Jihad
7.1 Saudi Arabia
by Red MacDonald
Copyright © 2013 Red MacDonald
All Rights Reserved.

The Faithful, North African and Middle Eastern Islamic nations, are plotting to seize the oil resources of the Middle East. By controlling the earth's oil and its major trade routes, they plan to bring the world to its knees. Then, when the entire world is kneeling, the Faithful of Allah will read to them from the Koran, preaching the message of Islam, the True Faith. The Faithful will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. But how far will they go? And how many lives will it cost?

7. Battle in the Streets

7.1 Saudi Arabia

* * * * *

7.1.1 Zahran Military Hospital

Master Gunnery Sergeant Aloisis Murphy was trying hard to remain calm. He sat quietly listening as the doctor removed the bandage covering his eyes.

"Your eyes weren't too bad, actually, Sergeant. It was your lungs we were worried about. I still don't now how you managed to breath with a collapsed lung. As for your eyes, you had some grains of sand embedded in your right eye, and your left was mildly abraded. They probably watered like hell and made it feel like they were on fire, but that's just Nature's way of protecting your eye from damage.

"Now keep your eyes closed while I take off these gauze pads. Remember that your eyes have been in total darkness for a while. It'll be just like walking into a brightly lit room, even though we're practically working in the dark here. OK, open them up and blink a lot. They'll tear like crazy for a couple of minutes."

Murphy slitted his eyes. The Doc was right. It was really bright! He blinked and tried to open his eyes a little more, but they closed against the light. He blinked rapidly as his tears ran down his cheeks. Someone handed him a tissue, and he wiped his painful eyes cautiously. Slowly, his tearing subsided, as he became more accustomed to the light.

Three people were standing beside his bed. A guy dressed in white stood right next to him. A woman stood just to his right. Another guy stood at the end of his bed, and called to him, "Hey, Gunny, how they working?"

Recognizing Lieutenant Mohammed's voice, Gunny smiled. "Not really good yet, LT, but they seem to be coming back. I think they'd work better if I could just stop crying." Gradually, he began to see more clearly. The lieutenant's arm was in a sling. "What happened to you, LT?"

"A little piece of shrapnel in the shoulder blade. Nothing bad or anything, but my whole arm and back are sore as hell. It'd be a lot better if I could move it and get the kinks out, but the Doc here says that I'd only start bleeding if I did."

The Doc patted Gunny on the shoulder. "You two will be all right in no time. I gotta get to some patients who need some real doctoring, not two malingerers like you. By the way, both of you might want to get dressed and look more presentable. You're going to have some important visitors in an hour or so."

Gunny felt better after he'd showered, shaved and put on a clean uniform. He and Mohammed were just lacing their boots when a gaggle of officers slammed through the door.

A captain looked at a clip board and then over towards Gunny and Mohammed. "Must be them, Sir." He came up to them. "You Murphy and Mohammed? Good. Over here, General." A two-star general broke out of the group and hustled over to them. The name patch over his left pocket read Duncaster.

Gunny recognized the name instantly. This was Major General Coleman Duncaster, the big boss of the Twelfth Light Division. Both, Murphy and Mohammed came to attention.

The general extended his hand. "Lieutenant, Gunny, it looks like you two are recovering nicely." They both murmured some positive reply. "Good, good. We need you both back on the line as quickly as possible. I can't make that any easier, but I can make it somewhat more enjoyable."

The captain sidled up and handed the general a small box. Duncaster turned to Mohammed. "For heroism and extreme valor in the face of the enemy, and for risking your own life to save the lives of personnel under your command, I present you, Lieutenant Aldrich Mohammed with the Silver Star." He stepped closer and pinned the medal on Mohammed's pocket.

Duncaster turned to Gunny. "Master Gunnery Sergeant Aloisis Murphy, for heroism and extreme valor in the face of the enemy and for risking your own life to save three other wounded soldiers, I present you with the Silver Star." Again, he stepped forward and pinned the medal on the shirt pocket. "By the way, Master Gunny, how long you been in grade?"

"Three years, Sir."

