Lead From the Front

“I want to be something more.” Pausing at how the conversation is starting to sound like a recruiting commercial. “I feel like it’s my turn to do something for my country, I’ve watched others go and fight for me now it’s my turn to protect all of you.”

 My dad glares across the table, “If you need money we can help you don’t have to go and do this.”

“Look dad, mom I love you but I really want to do this,” frustrated that they didn’t get it, “I want to see what I’m capable of and this is my chance, I’ve already made up my mind.”

The look of worry on my parents faces telling me that they disapproved of my decision, knowing any attempt at dissuasion was futile my dad stands up and pushes the chair back walking away without a word, the warm sunny September day seemed to get cold really quickly. Finishing the meal in an awkward silence, I stand up and walk outside. Scott my twin brother follows me out, “hey” he says catching up, “don’t worry they don’t understand, and you really surprised them. I mean you called me out of the blue; I thought you never wanted anything to do with the army.”

“Look,” I say with a sigh, “people change. I want to be a leader, and I need to challenge myself.”

“Cooley!”  Followed by a kick to the boot, “change of plan, I want you to lead the squad with your fire-team down the center of the road and cut right, behind cover.”  Giving him an incredulous glance, “Wait, you want me to charge down the middle of the road with no cover straight at the people shooting at us?” nodding his head like it was nothing to worry about, turned and stalked off to give the other team their orders. ‘Great another suicide mission from our fearless leader’ I thought to myself, setting my feelings aside I brief my team on the upcoming mission. After outlining our part in the mission private Fugate, a tall German pulled me aside, “looks like he’s trying to kill you again.” He states quietly. The memory of the day before, being abandoned in an enemy village when the platoon had pulled out and having to fight my way out through smoke so thick that my own team hadn’t recognized me and opened fire; ‘still not sure how I had made it unscathed’ I shrugged,  “Maybe, but he’s in charge. I’ll go first if I’m hit take the team to the right side behind cover and you’ll be in charge.” Giving me a look of frustration mirroring how I felt, we rehearse the plan to make sure everyone knows their place.

Pop, pop, pop! The sound of gunfire and explosions from the entrance of the base alerts us to the beginning of the attack. “Okay people get ready, we’re going to have to move fast if they need us.” Double checking our equipment we line up getting ready to rush to the aid of the other squads if they are overwhelmed.  The exchange of fire is intense, like a lightning storm explosions and shots continue for several minutes; we are all tense waiting for the word. “QRF this is Hot-shot, get your squad up here!”  I wave us forward as we sprint down the road toward our besieged comrades. Rounding the corner I take note of everything as I am welcomed by a stream of paint rounds. Cutting right I can see several opposition –force behind a van at the entrance and only a have dozen of the 50 or so soldiers of the other squads are still fighting. Smoke grenades and mortar shells litter the open expanse between the van and the barricade. Dropping in the nearest available cover I begin to return fire as my team settles in glancing around I count six Joes ‘great we didn’t lose anyone.’  My elation is short lived when I hear a shot from behind me and feel a round go snapping past my ear. Rolling over I see to my horror that our squad leader had taken up positions behind us and with his team had begun shooting past us at the vehicle, “What are you doing?” I scream as my team is caught in the cross-fire. His answer comes back muffled by an explosion of a grenade, “we couldn’t make it to the other side so take your team and cross over to secure it we’ll cover you from here.”

Shaking with frustration I call out for my team to get ready to scroll to the other side. Looking at the 50 or so feet that we have to cross to get to the other side I hold my breath and sprint in to the hailstorm. By some miracle I make it diving into a bunker as rounds splatter over me, ‘now let’s see if the others can make it.’ I grab an automatic weapon from a downed soldier and begin laying suppressive fire so the rest of my team can follow. One by one they come dashing through the smoke and sim-rounds unscathed protecting each other and trusting that their brothers will protect them. As the last leaps past me and crawls into position, I glance over at my squad leader, a radio crackles from nearby, “Cooley send some men out to take the fox-hole, over.” Not sure of what he’s talking about I search the killzone seeing a shallow ditch 10 feet from the van and 30 feet from us, seeing immediately the stupidity of the order. Finding the radio I reply, “Negative we will be in the line of fire if we move there.” “I don’t care I want you to take that fox-hole, out!” Yelling across the road once again that I refused to do it, my Ranger drill sergeant O’Neal, a light footed hulking mass of a man, suddenly appeared next to me. “Look Cooley,” startling me he went on, “In reality I wouldn’t do it either but I want you to take it, and that’s an order,” smirking he adds, “lead from the front.” With apprehension I ask for two volunteers to follow me out. The look of shock and disbelieve that stared at me from the faces of the  others made me queasy, not waiting to see if anyone was crazy enough to follow I order covering-fire and hurl myself out into the storm once more.

