Page 36 of Salute, To Bravery

“A nyone stand out?” I asked as I studied the recruits. They seemed the usual uninspired lot. Oh, they’d make good soldiers, dedicated and loyal, but they weren’t what I wanted. I was looking for extraordinary, not grunts. The person who outshone everyone, the recruit that had oomph.

“Come and see this,” Colonel Marks said.

We got into his jeep, and Marks drove to where advanced training was happening.

This was for those the army could use as potential special ops.

There were five teams of six recruits on the field waiting to start.

I ran my eyes over them and arrested on the third group.

There was something about them. The other teams seemed tense, but these were relaxed, although incredibly focused.

“He’ll lead,” Marks said, nodding towards the teen on the end. I realised that none of the team were out of their teens and wondered why they’d signed up.

“Background,” I demanded.

“They are friends, from what I’ve heard, they grew up from babes together. All come from a slum area; parents were abusive, drunk, high, or assholes. They looked after themselves until they hit eighteen. Rumour is Tommy Anders and Jake Maelstrom got into college, but wouldn’t leave the other four.

“They signed up at the same recruiting office on the same day and have stuck together like glue since. All six of them are in tune with one another and… just watch,” Marks answered.

“Okay,” I agreed and settled back, snatching some binoculars from the dashboard.

◆◆◆

An hour later, I had my recruits picked and made sure Marks would bring them to his office once they passed basic training in two weeks.

I’d never seen a team work so smoothly together.

It was as if they were physic; they literally read each other’s thoughts, and all took their lead from Anders.

As I sat in a commandeered office, I read through their files, looking for anything I needed to be aware of.

Tommy Anders was the second eldest but clearly the leader.

He’d been given a football scholarship but refused it out of loyalty to his friends.

Anders’ training officer, Drill Sergeant O’Neill, had noted that Anders had an incredible ability to lead in one so young.

Anders was highly intelligent and thoughtful and could adapt on the fly.

Jake Maelstrom had also been offered a college scholarship and had turned his back on it.

His parents were drug users who spent more time inside than out.

Jake had grown up living at his friends’ houses when his parents went to jail.

I shuddered; the teen had been completely overlooked and could easily have become a gang member.

O’Neill had remarked on Maelstrom’s ability to execute Anders’ plans, and he was a natural second-in-command.

Kaitlin Foster was noted to be sharp, intelligent, and calm under pressure. She worked out constantly, was not afraid to stand her ground, and had excellent marksmanship skills. O’Neill had commented about sniper training for her. Kaitlin had the personality to suit the role.

Edgar Rogers would be a great intelligence officer. There appeared to be humour in O’Neill’s words when he mentioned how Rogers seemed to ferret out information without people realising. Rogers already spoke Arabic and Chinese due to his parents, who were drunks but apparently vocal ones.

Sophie Denning was the youngest and the one they all tried to watch over, and she kicked their asses.

O’Neill had observed her talent to hold her own and search for escape routes as a natural skill.

There was nothing normal about an eighteen-year-old girl constantly looking to make sure she could flee.

I hated to think what Denning might have suffered.

The last member, Tony DiMarco, was the eldest by a month.

DiMarco was quiet, and O’Neill noted a cold look in DiMarco’s eye.

DiMarco was showing a high proficiency with weapons.

He’d already picked up extra training and knew how to build and dismantle a bomb.

Also, when given a pile of shit, DiMarco had forged weapons for his team on another exercise, and they’d won.

This was the team I was searching for. There was no doubt about it.

I wrote down instructions for Marks to give them extra training in certain areas, and then I’d speak to them; once they passed basic training.

And then their specialised training would begin for the following six months. Those six teenagers would be mine.

Kaitlin

I struggled under the body pinning me down as he tried to force my combats down. While giving him as much trouble as possible, I shoved a hand under my top and grabbed my bra.

“Fuckin’ cunt,” Parsons sneered in my ear.

“You’re gonna die, asshole,” I promised.

“Anything goes in this scenario. Foster, my men would cheer me for fuckin’ you,” Parsons growled.

“Your men are dying by my team even as you try to rape me. The captain won’t be pleased with you,” I retorted, panting as Parsons slammed my head against the table and cut through my belt with a knife.

The fuck I’d let him rape me. We were in a training session, one of our last, and it was meant to simulate actual circumstances.

Getting raped was a possibility. Still, I didn’t think Shere would appreciate a real-life rape.

But Parsons was intent on getting into my pants.

He’d been trying ever since we’d landed here six months ago, and now he had his chance.

He was going for it. Our fighting was not pretend but real. Parsons actually intended to rape me.

My fingers hit the item I sought. Yanking it free, I reacted and kicked backwards at Parsons, connecting with his knee.

Parsons stumbled away, and my elbow met his gut. Spinning, I slashed at his throat with the sharpened wire in my hand. Parsons’ eyes widened as he saw it coming and he ducked, but I still gashed his face.

Parsons’s hand flew to his cheek, and he stared at me in hate.

