I thought of a quote I’d once read, something about war being a thousand private acts of cowardice.  Ducking behind a dirt berm, knowing my men were exposed to the fire, I was ashamed.  This wasn’t leadership.  This wasn’t what I’d been taught at Quantico.  Marine training is essentially a psychological battle against the instinct for self-preservation.  Every impulse screamed for me to curl up behind the berm and wait for someone else to make the Iraqi gun go away.  All the rituals derided as brainwashing, the instant obedience, the infusion of the Corps’s history and traditions, existed for moments like this one.

I took a breath and began to run.  Another burst of fireballs burned past, overshooting again and landing with puffs of dust far out in the field to our west.  A Mark-19 roared in response, and I saw a gunner in Colbert’s Humvee pumping rounds toward the source of the AAA fire.  As I got closer to the platoon, my confidence returned.  I was back in command.

Trombley crouched near the Humvee, leaning into a huge pair of binoculars.  Hasser stood in the turret behind the Mark-19, looking down at Trombley.

“See where the tree line ends on the right?” Trombley said.  “About two fingers left of that, set back in the trees.  I think that’s where the gun is.”

Hasser loosed a burst, walking the exploding grenades in on the spot described by Trombley.  It looked like the AAA gun was near the Mark-19’s maximum range, maybe even out of range.  They could shoot us, but we couldn’t shoot them.

In the driver’s seat of Colbert’s Humvee, Person was singing.

“One, two, three, four, what the fuck are we fighting for?”

“You have to answer that for yourself,” I said as I crouched against the fender, scanning with my binoculars.

“Wee, sir,” Person said, turning in the seat to face me, oblivious to the fight all around him, “I guess I’m fighting for cheap gas and a world without ragheads blowing up our fucking buildings.”

“Good to know you’re such an idealist.”

“That world sounds pretty ideal to me right about now.”

——

My favorite Trombley moment just go TONS better.  It’s a treat for GK fans to read two accounts of this event: one from Wright, he was right there; and another from Nate Fick, the commanding officer of the platoon.  I can just imagine how PROUD he was of his men.

And speaking of Nate… how awesome is he?  I mean, seriously.