The Prodigy paradox

CHAPTER 6

Popping the quick releases on his rucksack, he shouldered his rifle and crawled to a nearby rock that would give him some cover, while still allowing him to fire safely past Doc and Mother. He settled the crosshairs of his 4x32 Trijicon ACOG® on the spot where the ANA PSD were popping out of cover behind a boulder the size of a delivery van to take pot shots at his teammates. David steadied his breathing.

Bang.

The report of his rifle was barely discernible to his ringing ears, but the spray of pink mist from behind the rock face was all the confirmation that he needed. His single shot had done its job.

"Doc, Mother and I got this. Get your ass down the trail and check on the rest. Tongue-punch and Pappy ain't moving, and I didn't get eyes on the captain before I decided to bail your asses out." He could barely hear himself, but the soreness in his throat told him that he was screaming his voice to hoarseness to get Doc's attention.

Doc ducked down behind the rock he was using for cover, and yelled something back to David.

"I can't hear shit Doc. Just get moving and do what you can."

Doc called out in the direction of Mother, who nodded his head emphatically and pointed back towards the rest of the team. Nodding in agreement, Doc shouted something to Mother then sprinted from cover to cover back up the trail towards the fallen members of the team while Mother lay down suppressing fire for his move. As soon as Doc cleared his position David added his own contribution to the suppression.

Once his first mag was empty, David reloaded from his vest while he scanned his field of fire for targets, but apparently no more of the PSD were willing to risk his and Mother's fire at the moment. Keeping his rifle shouldered, David moved from cover to cover, closing the distance to Mother's position. Stopping at the best cover he could find near his teammate, he dropped down and clenched his jaw a few times, trying to pop his ear-drums and clear the ringing.

"You with me Kenny?" David could barely hear Mother shouting to him.

"Yeah man, I'm back in the fight. Hearing is still a little fucked up. Kinda wished I had the boss's fancy ass Peltor™ ear pro right now. But, then again, it might make it easier to ignore what your sorry ass is nagging me about from now on."

"Fuck you and your bitching. Your narcoleptic ass was napping the day away while Doc and I were keeping these assholes from interrupting your beauty sleep," Mother said with relief in his voice. The harsh edge of worry crept into his tone with his next statement, "I couldn't get you, Captain Epps, Bragg, or England on comms after it went down. How are they?"

"I don't know Mother," David replied, shaking his head. "Tongue and Pappy are down, and I didn't see Hollywood on the trail before I came here. You know Doc will sort them out if he can, what's the story with these assholes?"

Mother grimaced in anger. "Captain Motherfucker and his PSD opened fire on us and your observers as soon as the donkey pulled a Wile E. Coyote. Your guys went down fast, but they gave us a second to get in cover and return fire. After that the PSD and the captain ducked back around that large boulder where the trail curves around, and started popping out and shooting. I got one earlier, and either you or Doc got a second one."

As Mother finished explaining the situation he turned and looked back up the trail, so David turned his head to see what had caught Mother's attention. Epps came sliding into cover beside him, carrying Pappy's Mk 48. "Pappy is down and in bad shape, but Doc is doing what he can. Sergeant First Class Bragg is dead," Epps announced with barely restrained rage in his voice. "Mother, keep a close eye on that rock. Put a round in anything that even looks like it might have hostile intent, Kenny and I are going to clear these fuckers out and find an LZ for medevac." After this announcement he turned to David and said, "You're on the clock Kenny, move out."

The bounding overwatch is one of the most basic tactics in the Army arsenal. It is so simple it could easily be compared to a child's game of leapfrog. But in its simplicity lay a symphony of precision, where all extraneous movement is discarded, leaving efficiency born of repeated practice. Had the PSD been brave enough to even try firing at either David or Epps moving forms, they would have had little more than a second or two to acquire them as targets before the American soldiers were back under cover. Meanwhile the target's two pissed off and lethally armed compatriots were set and prepared to return fire in an instant. Taking turns, Epps and David moved from cover to cover; kneeling, crouching, or lying prone behind any rock big enough to serve the purpose. They covered the nearly 100 meters from Mother's firing position to the bend in the trail defended by the PSD in less than two minutes.

Stopping at the last patch of cover big enough to deserve the name, David signaled to Epps that he was set. As Epps moved up to David's position, he knelt down and aimed at the near edge of the boulder, giving his subordinate final attack guidance. "Kenny, I'm going to move into position on the near side of the boulder. Once I'm set, I want you to move up to my position, prime your frag, and toss it over the boulder to those assholes. Give it a half second after it pops, then step out high around the boulder. I'll go low, and we hose anything that's still moving, or even looks like it might move. Got it?"

David nodded his head in confirmation.

Captain Epps stalked forward smoothly, establishing a kneeling firing position next to the large boulder, and signaled David to move up. David crouch walked up to his patrol leader, lowering his rifle to hang from its clip, and pulled his M67 fragmentation grenade from the pouch on his vest. He thought about the regulations against soldiers "cooking" grenades [the practice of pulling the pin and releasing the spoon for a set length of time before throwing it] and then compared the time it would take for him to throw it over the boulder, and have an Afghan pick it up and throw it back. Fuck regs. He pulled the pin and released the spoon, cocking his arm back and started counting . . . one . . . two . . . and he threw it over the boulder.

Boom!