Field Commission 14

December 29, I have the last watch before dawn, or should I say what passes for dawn in these gray watery parts? Too dark to see the actual rain, but the glint of the street assures me. Hasn't stopped for more than a few minutes since we arrived December 1.
A peaceful chance to reflect, evaluate.
On the plus side of the ledger, the civilians trapped within the bar are solidly proAmerican, meaning good cooperation and good social life. On the plus side, all the civvies and my force are alive and unwounded. No illness that I know about.
Still we are reaching the end of our rope. With no heat left in the bar, the raw damp bone-chilling cold is taking its toll. People are tired, morose, will soon be hungry.
The publican's food is tasty. Still it was a rather small menu at the start of the siege. As items run out, smaller yet. I've quietly checked with him, we have enough til lunch today. That's it.
I resolve that, if no help arrives today, I'll leave Parvana in charge and slip out after dark with Pvt Hatfield. Why her? Rumor has it she offed 3 McCoys prior to joining up. As well, good range score.
The bones of 8 dead aircraft lie silently on our street. The first was of course shot down by Parvana alone. The others, one by one, by massive shoulder to shoulder firepower from bar window and door.
But forget any more. We're down to average of 4 bullets each, need to keep em in case we meet up with marauders.
I hear Parvana stirring. Quietly so as not to disturb the rest, she says, "used to think hell was hot. Now I know it could be cold."
"Parvana, if nothing happens today, I leave you in charge. Hatfield and myself will leave after dark, look for help."
"You don't hafta do that. I could go do the dangerous job."
"Anything happens, don't rescue us, you got nothing to spare as it is."
The day drags out to all eternity. People have long since given up socializing. They sit morosely and wait for they know not what.
I hear an aircraft, "listen up, y'all stay inside, no one fires a shot."
I slither outside, keeping cover by a pillar. As I watch the approach, I see my chance. In about 5 seconds, he will fly into a death trap. Be directly between 2 tall buildings, no scope for dodging for a fraction of a second.
I steady myself on the pillar, feel the icy pre-combat calm. At the right moment, I simply blow away the pilot. Death is instant, the plane veers outa control, hits the stone wall of the church and explodes.
By now people are too tired and numb to cheer. Parvana wraps an arm round my shoulder, "watched you, timed that to perfection. He was right in the absolute middle, fish in a barrel."
"Not he, she."
Chuckle, "how bout that? Maybe you laid that phobia thing to rest."
Behind us, the clanking of armored cars, Brit. The lead one stops, RSM dismounts, "so Yank, how's your force?"
"All alive, unwounded. No one ill that I know of."
She grins wickedly, "I make it 8 downed aircraft."
"Nine actually, one in behind that church."
"Makes yours the most effective force in the whole thing. No one else got more than one. We got your shot on vid, I'm guessing it ends up in training vids."
RSM gathers the civvies, "ladies and gentlemen, at this time it is unsafe to return to your homes. We will be taking the Yanks with us, but we'll leave an armored car to protect you. Now watch Cpl Andrews. She'll demonstrate the field ration meals. Do it right, they heat automatically."
Quietly I turn to the bartender, hand him a hundred, "you know, would be right shame if my friends here went thirsty while they waited."
"God bless you Yank."