rivera

Flashbacks

"Ok, stop here." says Sgt. Brooks, and as soon as the humvee engine turns off, he exits the vehicle to examine the other side of the bridge we're supposed to be blocking off.

"Hey, Leo." whispers your friend Joe.

"Yea?"

"So what do you think of the name?"

"Eh?"

"You know, 'Lauren', the Feminst Man Hating Bitch from Hell."

You smile as you watch Brooks look from one end of the road to another.

"Yea, sounds fine, heh."

"I'm telling you man, this humvee is a piece of shit just like that Lauren chick. All those Lauren chicks. Yours was a bitch too right?"

"Hah! She was never 'mine', and well... lets just say she wasn't a very nice person."

Joe laughs. "I'm telling you man, no girl named Lauren is any good. I've had two that were straight psychos. Thats why this humvee should be named Lauren!"

You chuckle silently to yourself as you recall all the humvee problems you guys have had. First off, its a rusty relic of the past thats not up armored in the least. The back seat actually has holes where you can see the road beneath. The Bitch also likes to take her time starting Her engine. You had to jimmy-rig the windshiled wiper fluid hose so that it sprays water onto the engine block to cool Her down enough to start. And you guys already had one incident where you were sitting on a screenline, watching the open desert, waiting for Johhny-Muj to show up. When one finally did, you guys couldn't chase him down because 'Lauren' decided not to start. And of course, She has no air conditioning either, so she's hot as fuck too. She truly is one Hot Ass Psycho Bitch from Hell. She's Lauren.

You continue smiling as Brooks walks back to the vehicle.

"Rivera, get on the hook. Let Alpha know we're going to need more constantina wire. Crazy Joe, get out here and help me get the wire off the hood."

"Roger that Sergeant."

You pick up the hand set, hold down the button, and call for Whiskey One One Alpha. They're the lead victor in your four vehicle section.

"One Alpha, One Alpha, One Bravo."

And after a few long seconds, "This is One Alpha, send your traffic."

"Roger, One Bravo Actual is requesting more constantina wire. Theres a four road intersetion on BOTH sides of the bridge."

You depress the talk to button and wait for their response.

"Roger, stand by."

Figures.

"Rivera," calls out Sgt. Brooks as he and Joe begin unspooling the giant metal slinky that is your roll of constantina wire, "what did Alpha say?"

"They told us to stand by Sergeant."

He looks back down the bridge and sighs. "Tell them we're going to need an Arabic sign too. And make sure you stop all traffic coming down these roads. Especially the ones here on our side of the bridge."

"Roger!"

Since you're the vehicle's gunner, manning the 240-G in the turret, its up to you to ensure no vehicles get too close. You're part of a Mobile Assault Platoon, and today, your team's mission is to ensure no one crosses the bridge in front of you. Its not even a very big bridge. Just a couple hundred meters overpassing a man made canal. The problem is that there's dirt roads leading to the bridge on both the far side and your side, as well as the main hardball roads leading to the bridge. Thats a lot of danger area to cover with one vehicle. The rest of your section is a few clicks in the other direction, clearing out some chemical factory. You have to admit, you were a little butt hurt when you found out you'd just be doing rear security instead of participating in the clearing. But oh well, no time to think about that. Theres already a car coming down the road, approaching the far side of the bridge.

You unfurl the bright orange flag you keep up in the turret with you and begin waving the car down. Just then, the radio clicks on. Perfect fucking timing. Now all you have to do is get on the hook while flagging this car down, being prepared to fire a flare at it if it doesn't stop, then shooting it with the machine gun if it still doesn't stop. No big deal.

"One Bravo, One Bravo, One Alpha."

You struggle to reach down and grab the hand set while still flagging the oncoming vehicle. Is it stopping yet?

"One Bravo, One Bravo, One Alpha."

Jesus, "I'm fuckin coming, goddammit." Finally, your fingers find the hand set and you lift it to your head.

"This is Bravo, go."

"Roger, tell your Actual he's going t...pfffttttt..... pfffttttt..."

