Irregulaire

The House

The Major’s compound was set up around his own home, surrounded by other houses except on the southeast flank. There’s only a wall out there, separating land owned by farmers and the compound. To the front of the house, that is to the east, there’s a house with a caved-in roof. Looks like a close call on them. Mortars, I think. 

There were a few waypoints around the compound, being in a housing complex, which mostly leads to the northwest gates. However, there is this one heading north right in front of the Major’s house, with an intersection that goes westwards and another heading southeast. These waypoints were closely guarded, with entrance to the Compound from the northwest guarded with Marine personnel, as well as the exit, to the far west. 

There were low fences around the house, made out of cement, the kind you see on old rural houses. The house itself would be the designated inner compound, inside the fence, with the main objectives being there, namely the listening post. Before we came in, these parts were being guarded by a platoon of Marine Recon and several extra Marines. 

After we equipped ourselves with the tools provided, The Major briefed us on where he wanted to put us. He said our post would be along these low fences. Buck’s team would be facing the Wall, mine facing a mortared house in the middle, and Red facing the waypoint towards the north. But in the meantime, we stayed well inside that fence. 

“Damn, Mick. We were cities apart, yet here we are now, defending some people only you know,” Ryan said to me while I watched the sky turn dark. 

“I didn’t ask to be put here, man,”

“Do you happen to have a cigarette?” he asked 

“I thought you don’t smoke,” 

“I do now. Also, I think Buck would need some,” 

I flicked the flap of my pocket to get the cigarettes out. It’s called Republic, kind of the most common local cigarette brand. No smoker would decline an offer of one, unless they are quitting—or quite picky, like Red. I also got a lighter out. A generic lighter, nothing unusual. “Do you need a light?” 

“I think so,” taking one of the cigs and putting it in his mouth. Leaning in to get a flame, he continued “I’m taking these to Buck then. Thanks,” 

I nodded. My finger fidgeted with my rifle’s safety. I wanted to smoke, too, but not now. I felt like something’s missing; something I hadn’t done. But seeing that I can’t remember what it was, it’s probably not important.

That afternoon, the guys were having quite a good time. Good food, good laughs, all the things that had not been there in weeks. They even made some new friends. And maybe, just maybe, they had a good sleep that night. After all, they did need some sleep. We’re not freeloaders though, we tried to offer some guard shifts, sometimes waking up at night and just wandering around, smoking. There it is again, the sound of distant battle. We were given a place to sleep, of course, in a tent towards the north. They gave us a tarp to sleep on, and this one stretcher bed for Red. At that moment, watching my guys sleep seems… calming. 

Having taken a little sleep, I woke up just as the Sun showed up. From the porch, it looked like the Sun had blessed us with its warmth. Reminds me of that 60’s song, The House of the Rising Sun. Well, this house would be a ruin for many poor boys, I’ll tell you that. 

I proceeded to walk around when I saw Red leaned against a wall, smoking a Lucky Strike. 

“How’s your sleep?” I nudged her arm. 

“Anxious,” she answered with a little giggle. She had a bit of a cowlick that looked like she was trying to wash it off, “but better than these few weeks back. I feel like there’s one thing less to worry about, but I don’t know what that is. How’s yours?” 

“I couldn’t sleep. Too excited, I think. Heart pounding, blood flows faster to the brain, you know. Had to smoke before I can go back in,” 

“Don’t cigarettes make your heart beat even faster?” 

“It made my head lighter, though. Easier to fall asleep with,” 

“Makes sense,” she said, tidying up her reddish brown hair with a comb she brought from home. 

----

We didn’t really have that much contact with the Marines. Only a handful of them know us, like Sergeant Major Harris Wilkins, Sergeant Peter Soko, and Lieutenant Tom Larkwell. Sergeant Major Wilkins was the newly appointed Major’s staff, and he’d be handling us while the Major’s gone. Lt. Larkwell would be in charge of the defense of the house, and Sgt. Soko would be our squad’s link to the other squads. He then proceeded to get us around and introduced us to other Marines in the platoon. 

“They’re our replacement. Irregulars, just as the DoD approved,” Soko explained to his fellow Marines. “They had basic training with the Marines, so don’t worry,” he added. I couldn’t remember, for the life of me, the names of every single person we were introduced to—aside from a few Sergeants like Sergeant Warren, Staff Sergeant Anfield, and Sergeant Boende. 

