Battle Dress by Amy Efaw
Okay. Concentrate. You’ve got to take everything in. I stared down the length of what looked like ten feet of waist-high monkey bars, painted red. Except instead of actual bars it had slack chains that were partially covered with gray padding. Where the monkey bars ended, a wooden wall towered about ten feet high.
“Time’s up, New Cadets. Now listen carefully. This is the scenario. Exactly two hours ago your team received an urgent radio call from forward elements of your battalion, operating twelve kilometers from your position.”
I leaned forward, my mind struggling to keep pace with his speech.
“The enemy has conducted biological warfare in this forward element’s area of operations, contaminating their water supply with an extremely aggressive strain of cholera, known to kill the average human within two hours after initial symptoms are evident. For your professional development, New Cadets, these symptoms are debilitating abdominal cramps, massive diarrhea, and violent vomiting, leading to dehydration, shock, and finally death. Not a pleasant way to go.”
“Nothing like leaking out of both ends,” I heard Jason whisper to Kit. “That’s got to suck.”
“Leaking out of both ends?” Kit whispered back. “More like blasting. Ol’ Faithful strikes again.”
I rolled my eyes at them while they snorted to keep from laughing. Guys! They could be so immature sometimes! I had to take this seriously even if they weren’t.
But unlike me, Cadet Tooley was oblivious to Kit and Jason. “Your mission, New Cadets,” he continued, “is to get the newly developed—and only existing—cure for cholera to the affected personnel before they die. For the past one hour and forty-seven minutes your team has been hacking its way through dense jungle when you come upon a terrain feature not indicated on your map.” He flicked his hand toward the sawdust pit. “This ravine. A very deep ravine.” He executed a crisp about-face and marched away from us, into the pit. “Spanning this very deep ravine is a rather deteriorated, heavily booby-trapped suspension bridge.”
You mean completely booby-trapped. The gray padding encasing each chain was the only exception. And even then, about six inches of red chain stuck out of the padding on either side.
“This bridge is your only way across the ravine.” Cadet Tooley walked along the length of the red monkey bars, making each padded chain swing as he passed, until he reached the wall. “As you can plainly see, the suspension bridge is anchored, on this end, nine feet below the top of the ravine. Therefore, if you make it across the bridge, you must scale this nine-foot cliff to complete the mission.” He patted the wood wall.
Okay. The wall’s nine feet taller than the bridge. Remember that—nine feet.
“According to the latest intelligence reports, the cliff is not believed to be booby-trapped.” He spun around and flashed us a crooked smile. “But . . .”
Great—that means it probably is booby-trapped. But the side of the wall that I could see was free of any red paint. So maybe the top is mined?
“Finally, the enemy has laid a narrow minefield along the edge of the ravine on your side; hence the red piping encircling the pit. And located directly to your rear are your supplies.” He paused for us to look. “Two ammo crates, representing two cartons of glass vials that contain the rare cholera cure; one fuel barrel, containing an isotonic replacement solution to slow the effects of dehydration; one twenty-one-foot rope; and one six-foot-by-two-foot board.”
A board? Maybe we could lay it over the chains, then crawl across it to the other side! I squinted at the obstacle, my mind working fast. No, six feet won’t be long enough . . . but we’ll need something stable . . .
“Remember, to successfully accomplish the mission, you must get all the equipment and all personnel across the bridge . . .”
Personnel across the bridge . . . I had a sudden vision of BDU-clad bodies forming a bridge over the chains, and the rest of Third Squad crawling over them. Yes! That’s it! A human bridge!
“. . . and over the cliff within thirteen minutes, no exceptions. Are there any questions?” He waited, his eyes traveling around our group. “No? Okay, then. Who’s the leader? Front and center!”
I took a step forward. “Sir, Cadet Daily assigned me as the leader for this obstacle.” My voice sounded distant, as if it were coming from outside myself. I hoped it didn’t sound odd to everyone else.
He nodded. “Well, I hope you were listening to my safety speech, Miss . . .” He jerked his eyes to my name tag. “. . . Miss Davis.”