Fuck. At least the car in front of you stopped. And thats another thing. You have to make sure it stops at least three hundred meters away. If it doesn't, you risk getting blown up by a potential VBIED - Vehicle Born Improvised Explosive Device. Just your average suicide car bomb. You eyeball the pyro kept up in the turret along with your two foot flag. Red pop-ups which you'd be firing directly at any approaching veihlce that inches too close. Its the last warning they'd get.

"One Alpha, One Alpha, One Bravo. Say again your last. Did not copy."

You look down to where Joe and Sgt. Brooks are still prepping the constantina wire, spreading it across the main intersection on your side of the bridge. Still nothing coming back over the radio.

"Alpha, Alpha, Bravo. Say again your last."

Then, only after a few more elongated seconds, "Bravo, Bravo, Charlie."

"Roger Charlie, this is Bravo."

"Roger, we're relaying for Alpha. You guys are going to have to make do with the wire you have. How copy?"

You sigh. "Thats a solid copy. We're also requesting one of the Arabic Signs signaling to stop."

"Roger. Break Break, Alpha, Alpha, Charlie. Did you copy Bravo's last?"

"Pfffftttt... Pffffffttttt."

This is ridiculous.

"Roger. Break Break, Bravo, this is Charlie, thats a negative on the sign."

You look back down the roads leading to the bridge. Another car is approaching from the right flank, on your side of the canal. Something tells you its going to be a busy day.

"Roger, Bravo copies all. Bravo out." You drop the hand set and begin waving the other vehicle down.

The vehicle stops a few hundred meters away and you look back across the bridge to make sure the other vehicle isn't getting froggy. You notice a little traffic jam starting. A few dozen cars and trucks already piling up.

"Sgt. Brooks!" you call out. "Thats a negative on the wire and signs!"

He and Joe finish setting up the wire and make their way back to you.

As he approaches, Sgt. Brooks asks "so they're not sending us the wire or the signs? Thats frigging ridiculous! Delta has all that stuff! They're the ones who're supposed to be doing rear security, not us. UGGH, mother..." He sighs again and looks down at the traffic now piling up on both sides of the canal. "Well, I guess this is Higher's idea of winning the 'Hearts and Minds' of the Iraqi people. Block off their traffic and make them wait in the heat for hours and hours."

You and Joe smile at his sarcasm.

"So we're staying here all day Sergeant?" asks Joe.

"Yea," he responds, "Until they get done clearing their stupid chemical plant or whatever the heck it is."

The truck is silent for a few minutes as we all stare down the roads, seeing more and more vehicles stop at the jam. Civilians begin pouring out of their cars, gathering around to discuss what the hell's going on with their bridge.

"Crazy Joe," Sgt. Brooks says, interrupting the silence.

"Yes Sergeant?"

"You want to get in the gun and relieve Rivera up there? Its going to be a long day."

"Oh, hell yes Sergeant!"

You smile at Joe's enthusiasm. Since he was made the driver of your vehicle, you get the impression he's been a little pissed off about it. He's joked often enough about having joined the Grunts to be a Grunt, but now he's just a PoG (Personel other than Grunt, pronounced: Pogue.) The way he sees it, he has the worst of both worlds. He's a Pog who has to put up with the bullshit a Grunt has to put up with, while not enjoying the glory the Grunt earns over the Pog. Its an alpha male testosterone thing.

"Fuck yeah," says Joe, "hopefully one of these Hajees will do something stupid so I can actually do something instead of drive around!"

You laugh. Joe's actually a pretty good driver. Sgt. Brooks started calling him Crazy Joe because of his crazy driving through the rough desert terrain. That and because he gets our last names confused. Something about too many R's. Heh.

"Ok, Crazy Joe hold down the fort. Rivera, come with me, we need to check out the canal bank."

"Roger."

From your vehicle's position, you can't see the canal bank. Its fifty or so meters away and the incline onto the main road from the bank is too steep. The problem with that is that old man Muj can stop his car down the road with the rest of the stopped Hajees, dismount, then creep his way to your position through the canal bank, catch you unawares, and ultimately blast you away with his AK.

As you crest the enbankment and make your way down towards the water, "It seems so peaceful down here." Sgt. Brooks says, lost in whatever thoughts haunt his mind, .

