Divided We Fall Read Online Free PDF

ammo to run a simple roadblock? Rent-a-cop security guys did this kind of traffic stuff at the rodeo parking lot and they only had flashlights. Maybe we had blank rounds to scare people, or those cool rubber bullets that were supposed to hurt but not kill.
    Kemp held up one thirty-round magazine. “Each man will draw two magazines. Both will go in your ammo pouch on your vest. Do not load a magazine into your weapon. I say again, do not load a magazine until you are ordered to do so.”
    My stomach heaved a little as I lightened in my seat. The Chinook was descending into Boise. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths in through my nose, trying to fight the drooly, almost-want-to-puke-type feeling. All I could hear was the loud drone of the engines and the clink of the magazines against the metal ammo can while the guys drew their loads.
    Luchen elbowed me. “Dude. Check it.”
    I opened my eyes as he put the ammo can in my lap. I pulled out my two clips. There were green metal tips on the end of the standard 5.56 rounds. They were issuing live ammunition! No blanks or anything. These were the real deal.
    Out the back hatch of the Chinook, I could see buildings and streets below. In the distance, near the white dome of the state capitol building, the streets were full of people. Smoke rose in columns from several fires. Everywhere else, it looked like any other town.
    I held my rifle tightly. I’d practiced with an M4 all summer at basic training, but this was the first time this particular rifle had been assigned to me. It felt right, warm and familiar in my hands.
    The Chinook set down, and the light above the bay door switched from red to green. The flight engineer gave a thumbs-up and shouted, “Okay.”
    “Okay, ladies, on your feet! Let’s move!” Meyers ran down the length of the aircraft past the helicopter crewman. He jumped down to the ground and crouched-ran at a right angle from the aircraft through the rotor wash off to the side. Lieutenant McFee, who was in charge and should have dismounted first, waited a moment before following him.
    Sergeant Kemp held his hands up to slow us down. “Second squad … good luck,” he shouted over the roar from the engines and the wind from the rotors. “First squad, you’re out first. Follow Sergeant Meyers.” Kemp stepped down off the end of the ramp. He motioned for us to follow.
    Specialist Stein gave a whoop like he thought this was a party as he ran after Meyers. Luchen hit me in the arm almost like we were heading out of the locker room for a football game. The others were all business. I was the last in our squad to get off the bird. Kemp grabbed me like he’d stopped everyone else. “Duck low and head out straight that way.” He pointed in the direction my squad had gone. “Get out there and take a knee with our fire team.”
    A wave of heat off the turbine engines near the back of the fuselage blasted me in the face. The rotors were kicking up a blinding cloud of dust from the baseball field. As I ran, crouching low and carrying my M4, the stupid gas-mask carrying case kept twisting around to my front side and whapping me in the nuts. When I cleared the dust cloud, I could see where the others were set up. I spat to get the dirt out of my mouth, but the grit was still in my teeth.
    “Hurry up! Move your asses!” Sergeant Meyers paced around the soldiers who had taken a knee in a loose group. Lieutenant McFee stood, scanning the area with binoculars. Sergeant Torres led his squad off at a slow run across the park away from us.
    The damned mask carrier was hanging down almost between my knees now. There were three different straps on the case and I could never figure out how to get it secured to my leg like it was supposed to be. It was tricky to run, but I put on some speed.
    “Private, slow down,” Sergeant Kemp said as he caught up to me. “Your mask is all jacked up.” He made some adjustments to the carrier’s straps. “You don’t want to trip