The Education of Caraline

“Perhaps ‘like’ was too strong a word, Captain,” I suggested, coolly.

I saw Sebastian’s lips quirk up in a small smile, before he quickly stifled it. He wasn’t the only one – I saw two of the other officers grin openly.

“You’d better come with me, Ms. Venzi,” the Captain muttered, somewhat unwillingly. “And you, Hunter.”

“I feel like Fox Mulder,” I muttered loud enough for Grant to hear, but not loud enough that he’d feel the need to reply. “The Marines’ ‘most unwanted’.”

The Captain’s forehead creased in a frown, but I thought I detected a hint of humor in his eyes, too.

The dawn patrols left the compound on foot: today’s mission was to scout out the area and get a hands-on idea of the terrain. The two patrols checking out the old marketplace probably had the most dangerous job – although there weren’t really any safe ones. But those old bazaar buildings provided plenty of places where IEDs could be planted, or gunmen could hide.

By comparison, my stroll up the river wadi would be easy. Or perhaps ‘easier’ was a better way of describing it, because the heat was already building uncomfortably, and nothing would be ‘easy’ today.

I’d been positioned in the middle of the patrol for safety. Sebastian was up front with the Captain when we saw our first locals.

Four small boys, aged about eight or nine, were sitting in a patch of dirt when they saw us. They stood up in a hurry, looking scared, but Sebastian called out to them, and they stared at him in surprise. He said something else and I saw the biggest boy, who seemed to be acting as the leader, shake his head. Then the boy pointed up into the foothills.

I snapped a quick picture while no one was looking.

“He says there are Taliban up in the hills, sir,” Sebastian said to Grant, quietly. “They moved into position during the night. He doesn’t think they’ll come out in daytime. Not sure I’d take that as an ironclad guarantee, but it could mean they’ll hit us at dusk, or first thing in the morning.”

I saw him glance at me.

“Anything else?” said the Captain.

Sebastian sighed. “He said his father has promised to get him a rifle like mine when he’s ten.”

I couldn’t help wondering how long this war would go on, when children were being used to carry it forward.

Then one of the boys spotted me and gaped, openly pointing me out to his friends. They rattled off a question and Sebastian grinned.

“They want to know if Ms. Venzi is your wife, sir, or if you just brought her to do the cooking.”

I’ll get you for that, Hunter!

Some of the troops laughed, but Grant looked slightly flustered.

“Tell them she does the cooking,” he said.

Sebastian gave them the answer and the boys nodded wisely. Then he handed each of them a hard candy, and we moved on, watching as they waved goodbye.

From a distance, I snapped another photo of them waving, then hurried to catch up with Grant.

“Would you like to explain that to me, Captain Grant,” I said, mildly, while secretly giving him the evil eye.

“I don’t want word getting out that we have a journalist with us,” he said, shortly.

He had a point, and, despite the heat, I felt a shiver go down my spine. As I fell back to my place in the middle of the patrol, I glanced over to see Sebastian looking at me, a serious and worried expression on his face.

We moved slowly next to the dried riverbed when one of the Marines on point yelled out, “Incoming!”

I looked up to see a bright flash in the sky and heard an intensely loud roaring overhead. I half-dived, half-fell into the wadi, following the Marines who’d hit the deck the second their colleague had shouted.

The rocket propelled grenade shook the ground as it exploded, and the percussion from the hot air deafened me. Even though I was terrified, I could tell that the noise wasn’t dangerously near to us.

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