Page 139 of Cry Havoc

Tom looked to his left and right.

Nothing.

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a foot dislodging a rock.

They were behind him.

Tom spun and pivoted out of his position just as a grenade landed where he had been sitting a second earlier.

The rocky face of the hillside offered cover, and Tom ducked behind a boulder just as the grenade detonated, showering him with debris.

He rose from behind the rock and fired three rounds into a man not 20 yards away, a man who had another grenade ready to throw.

The grenade dropped at his feet.

His comrade shouted and attempted to move, which put him squarelyin Tom’s sights. Four more rounds of 7.62 x 39 sent him to the afterlife as the dropped grenade detonated.

Where did those guys come from?

Tom realized why there were not larger-caliber weapons in the camp. They were hidden on the hillsides. Probably antiaircraft weapons. Those two men had been manning one when the shooting started.

Tom ducked back down behind the rock as the hillside erupted again from the impact of bullets from below. He crawled to a nearby boulder, took a knee, and angled out from behind it, ready to fire. Bullets danced around him.

He found Quinn’s tree from his new position.

Stay on target.

You have to find a shot.

Would you want Quinn to do it for you?

Yes.

If you die here, the fate of these men dies with you.

You owe it to them to get out of here. Get back to friendly lines. Bring in the assault force.

But Quinn…

He focused back on the tree, Quinn and the Soviet still behind it.

Your friend is being disemboweled. You need to find and take the shot.

A liquid was sprayed on the pile of guts, almost as if the Soviet was pissing on them. But it wasn’t piss. Tom had heard of this torture before. It was gas or lighter fluid. The Soviet was going to light Quinn’s intestines on fire while they were still connected to his body.

Tom could not tell if Quinn was screaming over the gunfire. He couldn’t hear anything between barrages.

Quinn’s antagonist lit a match.

Tom watched as his friend’s entrails were set ablaze.

Then he heard the screams.

“No!” Tom yelled, letting loose with a barrage out of pure rage, his rounds impacting in and around the tree.

Get it under control. That’s not accurate fire,he thought as he replaced the empty magazine and racked the bolt, bringing it back to online and lining up the sight with the tree at the compound’s center.

Tom tried to put Quinn’s agony out of his head. He didn’t know if Quinn had stopped screaming or if he had just blocked it out. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was dying in agony.