Retaliation: Cormac

What do you do when everything goes to shit? Real sudden like. There was this old guy, must have been pushing 40, in a team I trained with who used to say "When in danger or in doubt, run in circles scream and shout." Said it was an age old revelation to the fighting man or some such crap. Tell the truth I can imagine this probably appeals to most normal soldiers. You did that with my group though, we'd probably just shoot you.

On the other hand, I met a submariner once who said their corps motto was "He who hides and runs away, lives to fight another day." Kind of depressing attitude if you ask me.

So imagine yourself, wandering through a small jungle. One of your gloved hands, everything is fucking poisonous in the jungle, is free in case some beastie decides to jump at your face. The other is carrying a very comforting machete just in case you run across a mosquito. I kid you not, if one of those things was to take a chunk out of you, and I do mean chunk, its time for a transfusion. You really don't want a transfusion special forces style either. So there you are watching carefully for anything that could be dangerous to you, which is everything, and listening for out of place sounds so that you don't accidentally wander into the middle of an enemy encampment. Suddenly you hear the unforgettable sound of a man trying to scream with holes in his chest. How much use do you think those pat phrases are then? Exactly.

In a situation like this standing orders are to sit tight and wait for one of several signals that the boys have won their little fire fight. Not an easy thing to do when you know that they've been surprised, hell I'm the scout and I didn't see shit, and at least one of them is feeling quite poorly. I don't want them to shoot me by accident though, so that is exactly what I do. The sounds die down damned fast but no signal. So I wait, and I wait, and I wait. My eyes and ears are straining for any kind of threat, something to do other than continue with this game. A quick check of my watch later and I'm disgusted to find that its only been a minute since I hid. Several eternities and 10 minutes later, I still haven't heard shit and I'm going out of my mind with paranoia.

I can't break radio silence or the bad guys will know they have missed one of us, assuming they don't know already. Wandering back to where the fight was will get me ambushed, assuming the lads split up and the enemy are waiting for them to regroup, or worse are waiting for the scout to return.

You have to understand of course that the boys set out 10 minutes after I did and were following the same approximate path. Well direction anyway. We aren't stupid enough to follow a hostile trail. I'm being careful though and it takes me two hours to get back to the scene of the fire fight. It's a bit difficult to work out exactly how many are dead because I can't identify all the corpses from my viewpoint. I'd put a weeks wages on it being pretty much everyone though. Fuck!

There are some shredded trees and leaves and shit over to my left where the bad guys must have been firing from. But no evidence of dead or even hurt bad guys. At a rough guess I would say that there are two likely scenarios. The locals, either by chance or through prior knowledge, came across our boys path at this point. Otherwise they had staked it out as the most likely route and waited till our main contingent came through. One of these scenarios means that they are out there playing 'hunt the scout'.

I know, I know. My friends are rapidly cooling all of 10 meters from me and all I can think about is my own skin. That's life though, grieve when you can, but in the meantime saying number two applies.

I move outside the perimeter of probable ambushers and do a large circle around the site. Eventually I find what I'm looking for, the path our 'friends' have left. With no better ideas wandering around that space where my mind should be I decide to parallel their path and see where it takes me.

The locals have taken a reasonably obvious track. This indicates that they are very confident they got everyone, or I'm getting set up. I set out attempting to will myself into being part of the forest. I try to relax myself into a ready but not full on mode, it doesn't work though. The sound of somebody screaming with holes in his chest is echoing around my head.

There is an anger somewhere inside of me. Deep down inside, it's trying to escape. My second family have all died and there is a part of my psyche that really, really wants to go nuts. Now is not the time though.

There are 3 days of traveling before I arrive at the village of my enemies. Sleeping in that time is interesting. I end up climbing trees and praying real hard that I won't roll over or piss off a snake or something. I guess it worked though as I haven't woken up dead.

So here I am, lying on a bluff overlooking the village. I've actually been here a few days, watching the camp and trying to work out a way of completing my initial mission. Impossible of course. This place is a fucking fortress, in fortified village terms anyway. If the team was here I might have just managed it, but not now. It's time for plan 'B' which involves a very large explosive device dropped from a passing plane. As I'm setting up the comms equipment to order in the strike I hear a jeep. Considering there hasn't been any traffic since I arrived I'm surprised and move back to the vantage point. What I see makes my blood run cold. If it isn't the fucking head of this hell-holes fucking military. He's supposed to be on our side, hell he even acted as our primary contact for this mission. Demonstrating his governments approval of our retribution. Now here he is cozying up to the so called rebels. Looks like our ambassador, his wife, and their kids were murdered and raped etc., by the powers that be.

I slither back to the comms equipment and compose a message to my command. It explains that their ally's right-hand man is having tea with the murderers then I turn the guidance thingy on. My mission complete I leave as fast as I can. Half an hour later I hear the thump-whoosh of either napalm or a fuel-air bomb.

The story doesn't really end there of course. I mean this isn't the movies, I've just caused the destruction of a village of people. One of them a VIP. I'm not in the greatest position in the world. There is probably at least one patrol out here somewhere and they'll pick up on my tracks soon after getting back to the area that used to be their village. Think they'll sit around to mourn? Me neither. Anyway, on general principle if a mission has gone this wrong it isn't going to magically get better just because you succeeded. Damn but life sucks some times. So here I am walking along feeling sorry for myself and trying to get a good bit of distance from the ravenous hordes when I disturb a flock of birds. Oh for fucks sake. Bloody things can't even just fly away they have to squawk and stuff as well. On the bright side at least they don't attack me, but I've still got everyone in the areas attention. With them gone the jungle suddenly gets quiet, very quiet. I move down the path a bit further, then break off and double back. Lying down with a good view of the path I settle in to wait. Sure enough about half an hour later a group of 6 locals with assault rifles arrive. They look around for a bit then ghost off down the path. I give them a reasonable head start then cross the track and take off trying to get a bit of distance on them.