"This is probably overdue." He handed the sergeant a patch with three chevrons, three rockers and a diamond in the middle. "First Sergeant Murphy, make sure that all your uniforms are brought up to specs. Your wife will see this in next month's salary. By the way, those four guys you two pulled out will live.

"Now, I'm pulling you two out of this hotel and sending you back on the line. We need your combat skills and experience. Lieutenant, you and the First Sergeant will report to Captain Austen, Bravo Company, for duty. My aide will give you directions. Best of luck." The general turned on his heel and departed.

The captain gave Mohammed a hand-drawn map indicating the Captain Austin's position. "You'll pick up the rest of your equipment when you join your unit. Sergeant, I understand you're a SRAW driver. Good, we'll have one waiting for you. Report to Captain Austen no later than 13:00. Good luck." He shook their hands enthusiastically.

Mohammed fingered his Silver Star. "Well, Gunny ... sorry, First Sergeant, what do you think about this? We're supposed to be some kind of heroes, huh?"

* * * * *

7.1.2 Captain Austen

The entire street had been torn up. Pavement and concrete had been erected into a huge pile just short of the northern end of the block. Two buses had been turned on their sides to add mass to the barricade.

Tall buildings stood at either hand. Murphy could see the movements of armed troops in their windows, as Mohammed and he approached the barricade. He heard the usual hubbub of noise as the defenders raced against the clock to prepare themselves for the onslaught. A short captain stood in the street directing the preparations.

"Sir, First Sergeant Murphy and Lieutenant Mohammed reporting as ordered."

The captain, a cute, red-headed, freckled woman, turned around and returned their salute. "Welcome to Bravo company. I'm Penny Austen." She shook hands with the type of firm, strong grip which Murphy respected.

"Lieutenant, I'm putting you in command of First Platoon. That's right here. Second's up in the building on our left and Third's in the right one. They're mostly lighter stuff, snipers and such, but I've also put the BILLs and a bunch of LAWS up there. That'll give them greater range and coverage along the street to our front.

"I've pulled the barricade back from the end of the block so that your platoon won't run into a cross-fire from the adjacent streets. They'll have to come straight at you.

"First Sergeant, I understand that you're a heavy weapons type. Good, I have one Squad Automatic Weapon on Mohammed's left, and I need you on the SRAW over there on the right.

"We're pretty thin. I'm expecting some Saudi recruits any time now, but they'll probably be green as grass. I don't want them upstairs messing things up, so I'm going to put them in your platoon. They can climb inside those overturned buses over there, stand on the seats and fire over the top. Make sure they have protection and firing holes.

"Mohammed, you are now Three-Bravo-One. I'm Three-Bravo-Bravo. Your R/O over there is Simpson. Now, here's our position." She pulled out a large sheet of paper from her pocket and unfolded it on the ground. "Here's us. Alpha is to our left, Charlie to our right. Here's our escape route when we're overrun. Back there," she pointed at another mound being erected on the next block, "is our next line of defense. We're going to fight them one block at a time until we get to the bazaar. Hopefully, by then, we'll have maps that'll do some good in the old part of the city. Any questions?"

"Yes, Sir, one. What about arty?"

"I've got two light mortars on our second channel. I've been told I've got some heavy stuff, but I haven't been able to contact them yet. Anything else? Good. You know how to get me." She strode off towards Second Platoon's building.

"Shit, Sarge, I ain't never worked for a woman before."

"LT, that ain't no woman. That's a captain, plain and simple. From what I can see, she knows her business, and she doesn't look the type you'd want to cross. So, let's get this show on the road. I'll get the heavies organized and report back to you."

Within minutes, Murphy had talked with his SAW team and with the three troopers armed with LAWs. They were all experienced men, which made it easier. He and Mohammed met ten minutes later. They had twenty-one riflemen, three of who doubled up on the LAWs, plus the two heavy weapons men. Their platoon was barely adequate to cover the four lane street. Any losses at all would make defense almost impossible

A sharp whistle interrupted their discussion. A policeman was coming down the street leading a rag-tag assortment of uniformed civilians, carrying weapons. LT called the captain on the radio, and, by the time they had arrived, she was coming out of the building.