I swallowed. “Yes, sir. I was listening, sir.” I may not have a clue about what I’m doing, but I can listen.
“Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He checked his watch. “You have thirteen minutes. Starting now!” And Cadet Tooley marched out of the pit.
Well, here goes. I wiped my hands on my pants and turned to face my squadmates. Seven pairs of eyes stared back at me, waiting. I don’t know—what if they think my human bridge idea is completely messed up? I took a deep breath, trying to conjure up the confident, almost indifferent, façade I wore at the starting line of every race. Come on. You’ve got to at least make these guys think you’ve got it together.
But Third Squad took my hesitation as uncertainty and clamored to fill the silence with advice:
“How abouts we see how heavy those supplies are?”
“No, the first thing we’ve gotta do is send someone up the wall to recon what’s on the other side.”
“Sure, after we stabilize the chains. We can’t just let someone go across.”
“What about using that board over there?”
You’re supposed to be the leader, right? Come on—you’re losing them.
I knew if I stood back just a little longer, someone would jump in and take over. But I couldn’t let that happen. I had to do the leading, and that’s all there was to it.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think the board’s long enough. But what about this? I was thinking: We could use a couple of us to make a sort of human bridge across the chains. And then, you know, have the rest of us crawl over them?”
So much for coming across confident. I hadn’t dictated a plan, I had tossed out a suggestion. Why couldn’t I just tell them what to do like Ping and Kit and the rest had done when they were in charge?
I saw Jason and Kit look from me to the obstacle. Cero had his hands on his hips, kicking a stone between his feet. Hickman shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms. Gabrielle and Bonanno hovered behind the others, watching everyone’s reactions. Only Ping held my gaze, nodding slightly.
Encouraged by the lack of dissent, I turned back to the obstacle and talked faster. “Two people should be enough, don’t you think? If they’re tall? Like . . . maybe Cero and Kit, if they want to. Or Bonanno.” I pointed at the chains. “The first guy could lie down on the chains and cover the first half of them. You following me? And then the second guy could crawl over him and cover the rest.” I looked over my shoulder. “They’d have to be really careful and only lie on the gray padding part because of the mines . . .”
Kit clapped his hands. “I’m in, Andi. I’ll even volunteer to be one of your bridge guys.”
“Me, too.” Cero jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb. “But I’m going to be the first guy on. No guts, no glory. Right?” He looked at me. “You think you can arrange that, Boss?”
I smiled. “I think I can arrange that, Cero.” This isn’t so bad. Acting confident, that’s the key. I looked at the rest of Third Squad. “Then after those guys are set, someone will have to crawl over them and climb up the wall to see what’s on the other side.” I raised an eyebrow. “Anybody really good at climbing?”
“And what if the top of the wall’s booby-trapped?” Hickman asked, squinting at me out of one eye. “That ‘someone’ just might get wasted.”
“Well . . .” I started picking the dirt out from under my fingernails. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
But . . . how could that be? Clearing the obstacle would
I knew I had to say something; the entire squad was waiting.
I shook my head. “I don’t think we really need to worry about that. I mean, we’ve got to get over the wall, right? There’s no way around that. Maybe in a real-life situation it would be mined. But”—I shrugged—“unless we’re supposed to lose one guy right off the bat—and who knows? That may be the case—I still think mining the top of the wall just doesn’t pass the common-sense test.” I quickly checked the faces in the group; I was babbling, but they were still with me.
“So I guess we’ll just have to take that chance. Of losing someone, I mean.” I cleared my throat. “Any volunteers?” I waited as my squadmates exchanged glances. Why did I ask for volunteers? What will I do if nobody says anything?
“Yeah, sure,” Hickman finally mumbled, looking at the ground. “I’ll do it.”
Kit thumped Hickman across the back. “Like Cero was saying, ‘No guts, no glory.’ Ain’t that right, Tommy old boy?”
