Tales of the Forgotten Read Online Free PDF Page A

combat load of
ammunition and two M67 fragmentation grenades.
    The
SEALs, on the other hand, humped a much larger kit. Multiple fragmentation
grenades and anti-personnel mines (claymores) were strapped to the outside of
their packs. Both of them had suppressed long rifles attached to the tops of
their rucksacks. Shorter MP5 submachine guns were always slung across their
chest for quick access. They wore H&K MK23 pistols on their hips, and even
smaller .22 caliber MKII pistols were carried in their packs. Brad thought it
was overkill to carry so many weapons when you only had two hands, but he
appreciated the firepower when it was needed.
    They
spent the rest of the afternoon taking inventory of food and ammo, and deciding
what to bring. Water took priority for space, and then food. The team wouldn’t
have much more ammo than their personal allotment. There were large stores of
it in the warehouse, but the team had unanimously decided that it would be
better to leave it with the camp. There would be plenty of it at Bremmel, and
they could always scrounge for more on the road. They finished off the packing
with a row of four 5-gallon fuel cans strapped to a rack on the rear bumper of
the vehicle.
    “Ha!
We look like damn hillbillies ready to move off to Beverly,” said Brooks with a
deep laugh.
    The
last night in camp was spent sitting on the roof of the warehouse with Junayd
and his elders. Sean had his map laid out in front of them, and Junayd was
marking it with the best sources of fresh water, and helping them to plan the
safest route back towards Bremmel. Méndez came to visit Brad and gave him a
bundle of letters his men had written to their families back home. Brad knew
that Méndez had a large family and that the last month had been hard on him. He
knew it was a pipe dream, but Brad promised that if there was a way, he would
see that their letters got delivered. Méndez gave him a last thank you for
everything he had done to help get them off the road; he shook his hand and
left Brad alone.
    Brad
broke away from the group discussing the trip; he wandered off to a far corner
of the roof and laid out his bedroll and blanket. He thought about what they
were attempting to do, and tried to put the thoughts of the ambushed convoy and
the visions of Bremmel out of his head. As hard as he tried to block it, the
face of PFC Ryan and the night he’d died in the desert always played back in
his head like a cheap movie. I’m definitely going to need some counseling
when I get home , he thought to himself.

 
    4.
     
     
     
    Sean
woke him just before dawn; he slowly brought himself to his feet and stretched
out the aches that you get when you choose to sleep in a corner on a roof. Cole
and Henry were on watch in the snipers’ nest. Brad walked over to them and
shook each of their hands and told them good bye. He walked back to the ladder
well and lowered his way into the warehouse. Most of the occupants were still
asleep, and he was careful not to wake them. He ventured out of the large
overhead door that usually stayed open these days and headed towards the motor
pool.
    When
he got there, he found Brooks making some finishing touches to the load on the
vehicle. Brooks saw Brad and tossed him an energy drink.
    “Sorry
buddy, no coffee today but this has just as much kick,” laughed Brooks.
    Brad
accepted the drink happily and helped him check the straps on the vehicle’s
roof rack. Sean walked over with a plate of foot bread sandwiches he had
managed to scrounge up from the Afghan kitchen and handed them out. Taking a
big bite from one, Sean paused to open the Defender’s door, then jumped into
the passenger seat. Taking that as a sign they were ready to leave, the rest of
the team mounted up.
    Brooks
started the engine which purred to life; it was noticeably quieter than the
MRAP. He put the Defender into gear and slowly moved towards the vehicle gate.
When they arrived, they found a soldier on duty with one of