The policeman saluted Murphy, in what he probably thought was proper military fashion. "I have these recruits to join your unit, Captain Austen."

"No, buddy, I ain't Captain Austen. She is. You talk to her."

"A woman? Never!"

Murphy leaned down until he was in the policeman's face. "Fella, I'll say this one time, so listen up. That ain't no woman. That's a captain in the United States Army. Show some respect or she'll order me to shoot you. And, I'll do it gladly!"

Penny Austen arrived, and Murphy stepped back saluting. "Captain, this policeman has some recruits for us." The policeman stood with his mouth open, but said nothing. Murphy reached over and lifted the cop's hand to his cap. "It's called a salute, in case you'd forgotten. That's how you greet a superior."

Penny returned the salute, smartly. "OK, what you got for us?"

The policeman refused to talk to her and addressed the sergeant, "These recruits are for you. I must go now."

Murphy started to move, but Austen barked, "At ease, First Sergeant." She walked up to the Saudi putting her nose inches from his. "Listen up, asshole!" she yelled, "I don't have time for your crap! You show the proper courtesy now, or I'll shoot you down where you stand! Got it?" Her right hand flicked the cover off her holster and laid itself on the grip.

Murphy almost laughed. His wife could do that to him, and she was a little shit, too. He flashed a basic shit-eating grin at the Arab cop and waited.

There was no doubt that the Saudi had never met a woman like this before. He recoiled fearfully, saluting. "Yes, American Captain, I hear and obey! The king said American women were different, but only now do I understand. They are yours!" He turned and ran off, as though he feared for his life.

Penny Austen turned back to the Sergeant, confiding, "Four brothers, four years at The Point, and six in recon. I can handle shit like that, First Sergeant, but thanks anyway.

"Sort out the recruits. I can use the experienced ones up in the buildings. Keep the raw ones down here."

It took Murphy ten minutes to sort out the eighteen recruits. The combination of the language barrier and the sullenness of several of the men towards their female CO made things doubly difficult for him. He quickly discovered that four of the recruits were ex-army and knew what they were doing. The rest were green as grass.

When Murphy reported that he had finished processing the recruits, Penny winked at him, slyly. "It's time for the CO's pep talk. Get them in ranks, Sarge."

As she waited impatiently, Murphy pushed and prodded them into something resembling a military formation. When they were aligned, he stood before them, facing her. "Recruits present and accounted for, Sir!"

"Thank you, First Sergeant. At ease," she replied. She stood between Murphy and the Saudis. "My name is Captain Austen. You will address me as Captain Austen or Sir at all times. When you address me or any other officer, you will stand rigidly at attention, unless otherwise ordered. You will salute me or any other officer when we first meet and when you are dismissed.

"I will assign you to your platoon leaders. You will follow their orders or the orders of any other person your platoon leader may assign over you. Your platoon leaders will instruct you in your duties and in the use of your weapons. If you follow their orders and learn to be good soldiers, you may survive this battle. If you do not, you will die."

She returned to the head of the formation. "First Sergeant, get them to their platoons. Dismissed!"

Murphy stood stiffly at attention and saluted. "Yes, Sir!" He performed a parade ground 'About Face'. "Attention!" he bellowed. Several of the Saudis stood laxly. He strode up to one of them until their noses almost touched and bellowed his order again. The Saudi arrogantly smiled and slouched all the more.

Murphy decided that these recruits needed a demonstration of military discipline. Murphy grabbed the man by both shoulders and lifted him off the ground. When the recruit's feet were both in the air, Murphy slammed him down. Naturally, the man tensed and ending up standing at attention, just as Murphy had planned. "That's 'attention', soldier. Next time I will neither be as informative nor as lenient!"

The man glared hotly at Murphy. Clumsily, he raised his rifle as though to strike. He didn't get very far, as Murphy's right fist flew like a cobra onto the point of the man's chin. The once arrogant recruit flew three feet through the air and landed unconscious in the dirt-filled street.

"You, you," Murphy pointed at two of the experienced men, "lift him up and drag him over there. Bring his weapon, too. Then, return to this formation." As the two men dragged the unconscious body away, Murphy stalked through the ranks. He didn't say a word. He just glared into their eyes, daring them to say or do anything. None of them did.