When I turned back to Cero, he was already leaning over the sawdust that lay between the red piping and the booby-trapped bridge. With his toes as close as possible to the red piping, he dove for the chains. Flopping on top of the first two, he wiggled forward, his body bucking as he wormed his way over the chains. Finally, after a lot of gasping and cursing, he reached the halfway point.
“Man!” Cero said, wiping his face on his shoulder. “That was like wrestling an octopus or something.” He squirmed around, repositioning himself so he had both fists securely around the third chain, his chest across the second, and his thighs weighing down the first nearest our end.
“Good job, Cero! You did great.” I turned to Kit and said, “Ready?”
Kit winked. “I was born ready.”
I watched until Kit had grabbed onto Cero’s calves and was pulling himself over the small sawdust gap. Then I went over to where Ping and Gabrielle were checking out the equipment.
“Well,” I said, “I guess Cero and Bogus have everything under control.”
“Look, Bogus,” I heard Cero from the sawdust pit behind me, “you’re really not a bad guy. But don’t be getting close and personal on me now.”
“On second thought . . .” I laughed, then nodded at the supplies. “So tell me. Is that stuff as heavy as usual?”
Ping shook his head. “Well, the ammo boxes aren’t filled with rocks this time, so they’re considerably lighter.”
“Yeah,” Gabrielle said, “Even I can lift them. And that barrel—how much would you say it weighs? Not more than forty pounds?”
Ping shrugged. “Forty, fifty, something like that. But I’ll bet you anything”—he patted the barrel—“this baby, going over those chains and all, will be our Achilles’ heel.”
“Hey, Bogus! Watch those knees! I’ve had those kidneys for twenty-two years, and I sort of want to keep them!”
We turned from the supplies to watch Kit pull himself over Cero’s head and reach for the last chain.
“Quit . . . your . . . sniveling, Big Guy,” Kit grunted. “You’re yowling like a cat in a poke.”
“Listen here, Country,” Cero said, “instead of beating me in the face with your size twelves, hook them on this chain here.” Cero grabbed one of Kit’s feet, guiding it to the chain weighed down with his own chest. “That’s it. Now the other one.”
I had an improvement. “Hey, Cero,” I yelled. “Can you also try holding Kit’s legs while grabbing the chain? You know, by linking your arms under his shins? It might be more stable that way. You think?”
“Yeah, probably,” Cero said. “And that way I can be sure his feet stay clear of my face.”
Sending Hickman over our manmade bridge produced more groans and grunts as he went from lying on top of Kit to balancing on hands and knees to squatting, and finally, to standing. Then, with a little bounce, Hickman bounded up the wall.
“I might not be the most buffed guy in the world,” Kit said, “but just for the record, Hickman, I am not a springboard.” Kit momentarily released the chain with his left hand to rub his right shoulder. “I tell you what: I’ve always admired those ol’ martyrs of the faith. But I just don’t feel like being drawn and quartered today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.”
“Quit your bellyachin’, Bogus,” Hickman said from his perch on the top of the wall. “I’m not the guy giving the orders around here. Davis said to cross the bridge and climb the wall, remember? I did what I had to do.” Then he looked down at me. “And we’re in luck, Davis, ’cause I’m still alive. And we’ve got no more mines to worry about up here or on the other side.”
I felt a slight relief. “Great!” One less thing to worry about. I smiled to myself. Things are really starting to come together. I can’t believe it—I’m actually doing this! I glanced at the ammo boxes and fuel barrel, rope and board. So what’s next? I ran my jagged thumbnail across my upper lip, thinking. I had a pretty good idea of what to do, but I needed to bounce my plan off someone else, just to be sure. I turned to Ping. “So, send more people across? What do you think?”
Ping smiled. “What do you think, Andi?”
He was right. I was the leader. I had to be the one making the decisions. I looked back at the obstacle. “Well . . . I guess we should pass the stuff across assembly-line style, like we’ve done on most of the other obstacles.”
Ping nodded. “Probably.”
“So that means we’ll need people on the obstacle—someone on the other side of the wall, someone on top of the wall, someone at the far end of the bridge, and someone here”—I stamped my foot near the red piping—“to, you know, start passing the stuff.”
