Highsider Ch. 03

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Tuck, roll, and hope for the best, helmets save face.
4.6k words
4.53
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Part 3 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 04/07/2016
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aka_Mike
aka_Mike
500 Followers

Author's Note: Third part of the latest series, most of it has been written out as was suggested by a few commentators. Mainly because I am still limited and can't ride for at least a few more weeks, but once I am free and clear you can bet your ass I will be on the road.

On a side note, yes earlier introduced characters will be returning, the mood and tone of the story is going to change with this series, if you want a huge hint as to how it will just take a look at the title, this should give you some reference as to how it will change and setup hopefully the next series. If you keep reading and commenting, I keep writing, its rather simple.

Like always, thank you for the comments, the reads and the votes, hope you enjoy this one.

Much love,

aka_Mike

...

The rest of the time was thankfully uneventful. Ann and I did a lot of fucking, I don't think a night came when I didn't fill her with cum and where we did not sleep clutching each other. But eventually my time back home would end and I would have to move on to my next duty station. I had known for a while that I wanted Ann to go with me, yeah call me whatever you like, but I did love this woman. When she packed her stuff, she did so knowing that she was taking a gamble, we were moving across the country without a plan other than she was slowly becoming a girlfriend. The day came and the long drive to Georgia saw us becoming closer and closer to one another, I was looking forward to the stability of a new adventure.

"So, are you going to be living with me or are you going to be stuck living in the barracks?" That was a fair question, like I said I am not a long term planner and this thought had honestly not crossed my mind.

"We'll figure something out," was all I could say, "I'm honestly not even sure if I'm walking into a deployment, or if I'll have time to get stabilized before it happens."

"You already know you will be deploying?"

"Well, we're going to a Ranger Bat, babe," I replied, "they deploy all the time. I would suspect that I'll be up for one as soon as possible if not when I get there." My words turned to be prophetic. When we got to Savannah, I was notified that I had two weeks to settle any issues before I was to be put on a plane and meet the rest of my platoon in beautiful Baghdad. Within that time, Ann and I decided that the smart thing to do was to get married so that she could be covered with my benefits, so that she could settle any issues in my absence, and so that there could be something stable waiting for me back home. By the time our wedding festivities were over, I was gone.

Baghdad was a strange experience, as a brand new Medic I was immediately assigned to a rifle squad which was tasked with clearing a large portion of the southern parts of the city. Soon, we were sent to Samarra, where we took part in the large offensive against Insurgent forces that had taken large parts of the land for themselves and posed a large and continuous threat to foreign nationals and security forces. Immediately after, back to Baghdad, and the bloodiest part of my first deployment. The first trip back home was celebrated by the spouses waiting for their husbands to return from the horrors of war, the airport was packed with supporters.

The second trip saw a little less people. The third even less. By the fourth, even Ann did not show up to greet us, these trips had become so common that they seemed like a natural event. Less and less marriages survived those trips, many of the friends I had made had ended up divorced, separated, and that shine in their eyes had dulled a little.

"It doesn't get easier, does it?" I asked Werkman, the first person I had met once I had fully integrated into the new unit. We had talked about Moyers and Kitchen, I learned quite a lot about my instructors, somehow learning about them made them look less ominous and more human-like.

"No," he replied, "but it becomes more normal. That's just the same I guess, we really can't hope for more during these times. It's a mad world, D." Everyone had taken to calling me by just one letter instead of a name, at least everyone in my unit or other uniformed services.

"What are you going to do until we get called up again?"

"Drink, I guess," he replied, "my wife went back home to her mom's after our second deployment. I might go visit her, but it feels like there is nothing to talk about."

"Yeah," I picked up my duffle bag and started making my way to the waiting bus, "I am running out of things to talk about as well. It's hard to make them understand, you know?"

"They weren't there," he replied as he followed me, "even with your fancy words, I am sure you would find it hard to paint that picture for them. At least we don't have such a shitty job as the sir does, having to send all those letters back home. That's gotta wear down on your soul after as long as he's been doing it."