When the other two returned to the formation, Murphy resumed. "You four," he pointed to the four experienced men, "fall in over there. The rest of you, Dress Right, Dress!" Once again, he went through the laborious task of instructing each of them how to order their ranks. After five minutes, they were almost a formation.

Murphy considered marching the recruits to Lieutenant Mohammed, but decided against it. He concluded that it could take half an hour to get them there, and that there were far more important things to do. "You!" he ordered them, "Follow me!" He headed towards the lieutenant's position. He glanced over his shoulder to see if they were all with him. He smiled in satisfaction when he saw that they were perfectly in formation!

"Lieutenant," he called. Mohammed jumped down off a bus and ran over. Murphy reported, "Sir, these recruits have been assigned to your platoon. If you'll excuse me, Sir, I have to bring the rest of the recruits to the other platoons."

"Of course, First Sergeant. Carry on."

Murphy was glad that LT was prepared for the recruits. They would be the lieutenant's problem, at least for the next few minutes.

* * * * *

7.1.3 Rachel

"First Sergeant?" LT called.

"Yessir?"

"You were so kind to me, bringing me those fourteen fine recruits, that I thought I'd do something nice for you. This one's yours." He pointed to a frail-looking, doe-eyed, skinny girl toting an old M-16.

"But, LT," Murphy whined, "what'll I do with her?"

"She's your backup."

"Ah, Lieutenant, I thought we were friends, after all we've been through."

LT just smiled and waved, as he walked back to the hubbub in the middle of his defensive barrier.

Murphy looked down at his diminutive companion. "What's your name, Soldier?" She said it three times before he could figure it out. "Rachel, I'm Murphy. First Sergeant Murphy when anybody else is around, but when it's just you and me, I'm Murphy."

She tried hard, but the English phonemes weren't within her grasp. Instead, his name came out closer to Murg-free, with a heavy, throat-clearing sound in the middle.

"Close enough, Rachel. Now, do you now how to use that rifle?"

"No, Murgfree. They tried to show me, but I was frightened."

"OK, come on over here, and I'll show you all about this little beauty. Then, we'll get some practice in before they start coming at us. Ever killed anything before?"

"No!" she replied in horror, recoiling from his side.

"Well, Rachel, you're going to have to learn to do it. Did you see the pictures on the television?" She nodded hesitantly. "We don't want that to happen to you or me. So, I'm going to protect you, and you're going to protect me. Got it?"

Rachel was a quick study. Within ten minutes she was field stripping her M-16 and loading her ammo clips. She even pounded them on her thigh to settle the cartridges, just like a real pro.

"LT, we're going to do a little small arms practice over here." He got the high sign from the lieutenant. "OK, Rachel, I want you to shoot at that street sign right there." He pointed at a STOP sign on the corner not twenty feet away.

She grabbed the rifle, punched the stock into her shoulder, and sighted. Then, she closed both eyes and jammed her finger on the trigger. A single shot rang out, going God only knew where.

"I see a problem, Rachel. You have to keep both eyes open and squeeeeze the trigger. Try this. You want to see the bullet hit your target. Stare right at it until you see the hole. OK, try again." She did better, and even better the next time. After a full clip, she was hitting the STOP sign every time.

"Super! You're a hell of a shot, Rachel! Now, we're going to try something a little different." He pushed a lever of the M-16 to the three-shot position. "This weapon will fire three shots when you pull the trigger. So, you have to stand there until it stops firing. You'll have to brace yourself a little more. That's it. Take careful aim. Fire!" The three shots clanged into the sign spreading from right to left and dropping slightly. "Super, Rachel! Just great!

"Now, here's the hard part. You'll have to do it that way when the Iranaqis attack. You'll have to aim right at the enemy, lean into your weapon and pull the trigger. Do you understand?" She shook her head in an undefined manner. "Can you do it? Can you kill your enemy?" This time she was definite, and shook her head, 'No.'

"OK, Rachel, this is the hard part. Really hard. Did you see the woman on television? What did they do to her baby? What did they do to her? What did they do to her husband? They will do the same thing to you!"

