Dead March¹

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The scouts decided to wait until nightfall to head back to their camp. Though the regulars appeared to have all moved off, they hadn't counted them, so they would have no idea if they had left anyone behind.

The senior of the two men glassed the area where the regulars had been setting up, lowering his field glasses, he said, "Well, they didn't leave anything behind that I can see. I don't see anybody either, but those f**kers are pretty good about hiding. Doubt we'd see 'em less'n they wanted to be seen."

The younger scout spoke up, "Shouldn't we go down and check anyways?"

"Nope, nuthin' to gain from that. We'd best get back and let the commander know what's going on. It'll be dark soon, we'll move then."

The soldier watched from his hide as the two civilians moved off from where they had been observing the checkpoint. He thought for a long while about what he should do next.

He'd chosen to remain behind when the rest of his company had fallen back. He'd lost friends during the disastrous excursion to a "suspected arms cache" two weeks back. Two he had seen die, one had been left behind when they began their retreat. He was sure that his friend was simply wounded, as opposed to dead, but his wounds weren't simple, his lower body was covered in blood. There was no way his friend could get away on his own.

He had started forward to drag the man to safety when his platoon leader had screamed at him to stay with the unit. The man had actually had the temerity to threaten the sniper with his weapon. The officer's pistol wasn't accurate at anything approaching tactical ranges, but up close and personal, even that reserve lieutenant couldn't miss.

That still rankled him. None of the people lost that day were accounted for, other than the fact that they were missing, some "missing presumed dead" depending on eyewitnesses. Most of whom were pretty busy during the running firefight that day had turned into. He had seen two men that he knew take head shots, they couldn't have survived. Then the friend he had seen lying in the road, screaming, begging for help. That was three he knew the status of, yet command insisted that they were "missing in action."

He was beginning to wonder exactly what it was he was fighting for, no doubt he was listed as a deserter right now. No one had seen him stay behind, one thing he'd learned as a sniper was how to disappear.

The Captain came into the Company headquarters tent, when he saw his Sergeant, he went over to him.

"Sarge, have you seen our scout/sniper since we left the checkpoint?"

The Sergeant shook his head, "He was with us when we went out, he wasn't with us when we got back."

"Deserter?"

"I don't know, Sir. He was bitching about things the other day, things like, 'What the f**k are we doing here?', he lost three of his buddies on that day."

Most of the men didn't refer to the running ambush and fight by the day of the week, or the actual date, to the men in the Company, it was simply, "that day."

The Captain shook his head, "Half the regiment is missing, the Boss wants to head back to that town and kick some ass."

"Doesn't he remember who got their asses kicked the last time we went there?"

"Remember Sarge, he wasn't there, he was at brigade headquarters."

"Oh yeah, he wasn't there, the troopers know that too. If we go out again, I'm betting the Boss stays out. But you didn't hear that from me."

"Copy that, Sarge."

"So the regulars left the woods?"

"That's what I figure Commander. They spent a few hours setting up a checkpoint, had abatis and everything, then a latecomer showed up, looked like an officer. He and a sergeant-looking fellow chatted for a bit, there was some hand waving going on during that chat, then the whole passel just packed up and left."

"All of 'em?"

"Near as we can figure. We didn't count them at first, they were moving around a lot, fellows coming and going. So when they left we didn't do a head count then either. Coulda been a stay behind or two, whether to trap us or to get away from their own army, I don't know. We didn't go down to the site, the regulars might have set some traps, I wasn't keen to find out."

The commander thought for a moment, then nodded, "Thanks, you fellows go get some chow, and put your heads down for a while, we're going to head back out before the sun comes up. Set a few traps ourselves."

The sniper realized that he had made a big mistake. He didn't want to go back to camp, but he had nowhere else to go. No doubt they were wondering where he was, if he went back, he might be in the shit. But if he didn't, what the hell could he do? He sure as hell wasn't going to join up with the militia. They'd killed his friends.

Then the thought struck him, he'd head in the direction that the two civilians had gone, maybe he could find out what the militia was up to, find their camp. That might be the only thing to save his ass.

As he moved off into the darkness of the forest, it began to rain. It wouldn't be long before the first snows came. But for now, he couldn't think about that, he'd given himself a mission. For now he had to find an excuse for his own side not to punish him.

As fluid as the situation was, he might just be able to pull it off. He said a little prayer as he moved, he wondered if God even cared about them any more. Too many dead, too many evil deeds done. All he could do was ride it out.

He was riding the tiger now², he couldn't just jump off.

¹ Yes, this one.

² A Chinese idiom, 骑虎难下.