CHAPTER 15
Yusufiyah, south of Baghdad
Instinctively, we drove our vehicles into a protective formation. Oliver went to the left side of the road; Wolf pulled our SUV in closer on his right while Meg and JP mirrored us from behind. We now had eyes on the entire mini-perimeter of Team Rhino.
The soldier in the Humvee’s roof-mounted machine-gun turret had either been shot or had dipped down to protect himself. Either way, the crew was sitting ducks.
I heard another explosion farther ahead of us. Strangely, though we were only about fifty meters away, none of the gunmen were paying any attention to us.
I called the Major on my radio to give him an update. No answer.
Was he hit? Did they get the whole convoy?
I couldn’t see beyond the trapped Humvee. My best guess was that the bad guys had ambushed the last vehicle of the Army convoy, then created some sort of diversion for the vehicles that had already passed through the kill zone.
Time was not on my side. Through the dust and disorder, I could feel the fear, tension, and anxiety emanating from every member of my team.
Though we were technically a part of this military convoy, I was not in command, and I was not receiving any guidance from the commander.
Nor were we being engaged by the bad guys, who had still not even looked in our direction.
There is a strict protocol for contractors in a combat zone: Fire only when fired upon, or run the risk of creating a serious international incident.
I could hear shots from the AK-47s plinking off the armored vehicle. Fuck.
I tried again to reach the major on the radio. Nothing.
Come on, pal, just give me the word, I thought to myself.
Again, dead silence on the radio. No sounds of American gunfire came from up ahead. Maybe the entire convoy had been hit.
“Rhino Base, this is Rhino 2, troops in contact. Over.” I called our headquarters to give them an update. At least they would have the ability to make headway over the military command frequencies.
“Roger, Rhino 2,” they replied. “We’ve alerted Eagle 6, break. Stand by.”
Stand by? Shit. “Stand by” did nothing for any of us, though I knew the guys back at HQ would be doing everything they possibly could to help support the whole convoy.
The last thing anyone needed was a free-for-all on this battlefield. The Army command would get the situation fixed—they were damn good at that—but the chaos of the moment made seconds seem like hours.
One of the bandits on the south side of the road lifted an RPG launcher toward his shoulder. Fuck!
“Break, break, break, all units, THUNDER,” I said over the radio as calmly as I could. “I say again: THUNDER.”
“Roger, THUNDER,” I heard in unison.
THUNDER was the CSTC code word for immediate attack. No matter what the situation, when an operator heard that word, he or she immediately went into assault mode.
THUNDER was the equivalent of Mayday on the high seas.