Moon Dust | Generation Kill

Chapter 22: The Wrath of God

"Fill the ranger graves! Sterilize your position. We expect to be Oscar Mike by fifteen-hundred!"

Spearing the dry ground with her shovel, Katie took a short break from digging to wipe the beads of sweat from her face and take a quick drink of water. Just as the woman stopped digging, Ray came up beside her and took over. "Thanks." Katie breathed as she glanced over to where Brad was sitting with his shirt off, revealing a large tattoo on his lower back that Katie had never seen before. "This would probably go a lot faster if princess over there would actually help."

"I am helping," Brad retorted with a sly smirk as he began to brush his teeth for the day. "I'm observing to make sure everything gets done right."

Katie snorted, knowing full well that Brad had been digging for a majority of the morning and was only now taking a short rest. It was comforting to know that she could now joke around with Brad without the constant fear of being ridiculed; however, the temperamental man still had his moments. "Forgive me." Katie picked her shovel back up again. "I had no idea there was a wrong way to dig a hole."

"Well, now you know."

Ray opened his mouth to interject, but before he could say anything, something caught his eye over Katie's shoulder. "Oh no. Christlover at my nine."

Brad looked up, the toothbrush still hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Coming this way?" he mumbled.

"Yeah. ETA is like ten seconds." Ray continued to dig, hoping that the fact that he looked busy would deter the company's bible-pusher from speaking to him.

Brad rolled his eyes. "Like I gotta deal with this, too."

Without hesitation, the gentleman with dark skin—who Ray had not-so-affectionately nicknamed 'Christlover'—came to a stop in front of Katie and the others. "Men. Woman," he greeted with a smile as he removed his helmet from his head. "I'm holding a service and I wonder if you would take comfort in pausing for a word of prayer."

"Oh, no thank you, Lieutenant Commander." Ray started out with a polite decline before returning to his usual insensitive language choices. "We got the warning order, so it looks like we're going to be moving out to kill a whole bunch more of these Godless heathens for you. Yeah, but don't worry. We will not rest until the Iraqi threat to your way of worship has been completely neutralized."

The man glared hard at Ray. "I'm aware of the warning order. It is for that reason that we are congregating right now for a brief service-"

"Oh, the other thing is that my team leader here, Sergeant Colbert," Ray interrupted and gestured down to Brad, who was still sitting in the dirt, brushing his teeth. "Yeah, he was born a Hebrew and remains a practicing christ-killer. So, it's purely out of respect for him, I feel as if I'm going to have to forgo your festive rituals."

Katie had to turn away to hide her smirk, but when she heard Lieutenant Christlover walking away, she couldn't help but let out a laugh. Ray and Brad were both grinning from ear to ear, but Trombley, however, just looked more confused than anything. "I don't know why you guys are down on this shit." He looked around. "I'm a Christian."

"Theologically speaking, Trombley, the world's been going downhill ever since man first offered entrails to the Gods," Brad explained before spitting out his toothpaste and standing up.

Trombley cocked a brow. "What's that mean, entrails?"

"That religion is Gay," Ray stated.

Katie shook her head, a smile still on her face. "Yes, that's exactly what that means."

"The point, Lance Corporal, we're supposed to be a recon unit of pure warrior spirit." Brad moved on to helping Trombley roll up the camo netting. "We're out here, forty kliks into enemy lines, and this man of God here, he's a fucking POG. In fact, he's an officer POG. That's one more layer of bureaucracy and unnecessary logistics. One more asshole we need to supply MREs and baby wipes for. And worst of all, the motherfucker doesn't even carry a weapon. When push comes to shove, even rolling stone picks up a gun, but this fucking shill of God, he can't cover a sector. He'll never hump ammo or claymores. This is a fucking war. And we're here as warriors. So on top of everything else that's expected of us, do we really need to drag him along and indulge in this make-believe bullshit?"