Operation Just Cause - Official
Panama, Central America
20 December, 1989
0145 Hours - Local

Cromwell, Heather, Sergeant, US Army - Active
Echo-Five-Actual Primary Field Medical Specialist

We moved through the night, up the road, in blackout drive. Just the little pinpoint lights on the humvees providing any light. The NVG-7's they'd given us at Bragg lighting up the night for everyone but me. Mine were stowed up on my helmet, my eyes letting me see everything with perfect clarity.

Which is why I was in the lead vehicle, in the ring mount, with the .50 on the roof.

The Geneva Convention stated that medical personnel were not to use anything stronger than a battle rifle. No machine guns, no mortars, nothing like that.

But I wasn't a 91A any longer, no longer bound by that section of the Geneva Convention.

or the Hippocratic Oath.

That was the hardest thing that I'd been told i would have to set aside during Field Medical Specialist training.

The fifty was locked and loaded, mixed ball to API alternating with a tracer every four rounds replacing the ball round. Bomber had deliberately set the timing low, retarding the maximum rate of fire but increasing barrel life and delaying overheating of the barrel.

I could see figures up ahead. Men walking on either side of the road, spaced out five meters apart, BDU's and M-16's.

I dropped into the cab.

"Friendly troops up ahead," I told Bomber.

One of the men stepped from the side of the road into the middle, holding up a fist in a stop motion.

"Go ahead and stop, Groom," Bomber said. "Cromwell, stay on the gun."

I stood back up in the ring-mount as Groom slowed the humvee down and stopped just in front of the guy in front of us.

A Major, with Hartwell on his nametag. He had the 75th Ranger tabs on both shoulders and was smiling. Bomber got out as I swung the gun around to cover our right flank, knowing that the vehicle behind me would cover the left flank.

Bomber walked up. "Nice night for a walk," He said. "Shame about the steam cleaner."

Sign was Steam.

"Laundry day, nothing clean," the Major replied. Laundry was the counter-sign.

"Major Hartwell, Bravo Company, 19th Special Tasks Battalion, 75th Rangers," The Major said, staring at Bomber.

"Sergeant Bomber, NCOIC, Echo-Five-Actual," Bomber told him. "What's going on, Major?"

"Where's the rest of your unit, Sergeant?" The Major asked.

Bomber shrugged. "We lost the Captain and the NCOIC on the jump. Our C-130 got ripped up pretty bad by a SAM and ZSU site. Everyone else made the jump. We've got two soldiers wounded, landed on top of a PDF convoy about twenty miles back."

The Major nodded, looking over everything. "All right, Sergeant. My men are scattered to Hell and gone, our mission is critical and I'm afraid I'm going to have to confiscate your vehicles and your men are going to have to join ours."

Bomber shook his head. "That's not happening, Major."

"Sergeant, I outrank you and our mission is critical," The Major said. "Are you disobeying a direct order from a superior officer?"

"Don't try that shit on me, snake-eater," Bomber snarled, stepping forward. "I'm sure whatever goddamn mission you've got you figure is hot shit, but you need to get the fuck out of my face and out of my way. I have a mission to complete and by God's hairy ballsack I'm going to complete it."

"Listen, you little punk," The Major said, grabbing Bomber's LBE. "I'm tasked with seizing control of a prison holding political prisoners."

Bomber grabbed him by the front of the LBE and lifted him up. "Look, snake-eater, your bullshit little mission is nothing, goddamn it."

He threw the Major away from him. "Do you know what a Davey Crockett is, you stupid son of a bitch?" he snarled as the Major hit the ground. Two men stepped forward, raising their weapons.

I got all the attention as I ran the action on the fifty, dropping an unfired round into the brass catcher  box, and swung it around to face the road.

The Major looked up at Bomber as the big Texan raised his voice. "It's a shoulder fired nuclear weapon. Ranging from 12.5 kiloton peewee infantry busters to 125 kiloton tank busters, with range between 1.5 and five miles. Additionally I've got mines, nuclear goddamn land mines and demolition charge ranging from 20 kilotons to 250 kilotons, all sitting unguarded at this very second. Do you get that, snake?"

Bomber stepped forward, putting his foot on the Major's chest. "I don't give two goddamn shits about some political prisoners, you ballsweat huffing moron. My mission is to prevent nuclear goddamn weapons from falling into the hands of the Panamanians."

 Bomber moved his foot, stepping back. "Cromwell?"

"Yes, sergeant?" I  bellowed out.

"You feeling friendly enough to give up our vehicles?" He asked me.

"Rangers can lead the way on fucking foot!" I called out.

Bomber held out his hand to the Major. "On your feet, sir," He said. The Major grabbed his hand and Bomber heaved him to his feet. "You have any wounded?"

The Major shook his head.

"How many men do you have?" Bomber asked him.

"I've gathered back up twenty," he said.

"One vehicle wouldn't do you any good, Major, and I have only a few hours to get to that bunker before the Panamanian Army will be heading straight for it," Bomber warned him. "I'd help you if I could, Major..." His voice trailed off.

"What?" The Major asked, he was waving at his men. I watched as they vanished into the brush.

