A Hard and Heavy Thing (16 page)

Weber put his rifle up to his shoulder and looked through his scope to get a clearer look at something in the distance. “That's insane,” he mumbled.

“Seriously,” Levi said. “But when we busted his balls for wasting his time on something so dumb, he made a pair of mittens and a nice little watch cap for every guy in the platoon. And it was winter so it was great for the rest of us. It really mellowed him out. I think it really changed his life. Heck, it changed all of our lives. Before he could finish one for the LT, however, he came down with a nasty case of carpal tunnel syndrome.”

“Carpal tunnel syndrome?”

“It's a stress injury that comes from repetitive motion, numbnuts. From all the knitting. It got so bad he couldn't squeeze his trigger. They had to send him home.”

“They sent a dude home because he got carpal tunnel syndrome?” Weber said. “From playing Martha Stewart?”

“You got it,” said Levi. “And that's why you're here, Sunshine. Got any more stupid questions?”

“No, Sar'nt,” he said, lowering his voice.

“Welcome to the party,” Levi said. He walked off.

He had no real answers to give, of course. Ferguson had been shot in the head. There was no carpal tunnel. There were no bunny rabbit nesting dolls. And there were no life-changing watch caps and mittens. There was only a split-second, a chin on a chest in repose, the dull slump of a body being pulled from the turret, and then nothing. There were no real stories and there were no real answers, so they made them all up.

Now the men sweated in the middle of MSR Tampa for hours, hemmed in on all sides by geography, impassable lines of cars, and a growing mob of angry locals. Men desperate to do something—anything—smoked cigarettes and longed for nothing more than to finger their triggers.

A few minutes later, Levi heard chatter from members of Second Platoon, who were escorting the EOD team. He looked up and saw the top of a tan, boxy Air Force M116 Humvee that looked more like a bread truck than a war machine. As it grew closer and the honking of cars grew louder, he saw that the EOD team was bumping the Toyotas out of their way with the giant steel bumper mounted to the front, much to the chagrin of the locals. Levi called Second Platoon's six on the radio and let them know they had a visual on the EOD team.

When the bomb disposal team finally did break all the way through the line of cars, they dropped their black robot and got to work right away.

Levi huddled over Airman First Class Matthew Hefti's shoulder. The young Air Force EOD tech, who looked like he had barely finished high school, let a cigarette dangle from his lips as he worked. He squinted his eyes against the smoke that wafted up from his cigarette; sweat dripped from under his Kevlar, down his face, and onto his robot controller.

Tech Sergeant Pat Cazalet, the leader of the two-man EOD team, came up behind the two infantrymen. “Don't you think you two should be worried about your sectors? Let Matt here drive the robot, and he'll let you look for bad guys.”

Levi sheepishly turned around. Nick, however, continued to stare at the screen. The Tech Sergeant's not-so-subtle order didn't register.

“Sergeant Hartwig,” said Cazalet. “Maybe you should square away your troop.”

“Nick,” said Levi, looking over his shoulder. “Eyes out.”

“Huh?” Nick said. He snapped out of it, and his eyes grew wide.

When Levi turned to look at what Nick saw, a white Toyota blazed down the gravel road that ran parallel to Tampa on the east side of the canal. Two military-aged males hung out the windows spraying AK fire. He looked down the sight of his weapon, but he couldn't focus on anything beyond his rear-sight aperture. When the shot was lost, he looked up over the barrel of his rifle to see Gassner already running toward his truck.

Levi barked orders as he ran. On his way back to the EOD truck, he stopped between the two Archer vehicles and looked up at the gunners. “I know you want a fight, fellas. If you have the chance, send them to their virgins, but use your brains, okay? Just look around at this mess.” He gestured to the jam of cars and observers. “Some spray-and-pray potshots aren't worth the hell you'll have to pay if you hit any of these civilians.” He stood there a second, waiting for acknowledgment. “Got it?”

The gunners said in unison, “Hooah, Sar'nt.”

“Good. Now go get some.”

Levi then ran around the truck and grabbed Nick's arm as he climbed into Victor Two with Gassner. “Nuh uh, buddy. Not this time. You're staying with me. Someone needs to guard EOD.” He pulled Nick back over to the EOD truck and stopped when they reached Hefti and his robot controller.