You scan the area. It truly is peaceful. The water streams by soundlessly, almost seems inviting,as if it were ready to take you away from the madness that is this so called War. The wind ruffles the tall stalks of grass growing from the canal bank. The sun is shinning down her warmth, and there isn't a cloud in the sky. If you weren't carrying your M-16 with seven full mags of ammo attached to the heavy bullet proof flak vest you're wearing, you'd think you were in heaven.

"This is going to be a problem, Sergeant."

He simply stands there, staring down the bank.

"Yea," he finally says.

You stare down the opposite way, willing to give him whatever seconds of peace he needs.

After a few more moments, you break the silence again with "Well, we're either going to have to post one of us down here for security, or just do a few random patrols every hour just to check the bank."

"I'm not posting any of us down here," he says at last, breaking out of his revelie. "A few patrols down here every hour is what I was thinking."

"Roger that, Sergeant."

With that, you begin making your way up the bank, back to the dirt road. From there, you can see a rather large crowd forming on your side of the canal, further down the road where all the cars are jammed up.

"Is one of them waving a white flag?"

"I can't tell, Sergeant." So you raise your rifle to your shoulder and stare through the ACOG scope to get a better look.

"Yes, Sergeant. Looks like one of those Hajees is waving a white flag." But then he immediately drops it. "Well, he was waving it, Sergeant. Maybe he didn't like me pointing my rifle at him." You chuckle.

"He can dislike it all he wants. Lets head back to the humvee."

As you approach the vehicle, Joe yells out "I think they're starting to get froggy across the bridge, Sergeant! The vehicles in the front are starting to inch more and more forward! And there's this one bongo truck that drove past all the other vehicles just to get to the front."

This time, Brooks and I both raise our rifles to stare down our scopes. Joe was right, the vehicles across the bridge look like they're trying to creep forward.

"Not good." Brooks lets out with a sigh. "If we have to shoot them, we're going to have hell to pay for not giving them enough warning. Even with the pyro, we really do need those darn signs."

Last year, when your unit was deployed in Iraq, a squad of Marines killed almost thirty unarmed civilians. The Haditha Massacre, or so it was called. You remember your parents asking you about it... Now, every time a shot is fired that ends in a fatality, theres a large scale investigation to ensure no wrong was commited. Before deploying this time, you were given class upon endless class on all the Standard Rules of Engagement. And you still vividly remember the ass chewing your Liuetenant gave you for 'killing' an unarmed civilian in that one computer simulator.

"What about that ammo can of tracers we have, Sergeant?" You exclaim out as soon as the thought hits you. "Might as well put them to use. Joe can fire his pyro flares if they start coming forward, and you and I can load some tracers to the top of our mags to also shoot off in front of their vehicles. That should give them enough warning to stop."

He nods his head. "Roger, thats what we'll do. Crazy Joe, make sure they don't get any closer. Rivera, dig out that ammo can from the back and pass out a few of those clips."

A tracer is just like a regular ball point round. The difference is that it has an orange tip to distinguish it from the other rounds, and as its flying down range, it looks like a red laser beaming across the sky. One of those Pog ammo techs told you that our tracers were all red, but the enemy's were all green. Kind of like in Star Wars. Somehow, you think he might have been lieing. Regardless, you pass out the tracers and load six onto the top of your mags, switching out the other ball point rounds.

"How're you doing up there Crazy Joe?"

"Doing good Sergeant!"

"Roger, so now all we have to do is wait."

You sit back in Joe's driver seat and stare down across the bridge. More and more cars and trucks are pulling up every minute. A crowd is also forming on that side of the canal too. Definately not a good situation. Not that you wouldn't be able to hold them off. You have over a thousand 240 rounds in the back, plus three TOW missiles, and all the M-16 ammo you could need.

"Is it me Sergeant, or does this seam pointless?" you ask.

"I don't know..." he says, "If it were up to me, we'd pull our blocking position 500 meters back and at least let them use the bridge. Looks like we're blocking off a major traffic artery here. But its not up to me, so here we sit. Besides, it looks good on paper if we 'Hold the Bridge', or at least it looks good for Higher."

You nod.. "Hearts and minds," you find yourself whispering back.

"Sergeant Brooks!" Joe yells from the turret, "Theres a crowd of Hajees headed this way from the right! One of them is waving a white flag!"