"Cromwell!" Bomber yelled.

"Yes, sergeant?" I called back.

"Check the bunker inventory list, look and tell me if there's any vehicles there!" He yelled.

I dropped down into the vehicle, grabbing the manila envelope, and pulled the list out. I went through it, spotting the section of the list.

4 - M-925 Truck, Cargo, 5-ton, 6x6
8 - M-35  Truck, Cargo, 2.5 ton, 6x6
2 - M-49 Truck, Fuel, 2.5 ton, 6x6
2- M-50 Truck, Water, 2.5 ton, 6x6

I popped back up through the ringmount. "Bunker's got trucks, Sergeant!"

"Pile on, Major, and we'll turn the trucks over to you instead of blowing them in place," Bomber told him. "The nukes have to be handled, the rest I can turn over to your men."

"How many trucks?" The Major asked.

Bomber turned to me. "How many, Cromwell?"

"Six cargo, 1 fuel," I lied.

"Are her eyes purple?" The Major asked.

"Don't ask, Major," Bomber said. He turned around. Have your men climb into the backs and on the tops, we'll go slow."

He moved over back to the cab, climbing in. The Major moved with him. "Watch your legs, Cromwell."

I shifted while the two of them got in. I watched the Rangers, all twenty of them, climb onto the backs of the trucks, grabbing handholds. Honks moved up, and three men climbed onto the back of the humvee behind me.

With a lurch the truck started moving. We were only about ten miles from the bunker. The Rangers must have almost landed on it.

Groom kept the speed down as we kept moving forward. Five miles then we'd have to go offroad for another five, probably an old track.

"Why are your eyes purple?" The Ranger beside me asked, laying across the back.

"Too much masturbation," I yelled back.

We were silent for a few minutes, rolling through the night.

It happened so suddenly that it caught everyone by surprise.

Panamanian soldiers were in the road in front of us. A bunch of them. Two dead US soldiers were sprawled out in the road in the middle of steaming pools of blood.

I didn't think, I didn't pause, I didn't hesitate.

My thumbs went down on the butterfly trigger before my brain had even ID'd exactly what I was seeing. The massive fifty roared as I raked it across them. My whole body was shuddering in response as I pulled it left, let off the trigger, pulled it to the right then repeated the motion. I was screaming, in rage, in fear, in unholy joy, as the heavy duty half-inch thick rounds hit the mobbed up troops in front of us.

Groom his the gas and the humvee lunged forward.

The Ranger next to me grabbed the shoulder pad of my Kevlar vest to keep from behind thrown off the vehicle, the other one managed to grab the back of my LBE before he slid off.

I kept firing, raking them as we went past. Groom didn't even try to dodge the guy that lunged in front of his. The big diesel rig roared right before the Panamanian guy hit the brushguard with a scream and went under the vehicle.

the Geneva Convention forbids the use of a .50 cal on enemy troops

...so I'll shoot their goddamn uniforms...

The big general purpose heavy machinegun kept roaring as we flanked them. They were diving out of the way, trying to get out of the way, but I kept fluttering the trigger. Where it hit an arm or leg the limb exploded, severed. When it hit a torso it liquified. Tracers burned flesh. Tungsten steel didn't slow down, the incendiary cores flashing to life on rocks and bushes behind them. The ball rounds hit, liquified the flesh it hit, and exited out the other side.

One man was shooting at me, the bullets over my head, and when the fifty swung toward him he threw his weapon down, starting to raise his hands to surrender.

too late, suckass

The fifty tore him torso apart.

Stokes was on the other fifty, firing with me, as we raked them in passing. Groom deliberately ran over several of them, the humvee bouncing. The Ranger behind me slewed to the side and I let of the gun, turning in place, and grabbing him. I heaved him  back on, feeling a muscle in my back burn. He grabbed at my arms as I pulled him onto the back of the vehicle.

We were past. I wasn't sure who was on the gun at the last vehicle, but they were firing behind us, raking the downed men.

We didn't have time to stop and provide medical care to the wounded.

I'd racked up three Geneva Convention violations in less than thirty seconds.

tell me you'd still love me, Grammie, after what I just did

The firing stopped as we kept going into the night. I could see clearly as we kept going. I had to pee, really bad, but even worse...

my crotch was throbbing with raw hungry need

I'd peed in the bushes, wiped with my panties, and shoved them into my pocket, so I was embarrassed with the fact I could feel something running down my legs even though my bladder was still full.

What? Don't judge me. Until you've felt a .50 roar in your hands, you have no idea how wet you get firing that thing.

We pulled offroad, hitting the brush. Groom bounced it through the dirt road and I spotted something.

"Someone's driven this!" I shouted, dropping in real quick.

"I noticed," Bomber answered. "Get back on the gun, bitch."

I popped back up, turning slightly to slap the Ranger next to me. "Someone's been here, might be enemy!" I yelled over the roar of the engine.

The truck  slowed, came to a stop. The others stopped behind us. Bomber got out and waved at everyone. I went to duck out and he held a closed fist at me. "Stay on the gun, Cromwell." He moved in front of the truck, crouching down, shining a red lensed flashlight on the ground before getting up and walking back next to the truck.