"There's a lot of empty seats now," I said, truly there were. Once upon a time, this very bus would be crowded, filled with laughs and boastful screams. Now, all that remained was empty seats to remind us of those faces that would not make it back, and the piercing silence made the short trip back to base seem like an eternity.

"You watch yourself, brother," Werkman said as we started the climb down and headed to our vehicles, "not everyone stayed over there." The suicide rate was high among people like us, the system was not set up to deal with so many men and women returning with unseen scars.

"You too," I replied, "I'm just a phone call away." As we went our own ways, I couldn't help but experience that fear all military members have in those fleeting moments when we return home after being away for so long. Its always the same, would we be returning to an empty home? A cheating spouse with a new live in lover? I had forgiven Ann a long time ago, but that fear was always gnawing at the back of my mind. The abundant stories of others experiencing that very situation did not make it easier to ignore, few even in our unit suffered that and did not deal with it well. But as I pulled into my driveway, my heart skipping a beat brought me back to reality; there she was, waiting for me just like she had done every time I have been away. I knew we would argue, I knew we would fight about the constant deployments, but that would be tomorrow. For today, we would just enjoy our love.

...

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"I want you to realize that I didn't marry you for a pension, a paycheck, or for benefits," Ann said as she tried to wrap herself even more around my body. We were laying in bed after a great session where once again she tried to kill me with sex. But unlike the other times we had this talk, this time she did not try to hide the tears. "The way you are living your life, I don't think you'll see 30."

"I can't just leave, it is a contract, and I still have two years left in this one."

"And then what? Re-enlist again? Go officer? What are you going to do then? What are we going to do?" I reached out and held her close, trying to kiss away her tears as she tried to protest. Soon, our lips met, and even as she tried to hit my chest with her fists, our tongues wrestled with one another. "I hate you."

"Then, leave." She grabbed me even tighter, "no one is keeping you here by force." She climbed on top of me, pinning me against the bed while she continued to kiss me. She guided my cock into her already burning entrance and slowly lowered herself into me. She continued her riding, ever increasing the speed of her thrusts as her orgasm neared.

"You can be a real asshole sometimes," she said as she continued her maddening pace. "I really, really hate yoooou..." her last word interrupted by the waves of cum I was depositing into her. Stream after stream filled her, and the arch of her back and the pressure of her vaginal walls squeezing every drop out of me. Once she regained her breath, she continued "I don't think I can do another one. You leaving, I don't think I can take it."

"What do you mean?" My heart beginning to break as she spoke those words, "you want to leave?"

"No," she said, holding my face, "I don't want you to go. Every time you come back, you're always missing a piece of you. And one day, I think that the man that returns will no longer be the one that I fell in love with."

"Get some sleep," I said as I grabbed some clothes, "I need a drink. When the next one comes down the line, I'll get you a plane ticket to go back home." As she softly sobbed into her pillow, I headed to the backyard and lit a cigarette, wondering if we had made a terrible decision by getting married. Wondering if we would survive.

The weeks came and went, and as we all suspected orders had come down for another deployment, and as we had discussed, Ann received a plane ticket to go home with my parents while I was gone. Our last night together was bitter-sweet, we talked, she cried while I packed my uniforms, then I drove her to the airport.

"Please, come back to me" was all she said as she boarded.

"Have a safe trip," was all I replied.

...

Fallujah. What a blood bath. I can't remember how many patients came through my area, but I did use up all my supplies and resupplies several times over. By the end of the long firefight, not a single dry eye was in the house, some cried for their fallen comrades, others cried because of the adrenaline simply coming to a stop. I wish I could tell you that I thought about my wife waiting back home, that some part of me realized that her fears were becoming a possibility, or that somehow this latest brush with death solidified my decision as to stay in the service or get out. But all of that would be a lie. I just thought about the man I was working on, patch a wound, tourniquet a blast injury, stabilize and move on to the next. Yes, it sounds very calloused, but there simply was no time for me to get attached. In fact, what made me so successful was that ability to look at my patients as faceless and nameless individuals. Except once.