Hefti looked up from the controller at the two Humvees tearing away. Levi put his gloved hand on the airman's shoulder. “You look this way,” and he pointed with his other hand at the robot control screen. “And be quick about it so we can get the hell out of here.” He removed his hand from Hefti's shoulder and put it on Nick's. “You, watch this way.” He pointed behind the EOD tech and waved his arm in an arc. “One hundred and eighty degrees behind this guy. Get his back and don't pay any attention to what he's doing. Got it?” Nick nodded, but said nothing.

Levi walked around to the other side of the truck where Cazalet was on the radio with his own chain of command. He spit tobacco juice onto the asphalt and keyed the mic again. “Alamo, this is Caz. Roger, we're in contact here and gotta get movin', so we won't be using the bomb suit on this one.”

The radio crackled, “Roger, team one, stand by while we seek approval for that.”

Levi took a knee and faced out.

Cazalet keyed his radio again. “Negative Alamo. I ain't requesting it, I'm frickin' tellin' ya.” He tossed his radio mic back into the seat of his truck and ignored their response. As he walked around the front of his vehicle, he called out, “How's it going, Matt?”

Levi glanced over his shoulder and saw a flash down the road. Cazalet flinched and hit the ground. Not a full second later, Levi heard the ear-splitting crack of the IED and he saw the main body of the robot fall from the sky onto the highway. He scooted around the backside of the Humvee and pressed himself against its protective steel as he heard the thud of rocks and the clink of metal falling around him.

When the sounds stopped, he looked around the other side of the vehicle at Hefti and Nick, who were now looking at the static on the robot screen. Cazalet picked himself up off the ground and walked toward them. Hefti dropped his cigarette on the ground and noticed that Levi was looking at him. He shrugged. “Oops,” he said.

He closed the robot control unit and jumped into the driver's seat of the Humvee.

Cazalet turned to him and said, “Just a second, Matt.” He walked around to the back of the vehicle to meet Levi. “Sorry, man. We gotta go down there and get that thing and clear it.”

Levi nodded.

Cazalet turned around and stepped away from the Humvee to look at the dissipating mushroom cloud. “You can stay, or you can ride down there with us to be in the armor, but I think you should stay. No sense in all of us going down there. They're trying to kill us, ya know?”

Levi couldn't tell if he was kidding or not.

The EOD bread truck pulled away and rattled down the highway toward the scene of the blast. Levi nodded in the direction of the runaway and said, “Who needs to square away their troop now?”

Cazalet ran after the truck a few steps and yelled, “What the hell, Matt?” Then he gave up and watched.

“What's up with that?” Levi asked.

Cazalet shook his head in a mixture of frustration and wonder. “If he doesn't get killed down there, I'll kill him myself when we get back to the FOB.”

Nick, Levi, and Cazalet watched Hefti drive right up next to the main body of the broken robot. When he jumped out of the truck, he was practically on top of it. He bent down and picked it up. Struggling with its weight, he shuffled to the back of the Humvee. He dropped it onto the ground without ceremony, opened the squared-off back hatch, picked up the robot body again, and heaved it into the truck. He scampered around the truck picking up other assorted pieces, and after making a full circle around the truck, he dumped those in the back as well. He got back into the driver's seat, stood up on the sideboard, looked around and over the top of the Humvee, sat down in the seat, slammed the door, and put it back into gear. He drove in reverse all the way back to where the other men stood. He tossed his door open. “Problem solved. Let's roll.”

Cazalet shook his head, told Levi and Nick to hop in the back, and he got in the TC side.

“Caz,” said Hefti when they were all in. “I had a perfectly good—”

“Not another word from you, Matt,” said the EOD team leader.

Levi was secretly pleased about the EOD team's misstep. It could have taken them hours to robotically separate all the hazardous components. At least now they were on the move again. Levi's knees pressed against the steel bar that braced the back of the driver's Humvee seat. He tried adjusting himself, but despite his own diminutive stature, there was not enough room for his legs. He leaned forward to scoot his butt back on the dusty canvas seat as far as he could, which wasn't easy on account of his body armor. He put his hands on the back of the driver's seat and leaned up, pointing across Hefti's shoulder. “Cut the median and stop right before that foot bridge. I'll get out and spot you over.”

