Charging Into the Fray

Alone

Julian watched as the QRF departed without him, he kept firing at the enemy combatants, biding time to think of a plan. His thoughts were cut short when he took a round to his right hand.

He took cover behind the trees, the Corpsman loaded his last grenade into his M203, and fired at an incoming squad. Jace kept running, trying to follow the sounds of the departing helicopters. Unfortunately, he couldn't get their attention; all Jace could do was limp in the same general direction. He reloaded his rifle as he hurried away from the incoming extremist troops.

However, the Taliban and Al-Qaeda forces were on his six. He came across another ridge, this one leading to a waterfall.

Jace had no other choice, he jumped off the edge, diving into the water. The SEAL felt the bullets zip through the water. They were firing security rounds to ensure his death.

Once the shots ceased Julian swam to the shoreline, hiding under the tree line. He tried to pull himself out of the water, but his arms began to fail him. His head hit the dirt as darkness overtook his vision.

When Julian came to the first thing that came to mind was the pain searing through his entire body. He had bruised and possibly fractured ribs, and lacerations on his arms and legs. To top it all off his head was killing him and he could barely feel or move his left arm.

Jace tried to use his radio and attempted to get it to transmit or receive, but it was of no use. He checked his primary and secondary weapons, both were in working condition. He was down to his last two and a half magazines for his M4 and he still had five magazines for his nine-millimeter, including the one loaded in.

It was dark, Julian set up a small fire and rested against a tree.

His resting period was cut short by the sound of voices and footsteps, Jace put out the flame and his behind the tree trunk. He saw six fighting-age males on horses.

Jace felt vertigo and nausea overtake him and he lost his balance. Between the head trauma, blood loss, and lack of food Julian was in no condition to stand.

The leader of the new group approached the injured sailor, saying the same phrase over and over. Jace knew enough Pashto to understand him.

"We are not Taliban."

Their stand-off was interrupted by another set of voices, the group went quiet. The newcomers were oblivious to them so far. Jace could make out a dozen different voices, he knew what they were saying.

"Find the American, dead or alive."

The man in front of Jace offered his hand, pleading with him to accept their help. Julian had heard of the code of honor amongst the locals.

The Pashtunwali the belief in extending help and hospitality towards everyone the follower encounters.

Julian was left with little to no choice, he accepted the man's hand. The others helped load Jace onto a horse. After a forty-minute ride, they reached a small village, guarded by armed men and young boys.

A Northern Alliance encampment; the platoon had been made aware of one in the area. Command had considered allowing them to join an assault force to overtake the Taliban village before the mission was selected and given the go-ahead.

The man who brought Julian in, Dagar Qalat, took the sailor to the hut at the center of the encampment. There he saw General Darab Rathore, leader of the Northern Alliance operations in the area. Rathore answered directly to General Dostum.

"I have sent a message to American forces in the region," said the older man. "It will take days to reach them, possibly half as long for them to arrive."

"M-my command," Jace said trying to stand straight. "I need to contact them, my radio—"

"Such methods of communication do not work here," answered the General. "The mountains interfere too much."

Rathore ordered Dagar to take Jace to the medical tent, where the sailor had his left shoulder popped back in place and his wounds treated. Once his ribcage was wrapped, Jace retrieved his gear from the corner.

The General stopped by, checking in.

"You are new to warfare, but your eyes say that you have been a soldier your entire life," said Rathore.

"I survived an assassination attempt when I was young," answered Jace, too tired to bother deflecting. "My mother and sister were killed."

"You've trained since then?"

"Yes."

"Your father taught you," observed the General.

"He taught me before the Navy did."

"I lost my wife and two children to the Taliban," said the General. "Outsiders, doctors, were left for dead by them. They slaughter everyone because they allowed women to receive education."

Jace went silent, his father had a rule against saying 'sorry' he neither didn't cover the entirety of any given situation nor meant anything. Anyone could say the word, it took effort to mean it.

Dagar, who had been treating Jace, joined in.

"The Taliban killed my mother for teaching girls in the village to read," said Jace's savior. "She is my reason for fighting."

"My mother was killed because she was going to identify and help convict a murderer," said Jace, bowing his head. "My sister and I were with her when she was killed, my mother and my sister died almost immediately while I struggled to breathe."

Jace continued revealing his truth. "My father was serving as a Marine in Kuwait at the time, I nearly lost him too."

The three men stood there, taking each other in.

"Our losses revealed horrible truths," said Dagar. "But our perseverance showed us to a life of protecting others, stopping the animals who seek to bring death."

Later they ate together, halal meats were served. Appreciation for good cuts of meat was another thing the three had in common. Their meal was interrupted by gunfire roaring through the air.

Jace grabbed his weapons, and Dagar and the General grabbed their AKMs, charging into battle.

They were under fire from all sides, with Taliban and Al-Qaeda closing in.

Jace used his last M67 to take out an enemy technical, he finally used up his last magazine for his rifle. Julian used his Sig Sauer P226 to provide cover for Dagar as he reloaded his AKM.

A Taliban combatant tackled the Navy SEAL to the wall, and Jace pinned him to the ground, shooting him in the chest.

Finally, Jace saw the greatest sight he could imagine, a fleet of Sikorsky HH-60 Pave Hawks. Troops ran into action once the helicopters landed, the extremists retreating.

Julian saw his platoon and a team of Pararescuemen coming his way.

"Been looking all over for ya, newbie," greeted Ross.

"Hell of a party, Jay," said Reese.

Jace bid farewell to his new comrades, taking a seat in one of the aircraft.