Wolfe smiled. "My Pashto isn't quite as good as my Dari, but I think I'll manage."
He entered the medical tent. It was always cool in the medical tent, and even when the base was on low supplies, the medical tent's air conditioner was kept running. It smelled of alcohol, but Wolfe knew that there was no hooch being brewed in a bathtub still here.
Wolfe turned to the man in camo by the wall of the tent. He crossed to him quickly, his hand outstretched.
"Al saleem aleykum." (Hello.) Wolfe fell into the language easily, even though he spoke at a first grade level. "(My name is Wolfe. Thank you for bringing this guy in.)"
A toothy smile crossed the man's face. "(I am Akhtar. Anything for our American friends.)"
Wolfe smelled a hint of nervousness about him, even over the smell of his unwashed uniform and body. However, nervousness wasn't all that uncommon among even the most loyal of American allies. It wasn't something that Wolfe was proud of, but many of the native Afghanis had plenty of reasons to fear all Americans.
Wolfe turned to the man in the bed. He had taken a bullet to the upper shin, just below the knee. The doctor had stabilized him, and he wouldn't lose the leg, but the doctor also had insinuated that if he didn't get to a real hospital soon, he would need to get it amputated. Wolfe thought such threats were distasteful, but in war, they were useful. The fear dripping off him filled the entire tent.
Wolfe strolled up to him. The enemy combatant had been involved in an ambush, at a place where nobody should have known Americans were. Two young men had lost their lives, and an entire mission had to be scrapped while the area calmed down.
Wolfe didn't waste any time. "(Who are you with?)"
The man stayed silent.
"(Are you with the Taliban?)" The man smiled. "(Yes? Okay, who is your commanding officer?)"
The man laughed. No answer was going to come easily from him. His dark eyes were defiant, but Wolfe knew that he was scared. He could smell it.
("How did you know that the Americans would be in that valley?") When the man again went silent, Wolfe continued. "(You'll tell me if you want to keep that leg.)"
The man frowned. His eyes darted around the room, but then he looked up at Wolfe with hatred in his eyes. He spit and then hurled a long string of words that Wolfe only caught bits and pieces of. "Infidel" and "Stupid American" were words he understood, though.
Wolfe rolled his eyes. He reached in and grabbed the man's leg, below the spot where he was shot but firm enough that every movement sent shocks of pain through the man's nervous system. The man yelled, then panted with desperation. He was a lot quieter.
"(Good. Let me ask again. Who told you that the Americans would be in that valley?)" Wolfe asked.
A tear escaped from his squinted shut eyes, and suddenly, he opened them. He looked at Akhtar. Quickly, Wolfe looked over at him, too, just in time to see him shake his head just a little bit. Akhtar's eyes flicked from the wounded combatant to Wolfe, realizing that he had just seen him pass a signal. Immediately, he began to sweat fear.
"Sergeant!" Wolfe yelled at the nurse while pointing at Akhtar. "Get him out of here!"
The nurse jumped to his feet, grabbing Akhtar roughly and pulling him out of the tent. The doctor just stood there, wide eyed.
Wolfe jerked his hand again, causing a fresh wave of pain to run through the enemy's body. "(Now! Who told you?)"
The man closed his eyes. "(God will protect me, I will tell you nothing.)"
Wolfe knew it was the truth. He angrily let go of the man's leg and stormed out of the tent. Akhtar had a momentary wave of fear fly out of his body, but then smiled confidently.
"Who are you?" Wolfe yelled at Akhtar in English as he grabbed his collar.
Akhtar just spread his hands and shrugged, a smile on his face. Wolfe lifted him up off the ground before realizing that everyone around was watching him. He threw Akhtar on the ground, then stormed off.
***
"Good morning, everyone. Could I get everyone to take a seat for today's security brief?" The young lieutenant waited for the officers and senior enlisted to stagger to their seats. Many carried coffee cups, some carried notebooks, and all looked half asleep. Wolfe wasn't much better off, but he was attentive. After all, many of these men never left the wire. His job more often than not took him to dangerous parts of the area.
The lieutenant went through the basic parts of the local intel. There was a mortar attack on a neighboring base the night before. A roadside bomb hit a civilian convoy. There was chatter about increased attacks during Ramadan, but that was months away.
"That concludes the unclassified portion of this brief, and we'll be starting the top secret intelligence portion of the brief. I'll ask that all uncleared personnel leave the room. I'll be turning it over to Colonel Donato." With that, most of the junior officers and enlisted personnel left the room, including the lieutenant who had spoken up until now. There wasn't always classified intel to give out, but when there was, everyone complied with the orders not to share it.
Colonel Donato stayed in his seat, and the rest of the people in the room shuffled to seats closer to him. "Captain Wolfe," he started immediately.
"Yes, sir," Wolfe responded.
"Your team has been tasked with going to a local village off the beaten path. I can't pronounce this name but you might recognize it," Donato said, sliding a folder over to him.
