Moon Dust | Generation Kill

Chapter 20: Lather, Rinse, and Repeat

Shuffling back over to the humvee, having just heard the news about the left-behind supply truck being destroyed, which resulted in the marines being left with one meal a day, Katie's mood was anything but cheery. 

After settling down underneath the camo netting beside Ray, who was lying on his back with Whiskey's head resting on his stomach, Katie let out an annoyed groan and rubbed her hands over her face. "I'm so sick of the incompetence in this fucking battalion," she mumbled.

"I'm just saying I'm surprised is all, Brad." Ray looked up at Brad, who was sitting on the roof of the humvee, and continued whatever conversation they had been having before Katie arrived. "I mean, aren't you surprised?"

Brad huffed. "Shut the fuck up."

"I mean, I'm betting that they were thinking that they could just, you know, leave a fully-loaded supply truck laying around. Just like you could anywhere in America, you know." Ray's sarcasm was through the roof, had there actually been a real roof over their heads. "I mean, you park your unlocked car in Detroit or Baltimore, I mean, your shit's gonna be there guaranteed when you get back from the day spa with your skin all exfoliated and shit, right? I mean seriously, homes, why would our Iraqi brethren want four-hundred pounds of C-4, claymores, and crates of M-16s? I mean, it just doesn't make any sense. Oh, wait! They could be using all that C-4 for, like, a giant 4th of July celebration. What do you think, Brad?"

"I think it's time for you to shut the fuck up."

Looking down at Whiskey, Katie gave him a few pats. "Most of Whiskey's food was in that truck. Now all I have left are the few cans that are stored in the humvee."

"Well, if your dog dies from starvation, we could always eat the dog," Trombley spoke up from where he was sitting beside Gabe.

Katie didn't have the energy to think out a clever comeback. "I'm going to eat you, Trombley."

Before another word could be said on that front, two men from Alpha company walked over, their sights set on Trombley. "Nice job shooting those camels, Trombley," they remarked, making it clear to Katie that Trombley had been the one to open fire on the herd when she herself had hesitated.

"I think I shot one of those Iraqis too," Trombley said, seeming quite proud of himself. "I saw him fall."

"All we saw was camels going down," the first man from Alpha retorted.

The second nodded. "Camel killer."

"Look, I didn't mean to shoot innocent camels, all right?" Trombley suddenly seemed much less cocky. "I'm sure I shot people."

Without even looking up from cleaning his weapon, Brad addressed the two visitors. "Shouldn't you two be doing the after-action report on Alpha's failed recon mission?"

Katie was about to ask Trombley about what he saw when shooting at the men and camels, but before she could, the familiar—and frankly, irritating—sound of Sergeant Major Sixta's voice could be heard as he approached the group. "What's this about you losing your kevlar?" He looked at Garza.

"It bounced off my head, Sergeant Major, last night," Garza answered.

"Bounced off your head?"

"I was up on the fifty cal and the humvee went over a berm, Sergeant Major."

Then, just like that, Sixta went all screamo on Garza. "That kevlar wasn't yours to lose! That was the property of this United States Marine Corps! It belonged to every marine! 'Cause of your failure to secure that helmet you've jeopardized every marine serving today. I was considering NJPing your ass."