The next few days blur into a constant stream of imperatives. Put the left foot in front, now the right, watch out for that snake/bug/thorny plant. That sort of thing. I'm sure those bastards are behind me, I mean it isn't as if they have homes to go to. So I grab sleep in 10 minute increments and keep heading as directly towards the base as possible. There are a few members of Tir support who have orders to stay at the base for a minimum of 3 weeks after we head out. This is regardless of reports on our well being, in case we pretend to be dead. See, I'm not the only paranoid. I actually make it back and standing on the edge of the forest looking over at the base a profound sense of relief hits me. Then I hear a noise in the trees behind me, I'm not an idiot and I don't look back. Of course I am tired, dehydrated, my feet have been destroyed by the constant moving and I'm half starved. To be honest though, a combination of panic and hallucinations are what distract me from the need for approach procedures. I just run like demons from hell are on my tail. As I'm sprinting, or as close to it as I can get, I hear noises and look up in front of me directly into a bright light. Partially blinded I'm still not going to stop, then everything gets hazy, and blurry and my legs are really really heavy. But I think I'm still running. Then, nothing....

I come slowly awake. My head is pounding and my mouth is bone dry but the first thought is to wonder where I am. I try to keep the same breathing pattern I had when awaking and listen carefully. I can hear people talking softly and some distant traffic sounds which is comforting for the lack of sound proofing. I carefully open my eyes to slits and see a room looking suspiciously like a hospital room. Sitting by the room's door is a Tir soldier holding a very nasty looking gun. Feeling a touch better I open my eyes and attempt to sit up. By the time I've fought off the nausea that accompanies the movement there's a doctor by my side. He seems to be yammering on about how lucky I am. I continue ignoring him and watch the guard for some kind of indication of my status. He's standing over there talking into a radio. He talks for a while then my attention is returned to the doctor who wants me to move my arms in various ways and is being generally annoying.

About five minutes later a couple of officers enter the room. Surprisingly, I actually recognise one of them. Marc a 30ish former lieutenant in one of my units is accompanying a Major of some kind. Marc looks over at me but doesn't acknowledge any personal relationship between the two of us, he's all business. The pair of them wait patiently for the doc' to finish up then shoo him from the room. They utilise a whole pile of surveillance countermeasures before saying a word.

"Ok. That's as secure as we can make it," Marc states "before we start, how are you feeling physically Cormac?" I start to reply but the dryness of my throat stops the words forming. All that issues is a pathetic croak. The Major, aware of this possibility has a glass of water that he passes me. I drink it slowly allowing my body to adjust to fluids and try again.

"Good thank you sir," it's true. Someone has put a lot of effort into healing me up magically and although I still feel like I've gone through a wringer there is no actual injury, even the rash is gone.

"Excellent, perhaps you'd like to tell us exactly what happened." So that's what I do. For the next couple of hours I recount the mission in as exacting detail as I can managed. When I'm finished they take me back over some points to clarify them. The process exonerates our temporary specialist and lets me describe with obvious satisfaction the discovery and death of our local contact.

"So what now? I ask when they run out of questions.
"Now," says the Major, speaking for the first time "you hop on the first flight back to Dublin for some R&R."
"Yeah, but what about the big boss, something like this must have is approval."
"None of your concern I'm afraid." The Major says, his words crisp, clear and carrying the weight of someone who is always obeyed. I sink back into my bed thinking quickly.
"Fair enough. If you're going to put me on a normal transport though can ye wait a few days. My wounds are still kinda painful and I don't want to face a 12 hour flight."
Marc smiles and replies before the Major can say anything. "Of course Cormac. We'll arrange for you to fly back next week."
The Major scowls, he obviously wants me out of the way, but can't undermine the local rep's authority. I sink back into the bed, passing easily as having been exhausted by the conversation, mainly because I was.

The next two days fly by, but I'm feeling much better. Then the evening of the third I sneak out of bed and having stolen some clothes, am out of the base in a flash using a handy convoy.

Once I've ditched the others I wander around for a while and manage to snag a street kid. He gives me directions to the palace in return for the custard I saved from my desert. I arrive in front of an impressive edifice that proves not everyone in this country is poor. After about 10 minutes of surveillance I am grinning happily to myself. This place has the security of a sweaty sock. The could better protect it by putting a sign on the front gate that reads "We aren't here, bugger off." ... Ok, perhaps I'm exaggerating but still, between invisibility and levitation spells I'm inside in under 10 minutes. Then it's time to improvise. I start stealing things and setting traps, I figure with it being 3am people probably aren't going to trip them before I'm ready.

A stroke of luck has me stumble across a box of grenades which I prop in doors and attach to trip wires. I also find some mines, why would you keep mines in the presidential palace? Those go under carpets and chairs, not very subtle but I'm on a clock here. Then it's upstairs with the nifty 18th Century cutlass that I borrowed from a weird drawing room sort of place.

I make my way from room to room, no idea what the dictator looks like so I kill everyone. Men, women, children, all of them. I know the children aren't at fault but I saw a tape of what happened to the ambassadors kids and I'm being gentle by comparison. Still not right, but fuck it. Once the sleeping people are done I trap the stairs and set several fires.

Before anyone notices anything awry I'm out the window and off home. Of course sneaking out of the compound was easy, sneaking in is bloody difficult. I'm caught and end up being psychiatrically evaluated, removed from active list and shipped back to Dublin for treatment.

It's only when I get back that I find out the fecker wasn't home.