Looking down at her and Tillman, West realized that they were as serious as the paratrooper yelling at him. Assessing that his chances of survival were better with his fellow Guardsmen, West dropped down to the bottom of the pit and curled up as tightly as he could against the side of their fighting position.

Having expected that the Guardsmen facing them would heed his demand to lay down their weapons, 1st Lieutenant Wahler was unprepared to deal with the situation he now faced. Quickly he glanced to either side. To a man, the members of Nathan’s platoon whom he had commandeered were lying prone with their weapons at the ready and safeties off. As the seconds ticked by, they lay there, watching the sandbag position and waiting for Wahler’s next command. Appreciating that someone had to break the deadlock he now found himself in, but not yet ready to give in to the impulse of firing on his fellow countrymen, Wahler forced himself to stand up as straight as he could and lower his weapon. Swallowing, he cleared his throat, and started to yell.

Trained to operate her assigned weapon in a strict sequence until each step was second nature, the impact that her next action would have never occurred to Fran Meranno. Reaching up, she grasped the gun’s bolt and jerked it back.

The crisp, sharp sound of the M-60’s action being worked cut through the stillness that had settled over the paratroopers and the forlorn Guardsmen. It should not have come as a surprise to anyone that someone reacted in a manner that was inappropriate.

A shot rang out. From somewhere along the skirmish line that flanked Wahler, a paratrooper’s trigger finger jerked when he heard the sound of the machine gun’s bolt being worked. With a shocked expression on his face Wahler looked to his left, then to his right just in time to see the entire line erupt in a raggedy volley.

In the pit Fran saw the bright muzzle flashes and understood what they meant. Without giving the matter any conscious thought, she flipped the safety of her weapon off, leaned into the gun, sighted down the barrel, and squeezed the trigger.

Standing upright and totally unprepared, 1st Lieutenant Randy Wahler caught the full force of Fran’s first burst square in the groin. He was so close to the machine gun that his flak vest did little to slow the 7.62mm bullets as they tore clean through the young officer. The paratroopers on either side of him, focused on the target in their sights, paid no attention to what was happening to the company XO. Ignoring the fine red mist that drifted down upon them, they fired their own weapons as quickly as they could. What had started as just another deployment exercise for them had, in a matter of seconds, become a matter of life and death.

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14

GOWEN FIELD, BOISE, IDAHO DAWN, OCTOBER 31