She shook her head violently and stepped back. He grabbed her and shook her gently. "Yes they will, Rachel. Didn't you see it?" Then, he thought of another tactic. "Are you saying that your King is a liar?" Her eyes widened in dismay. "Your King says it happened, and that you are to fight them and kill them. Will you do as your King commands?"

She was torn, and he could see it, but it wasn't the time to comfort her in any way. She was making up her mind. After several seconds, she looked up at him. "Did they really do those horrible things, Murg-free?"

"Yes, Rachel, and far worse. Your King only showed you a small part of the things they did. I have been a soldier for over twenty years, and I was sick when I saw what they did. They are my enemies. They are your enemies. They are the King's enemies. The King says that they're Allah's enemies. That's good enough for me, Rachel."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "But, I do not wish for this to happen, Murg-free. Why did this have to happen?"

"I don't know, Rachel. I only know that it has happened. You and I are going to fight, side-by-side, to make things better. But, to do that, we have to kill them, forcing them to go back to their own countries."

She cried bitterly and threw herself into his arms. He'd never been good at times like this. When either his wife or his daughter cried, they could get anything out of him they wanted. He held her tightly for just a moment, and then pushed her out to arm's length. "Soldier, are you crying?"

"Yes," she blubbered.

"Enough of that, Rachel. Shoot the sign. Shoot!" he ordered. Her rifle slapped up to her shoulder, and she emptied the clip into the sign three shots at a time. "Feeling better, soldier?"

"Yes, First Sergeant Murg-free. We will fight them, as you said, side-by-side."

"Good," he replied and hugged her.

A throat cleared just behind his left shoulder. He turned to find Captain Austen glaring at him. "Fraternizing with the troops, First Sergeant?"

Murphy blushed violently. As he saluted, he noticed that Rachel had not. "Excuse me, Sir. Rachel, stand to attention. This is our commanding officer, Captain Austen. Stand up here. Now, salute like a soldier should. Excellent!" He turned back to the captain. "Sir, we got ourselves a dead-eye. If she ever learns to kill Iranaqis, we're in business."

"I've been watching, First Sergeant," Penny replied, sarcastically, "Most instructive. If the private can be left to guard this position, I think that the lieutenant could use your services instructing some of the other recruits in the use of their weapons."

"I would, Sir, but I've still got to load the SRAWs. Private Rachel is real good with her hands, Sir, and I think I could teach her to reload my baby almost as well as I can. It should only take twenty minutes or so, but if I don't load 'em, I might as well throw this thing at 'em for all the good it'd do."

"Yes, First Sergeant, I see that she has good hands. And, yours are pretty good, too!"

"Look, Captain, I've got a scared little girl over here and it's up to me to turn her into a soldier before she gets killed. And, I don't have the time to do it right. So, I'm doing the best I can."

"First Sergeant, I don't like the tone of your voice. And, I don't like you mauling the female recruits, either!"

"Mauling! Look, Captain, I don't give a sweet shit whether you're a male or a female. Obviously it's some kind of big thing with you. If you've got a problem, take it to the chaplain. I don't have time to molly-coddle you, too!"

She glared at him, while he looked steadily at her, trying not to let his anger show. "Shit, First Sergeant, maybe you're right. I could have jumped the gun. If so, I'm sorry." She grabbed his hand and pumped it energetically. "Glad to have you aboard, Murphy. Carry on and give the LT a hand, ASAP. He's in over his head. I'll be over there with him instructing those turkeys about which end of a weapon the bullet comes out of."

As Penny left, Rachel looked up at Murphy, her eyes filled with terror. "You did yell at your captain, Murgfree?"

"No, Rachel, not at all. I'm a sergeant, and she's a captain. She gives the orders, and I carry them out. We just had to figure out which side each of us was on."

Twenty minutes later, Murphy and Rachel had loaded the ammo packs. Murphy blew off a burst to make sure the 9-mm rotary was working. The SRAW's incredible noise scared the stuffing out of little Rachel. Murphy just laughed with joy, as he felt the powerful weapon come alive in his hands.

