WELCOME TO

  by

Major Dravecki smiled and said "Sarge, I don't know where the hell you got the idea these aren't combat troops.  That's the damnedest thing I've ever seen."

They stood in the open hatch and surveyed the battlefield.  "Man, oh man.  It looks like you destroyed the entire damned unit."

Thompson had a wide grin on his face.  "Sure as hell looks that way, doesn't it, Sir."  He keyed the radio.  "Is anyone missing or hurt?"  No answer.  "Anderson?"

"Sure, Sarge."

"Take some of the Special Forces and take charge of the new prisoners.  See if any of their trucks still run.  If they do, we can ease the crowding a little."

"Sure, Sarge."

 They radioed the trucks ahead to come back, then Thompson and Major Dravecky crawled from the Bradley with their weapons at the ready.  They didn't really need them.  What Iraqis that were left alive were more than happy to surrender.  When one of them spoke to Captain Najaf, the captain laughed and translated for them, "The man said we must be the army from hell!"

Major Dravecky viewed the destruction lining the way behind them, moved his head from side to side and said, "Army from Hell, indeed."

"What's that, Major?"

"Oh, nothing.  I was just thinking about you saying your men weren't trained for combat.  Looks to me like they're damned well trained."

Thompson answered with a big grin on his face.  "They're not really too bad, are they?  I guess they're learning."

Then he started counting Bradleys.  He could only count twenty.  "Shit!  We've got a couple Bradleys missing."  He jumped into the Bradley and flipped the radio back on.  "I want everyone to report in!"

Everyone but Feldon and Harris answered.  "Feldon!  Harris!  Can you hear me?"  The radio remained silent.  Once more he punched the mike.  "Jiggs, Chico, Gabe, go back and look for them."

Now, he heard from a stranger.  "What the hell's going on down there?"

Thompson shook his head at the question and laughed.  "Why partner, it's war, they tell me."

"What unit are you?"

"Well, I guess you could say we're the First Special Forces and Twenty-first Transportation Detachment, Combined Combat Force."

"What?"

"We're just some guys lost in the desert trying to fight our way home."

"This is air recon.  Do you need assistance?"

"Naw, we're doin' pretty well on our own.  But you can tell General Swarzkopf his Special Forces from up at Habbaniyah have been rescued without casualty."

"I copy that.  Will relay the message."

Major Dravecky laughed as Thompson spoke to the pilot, who was somewhere overhead.  He was used to a totally disciplined force, who would use proper military courtesy when speaking to someone like the pilot.  This group was any­thing but disciplined, but they were sure as hell some good soldiers.

Thompson waited for thirty minutes, standing in the hatch of the Bradley with the radio on before he heard from the people looking for Feldon and Harris.  Jiggs asked in a terribly sad voice, "You there, Sarge?"

"Yeah, did you find them?"

"Christ, Sarge, they're dead!"

"Where are you?"

"Hell, I don't know, Sarge.  Back a ways.  We..."

"Jiggs, you there?"

When Jiggs came back on the radio, he tried to talk, but he was crying too hard.

"Jiggs, we'll be there as fast as we can.  Pull yourself together."

"Aw man, Sarge!  Man, they're blown all ta hell, Sarge!  Oh, God!"

"Jiggs!  Get away from them!  Get ahold of yourself!  We'll be right there."

Thompson was stunned, and stood silently gazing out across the desert, as he tried to digest what Jiggs had said.  He really hadn't thought about the possibility of any of his men being killed.  He was in a state of shock when Major Dravecky pulled the mike from his hand and said, "This is Major Dravecky.  Where are you, Jiggs?"

"About five miles west of you.  Jesus, Major, they're blown up, man.  They're all mangled to hell!"

"Jiggs, you stay right there.  We'll be there in a few minutes.  Hang in there, soldier."

"But goddamn, Major, what the hell we gonna do with 'em?"  There was panic in his voice.

"Jiggs!  Listen to me!  Get the hell away from them!  Get a grip on yourself!  That's an order!"

"Yes, sir.  Are you coming?"

"Yes, Jiggs.  Hang in there, buddy.  I'm on my way."

Major Dravecky spoke to Lieutenant Noble, and several of his men climbed into a truck and drove to the west, along with half a dozen of the Iraqi soldiers and Anderson.  Anderson wasn't prepared for what they saw.  The left half of Harris' face was missing, along with his left arm.  Both his legs were gone from the knees down, and his stomach was torn open.  Feldon was just half a body.  The whole upper half of his torso, along with arms and head was gone.  Both of their Bradleys had taken direct hits and had been blown to pieces.

Anderson and two of Major Dravecky's men ran from the scene and vomited.  Then Anderson sat on the ground, his arms across his knees, his face resting on his arms, silent.  Major Dravecky got his men started on the gruesome task of putting the bodies in plastic bags, then walked over to Anderson and the other men.

"You guys okay?", he asked in a soft voice.

Anderson raised his head far enough to move it back and forth to say no.  Hell no, he wasn't okay!

"Look, Andy, why don't you guys go on back.  We'll take care of things here."

Gabe Ramirez asked, "My God, Major, what're we gonna do with 'em?"

"Don't worry about it, Gabe.  You go on back to join Sergeant Thompson.  We'll bring your buddies along."

"That damned Feldon was crazy as hell, but he was a good dude, Major.  It wasn't his fault he was all fucked up!  This shouldn't have happened to 'im, man!"