Sergeant Brooks lets out yet another sigh. "Well Rivera, put some of that Arabic of yours to use and see if you can yell at them to stop. Crazy Joe, keep waving your own flag at them. Hopefully they'll get the idea."

You exit the humvee and rack a brand new shiny tracer into the chamber.

"OGAF!" you scream at the top of your lungs as you walk out in front of the dirt road, staring down at the oncoming crowd. "OGAF TARA ARMEE!" You scream again, this time raising you rifle up with the muzzle pointed at the crowd. Strangely enough, it feels like you've done this before. "Heh, deva vu," you find yourself whispering.

"LEO!" screams out Joe, "they're coming from across the bridge!!"

Instantly, you turn back to the bridge and see a row of cars begin to make the turn toward the bridge, just a few hundred meters away.

"Fuck!" again whispering to yourself as you disengage the safety and aim your rifle at the new threat.

"Crazy Joe! Fire off a flare!" You hear Sgt. Brooks yell out.

And not even a second afterwards, a red flare shoots off over your head, across the sky, towards the oncoming traffic. You take a low knee and fire off your own tracer, aiming it a few feet in front of the lead vehicle. Your own laser mixing in with surrounding ambiance of disaray. That red tracer ricochets off the deck in front of the lead car and you decide to fire another one, just to really make your point clear. You see it directly hit the hood of the engine.

It works. The rows of moving vehicles have stopped again. Immediately, you turn to face the right, where the crowd of civilians was approaching from your side of the canal. The crowd is still there, but they aren't moving. And the man that was waving the white flag isn't waving it anymore.

Suddenly, you realize you're exposed in the middle of the road. This is ot where you want to be. Keeping your rifle aimed at them, you yell out "IBQA IB MAKANAK!" Stay where you are.

Slowly, the crowd disipates and disolves into the mix of vehicles. When the crowd finally dissolves, you can still see a lone figure staring down back at you through your scope.

"Try something," you whisper into the wind, hoping that it will carry your message to that one defiant figure. But after a time, he too disapears back into the mass of vehicular chaos. You click the safety back on.

"Well that was lame," you say as you make your way back to the humvee.

"Yup," replies Joe from the turret, "Let them try it again and i'll be putting this gun of yours to use, Leo."

You smile. "Go ahead Joe. I prefer the sleekness of my M-16 anway." You begin to say something referencing a blaster versus a light saber, but you don't want to sound like that dumbass ammo Pog.

"Hopefully, they won't try anything again." Says Brooks, "but if they do, fire off a TOW missile at the lead victor, Crazy Joe."

"OH Hell yea! Roger that Sergeant!"

Along with the 240-G machine gun thats mounted atop your humvee, theres a TOW missile system with one TOW missle loaded into it. It was designed to be used against tanks and armored vehicles, but there aren't many of those being used by the Muj.

"Crazy Joe..."

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Pass me down your bino's. Are they pulling a body out of that first car?"

Your senses are immediately heightened. Did you just kill someone? Fuck. Joe hands Brooks the binoculars and you sit, waiting in the drivers seat, feeling the adrenaline rush through your veins. You didn't mean to kill anyone... shit. Killing some asshole Muj who in turn is tryin to kill you is one thing, killing some dumbass fucking hajee who just wanted to cross the road is something else entirely. You're not a murderer...

"No worries," says Sgt Brooks, "looks like you blew out one of their tires Rivera. They're pulling out a spare from the back."

This time its your turn to let out a sigh. You hear Joe laugh out loud.

"Nice shooting Rivera."

"Heh." You don't mention that you weren't aiming at the tires. Instead, you stare off into the distance, trying to maintain the sanity thats slowly slipping away. Just keep your cool. No one's died yet.

"THEY'RE COMING AGAIN!" Joe yells out.

You snap back into it and dismount, ready to open fire again. But the cars across the bridge aren't moving. You look back to the vehicles massed to the right and see that the man with the white flag is back. This time he's carrying a baby with him while walking towards you waving his flag.

"Shit," is all you can muster to say "shall I yell at him to stop again, Sergeant?"

"Crap...." is his own response. "No."

The figure contiues his approach, still waving his makeshift flag.

