Page 33 of Love and Loyalty
“Hold on,” Izzy said. She turned to the soldiers and screamed, “Retreat! Snipers, cover the area!” As the soldiers retreated, Izzy tried to ward off the attacks while slowly adjusting backward.
Suddenly, a loud earth-shaking boom rocked the ground as a precision-guided munition dropped from the aircraft above and struck the stronghold with unerring accuracy, sending a massive fireball and debris plume high into the air.
The concussion wave knocked Izzy off balance and shattered the windows and structures in the surrounding area, the sudden, intense blast a stark reminder of the raw power of explosives.
It took Izzy a few minutes to come to. She coughed up dust and debris, her head spinning as she struggled to sit up amidstthe ruins of her surroundings. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and explosives.
She assessed the environment, taking in the devastation wrought by the precision strike. A few soldiers around her, dazed and battered, slowly regained consciousness. Izzy ears rang from the blast, but she knew she had to act quickly. She called out, her voice hoarse from the dust, "Report! What's our status?"
There was no reply, and it took her a moment to realize that her intercom had been damaged. In frustration, she yelled, “Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!” As she yelled, she scrambled around, searching frantically for more of her teammates.
She found most of them battered and bruised but alive. All the soldiers on the other side were safe, and they assisted the wounded ones outside.
A young lieutenant was stumbling toward her, his face blackened with soot, his arm hanging limply at his side.
"Can you hear me? Are you okay?" she shouted above the din as she rushed to his side.
He nodded, wincing in pain. She was about to lead him out when she saw Sergeant Thompson on the floor.
His body was limp and motionless, a crimson stain spreading from beneath his head, his eyes frozen in a permanent stare. Izzy’s heart skipped a beat as she rushed to his side, her mind filled with dread. "Sarge! No, no, no!" she said, her voice cracking. She dropped to her knees, feeling for a pulse, but there was none.
Sergeant Thompson, her trusted friend and confidant, was gone. Izzy’s vision blurred as she gazed at his lifeless body, memories of their countless battles and shared moments flashing through her mind. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. "We need to keep moving!" she yelled to her team, her voice firm but laced with anguish.
A few soldiers came and carried the sergeant's body. With their objective accomplished, the team gathered at the exit. Drew appeared a few minutes later, and the soldiers scurried in. The armored chopper was thick with a scent of anxiety, somberness, and the stench of death.
Izzy was full of rage at Drew, but they needed to get to safety first. She held onto the dead sergeant's hand for a little while before tending to the injured soldiers. Smith assisted her quietly.
As soon as the aircraft touched down on the tarmac, its engines dying down with a final whine, the team let out a collective sigh of relief, their bodies sagging in exhaustion.
Izzy was the first to rise, her movements stiff from the adrenaline crash, and her eyes red and wild from smoke, anger, and death. She jumped off and rushed over to the side of the flight deck.
Drew stepped down, and her face seemed distorted with perplexion. “Why the hell did you attack before I gave the order?” Izzy demanded, her words dripping in rage.
She continued, “We had a fucking plan, Major. A strategy to minimize casualties. I asked you to hold on! Damn right, I did.
“But you couldn't wait, could you? You had to go rogue, had to play hero, and now… now we've lost a good comrade, a friend, a committed soldier because of your impulsive decisions and recklessness."
The few soldiers who hung around were quiet, the air thick with unease. Izzy’s anger was understandable; the mission had been a disaster, and Sergeant Thompson's death weighed heavily on her mind.
Izzy's voice dripped with sarcasm as she faced Drew, her eyes flashing with anger. "Oh, now the great hero Drew Mitchell is speechless? Where's your quick wit, Major? Your sharp tongue that's always so ready to deflect and charm? Where is it now when we need answers?" She took a step closer, her voice rising.
"You've got nothing to say? No excuses, no justifications, no clever quips to deflect the blame?"
Although they were standing outside, the space seemed to have shrunk, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.
The team watched, frozen, as Izzy’s words hung in the air, waiting for Drew's response. Drew's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched in defiance, as she met Izzy’s glare.
"With all due respect, Lieutenant Colonel," she said, her voice low and even, "I don't think now is the time for recriminations. We have all had a bad day. We need to rest, the injured need to be attended to, and the dead?—”
“The dead?” Izzy interrupted. “The dead? You despise his name already? You can't pronounce it? That was Sergeant Thompson, goddammit. He was our friend, Major, And you killed him. Why? Because you wanted to play hero and save the day? Joke’s on you now. You’ve ruined everything!”
Major Mitchell’s eyes welled up with tears, but she took a deep breath and composed herself, her expression engraved with sorrow and regret. "Lieutenant Colonel, I...I'm deeply sorry," she began, her words barely above a whisper.
"I take full responsibility for the death of Sergeant Thompson. When you ordered me to hold position, I waited, but there was no confirmation signal. I soon realized that our intercom was malfunctioning, and I made a split-second decision to proceed without clearance." Her voice broke, but she continued, her words laced with anguish.
"I thought I was doing what was best for the team, but I was wrong. My recklessness cost us the life of a great soldier, Sergeant Thompson. I can't forgive myself for that." She paused, struggling to maintain her composure.
"I know I let you down, Lieutenant Colonel. I let the team down, and I'll carry this guilt with me forever. And as for my 'quick wit' and 'sharp tongue,' they are obviously irrelevant. I'msorry once again.” Drew’s words hung heavy in the air as the team absorbed the magnitude of her regret and sorrow.