Blood Lily Company - Afghanistan, year 1

LX

So. Something happened that night and to make sure everything is clear, I waited until I had as much information as possible before putting it all down on paper. The day before, Erk had scared the living daylights out of Tito with his tale of an Icelandic dish. Tonight...

I'll try not to get too lost along the way and tell everything in chronological order.

So, after the Icelandic recipe, which must have killed Tito's appetite as he pushed his food around on his plate, not eating it, after a nap and preparing equipment for our patrol, and after Tito's laundry chore, we went to bed quite early. The nap hadn't been enough to make up for the fatigue of the night.

At around 3 am, Kris woke up with a start, put on pants, shook his brother awake, telling him we were under attack and got out before the Viking was fully operational. He was barefoot, armed with two knives. He had forgotten his Behemoth. It's very rare we do, especially from the brothers, who are true warriors.

At the exact time Kris touched his brother's shoulder, about twenty men armed with Kalashnikovs AK-2N85, a more recent model than the AK-47, set foot on the promontory from the east, having climbed the cliff to surprise us.

As he spoke of the attack, one of our sentries was killed, throat slit by the attackers.

As he walked through the door of their bedroom, running towards the Ops room to trigger the alarm, a second sentry was killed but, having heard a suspicious noise, had had time to say "Int..." on the radio, for Intrusion, just before choking on his own blood, throat slit as well.

Alpha leapt into the night.

Phone, on radio duty, immediately pressed the red button. Yeah, a big fat red button that triggers the alarm siren. A wail fit to wake the dead.

Upon hearing the siren, Kris changed destination, running toward the barbican, then, in front of a stunned and deafened sentry, jumped over the sandbags disappearing into the night, following the dog.

Upon hearing the siren, we all woke up, jumped/fell off our beds, in tee-shirts and boxer shorts, eyes wide with amazement and surprise, hearts pounding, adrenaline rushing through our veins, exchanging distraught or incredulous looks with our roommates.

Then our training took over and we slipped our bare feet into our boots, cinched our Behemoth holsters on, stuck earpieces and throat mics on and rushed out of our rooms with our helmets on our heads, putting on our bulletproof vests, all of that with a background noise of gunshots.

In front of the armory, in the same outfit as us, tee-shirts and boxer shorts and boots, Lin, Erk and Fatso were handing us our EMA 7s, Erk checking our vests, helmets and earpieces. He was tense and apologized for his somewhat abrupt movements. Kris was conspicuous by his absence.

Lin was giving instructions over the general channel, and I will always remember this one.
- Be careful, there's one of us outside, in addition to the sentries.
- Kris? Mac asked.
- Yes.

As soon as a platoon of six was formed, an NCO took the lead and headed for the sporadic fire coming from the shooting range. While waiting for my turn, I tried to sort through my thoughts.

Until now, the base was... protected. A secret refuge, a place to lick our wounds in peace. A haven where a six-year old girl could live in safety in this country at war.

That night we learned that it had all been illusion.

Kitty, when she woke up, had the right instinct to gear up, like all of us. Then she met her sister's gaze. Cassandra, who we thought had recovered from her time at Kaymani Center, was paralyzed with fear. And when Kitty, thinking the girl would be safer in their room, started to leave, Cassandra screamed and threw herself in her arms.