After he had finished checking out his SRAW, Murphy ambled over to the center of the line where Lt. Mohammed and Captain Austen were trying to make some kind of an impression on the recruits. Just as he arrived, Captain Austen spoke sharply to the arrogant Saudi.

The Saudi recruit jumped up, angrily shouting, "I take no orders from a woman! Go back to your house, woman, and take care of your children. You are unclean, and no man will listen to you."

Penny grabbed at him but missed. He ducked behind another recruit and began running down the street, yelling, "Unclean! Unclean!"

Murphy stood tensely awaiting an order, but Penny calmly turned and watched the deserting recruit racing down the street. Her side arm appeared in her hand. "Halt!" she bellowed.

The deserter kept running.

Austen slipped the bolt back, cocking the weapon. "Halt!"

The screaming Saudi ran further down the street. He was rapidly approaching the corner when she called the third time, "Halt, or I will fire!"

Captain Austen's 9-mm fired only once. Her target crumbled onto the street. She strode swiftly to the body and retrieved the fallen weapon. She kicked the corpse over with her boot, and unclasped its web-pack. With a flick of her wrist, she rolled the dead man off the belt, slung it over her shoulder and returned to the shocked formation of Saudis. When she was still five feet away from Murphy, she tossed the weapon to him, which he caught easily. As she walked past the sergeant, she dumped the web over the barrel of the rifle, and returned to her original position before the recruits.

"Does anyone else wish to desert?" she demanded. "Your King told you that the penalty for desertion was summary execution followed by burial next to a pig. The pig is already in the ground, and that one will be next to him. Who else would like to join that deserter and his pig? None of you? Good. Now pay attention!"

The change in the recruits was astounding. Within just half an hour every one of them could field-strip and clean their weapons. Within an hour, each of them could load and fire them with surprising accuracy.

"Truly amazing," Murphy chuckled to himself, as he headed back to his position and Rachel.

* * * * *

7.1.4 Defense in the Streets

The shelling began late that night. At first, the explosions were on the very edge of the city, but the walking barrage moved gradually towards them.

Murphy awoke when the first shell landed, but Rachel seemed immune to the noise. She lay curled up in a ball at his feet. The bright lights slowly danced towards them getting ever louder. 'Better let her sleep while she can,' he thought.

She awoke with a start. "Murgfree, what is it?"

"Artillery, Rachel. They're going to try to blow us up. We're going to hide right here behind this barricade until it stops. Then, we're going to jump up and get ready to kill our enemies. You're going to be scared...scared out of your wits, but you just stay right here with me, OK?"

She looked up at him with her huge doe-eyes filled with trust. "O-Gay, Murg-free."

Then, it was on them. The barricade was rent and split, tormented by awesome forces. Buildings crumbled. Their facades fell onto the streets all around them. One chunk of concrete bounced towards them like an avenging monster only to stop at Murphy's feet. For five minutes, Rachel hugged him as though her life depended upon it. The barrage moved on down the street, and still she clung to him.

"Now, Private Rachel," Murphy said in his best fatherly tone, "up and at 'em." He leapt up, dislodging her from him. For a few moments, he was busy readying his SRAW for action. He hoisted the ammo pack onto his back and turned towards the barricade, where Rachel should have been waiting for him. Instead, she was just standing like a rock where he had left her.

He yelled at her, "Your weapon, Private! Get your weapon and get ready to use it!" She moved clumsily, almost in a daze. He reached over, grabbed the M-16, and shoved it into her hands. "Lock and load, Rachel. Rachel! Now! Get ready!" She moved mechanically. "That's it. Aim down the street. Safety off? Good. Don't shoot until I tell you. Then aim, keep both eyes open and squeeeze the trigger. Remember the sign? Do it just the same way."

The first noises he heard were the squeals of tanks. He couldn't see them though the smoke and dust, but he could hear them. The sound sent shivers down his spine.

A big, dark shape appeared at the other end of the next block. It fired, at virtually point blank range. The barricade trembled with the impact of the 120-mm shell.

He glanced at Rachel. She was petrified, rooted to the spot. "Hah! Hah!" he laughed. "His gun can't hurt dirt. Shoot again, you stupid son of a bitch!" His voice roused her from her catatonia. He laughed again and pointed at the tank. "He's shooting at the barricade. He can't hurt it. It's dirt."