“Now if you would please follow me,” said Soko. “We’ll have a bit of a crash course on first aid with Staff Sergeant Metford,” he said, leading us.

“Staff Sergeant Metford?” I frowned.

“Grace,” Soko turned to me, “she’s our medic.” Wow. Roger that, I guess. 

------ 

The sky turned orange as the Sun set. As dusk followed, it turned into a reddish color—beautiful, but quite scary. Gives me the anxiety I haven’t had in months. This is going to be big, I thought to myself. I wondered what everyone else had actually felt at that moment, though I’m pretty sure they felt the same, even when it’s only in the back of their mind.

I then saw Red directing her team on the far edge of the wall. In this defensive scenario, there is no difference between my team’s job and Red’s. When I looked closely, she seemed high-spirited yet relaxed, giving me a little bit more confidence among all this anxiety.

“I knew you had something for that girl,” Grace said, startling me a bit. She stood behind me all this time and I didn’t notice. 

“Red? No, I was just… what are you doing in that gear?” trying to change the topic. She was wearing a Navy uniform with a red cross band on her left arm.

“I’m… the medic, remember?” 

“I… yeah, of course,” it turned silent for a while. “You don’t carry weapons?”

 “Not really, no. I’m a field medic, not a combat element. I got this pistol, though I do feel like I’m gonna need a rifle,”

“But definitely not as long as this,” we chuckled as I showed her my M16. We then continued to enjoy the skies. 

“Mike?” she called, with a very lovely tone. It’s been a while since I heard her voice call me Mike. 

“Yes, Grace?” I answered 

“Ease up on it,” she rested her palm on my shoulder, “Don’t force yourself,” she added, “I don’t want you to take this personally. Don’t do it for me, do it for my dad,” 

“Let me tell you something,” holding that hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle double-tap. “This has nothing to do with you. Marines gave me the order. This house is the objective. Whoever it is inside, however, is my responsibility. Besides, it’s in the past,” 

She froze, with her eyes wide, and started looking down. 

“Just let me do my job. Okay?” I said, walking towards Kris’ position, but I paused and eventually went back to where I stood with her. “Look, I realize the risk of this job. I know you do, too. But at this point, I don’t even care anymore. That’s the only way I can function properly in here,” 

“You sure you’re not taking this job personally? I mean, I know you have feelings for me and all,” 

“I try to,” I looked at her, “and everyone here’s bugging me for it,” 

“I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be,” I looked away. 

“I’ll just… get back in,” She seemed worried, still. 

She then proceeded to go back inside the house. She really seemed upset, though, and I don’t blame her. I then continued checking out on Kris. He had his gun on its bipod—with it being deployed down, resting on the fence. On his post, there was this little green bush that bothers him as it restricts his movements. 

“I think you shouldn’t use the bipod when you lean it up against the fence. If you do that, the axis moves backwards and you can pan along shorter distance,” 

“You got a point there,” 

“Besides, having your bipod down and using it on the fence would increase your profile, making you an easier target,” I added 

“Roger that,” Kris said, folding his bipod. 

I reckoned I’d check on the heavy support guys too. Frank did what I told Kris before, resting it on the fence with the bipod staying folded. I figured we might need one of those pintle mounts, but then dismissed the idea after remembering that it would hinder Frank’s mobility. Karl stood by him with belts of ammunition hanging from his neck. No need to do that now, actually, but it looked like he’s just getting prepared, so it’s fine. The fence on Frank’s side is a little bit clearer from greeneries, making him and Karl more mobile. Buck is visibly standing behind those two, around two and a half meters away. He had his rifle slung upon his back, smoking a cigarette. He seemed to be a little more laid back than the others. 

But that was it. We are now in full condition, ready for anything. We know our guns, our gears, and our objectives. We stopped thinking about the risks, agreeing that it will hinder our performance. We agreed that this house must be protected at all costs. This House of the Rising Sun will not be a ruin for many poor boys, as long as we’re still standing; even though God and I know I’m one. 

The Marines are always ready, though—it is their only job detail anyways. That’s what they did before we came. Lt. Larkwell tried to organize the defense, and seeing our pattern, he sort of said that it is not enough if we are to guard the fence alone. We’re spread too thin, because the fence is around 40 meters long, curving with three sides, with us covering each side. We need extra men, he said, but only two; one to guard each point separating all sides. He then detached two men from his platoon to help us. Corporal Honé will be between Teams one and two, and Private First Class Stevens between two and three.