[ambrafoxtrot]

Part 8…Armageddon in Brooksville (subpart 1)

Lario stood in front of one of the windows of the medication post building, while he slowly and methodically put on and adjusted his combat webbing. He looked down on the street and found it pretty quiet and almost deserted. He touched the bandages on the right side of his face and head, and twisted his right arm, to reassure himself that he was ready to get out of that place.

A total of 6 days spent In that stinky hole, with all respect for its occupants, had almost driven him crazy, and at any rate it was time to get out of that fu@#ed up town, and get back on the field. He tried to concentrate on the tasks he wanted to accomplish and give them an order: he probably had to find a way to contact 11th Bersaglieri first; let them know what was going on between their section of the salient and Tampa, and then rush back to brigade, and report for a new assignment. In a corner of his mind, he toyed with the idea of having the opportunity to be merged in some kind of unit for non conventional operations again and resume the kind of job he was best trained for.

He concluded that he would probably send Goia back to 11th and then he would find a way to head west and rejoin Brigade or Corps HQ. While he finished recovering his equipment, he looked up; blue terse sky and a beautiful shining sun. Both the sun and the sky seemed not to care at all about all the craziness that was raging on the planet underneath.

He turned away from the window and the first thing he saw was Kate, as usual oblivious to her surroundings, and completely dedicated to the morning routines with her numerous patients. Without even realizing it, he paused; his left uncovered eye giving her a long and unintended stare. Lario stood there for a while, before snapping out of his trance; his mind going back to the preparation course given to the 9th assault Regiment by the psyops gurus of the military intelligence:

“Prolonged staring is socially unacceptable for the average American, especially if the object of the stare is a woman. Don’t forget that one of the stereotypes that the Americans have about us, is that the Italian male is a womanizer, with scarce respect in general for the opposite sex. Therefore, on the field, you will behave at all times in a way that will discourage the above mentioned stereotype, which by the way, in your specific case, mutherfu#$ers, is not so far from objective truth”

Lario grinned inside, happy to be still able to do so, and commanded himself to look away from that prodigy of human engineering in nurse coat, assisting an aged woman victim of 1st degree burns to her chest and neck. He waited that she was done with that, meanwhile pretending to fixing and checking his equipment, and then, while she was walking out of the room, he rapidly approached her:

“Signora Bat(a)s”…Lario mispronounced her name with the best smile he could make out of his bandaged noggin, trying to summon all the English he could…”I wanted to thanke yu forr all yu dide for me. You have beenne so…so… … nicce, is…it right”.

Kate gave him the small talk blank smile:

“I really did not do all that much for you soldier…you were far from being one of the patients that needed a lot of attention. In any case, you are welcome. Please take care of yourself”. She turned back and left.

Lario stood there like an idiot for a short time, wandering if he had said anything wrong, or if he had given her any reasons to think he was a womanizer. Then, disconsolate, he took the stairs down to the first floor to check out. He was given back his helmet and his weapons, and went out on the street, where he saw Goia talking with some CARABINIERI at the check point which protected the medication post area.

“Sergeant you are out”? Goia left his temporary companions and trotted towards Lario who was fitting his rifle in the usual barrel down ventral position to carry it comfortably and at the same time to be able to ready it promptly.

“It looks like I am Goia…are you ready to resume business after the vacation”?

“Well I guess Sarge, as long as you don’t try to get me killed again, you promise”?

“I do not make plans Private, I just execute them. Let’s go find our blue Chevy truck, son…I need you to go back to your regiment and I need to talk to the officer in command here to see how I can get to Brigade, now that I know there is still a brigade operating around here”.

Goia was about opening his mouth to respond when suddenly turned his head towards revved up vehicle noise. Lario turned that way as well, and saw three dark blue CARABINIERI VMs, the first two with troops, and the last almost empty. They were rushing south at high speed. Lario looked at them while they were passing by, kind of leaning towards them to see if he could learn more about what they were doing. The half empty vehicle stopped by the check point and a senior Brigadiere dismounted quickly and run towards the men manning the check point; antiriot equipment hanging from his body:

“You guys… you on static assignement”?

“Yes Sir” answered the Appuntato commanding the post…”protection of the hospital, no matter what” Lieutenant Triano Orders”.

The Brigadiere run back to his vehicle, and before he could board it, Lario was on him:

“What’s going on Brigadiere”…he asked in a rush

The senior NCO looked at Lario’s rag head look…”Can you fight Sergeant”?

“Yes I can”

“Then get your buddy, and come with us, the wave of refugees we were waiting for has been spotted out south 15 minutes ago”.

Lario looked at Goia, who went pale. He looked back at the CARABINIERE hoping that the same wasn’t happening to himself:

“Goia let’s go” were the only words he managed to find; and they both climbed on the VM.

The drive to the “front line” was not a long one, but still the Brigadiere managed to provide Lario and Goia with a couple of Batons and arms ballistic protection…”That’s all I have… he shouted to make himself heard over the loud sound of the engine…are you going to keep your rifles”?

“I guess we will”…Lario shouted back.

“You guys be aware…the engagement rules are still yellow…lethal force only in case of immediate life threat”…Goia rolled his eyes…Lario tried to force a smile on him.