Ping leaned closer to me. “If it were me, Andi,” he said casually, “I’d put one man in the middle of the bridge, too.”
I nodded. “Oh, that’s right! Because otherwise, the reach will be too long.” I quickly counted the people I’d already planned on using and came up with five. “And we have a couple extra people, so that won’t be a problem.”
I looked at my watch. Five out of the thirteen minutes were already spent. We’ve got to hustle! A new burst of adrenaline spurred me on. “Okay, guys. This is the plan. We’re going to pass the supplies across. But to do that, we’ll need people at different spots on the obstacle. Bonanno, I want you to cross next. Okay? All the way to the other side of the wall.”
Bonanno nodded and reached over the sawdust for Cero’s calves.
“Hickman, I want you right where you are. Okay? And if Bonanno needs help, you can give him a hand.”
Hickman leaned over the side of the wall and spat into the sawdust. “Whatever.”
His attitude bothered me, but I wasn’t about to let him intimidate me now. Ignoring him, I turned quickly to Ping. Of all the members in my squad, I felt the most awkward giving Ping orders. “And Ping, you can be the guy on the far end of the bridge, closest to the wall. You’ll be passing the stuff up to Hickman. Is that okay by you?”
“It’s okay by me.”
That left Jason, Gabrielle, and me without jobs.
I looked over at the supplies. One of us would have to reach them over the sawdust to the obstacle. The barrel was lighter than usual, but still heavy. And remembering the other obstacles, I figured the ammo boxes would be awkward. I knew I wasn’t strong enough for the job . . . and neither was Gabrielle.
Unbelievable—I’m the leader and look what happened—Bryen and Davis out of the action. Again.
I turned to Jason. “Well, it looks like you’ll be doing most of the lifting.” Then I looked at Gabrielle. “And you’ll . . .”
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “You want me to take the middle of the bridge, right?” She glanced at the obstacle and licked her lips. “So, where do you want me? You want me to sit on Cero?”
I nodded. She was staring at the barrel and twisting her hair, looking doubtful. I could tell she was worried about the weig
“You can do it, Gab. You’re the Push-up Queen, remember ? Just go where you can reach the stuff that Jason passes to you and stay clear of the mines.”
Less than four minutes later everyone was in position. Jason and I started passing the stuff across, starting with the ammo boxes. I decided that the six-foot board was nothing but a distractor and sent it over too, saving the barrel for last.
“We are smokin’!” Hickman yelled, slapping his hands together. “Send that puppy over!”
Jason moved to pick up the barrel. “One barrel of sugar water, coming right up.”
“Hold on,” I said. “What about the rope?”
Jason sighed. “What about the rope, Andi? One of us will just take it when we cross over.”
“Yeah . . . but maybe we’ll need it to, you know, pull the barrel up and over the wall. We could tie one end of the rope around the barrel. And once the barrel gets across the bridge to Ping, he can toss the other end up to Hickman.”
“Whatever you want, Andi,” Jason said. “You’re the boss.” We got right to work, looping the rope around the barrel, securing it with a tight square knot.
“That oughtta do it,” Jason said, moving to pick up the barrel again.
“Uh . . . shouldn’t we wrap the excess rope around the barrel first? You know, as a precaution? So we don’t lose the rope to the mines?”
Jason sighed again, but he wound the excess rope around the barrel anyway. “I’ll tuck the end . . . right under . . . here . . . and she’s ready to travel.” He picked up the barrel.
“Wait one more second, Jason,” I said. “Let me think this through one last time.” I looked from the barrel to Ping, then from Ping to Hickman, straddling the top of the wall. That thing may be too heavy to just pass across. Especially since the bridge is so unstable.... I looked at Gabrielle. She was staring at the barrel again, twirling that strand of hair. What if the barrel is too heavy for her and she drops it? And her knee . . . I chewed on my thumbnail. Oh . . . I don’t know! Would it be better to toss the end of the rope up to Hickman now instead of later? Then he could alleviate some of the weight while they’re passing the barrel across. Or won’t the rope be long enough for that?