One to the rules taught to us is that you never run and shoot at the same time, but given the circumstance that I found myself in I figured no one would notice a few more as I ran sprinting straight at what I thought would be my doom. Five feet from the fox-hole a figure stood up, dropping to the earth I take aim firing blam, blam, blam, all three rounds find their target as I slide into the hole. Breathing hard I rise up the world seems to slow as I rise up rifle at the ready from this distance I don’t even aim, just point and shoot. Two more drop to the ground as I take cover to reload. Suddenly a crushing weight knocks me to the ground hot brass falls on me as I lay pined to the ground by something heavy. Falling off me I laugh when I see Private Moberg, a 250 pound Mississippian, smirk back at me, “I got one!” He yells to me over the roar of a battle, “Great let’s get the rest!” In unison we rise up firing climbing out of the hole we rush around the sides of the van taking out the last gunman. The sound of running makes me turn around just in time to see my fearless squad leader try to jump the concertina wire. Funny thing about concertina wire it doesn’t cut like razor or barbed wire, it grabs and entangles you, and even a brush can ensnare you in a vine like metal mess. Sailing through the air the fabric of his leg catches ending all forward momentum. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the dusty tangled heap on the ground, the riotous laughter of O’Neal causing everyone to stop and look at the downed soldier, “See what happens when you play hero Bailey? Your dead, wait no, your legs broke now they get to drag your fat a.. back to the evac point, enjoy!” as I looked at the carnage of the battle not a single squad leader and only two team leaders had survived the attack.

I toss radios to Moberg and Fugate, “Fugate take charge of security and Moberg get some aid and litter teams down here to get the casualties back to the evac point.” Grabbing the nearest casualty I begin hauling them out of the road.

 “Cooley.”

 “Yes drill sergeant?”

“What’s going on?”  

Giving the report O’Neal smiles and walks off, “Good job” he says quietly so only I can hear.

Later after we clean up the drill sergeants call us all together to talk about what happened. Bailey immediately stands up and points a finger at me, “Cooley messed the whole thing up, if he hadn’t gotten in the wrong position everything would have gone better.” He glances at the drill sergeant who lifts an incredulous eyebrow. The rest of the group just looks at me with a confused look. In disbelief I stand up, the blame cuts like a knife to my very core, “look, he hasn’t followed a single order this whole, he questions my authority and does whatever he wants.”

“Okay,” frustrated I continue, “I’ve followed every order you’ve given me, every stupid order, not to toot my own horn but Moberg and I are the reason everyone even survived I’m sick of your stupid games I don’t have to take this, not from you!” Grabbing both of us by the gear Sergeant Hess drags us out of ear shot of the others, turning to Bailey rips into him, “private let me give you some advise, never ever discredit  a leader in front of his subordinates again, if they don’t trust that he can lead them they won’t follow. Cooley has obeyed your orders to the best of his abilities, you need to pull you head out of where-ever you stuck it and start trying to gain some respect from your subordinates.” Fully expecting to be told to do pushups till I pushed the world down, I was surprised with the brevity of his scolding, “I don’t care how big of a jerk they are, you need to respect your leaders you know it’s not easy, good job by the way.”

Not knowing what else to do I gave a “hooah” and returned back to the group, just in time to hear the end of the lesson one of the drill sergeants was giving, “Lead from the front, don’t order your men to do something that you’re not willing to do yourself, that is how you lead men to hell and back remember that.”