The platoon convoy reached the red zone a few minutes later and Lario immediately noticed the controlled chaos typical of a battle area before the storm. Troop movements all around, quick orders shouted here and there, while different groups of soldiers reached the assigned positions. They were at the southern edge of town. The trained eyes of the 9th operator immediately started to scan for details that could acquaint him with the tactical situation: he saw spotters in multiple high point observing south, an MG nest on the roof of a three story pub; an Augusta Bell 412 helicopter flying in circles a kilometer south of town.

From his ground level position, Lario could not see the “enemy” but he was sure that it was located more or less where the helicopter was fluttering around. An entire platoon of full geared anti riot CARABINIERI was aligned across the main access road to the town; one of the squads, alongside a Blockbuster store. VM vehicles, probably mobile reserves, were taking position at far sides of the battlefield.

“Shit”…Lario thought…”They are planning to fight this like a medieval battle…God in Heaven…they are going again for a Roman Legion hand to hand close affair…these fu#$ers CARABINIERI…crazy asses”.

Lario felt someone tagging on his sleeve: it was Goia, who was screaming something about Americans, and pointing at a building with a blue label…”CHASE BANK”.

Lario squinted at the building and felt his blood pressure dropping: he saw two American soldiers, yes helmets and unmistakable American Camo BDU: one with a binocular set and the other with a sniper rifle also scanning the horizon south ways.

Lario grabbed the first soldier he could put his hand on and shouted to him:

“What the f#$k is going on here…there is a yank sniper team in the middle of our outfit”… and pointed at the bank building. Then he realized that he was yelling profanities at a Lieutenant and he could do no better than turning his head back and forth between the officer and the sniper team.

“They are with us Sergeant…they are Navy Seals. They are going to help us with selective fire is some of the rag tags get too hot”.

“Whaaat”? Lario looked at the Lieutenant open mouthed?

“It’s complicated to explain right now Sergeant…I m Lieutenant Frigerio”…the CARABINIERE shouted over the general noise…”where are you coming from…do you have an assignment”?

“Sergeant Vailatti…9th Col. Moschin; I come from the hospital…tell me where to go”.

“Are you fit to operate”…asked Frigerio looking at Lario’s head.

“Yes Sir…I also have Private Goia with me here; we came all the way from Nobleton about one week ago, and were involved in the first round of riots”.

“I can see that Sergeant…All right…we can certainly use a raider from the 9th…you can join platoon PRAETORIAN, three streets east of here. They are already deployed with their vehicles…quick reaction reserve…ask of Brigadiere Capo Dalamazia… tell him that Frigerio sent you two to reinforce the troop…”

“Yes Sir…right away……………..Sir…how does it look”?

Frigerio grimaced…”Sergeant…watch that rifle of yours…engagement is yellow”.

“Yes Sir…good luck Sir”…Lario said while grabbing Goia and starting running east.


In the sunny chilly January morning, Sheriff Rogers and one of his deputies stood high on a warehouse roof with a megaphone, looking quite terrified at the crowd that was forming at the outskirts of the town; the distance between the CARABINIERI outer cordon and the mob being now a scarce half kilometer.

Petty officer second class Talbot US Navy Seals was observing the mob with his binoculars and exchanging details with his sniper Hubbard.

“Those fu#@ers” said Talbot…I can see armed people mixed up with the refugees. The armed thugs are clearly acting as instigators…look at those bastards…trying to keep the crowd compact”.

“Well, it is our job to pluck the bad fishes out of the bowl Josh…and it is exactly what we are going to do if it becomes necessary”.

“Look at that freaking mob Ray…Great God…I just hope that Ralston comes back in time with that fu@#ing National Guard Brigade, or battalion…or whatever it is…because leaving this huge mess in the hands of the remnants of what used to be a company of spaghetti bruisers, looks shaaaaky to me my friend”.

Sheriff Rogers brought the megaphone to his mouth:

“Attention people…Please I call for your attention”…he had to scream even in the freaking megaphone to have his voice audible over the crowd noise and the helicopter flying every now and then in the vicinity.

“This town is a military outpost in a war zone manned by the Italian military. The Italian troops that occupy the town chased north all the inhabitants…there is nobody in town”…Rogers paused and licked his lips…”There is nothing here other than front line Italian heavy infantry waiting for our counteroffensive from the north…This area is about to become a high intensity battle zone in a matter of hours…The American forces heading here will be able to take care of you as soon as they conclude their offensive operations against the Italian forces that occupy this area …please disperse and head south…you will be promptly assisted by whatever force will remain in command of this area after the combat that is about to begin…the Italian forces will shoot at sight on whoever tries to force the security perimeter of the of this military zone…There is an Italian Artillery battalion in town, which will open fire on you if you don’t disperse…please comply and all troubles will be avoided…you will be taken care, separately and promptly once you disperse and the military possession of this area is clarified”.

Sheriff Rogers had been instructed to repeat the message indefinitely until he could see that the crowd gave any signs to comply but he had to interrupt his “broadcast” as soon as the mob savagely started to charge with a horrifying and collective cry that more than covered the sound of the nearby loitering helicopter.


Continues…

Picture:
2nd Squad Platoon TESTUGGINE (Tortoise) Southern edge of Brooksville
January 2000