Apocalypse Crucible

every meal and Meal-Ready-to-Eat Goose had eaten since arriving in Sanliurfa tasted of dust. But even the prepacked MREs had been welcome.
“Still no sat-com relays in the area?” Goose asked.
“No,” Remington answered.
Only a few days before, the new Romanian president, Nicolae Carpathia, had donated use of his satellite systems to aid the United States military teams in their assessment and eventual evacuation of the border. Yesterday, Carpathia had withdrawn that support. He had decided to go speak to the United Nations to focus the world’s attention on staying together on the issue of the mysterious disappearances. Syria had protested the U.S. military’s use of Carpathia’s satellites, saying the United States was there only to protect their own interests. According to Remington, who had somehow managed to get the Romanian president’s ear, Carpathia had reluctantly agreed and withdrawn the use of the satellites.
The United States–supplied sat-relay system in place now proved barely adequate to allow communications between the U.S. forces scattered around Turkey and USS Wasp in the Mediterranean Sea.
Captain Mark Falkirk commanded Wasp, the lead ship in the sevenvessel Amphibious Readiness Group. At the time of the Syrian attack, the 26th MEU(SOC) had been assigned to a 180-float in the Med. Now Falkirk and his ships were being used as staging areas to prepare for the coming battles in Turkey if Syria didn’t stand down.
A flat tone buzzed in Goose’s headset. Knoffler was calling for attention. “Cap,” Goose said.
“Got it,” Remington replied. “Go.”
Goose flipped the radio back to the primary channel.
“Go, Oracle,” Remington said. “You’ve got Control.”
Goose didn’t say anything. With the Ranger captain logging on, Knoffler would know that the first sergeant was there as well.
“We’ve got movement, Control,” Knoffler said.
“Where?” Remington asked.
Goose raked the terrain with the binocs. Gray movement slid forward from the morass of shifting dust that hovered around the Syrian cav units.
“East end,” Knoffler announced.
“Got it,” Remington said. “One vehicle?”
“Affirmative, Control.”
“Affirmative,” Goose added. “Sweep perimeter checkpoints. By the numbers.”
In quick succession, the perimeter checkpoint duty officers confirmed the reported sighting of one vehicle en route to Sanliurfa. All the checkpoints on the northern side of the city confirmed there was no questionable activity.
Tension filled Goose. He always got that way before combat. Then, when the first round was fired or the first move was executed, everything inside him became unstuck and he could move again. He said a brief prayer, asking God for His help during the course of the night, praying that his men and the people they defended would get through the encounter unscathed.
Three days ago, during the retreat from the border, a pass had become impassable for a short time. While the Syrians closed in at full speed, Corporal Joseph Baker had united the men in reciting the Twenty-third Psalm. Baker had declared his faith in God, offering salvation to the men trapped on that mountain.
And in the moment before the Syrians had opened fire into the trapped military, an earthquake had split the mountain and brushed the enemy army away. The 75th had lived, and Baker had stepped into his calling among the Rangers. Whenever he wasn’t on duty or helping with the wounded, Baker was witnessing to and counseling men who reached out to a faith they had never known or had somehow forgotten about.
Goose counted himself among those who had forgotten their faith in God. Wes Gander, Goose’s father, had taught Sunday school in the little Baptist church they’d attended in Waycross. Goose had always been there, but he hadn’t always been attentive. Now he found himself wishing he’d listened better to the lessons his father had taught.
Peering through the binocs, Goose watched the vehicle approach, picking up speed. It was an American cargo truck. A charred and tattered remnant of the flag of the United States hung from a fiberglass pole in the back. Several of the Turkish, U.N., and U.S. vehicles had been abandoned at the border because there hadn’t been enough gasoline salvaged to remove them all. Many of them had been left behind, booby-trapped. This one appeared to be finding its way to them despite its fate at the border.
“Eagle One,” Goose called out, knowing from experience that Remington would want him to handle moment-to-moment operations to free up the captain to see the overall picture.
“Go, Leader,” Mitchell replied.
“Can you ID the driver?” Goose said. The sniper had a telescopic lens on his M-24 bolt-action sniper rifle.
“Looking, Leader.”
Goose felt cold inside. Although they’d searched diligently, he knew there was every possibility they had left some wounded behind.
There were over two hundred men on Turkish, U.N., Ranger, and marine MIA lists. The Syrians wouldn’t bring prisoners here just to release them. But maybe the man was an advance scout, one who was there to convince them that the Syrians had hostages.
“One man in the cab,” Mitchell said a moment later. “He’s wearing one of our uniforms.”
“Anyone else?” Goose asked.
“Negative.”
The other spotter/sniper teams quickly confirmed the information.
Goose put the binocs away. He knelt beside the retaining wall on the rooftop and unlimbered the M-4A1. The assault rifle had telescopic sights, but they didn’t have the range of the binocs. Keeping the scope on target was also problematic.
The FIRM—Floating Integrated Rail Mount—system allowed a rifleman to mount a number of optical and sighting devices. The AN/ PVS-4 night-vision scope limned the world and everything in it with a green glow.
Leaning forward slightly, bracing to take the recoil of the shot if it came to that, Goose focused on the cargo truck’s driver. The uniform the man wore was that of a Ranger. His face, however, remained in shadows.
“Checkpoint Nineteen,” Goose called as he tracked the cargo truck’s progress. “This is Phoenix Leader.”
“Go, Phoenix Leader. Checkpoint Nineteen reads you loud and clear.”
“Get a loud-hailer, Nineteen,” Goose instructed. “Warn that truck off.”
The response was immediate. “Leader, that truck could have some of our guys in it.”
“Get it done, Nineteen,” Goose ordered, putting steel in his voice.
“If those are our people in that truck, they’ll be there when we get