There it was. Parsons’ trigger, his pretty features had been marred.

Angrily, Parsons came at me in a flurry of punches and kicks, which I defended against while keeping hold of my weapon.

Hateful words and insults spilt from his lips.

Several times he caught my face, but only glancing blows.

Luckily his anger had made him reckless.

I attacked back, using the wire to slash and cut, and Parsons retreated.

“I’ll fuck you front and back,” Parsons sneered as he came at me again.

“You’ll not do shit. My team is coming for me. This was our plan: distract you by using me and take the rest of them out. You walked right into our trap,” I retorted, and Parsons paused for a few moments. “You’re lying.”

“No. Any minute now, my team will come through that door and end this bullshit. Just gotta keep you occupied, which isn’t proving hard. Like all men, you think with your dick,” I stated cheerfully. It was easy to remain calm, as I knew my team was on the way.

“I’ll break you,” Parsons spat, coming at me. A lucky blow caught my hand, and I dropped my weapon, and Parsons crowed.

Hand to hand, we fought bitterly, Parsons using his longer reach and brute strength to beat me down, but I wasn’t going to break.

I fought back just as hard, using my speed and size against him.

Our bodies would be a mass of bruises after this.

As I stumbled from a brutal roundhouse, the door blew open and in stormed Anders.

There was murder in his eyes as he gazed at me and then at Parsons.

With a primal shout, Anders launched, and I slid to the ground as Rogers covered me. Denning quickly checked me over for broken bones.

“Finish him,” Smith urged nastily as Anders kept pounding Parsons, who was now down and unconscious.

“Don’t get court marshalled for murder. Stop, Anders!” I ordered. Anders gave Parsons one last look and kick and then came over to me.

“Can you walk?”

“Fuckin’ watch me. Grab their box, and let’s go,” I wheezed. Shit, I think I had two broken ribs.

“DiMarco, carry Foster and head for the boat, Smith and Denning cover them. We got Parsons and Long’s teams, but we don’t know what other surprises there are out there. Denning, keep your weapon hot,” Anders ordered, and we nodded. “Maelstrom, we’re breaking ground. Move out.”

As one, we headed out towards the boat. The idea was to reach it and sail to the mainland from the island we were on.

Once we landed, we’d pass the test, but there had to be some other unwelcome surprise.

It couldn’t be this easy. Being carried over DiMarco’s shoulder was embarrassing and annoying.

I could have walked, but I understood Anders’ decision.

We needed to move speedily. We’d taken out the other two teams and had to reach the boat.

Quietly, we moved through the undergrowth, looking for traps or signs of an ambush.

There was nothing. As we approached the shore, we all became more tense and alert.

It was here that an ambush would happen, but we reached the boat without issue.

And then we saw why. The inflatable had been slashed.

“Fuckers,” Anders spat. We all swapped glances. We needed to get back to the mainland, or we’d lose alongside the other teams. No doubt one of the losers had damaged this when they realised we were going to win.

“Anyone got anything we can repair it with?” Smith asked, and we all shook our heads.

DiMarco scanned the shoreline, undoubtedly in searching an escape route.

“Tree sap?” Denning offered, and while we raised some eyebrows at her suggestion, DiMarco shook his head.

“It would never hold those slashes together,” he drawled. His gaze was focused on the beach, and we could see him working something out. A slow smile crossed his face.

“Cut the inflatable into strips. The rest of you grab those logs. We’re leaving here.”

Curious, I gazed at DiMarco, wondering what the hell he was up to. Surely he wasn’t going to build a raft?

Shere

“Well, that’s surprising,” I said as I watched Anders’ team putting together a raft.

“Are they thinking of paddling across?” Runner, my aide, asked.

“Fuck knows, but they’re not giving up.”

“Sir, they are well over the time allotted for this exercise,” Runner pointed out.

“Yeah, we should send in the rescue chopper, but I want to see what they do. We’ll keep monitoring them for now. And Parsons needs to be arrested. Rape is never allowed, and he was certainly trying to rape her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve had men and women come back broken and bloody.

But nobody ever resorted to rape. Some might have been striped to show vulnerability, but never rape.

And we won’t stand for it. He’s heading for a court-marshal.

Foster fought him off well, and where did she get the idea for that bra wire weapon? ” I wondered.

“Several women in base wear them now. I heard Foster showed them how to make them and also now not to stab themselves with them too.”

“Those teens and their brains amaze me.” “They’re still teens,” Runner pointed out.

“And? That means we can mould them how we want. That’s all a teen means. Each of them is nineteen now. Legally, they are adults,” I responded, rankled. How dare Runner question me?

I’d deal with him later. I was interested as two team members built a raft with branches and broken trees.

Two had axes and were cutting down more.

Foster rested, clearly hurt but conscious.

Meanwhile, DiMarco was removing the inflatable engine carefully.

I finally began to see his plan and was looking forward to seeing if it worked.

Teens; their minds were so creative, and even as jaded as I was, this team excited me.