Anderson stood and said, "Okay, guys, let's go.  We gotta tell the others what happened."

They stood and followed him to the Bradleys and drove back toward Thompson's location.  Major Dravecky and his men returned with the bodies half an hour later.  Thompson walked to the truck and asked, "Are they really dead?"

"I'm afraid so, Sergeant Thompson.  Both their Bradleys took direct hits.  I'm really sorry.  You need to talk to Jiggs, Sergeant.  I think he's in shock.  He hasn't said a word."

"Yeah.  Thanks, Major."  He walked over to Jiggs and put his arm around his shoulders.  "C'mon, Jiggs.  Let's take a walk."  They walked away from the others out into the desert for a hundred yards without speaking.  When they stopped atop a small dune and sat down Thompson spoke. 

"Jiggs, I'm as sorry as anyone could be about Feldon and Harris.  We gotta get out of the country so we can at least get their bodies home, buddy.  To do that, we need every man.  You with me?"

Jiggs stirred the sand with the point of the knife it seemed all the men carried, but Thompson had known nothing about.  He wrote Feldon and Harris in letters that disappeared with the soft breeze as quickly as he wrote them.

"Yeah, Sarge.  I'm okay.  I just kinda went nuts when I saw 'em.  Christ, I wish I had a beer!"

"Yeah, me too.  We'll be gettin' outa here before long, Jiggs.  I promise you, when we get home you'll have all the beer you can handle.  C'mon, lets get back and get the hell outa this goddamned country."

Jiggs didn't answer, but got up and started walking slowly back toward the other men.  They rejoined the others and sat on the sand beside their Bradleys.  Major Dravecky joined them and asked, "You okay, Jiggs?"

"Yes, Sir.  I'm fine."

"I'm really sorry about your buddies."

"Thanks, Major."

Thompson said, "They had no business being here to begin with.  None of these guys are trained soldiers."

"I think you underestimate them, Sergeant.  Your men are all damned good soldiers."

"What do we do now?  We can't leave 'em here!"

"Sergeant, I know it's hard, but we'll have to bury them.  We can mark the place and their bodies can be retrieved later.  We have no idea how long it'll be until we get out of Iraq, so we can't take them with us."

Anderson said, "Sarge, me and some of the guys'll bury 'em.  We'll come back for 'em when we can.  They were my friends, Sarge.  I think I should bury them."

"I'll help you, Anderson.  They were my friends, too."

None of them realized just how badly they were suffering from shock at the loss of their comrades, but they buried the men next to a burned-out Iraqi tank that would be easy to find.  The twenty remaining members of The Twenty First Transportation Detachment stood for a long while without saying anything after they filled the shallow graves of their fallen comrades.  Finally, Thompson called them to attention and saluted the men they'd buried.  He had tears in his eyes as he said, "I promise you, we'll come back and take you home when we can.  I'm really sorry I got you killed, fellas."  Thompson could say no more for the lump in his throat.  He turned and walked quickly away.

Major Dravecky and his men stayed away as Thompson and his men said goodbye to their fallen comrades.  When Thompson joined him later, he seemed to be as back to normal as one could expect.

"Major, I think we should move a few miles and camp for the night."

"That's fine with me, Sergeant.  Lieutenant Noble's still over by the graves.  You want me to go get him?"

"No, I'll get 'im."

Thompson walked to where the lieutenant stood staring at the low mounds of sand.  He stood beside him for a moment before either of them said anything.  Finally, Lieutenant Noble said quietly, "They're really dead, aren't they?"

Thompson had a hard time saying it himself.  "Yes, Lieutenant, they are."

"I never thought this would happen to us.  After we took out the men at the missile site, and then broke the Special Forces out without anyone even being wounded, I was sure we'd drive back to Saudi Arabia and be out of the war."  Then he said something that truly surprised Thompson.  "I wanta pay the bastards back for Feldon and Harris."

"Lieutenant, I doubt we get the chance.  We're going to head for the border and get the hell out of this war.  It's partly my fault.  I have to confess to you, I looked forward to meeting the enemy.  I've always been in the rear, and I wanted to experience the battle.  But shit, it ain't worth it.  People get killed - people you know.  We already paid them back well enough.  C'mon, Lieutenant.  We have to go."

Once more, Thompson ordered all the vehicles to be refueled immediately before they quit for the day.  He didn't want to get caught with half fueled vehicles if they were surprised during the night and had to run for it.  With the Bradleys spread out in a circle around their camp, Thompson grinned as he thought, "Circle the wagons."  Finally, they settled in for a well-deserved rest.  Thompson, Lieutenant Noble and Major Dravecky sat together talking about the war and the rumor that it was all but over. 

The major said, "I wonder if they've taken out the Republican Guard."

 "We were supposed to take these Bradleys to the First Cavalry Regiment.  They were way over on the border about a hundred, seventy-five miles from Kuwait and went into Iraq in a direction that would take them straight across to Basra.  I think their mission was to get behind the Republican Guard up by Umm Qasr and cut 'em off.  If they haven't captured or destroyed them, you can bet they have 'em pinned down."

"You know, Sergeant, you sure don't sound like a motor pool soldier."

Thompson smiled, "I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult, Major.  But I'll tell you what, I'm going to crawl under the Bradley out of the sun and take a nap.  I'm not as young as I used to be.  I know that's a worn out statement, but the older you get, the more you realize the truth of it."  He stretched out on the sand in the shade of the Bradley and fell asleep within minutes.