After a few weeks in theatre my squad was charged with going around the neighboring towns in an effort to rebuild and maintain ties with the locals. This was an effort to help reach out in order to gather soft intelligence, and because of my status as a medical professional, to provide with medical care that would otherwise be inaccessible to these people. Because of the culture, it was extremely difficult for me, a male, to properly interview and treat any of the female villagers over a certain age. However, there was a little girl in that particular village who I had taken a special liking to, she was an adorable little girl who always followed us around asking for candy which she would share with her younger siblings. Needless to say, we often gave her whatever candy and other small things we in the country take for granted, but to them made a life changing difference.

We visited this particular town three times without any conflicts, the townsfolk always embraced us with open arms, and the elder would always invite us for tea. We believed that this was a good step to secure in order to maintain those ties, until one day when things just fell apart. On our fourth visit, the little face that we all had gotten used to seeing every time we walked into the village was missing. The villagers were acting much more differently that in any previous occasion, and even the elder seemed a little apprehensive to allow us into his home. As our translator worked feverishly to try to reestablish those lines of communication, a few members of my squad and myself decided to make a few visits to the homes of several villagers we had come to grow fond of; one of those was the little girl. As we walked toward her house, we discovered the reason why this young child had not greeted us.

"Malik!" My squad leader began screaming as we immediately took security positions around the rubble where their home used to stand. "Malik, get your ass out here, double time!"

"What the hell is going on out here!" Our platoon sergeant asked before the sight silenced him completely. "Who the fuck did that?"

"Malik," the squad leader continued, "you translate what I am about to tell you, word for word. If you need to explain the feeling behind the words, you go on ahead and do so. You tell him, tell them all as loud as you can: 'this family was innocent. You give me one guilty, or I will give you 100 innocents, you have two hours,' do you understand what I am saying Malik?"

As Malik looked at our platoon sergeant, the platoon sergeant just said, "what the hell are you waiting on? Translate." Malik did, and as he finished his speech, with practiced precision we started going home by home, searching fanatically, and pulling the male figures from each home. Home after home, we searched, we turned over furniture, we cleared acceptable weapons caches, this was a tactic to cause fear and confusion in the town and hopefully give us acceptable results.

"My friends," Malik began, "this is unacceptable. This is not right, these people have done nothing, they are innocents trying to survive from fear."

"Well, Malik," I replied as I took a seat outside the elder's home, "they still have half an hour before they are 100 innocent short. If I were you, I would suggest that they hurry and give us the guilty." I heard an all familiar sound at that moment then continued, "you hear that, Malik? American air support. You know what that means, you should explain it to them." This was a very thin veiled threat; I effectively told him that we would bomb their village if we did not get our anticipated results. Again, he translated as was his job, panic and terror are universal.

"Doc," Malik approached me just after a few minutes after our latest exchange, "you are calm headed. Please, I beg you, speak with me for a moment." While his words were clearly an attempt to get us to change our tactics, his demeanor indicated more than that, this was renewed panic in his face, revealed only through his eyes.

"What is it, Malik?" I reached for my sidearm, this was again more a showing of power than an actual threat to Malik, and I think he understood what I was trying to do. This was a dangerous culture, and he had to maintain face with his people regardless of the help he was already giving us. Every day he worked with us, his own family was put at risk. My squad leader saw us, and immediately reading the situation, he approached us, weapon at the ready as if he found that Malik could become a threat at any given second.

"What's going on, Doc?"

"Malik has something to tell us in confidence," I replied, reaching for my ever present pack of cigarettes. "So, tell us."

"There is a man that wants to speak," Malik began, "there are many but they are afraid. There is Jihadists in this town, and once you leave they will again strike. They are the ones that took what they call justice on the family, because they accepted American medicine and American kindness."

