
Grubber pointed and my eyes followed. The four man patrol was turning around the corner of a dune that shielded them from the view of their camp. None of them were looking behind them and they were retracing their own steps. I knew Tyk would seal them up in no time. They wouldn’t see it coming, and with their guns slack on their straps he would get the drop on them.
“Here they come, Sir.”
Below us Tyk and Pretty Boy ran at a crouch, their footsteps muffled by the sand, the foot patrol oblivious to their presence. Meanwhile, L2 and the rest of the men moved towards the large dune in a similar crouched run.
“I’ll watch L2. Grubber, count the yards for Tyk and Pretty Boy.”
L2 slowed his men as they reached the dune. At fifty odd yards in circumference and twenty tall they were able to get right up to the corner of the dune, as it were, before halting and waiting for Tyk and Pretty Boy to come their way.
Through my binoculars I could see L2 second in line behind Donkey, staring south at Tyk and Pretty Boy as they disappeared out of sight.
Now, I had never seen a kick like the one Tyk gave that patrolman, and I have to say, it impressed the hell out of me. At ten yards he stood full-mast and ran flat out, his rifle in hand. At five yards he leaped off of his right foot with his left foot out in front of him. Mid-flight he raised his right knee and just a yard before he made contact with the patrolman’s back he shifted his weight to his right side. Wedging his knee between the patrolman’s shoulder blades with all of his momentum and bodyweight in one he crumpled him. He went down harder and faster than anyone I’d ever seen. As a soldier, it was fucking beautiful to watch. As a human being, it was awful to see.
As the first patrolman ate a mouthful of sand Pretty Boy drove the butt of his rifle into the back of a second patrolman’s head, knocking him clean out too. The two remaining men turned around and were faced with Tyk and Pretty Boy’s barrels. It was all over in two seconds. As Pretty Boy trained his Springfield on the patrolmen Tyk gagged and bound them. Then they turned and made their way back around the corner and into to L2’s line of sight.
I could see the other men tense up as Tyk and Pretty Boy came running toward them. And as soon as they arrived L2 raised his hand in the air to signal to his men that they were about to move, then lowered his hand and slapped Donkey on the back; who in turn stood and lead them all around the corner. The next two minutes were too long. Once they were all out of sight Tony, Grubber and I were left to wait. There was nothing we could do but watch the corner and hope one of our lads came back around it.
With baited breath we watch. A minute passed and nothing. No sound. No sighting. Then another minute. Then, finally, Sid stepped around the corner and waved us down. We each sighed a deep sigh of relief.
“You stay put, Longshot. I’m heading down. Grubber, you’re on me.”
To be continued…
© Stephen Fahey