"But, Murgfree, then he will shoot us!"

"No way! We've got a little surprise for him. Just let him come a little closer." He kept up his running monologue, knowing that his voice was probably the only thing between a half-way useful partner and a virtual corpse.

A BILL belched! She almost jumped out of her jeans! "Excuse me, Murgfree, I have to leave."

"Leave? No way!"

She seemed embarrassed, almost coy. "I must, Murgfree! I must!"

"Why must you, Rachel?" he said looking more carefully. She had wet herself. "No, Rachel, you can't leave now. You are a soldier. You wear the soldier's badge. Now you must earn that badge, like the rest of us."

"But, Murg-free!"

"No! You're scared. Now, you must fight and scare our enemies. After the battle is done we will change our clothes and become human again. You will be lucky if that is the only badge you wear today."

Reluctantly, she swung her rifle back towards the advancing tank. The sharp whoosh of another rocket startled both of them. The BILLs were playing their deadly game with the enemy tanks.

"Watch, Rachel, watch!"

The missile sped down the street, guided by gossamer plastic lines trailing behind it. The explosion almost blinded them. The tank cooked off in a terrifying display of modern, efficient death.

"See what I mean, Rachel? It'll take a lot more than one tank to get us." He made it sound good, except he knew that there were a lot more tanks still to come.

Moments later, the air in front of them was filled with bright flames headed straight towards them. He grabbed Rachel and threw her down. Dozens of rockets smashed into the barricade, covering the advance of the Iranaqi infantry. He peeked over the wall. Something was moving, but there weren't enough of them to do anything about yet. He glanced into the middle of the road, and saw Lieutenant Mohammed standing between two buses using a periscope to look over the barricade. He seemed calm and collected. 'He's putting on a damned good act,' Murphy thought.

Another tank appeared, firing high into the buildings. A second appeared behind it. Each of them concentrated their fire into the buildings to their right and left. The anti-tank guys were getting some attention.

Murphy wasn't worried about them. He was worried about the long lines of infantry sliding next to the walls, rushing forward for brief intervals, only to duck into a doorway or hide behind some rubble. He was readying a long burst from his SRAW when he heard Mohammed yelling, "Outgoing! Outgoing!"

The whump of the two small mortars down the street was just audible. The sixty-millimeter shells walked quickly up to the tanks. The first tank blew up in a tremendous, ear-splitting, ground-shaking roar. The mortar shell had penetrated the tank's weaker top side, entered the ammo bin and blown up the whole thing in one gigantic explosion. The second tank continued firing, as it backed slowly down the street.

"NOW! Now!" LT shouted.

Murphy stood with his SRAW at the ready. He saw a long column of men moving furtively down the opposite side of the street. The six-barrels of his SRAW rotated smoothly, and 9-mm bullets swept the street at the rate of thirty per second. Every sixth bullet was a tracer, allowing the sergeant to correct his aim, but making it appear that he was directing a hose gushing golden water. He wasn't. He was delivering flaxen death.

He fired and fired and fired again. Then, the ammo ran out. He had to change ammo bins. It was a quick job, taking less than fifteen seconds. Yet, in that time a lot can happen, and a man can run a hundred yards. "Cover me, Rachel," he yelled, as he ducked down and began to pull off the connectors.

Rachel stood frozen in fear.

"Shoot! Shoot!" he screamed. She stood frozen to the spot. He slapped her on the back, knocking her into the barricade. As she wheezed trying to catch her breath, he lifted her up and slammed her on her firing step. "Aim at him," he pointed to an Iranaqi running towards them. "Squeeze the trigger! NOW!" His huge voice was irresistible, and her rifle bucked three times. The soldier fell to the ground. "Now, him," he pointed again. That soldier fell. "Him!" Another fell in a lump. "Keep it up 'til I get back." He dropped down and raced through his rearming procedures. He heard the snap-snap-snap of the M-16 time and again. Rachel was doing it!

He had just finished when he heard her weapon click. She was empty, but she didn't realize it and kept trying to fire. "Rachel, reload," he yelled, but she was in a trance. He grabbed her, and spun her towards him and saw that here eyes were glazed. He shook her, screaming, "Eject! New clip! Reload! Reload!"

