Moon Dust | Generation Kill

Chapter 14: Wrong Turn

All Hitman Two Victors, this is Hitman Two. Be advised the report of an enemy gas attack was again in error. Break. All Hitman teams return to MOP-2 posture. Over."

Pulling off her gas mask and making sure that Whiskey was still doing okay, Katie tucked her gear away and smiled at the sound of Poke and the other men in the humvee behind them singing some Iraq war version of a song she didn't know.

"This is plain undignified." Brad couldn't help but cheer up a little at the singing as well.

Holding up his single, white-gloved hand, Ray smiled sheepishly. "Hello, everyone. I'm Micheal Jackson." He made his voice high pitched like the famous singer. Brad and Katie laughed a little at the gag, but not everyone in the vehicle was so easily entertained.

Exhaling sharply, Evan tore his gas mask off of his face angrily. He looked downright depressed, what with his sunken eyes from no sleep and sopping wet face from all of the sweat. "This is fucking miserable," he complained, the heat, constant movement, and little rest finally beginning to seep into the very core of his upbeat attitude.

"Yeah, but we get to invade a whole fucking country, dude." Ray tried to look on the bright side—or at least, what he considered to be the bright side.

"At this point, I almost wish Saddam would gas us," Brad muttered under his breath as he fiddled with something in his lap. "It would make all the effort with our MOP suits worth it."

Evan, who was wiping the sweat from his forehead, sighed. "It would justify the invasion," he commented lazily, just trying to keep the conversation going so there would be something to do other than stare out the window at the miles and miles of sand.

"Like the American Marines need a reason to invade a country." Katie snorted at the absurd suggestion. "I think we just do it for fun now; just to prove we can."

"Well, there's no doubt Saddam's got chemicals," Ray continued, taking the bait that Evan hadn't even really meant to lay out for him. "It's just you liberal dicksucks who try to pick everything apart."

At an earlier point in her life, being called a 'liberal dicksuck' would have really put a damper on her mood, but considering her current situation and the turn of events her life had taken, 'liberal dicksuck' was one of the nicer things Katie had heard about herself; even if the comment was directed more at Evan anyway.

Hearing a series of gunshots in rapid succession, Katie turned her head in the direction of the noise. Lifting his gun, Brad peered through his scope to identify the source of the gunfire. "Foot-mobiles, two o'clock. Maybe nine-hundred meters out."

"Took a few rounds from that gas station. We're pushing through."

Looking back toward the tail end of the convoy, Evan tried to spot the gas station. "Bravo Three's behind us, right?" he called up to Brad. "They're taking fire from that gas station we passed?"

"Slow down," Brad ordered to Ray before turning his attention back to the foot-mobiles. "Is that an RPG tube?"

Scooting over to Evan, Katie propped her gun upon his window and used it to look out at the two men in the distance. Although her scope didn't have nearly the magnification that Brad's did, she was still able to identify the targets. "I can't tell what it is, but they're definitely holding something large," Katie confirmed.

"That's what I thought." Brad nodded to himself before picking up the radio receiver. "Hitman Two, this is Two One. We got two foot-mobiles on our two o'clock, nine-hundred meters out in black. They appear to be carrying an RPG tube. How copy?"

"Hitman Two One, wait, One. Over."

"Walt, do you see 'em?" Brad called up to the man on the main gun. "Fucking popped down."