One person from each truck and the Ranger Major moved up next to Bomber, who had crouched down next to the vehicle.

"We've got vehicle tracks," Bomber was saying. "Three five-tons or deuces, who knows how many men. We've got to move in on foot."

"My men will move in and take care of them," The Ranger started. "You have your men..."

"There's up to a hundred people up there if they packed them in like it's a Pakistani school bus," Bomber snapped.

"What, you gonna kill them all?" The Ranger asked.

Bomber stared at him for a moment. "Are you stupid?" He shook his head. "You need us too. Actual is armed, combat experienced."

The Ranger Major snorted. "Yeah, right, border patrol on the 1K Zone don't mean shit."

Bomber grabbed his helmet chinstrap, slamming the side of his helmet against the side of the humvee. "Do that again, snake."

The Major shoved at Bomber but Bomber let him go.

"Snort at my men again, you snake eating fuck," Bomber snarled. "Africa, Nicaragua, Afghanistan, Angola, don't you ever sneer at my men again."

The Major looked at him again, looking up at me. I blinked, slow, knowing my eyes glowed in the NVG's weirdly. The Major looked at Aine, who's eyes were glowing a bright emerald green, then at Stokes, who was kneeling down and staring at him.

"Echo-Five-Actual has been in a hazardous combat environment for over four years, so don't come to me acting like we're Lunchmeat Larry and you're Rambo," Bomber said. He stared at the Major. "Foster's on the horn to an A-10 right now, Stokes has the laser designator. Any of your men know how to use it?"

The Major nodded.

"Foster will call them in. You paint the target, the A-10's got a napalm drop," Bomber said, staring at them. "Can your man handle lasing it in?"

The Major nodded.

"You got a radio?" Bomber asked. The Major tapped the box on the side of his helmet. "No shit? A head set? Goddamn it," he turned to Stokes, "Get the designator, give it to the Rangers," he looked up at me. "Cromwell, stay on the stick. You see anything with those creepy ass eyes of yours, you kill it, got me?"

"Roger, sergeant," I said.

Cromwell came back with the laser designator, handing to the Major. The Major ducked his head slightly.

"Burns, Cartwright, front vehicle," He muttered.

"I will go with them," Aine said softly.

"No way," The Ranger said.

Aine blinked slowly, staring at him. "There is a secret path here. I can see it, I can smell it. I will lead them."

Bomber nodded. "Fine, you lead them."

The Ranger stared, shuddering and looking away.

In a few minutes the two men were squatting down, listening to the Major, who was telling them that they would follow Aine, who would lead them to the bunker.

"Are you sure you know where it is?" One of them asked Aine.

Aine smiled and licked her lips. I cringed inwardly, knowing that Aine was about to take a huge bit out of him.

"Staff Sergeant Michael Barton Cartwright of Bellings, Montana, son of Lois and Jack Cartwright, I helped load this bunker with munitions on that bright sunny day that Belinda Lomack let you lubricate up her buttocks with cooking oil and attempt to slide your penis into her rectum in her dining room while her parents were at the Bellings Mall," Aine smiled. "Unlike you, I accomplished what I set out to do, and unlike her, I did it without blood running down the crack of my buttocks."

The man jerked away from her.

"Would you like to question me, Sergeant William Burns of Saratoga, Florida?" Aine asked sweetly. He shook his head.

"Aine, enough, lead them," Bomber said.

"As you say, Johnathon," Aine smiled. She looked at the two Rangers. "Hold tight to my LBE and to one another, do not let go or you will be lost on this secret path until such times as one such as me grows hungry."

She blinked, and even I could see the cat's eyes pupils in her too large eyes.

Both men swallowed thickly, but followed Aine's instructions. They moved into the bushes.

"Did her eyes?" The Ranger started.

"Dude, don't ask," Bomber shook his head. The Ranger looked up at me, shuddered, and looked away.

We sat there silently for a long time. I could hear animals moving the brush. Something tickled my leg and I wiggled. "Hey, Bomber, I gotta pee," I told him.

"Get down, go pee," Bomber said.

When I climbed out Bomber clapped me on the shoulder. "Stay frosty, Cromwell," He told me.

"Will do," I told him. I moved over a little bit.

Something tickled my crotch, making me wiggle as I hurried over to the brush.

"They're in position. Three trucks, they're trying to use a hacksaw on the bunker door," I heard the Major say.

"Pfft, diamond blade circular saw and it'd still take you three hours and five blades to crack that titanium/vanadium lock," Bomber snorted.

I undid my belt as something tickled my crotch again.

"A-10's two mikes out," Foster said. "They read the laser."

"Roger," Bomber said.

I yanked down my pants, noticing my right pantleg was unbloused, looking in the crotch of my BDU pants as I heard the roar of the A-10 overhead.

It released the napalm cannister at a bunker that was designed to handle a near nuclear hit.

A millipede the size of my forearm was half in the crotch of my BDU pants, half on my leg, curling up in defense as pulling my pants down pulled it off my leg.

And off of my crotch.

I screamed as the napalm hit and lit up the night.