"Which one?" My squad leader did not break eye contact with Malik as he spoke, "don't look, just tell me which one it is." When Malik identified the man, he continued, "I'm sorry for what is about to happen, Malik." With that, he used the side of his weapon to strike Malik in his upper back, but to the distant crowd it would have looked like a solid strike to the back of the head. I stood to help Malik back on his feet before pushing him to walk towards the crowd.

"Translate, Malik!" I said as I looked at the platoon sergeant, hoping that he understood that the situation was completely under control. "It's time, I guess we will begin interviewing each innocent until we find ourselves a proper guilty one." I pushed Malik hard, causing him to fall down, "speak, you! Now!" He did.

"You!" The squad leader grabbed a random man, you come with me. Sarge?" As he looked at out platoon sergeant, they both began to move toward the elder's house as I continued to push Malik.

"You can make sure that their death struggle is honorable," I said as I continued to push Malik and guided him to the Elder's house. Once there, I grabbed Malik and shook his hand, "I am sorry, my friend. It had to happen this way."

"I understand," Malik replied, "but this is not the man."

"I know," the squad leader replied, " but this is what will give them fear. Tell this man to start his prayers, Malik." As he finished his statement, he loudly pulled the charging handle of his M4 so that the man could hear. As Malik finished speaking and the man began, the platoon sergeant put a gag on the man's mouth and the squad leader fired a shot into the ground. We quickly secured the prisoner, putting a blind over his head and securing his hands behind his back, then moved him inside the elder's home.

"What are you doing?" Malik said.

"We just executed a prisoner, Malik," I replied, "or at least that is what they will think." We moved toward the crowd and grabbed a second man, repeated the process as with the first one. The third man was the one Malik had identified, and after securing him as we had done the previous ones, Malik spoke to him. Within minutes, we had identified all the Jihadists and their respective domiciles. After two more prisoners, one of which was the first identified Jihadist, we began to clear homes once again, this time however, we were fully aware which homes needed extra inspections.

"We are doing it like this in case there are other Jihadists in the crowd, Malik," I said before he could ask his question. I could see he was confused by our actions, "if one of them reports back, he will report that one of his fellow warriors was the one that gave them all away."

"I understand, my friend," he said, "it is a very dangerous game you play."

"It's far better than the alternative," I replied, "if we arrest innocents, more will flock to their lines. This way, they have what we call 'plausible deniability,' and if they are punished unjustly, they will turn to us for help and identify even more of the bad guys." Three hours later, we had uncovered a small IED factory, a large weapons cache, and large amounts of money.

"Are there anymore that you know?" Our platoon sergeant confirmed with our informant that all known Jihadists were our custody before we released all the innocent men we had taken. The mood of the townsfolk greatly increased once they realized that we had not taken innocent lives, and the elder approached us with relief.

We left the village, knowing we could not go back for the foreseeable future for their own safety. Each of us, according to our own customs, paid respects to the little girl that had made us feel a little more human in this hellish place filled with death and despair. Each of us mourned in our own way. The men we had taken into custody provided us with a great amount of intelligence, and based on that we were able to mount several successful raids on previously unknown targets and training grounds.

"Hey, D," Werkman said, "platoon daddy wants you to take a few days in the clinic."

"I don't like clinic work," I replied as I continued repacking one of my three aidbags, in each of them I had all the equipment that I would need to hopefully face any outcome and eventuality.

"Yeah, about that," he said as he stopped me, "it really wasn't a request. How much time have you spent in the FOB during this rotation?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly, "a few hours maybe."

"D, we have been here for two months," he replied, concern in his voice for the first time, "even the line guys are starting to get concerned about the time you spend outside the wire."

"Am I slipping?"

"No," he replied, "but you need some time to think. Process. Recharge as much as you can in this place, have you even called your wife?"

aka_Mike
aka_Mike
500 Followers
12