Run Read Online Free PDF Page B

not relish the idea of killing them, though he knew he would do so if need be. 
    A rumble caught everyone’s attention as an Iraqi military transport pulled up, dumping Iraqi servicemen onto the road.  They held outdated weaponry, some of them carrying breach-loaders that looked like WWII issue, but a gun was a gun and an antique bullet would kill a man just as dead as a new Teflon-coated one if it found its mark.  Besides, their sheer numbers said they would beat the Americans in a fight.
    Vogel reached the lip of the canal.  John and the other Berets were already there, waiting for the next move to be decided.
    One of the young men shot at them.  As one, the Berets dropped into the dry canal, reacting with a fluidity that came from training, skill, and desperation.  Sand and small rocks bit at their hands as they scrabbled over the lip of the canal, and all were bloodied when they reached the bottom of the short drop-off and began running east.  Their response had been planned in advance, but though it was the result of previous deliberation, that did not change the fact that their flight was a run for their lives.
    Camp was still on the LST-5, screaming their need for an exfil as they ran, snaking through the maze of waterways that led east.  Bullets pinged off the canal’s lip, then around them as the first enemy soldiers dropped down into the ditch and began firing.
    John spun around, dropping into firing position.  He had an automatic weapon, and in the movies the soldiers always used such guns like huge scythes, fanning a spray of bullets across the area in front of them.  This was real, though, and he knew that every shot had to count.  One bullet, one fatality.
    He focused on one man, and his vision seemed to telescope, bringing the man running at him into impossibly sharp focus.  It was a Bedouin, pointing a revolver and screaming as he pulled the trigger jerkily.  Bullet fire ricocheted around John, though he could not say whether it was that man's bullets or someone else's that were finding their way to him. 
    John pulled the trigger.  His gun fired with a single short snap and the round took his attacker in the mouth.  The man’s eyes widened hideously and his head snapped back, bouncing off the rocky wall nearby and leaving a dark smear on the dirt.
    John flinched.  He didn’t want to kill people, that wasn’t what he was in this for.  He wanted to keep people from getting killed. 
    Too late for that now.
    He moved his muzzle a fraction of an inch and squeezed off two more rounds.  Two more men dropped and did not rise again.
    The other Berets were firing as well.  Then the first wave of attackers ended, the enemy forces drawing back to recover from the Berets' sudden and effective counter-attack, and the unit turned and ran again.
    The exfil spot was two miles away, which was not far when running around a base track, but could take an eternity when running through a slim canyon, pursued by an enemy hungry for your death.
    It was a devastating run, broken every couple hundred yards as the unit turned to fire on the following soldiers.  John was surprised that the enemy didn’t run ahead and drop into the canal ahead of the unit.  But the unit might have been moving too fast for that tactic, fear and adrenaline lending wings to their feet and allowing them to stay ahead of their shrieking pursuers.
    When they reached the exfil spot, their ammunition was more than half gone.  A helicopter would have to come get them, and do it soon, if it wanted to pick up something other than corpses.
    " What ?" screamed Camp.  He was still on the LST-5.  He looked at Vogel, eyes wide and empty as those of a dead man.  His next words told John why.  "They said they can’t come in until nightfall.  Too risky." 
    The other men’s eyes instantly acquired that same dull look.  Nightfall was ten hours away and none of them would ever see it. 
    Vogel’s lower lip puckered, a queer look that made