“Roger,” said Hefti.

“Stop here,” Levi said when they had squared up in front of the wooden footbridge, which was barely as wide as the Humvee itself. He opened the door, only too happy to be out of the truck. He took a cursory glance at the ground for wires, disturbed earth, dog corpses, or any other indicator that an IED might be waiting. Nothing unusual registered so he hustled to the bridge. He jumped on it a few times to test its weight-bearing capacity, as if the weight of a man were a test of what could hold several tons of steel. He eased himself down the canal embankment to glance under the bridge. When he was satisfied the Humvee could make it over, he took his position in front of the Humvee and slowly guided the driver with hand signals. He pointed at Hefti and then pointed at his own eyes with two fingers. The airman held his gaze as Levi eased the Humvee onto the bridge and over the canal.

Each tire hung halfway off the bridge. If the bridge collapsed under the weight of the truck or if the driver turned too far to the left or the right, the truck's occupants would most likely drown in the canal, unable to open the heavy steel doors underwater and unable to extricate themselves from their own heavy body armor even if they could. Such hazards were routine.

Levi pointed left and right, and Hefti made micro-movements with the steering wheel to keep the truck on the path. When the front wheels were safely on solid ground, Levi turned around and walked forward in front of the vehicle until it was on the canal road. He looked up the road in the direction the other squads had traveled in pursuit of the white Toyota that had engaged them.

Approximately a hundred meters down the road, Levi could make out what looked like two dirt bikes laid out on the gravel in front of a hut. Two Archer Platoon Humvees stood parked in front. Several of Levi's platoon mates were standing back with their hands on the pistol guards of their slung rifles while Gassner and two other soldiers stood over two local men on the ground. The detainees were, as of yet, uncuffed. They kept trying to lift themselves to all fours to scurry away, but each time they lifted their bellies off the ground, Gassner or one of the other men placed a boot on their backs and kicked them down into the dusty gravel on the canal road. The men on the ground resigned themselves to low crawling like snakes toward their refuge near the side of the path. Mud walls, straw roof, and a rotted wooden door.

Levi cursed under his breath and took off running down the road, holding his rifle close to his body so it didn't bang against his legs. “Hey,” he yelled. “Those aren't even the same guys.” The heavy humid air swallowed his voice, a voice that quickly grew breathless under the extra weight he carried. He was halfway to them when they disappeared inside the hut.

He pulled up, out of breath, and called up to Tom in the turret. “What the hell's going on, Hooper?”

“Hut's the trigger point, Sar'nt. Guys had plans on them for the bomb. Like diagrams and shit. See? These are the guys that blew us up, Sar'nt.” He held out a piece of lined paper, college-ruled, edges ripped from a spiral-bound notebook, grimy with the prints of hands that hadn't been washed for days.

Levi stood on his tiptoes, reached up and grabbed the paper from Hooper, and examined it. Arabic handwriting and crude drawings of wires, a battery, and a projectile covered the page. Levi stared at the page and then looked up, noticing their interpreter still cowering inside the Humvee. “Jellybean,” Levi shouted. “What good is a terp who hides inside a truck? Get out here and earn your keep.”

Levi pulled the door open and Jalaladin got out, looked around, and took the piece of paper that Levi thrust into his chest. “What's it say?” Levi asked.

“This looks like a kid did this writing. It's just like, some like, instructions and shit. Like, it says to just be hooking this thing up here like this in the picture, and that's it man.”

Cazalet walked around so he could look over Jalaladin's shoulder. “Could you be more specific? How does it say to set it up exactly?”

“I freaking told you guys what this shit says, man. It's like some kid stuff, okay?”

Levi ripped the paper from Jalaladin's hand. He stared at it, teeth clenched, hands shaking. “Payback's a bitch,” he said.

“Frickin' worthless now that all you guys put your fingerprints all over it,” said Cazalet before sticking another dip in his lower lip.

The sound of someone crying out in fear and pain came from the mud hut to their left. Hefti pulled out a cigarette and leaned against his Humvee. “You gonna look into that?” he asked, looking at Levi.