"Crazy Joe, make sure no one else moves. Rivera, hope that arabic of yours is good enough to carry a conversation. Lets go."

"Hearts and minds..." you whisper again to yourself as you begin walking towards the Hajee with the white flag. Keep your cool, you tell yourself. And don't forget your Arabic...

"Stay out of Crazy Joe's line of fire. Just in case something happens."

"Yeah...."

"Ok, this is close enough. Tell him to stop."

Raising your right hand you voice out "Ogaf."

The man stops, twenty feet away, still carrying his flag in one hand, and a baby girl in the other. You stare back down at the direction he came from, hoping no one tries anything stupid while you're out here exposed.

"Marhaba." You say to the man, its 'hello' in arabic. Part of you wanted to say Salam-aleikum, but not everyone here is a jesus freak... err... Alah... whatever.

"Marhaba," he replies but then he begins talking at a pace too fast for you to comprehend.

"What did he just say?" Sgt. Brooks asks.

You stare blankly at the hajee, then to Brooks. "Sergeant, I have no idea." You both just stand there with the biggest dumbfounded look you can have.

"Madaftehim." You say again to the man. I don't understand. "Achee arabee moo zien. Raja an tachee ala kayfak." My arabic isn't very good. Please speak slowly.

He nods and begins again. You can tell he's speaking more slowly, as if to a child, but you still can't make out what he's trying to say.

"What now?" Sgt. Brooks asks again.

"Well Sergeant, I think he's trying to say that his baby is sick and that he's just trying to get to Saqlawea for the hospital there."

"Crap. Just what we need. Can you ask him if he can turn around and find another way?"

"Well... I can try Sergeant."

"Do it."

You sigh. "La jeser. Indar sayara for Saqlawea?" You hope Brooks didn't pick up the fact that you used the english word 'for'. You've only taken about three weeks of Arabic language class. You may know more than the rest of the dumbass jarheads that never paid attention, but definately not enough for this. Basically, what you just told the man was 'No Bridge. Turn car around for Saqlawea.'

The man seems to understand. He looks back the way he came, then back at you and frowns, while speaking again.

"Thats a definate 'No', Sergeant. I think he's trying to say that this is the only way across."

"Dangit.... I find that hard to believe." This time, its him who stares back at the way we came, towards Joe still in his turret with the 240 aimed across the bridge.

"Rivera, tell him we'll let one car pass, but just one."

"Roger. Na am, akhooya. Wahid sayara," you say to the man while pointing back towards the bridge. "Wahid sayara tara armee, wu lazim enfatish bil sayartak."

"Na am, na am." The man replies whle bowing and making his way back toward his car.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him we'd let one car through but that we'd have to inspect it before he passes."

"Good thinking. Ok, lets head back and let Crazy Joe know not to fire a missile at the man's car."

You find yourself smiling again, "Heh, roger that Sergeant."

Once you finish inspecting the man's vehicle, you can't help but feel like you actually accomplished something.

"Almost makes me feel good Sergeant."

"What does?"

"Talking to that man. Its like I finally got to do some good."

Sgt. Brooks smiles back at you, then points back to the crowd at the end of the dirt road.

"Well what about all those people now waving those ghetto white flags at us? You want to go help them too?"

You stare back down the road. It seems like every Hajee and his mother are waving white flags at you, hoping that you'd let them pass. In response, you take a few steps towards them, point your rifle in their direction, and scream "LAH, DEER BALAK!"

Waiting a few moments for them to realize what you mean, Sgt Brooks finally asks, "What the heck did you tell them?"

Smiling, you say "I think it means 'I don't care.' "

"Hah! They actually teach you that in class?"

"Heh, something like that, Sergeant."

"Heh, well alright then."

After that, you make your way back to 'Lauren', and then you realize, you no longer wish to have gone and cleared that chemical plant. For whatever reason, you're actually feeling good.

"Hey Leo, you want to get back in the gun?" asks Joe from the turret.

You look around at the dirt roads, the bridge, the cars and crowds waiting to cross, the people still waving their white flags, and towards the heavens where the first glimpse of a setting sun can be seen.

"Naw Joe, I'm good where I am."

Pretty good indeed, you tell yourself.