Mechanically, like an automaton, she did as she was told, but with no hint of recognition of what she was doing. He had to snap her out of it. He had to give her a new job so that she could regain her senses. "Rachel!" he screamed in her ear. "Reload my ammo bin! Do it! There! Reload it!"

He had no more time to talk. The Iranaqis were storming the barricades. His rotating barrels whined, and the bullets roared from their single firing chamber. Murphy's golden stream mowed them down, but still they came.

Another tank joined the fray, blasting from behind its infantry. Its machine gun sprayed the barricade's defenders, and several of them of dropped. A BILL fired, and another machine gun answered. A tank burned. Two defenders fell from the building above bouncing upon the pavement. A third clung desperately to the disintegrating flooring of the once imposing building. He screamed, slipped and fell, kicking and screaming. He landed with a dull thud. The screaming stopped.

Murphy hosed Iranaqi infantry until his SRAW ran dry. "Rachel," he shouted, "get up there and cover me. Kill 'em! And, remember to reload!"

A look of ultimate horror crossed her face. Then, she seemed to steel herself. Her resolve slowly overcame her horror. She jumped onto the firing step, and quickly pounded out a three-shot burst.

Murphy noted immediately that Rachel had the ammo bin about half loaded. He deftly inserted a 9-mm bullet into the next retainer of the continuous belt, hoping that she had loaded each bullet just as he had shown her. Unless each cartridge was snugly in its retainer, the endless belt which fed the bullets into the firing chamber would jam. One imprecise placement, one shell backwards, one anything not exactly right would stop his SRAW cold. That might mean defeat, death and perhaps worse.

Something hit him in the back. Hands grabbed at his throat! He whipped his knife from his boot and stabbed upward as hard as he could. He twisted, pulled and stabbed again. A body fell from his shoulders.

Murphy looked around quickly. Five feet away, Rachel was wrestling with another attacker. Murphy launched himself at the man. He grabbed the Iranaqi's helmet and yanked back on it. His long blade slid across the enemy's throat, which gushed blood like a geyser.

Rachel's face was drenched with blood, yet she didn't seem to notice it. She grabbed her rifle and raced towards the barricade. As she approached it, another Iranaqi soldier clambered over the top and leapt down upon her. She was crushed beneath him, yet she fought ferociously even as he grabbed for her throat.

Murphy threw himself at the man, and the two of them rolled off Rachel and into the street. But, the Iranaqi was fresher or quicker, and he battled to the top. Suddenly, there was a loud noise like a kitchen pan being pounded by a wooden spoon, and the man collapsed. Murphy looked up in time to see Rachel holding her rifle like a baseball bat, readying another swing.

"I'm OK! Get back there!" he yelled at her.

Without hesitation, she turned, blasted an Iranaqi who had surmounted the wall, and resumed her step. Her rifle clicked on empty. Smoothly, she ejected the empty clip and dug another out of her webbing. She struck the clip firmly on the barricade before her and loaded it into her M-16. Deftly, she cocked the weapon and her three-shot burst killed another Iranaqi climbing the barricade in front of her.

Murphy struggled back to his SRAW. Thirty seconds later, he had strapped the ammo bin onto his back and arose like an avenging angel. His massive weapon fired a steady stream of death back and forth across the street leaving writhing, twisting bodies and dissociated arms, legs and torsos in its wake. He was mad with battle fury and his only reality was war. His life was his SRAW, and his mission was death.

He reloaded again and stumbled back to the barricade, ready to mow down the advancing hordes. He stared at the empty street before him, not believing that the Iranaqis were gone and enraged that there were none of them left to be killed.

A tiny hand touched his shoulder. The dissonance between the touch's delicacy and the terrors of mortal combat jarred his senses. He looked down into a blood-smeared face filled with huge doe-eyes.

"Murg-free, they are gone. We have killed the enemies of Allah, you and I. Now, I shall be sick!"

Murphy patted her shoulder tenderly as the poor little thing wretched, heaving her guts out. "Now you are a soldier!"