CHAPTER 11
North of Baghdad, US college names were used for highways; east of Baghdad it was baseball teams; and to the south, where we were headed, were NFL teams. The plan was to drive south from Baghdad along Route Cowboys and then head west along Route Ravens, split southwest along Route Packers to the Euphrates, then head north along the river on Route Steelers.
The trip down Cowboys was pretty easy. We hit Ravens and headed west. The convoy had to slow down considerably on this two-lane road.
Most roads in Iraq ran parallel to a system of canals and small rivers.
The mixture of soil and constant irrigation allowed invasive reeds to grow incredibly tall and so thick that it’s impossible to see more than six inches beyond them.
They also grew right up to the road, providing ideal hiding spots for the enemy to place IEDs or rocket ambushes.
* * *
The chatter on the intercom picked up. My team was on their game. We made it onto Route Packers safe and sound.
We passed the market in the village of Yusufiyah, then the outlying shops and derelict structures that bordered the street.
It was not out of the ordinary to see women dressed head-to-toe in their black burkas walking next to donkeys pulling carts, while a gaggle of men sat under the shade of the buildings watching them work.
The locals were mostly immune to the sight of American Humvees, but they took instant notice of CSTC’s armored Range Rovers. Some of the men reacted as if they’d seen spaceships.
I called back to John Paul Kennedy in Rhino 4. As usual, everyone had already noted it.
“Roger, boss—I got it covered. Break. They’re still sitting there. Rhino 1, anything ahead?”
“Negative, Rhino 4—we’re about seventy-five meters behind the convoy,” Oliver replied. “It opens up about fifty meters ahead. Nothing but an old garage on the north side. You should be passing it about now. Over.”
Oliver Smith was as cool as they come. The six-footer looked like NFL Hall-of-Fame linebacker Lawrence Taylor. During a fight he had ice water in his veins.
The sun was high in the sky and the temperature must have been about 120 degrees as we headed north along Route Steelers. I could see the huge cooling towers of the old power plant ahead. We made it there in just over an hour.
“Okay, kids, we’re here,” I said over the intercom. “Rhino 1, just follow these cats wherever they go. Break. I’ll get out with the PC and link up with you all once I figure out what’s going on for the trip home.”
As the vehicles came to a stop in the parking area, I gave one last command. “Go make some friends—and don’t let anyone steal our shit. Meg and I will be back in a few.”
I turned to William McKay and Travis Hunter, the two junior VIPs wedged in the back seats, and waited as they unfolded themselves.
“Congratulations, gentlemen, this leg of the journey was a success,” I announced.
They’d been upset at the prospect of traveling with us before, but now they were proud of their first trip off the Forward Operating Base as part of Team Rhino for the day.
Though their L.L. Bean rugged outdoor clothing was drenched in sweat, Hunter and McKay posed happily in front of the Range Rover.
Meg and I left our gear in the vehicle and headed off to find the major.