Wolfe nodded. He did recognize it, a village he had built good relations with in the brief time since he had arrived here. He opened the folder.
"Seems they've been getting pretty friendly with the enemy. I want you go to there and remind them who their friends really are. Roll in with a display of force if you have to."
Wolfe furrowed his brow. He had sensed no deception the last time he had gone there, and the sheikh had welcomed the Americans with open arms. "Sir, where are we getting this intel from?"
"We got this direct from the Afghan National Army. Now, you're to go there and-"
"Who in the ANA?" Wolfe asked, cutting off the colonel.
Donato looked at him as if he was going to reprimand him, then answered the question. "A guy named Actor or something."
Wolfe yelled. "Akhtar? I filed a report on him a couple days ago! Sir, I think he's the one working for the enemy."
Donato looked alarmed, then motioned one of his advisers to him. The man whispered in his ear, and Donato nodded.
"I was unaware of your altercation with the man," he said, speaking to Wolfe again. "As you're aware, there's a lot of operations going on here. Are you going to be able to handle this one, or am I going to have to send your team in without you?"
Wolfe swallowed. Sending his squad in without their commander would be as good as him resigning his commission. "No, sir. I'll go."
"Good. Your SP time is 0900," Donato said. Wolfe recognized the military lingo for Starting Point time. "You'll be escorted by a squad of infantry there and back, but you'll be in command. I want you to roll in with a show of force and remind them who their allies are. Be careful, but don't let your history with this 'Actor' to cloud your judgment. You're dismissed so you can get your squad ready."
"Yes, sir," Wolfe said, annoyed at the dismissal. He stormed back to his tent, rousing his men from their sleep. He couldn't shake the bad feeling he had, though.
***
As the vehicles rolled up, mothers grabbed their children and pulled them inside their mud huts. Wolfe couldn't blame them. They were rolling up in a highly armed military convoy, much bigger than the previous times they had come here.
Wolfe left one of the infantry in each of the driver's seats and gunner's spots of their convoy, realizing that his squad would be nothing but passengers if they needed to get out of there in a hurry. His ten man squad, made up of eight senior enlisted men, a lieutenant, and himself, kept their rifles at the low ready as they made their way to the sheikh's hut.
Wolfe noticed that there weren't any kids outside playing, but even that wasn't too bizarre. There were still men outside, doing their daily activities, and he didn't get any weird smells from them. Still, he hoped that this operation would be over with quickly.
The sheikh was waiting outside his hut, barefoot and in the white garb of his culture. Without a word, he motioned them to come inside of his hut. Wolfe could tell he was nervous. He motioned for two of his men to stay at the door.
As soon as he was inside, he took off his Kevlar helmet and set it on the table. The sheikh went to his spot at the table and yelled to his wife. In a moment, she had a tray full of small glasses and a pot of tea. Her hands shook, rattling the dishes.
Wolfe knew that the sheikh knew no English, so he started talking in his native Pashto immediately. "(I hear news that you've been speaking with the insurgency.)"
The sheikh looked at Wolfe. "(Sir,)" he started, then looked out the window quickly. Wolfe could smell a sudden wash of fear roll over him. "(I don't know what you're talking about.)"
Wolfe was on high alert. "(What's out the window?)"
The sheikh shrugged. Wolfe looked out the window himself. He didn't see anything, but the sheikh had a different angle. He moved toward him...
Suddenly, the sheikh raised up his hands, as if to protect himself. "(They made me! They made me!)" he yelled.
Wolfe realized this was an ambush. "It's a trap! Get back to the vehicles, quick!" His squad began to move for the door, but in a moment, he was transported to hell.
There was a series of explosions outside, and gunfire peppered the front of the house. Wolfe watched out the window as his two men that were outside went down. He hit the deck immediately, but not before seeing plumes of smoke rising from where the vehicles were parked. There was no return gunfire coming from that area.
He looked at his helmet and realized he couldn't get to it with all the bullets punching through the fragile mud hut. "Out the back door!" he yelled. The eight survivors began to work their way toward the back. Wolfe was the first one out, and he took up a kneeling position right outside the door. Each soldier got in a different position, covering a different firing lane.
They stayed there for a moment, stacking up, biding their time. Wolfe didn't know what to do exactly, but his training told him that they had to get out of there quick. He was about to order them to move to the next house over, when someone popped out of a house further back in the village. The weapon he was holding was all too familiar.
"RPG!" Wolfe yelled as an explosion hit the front of the house behind him. That probably saved his life, as it propelled him away from the house just as he saw the second rocket propelled grenade sail over his head. It hit the roof of the sheikh's house, and the second blast knocked the wind out of him. He struggled to get to his feet to try and return fire, barely pulling one of his men to safety before a bullet seared into his shoulder. The gunfire intensified. He fell to the ground again.
He watched as the man he had just rescued took a bullet to the face, and the rage began to build inside of him. Rage at the enemy, but at Akhtar in particular. His vision tunneled, and as he began to pass out, the only thing he could think about was revenge.