Free Hunting in the Shadows (American Praetorians) by Peter Nealen

truckers wanted to hold up long enough to let us through.  Probably figured that if they did, somebody would find a way to cut in front of them, which wasn’t outside the bounds of probability.  “Jeff, I’m starting to wonder if this is really just about pushing the Kurds out of Kirkuk,” he said.  “This smells like a pretty major undertaking.”
                  “Crossing swords with the Kurds is a pretty major undertaking,” I pointed out.  “They found that out years ago.  You’re right, though—if they’re taking these sorts of security precautions, it does sound more like a major offensive.”  I punched the dash.  “And we’re out here, out of fucking position!  Fuck!”
                  “We’d still be out of position even if we hadn’t stopped in Yehyava last night,” Larry pointed out.  “Jim isn’t in the city, either.”
                  There was a click, as Nick broke in just as I was about to ask Jim if he had any ideas.  “Jeff, if that Mech Division is planning to push out, we might be in a better position than we think.”
                  “I’m not following you,” Jim said.
                  “Think about it,” Nick said.  “They need to cross the Tigris to get to Kirkuk, or any of the other Kurdish provinces.  Where are they going to do that?  Here, at Samarra, or way up by Tal’Azbil, which is way the fuck out of the way.  They really only would do that if they were planning on going after Erbil.  Which is possible,” he conceded, “but I think we’d see and hear about more activity if that was the case.  Erbil’s not the flashpoint right now, anyway.
                  “So, with Jim to the south, he can spot them if they head for Samarra, and we can find a spot to hunker down out here, where we can watch the Kirkuk-Tikrit road.  We might not be able to get in and see what they’re doing in Tikrit, but we can see where they’re going.”
                  There was a pause, as we thought over what Nick had said, and Larry finally spotted enough of a gap to surge forward, up onto the road in front of a rusting, red-painted semi-truck, whose driver honked angrily at us as Larry rumbled past in front of him.  In some places, that action right there might have drawn unwelcome attention; here, it was business as usual.
                  “You’ve got a good point, Key-Lock,” Jim said.  “What do you think, Hillbilly?”
                  “I think it’s the only way to go, now that Key-Lock’s brought it up,” I said.  “The only problem I have with it is that it means we’re not so much collecting information as we are turning into a tripwire.”
                  “I don’t have any better ideas, given the situation,” Jim answered.  “Trying to get in there is going to mean certain compromise, and that probably isn’t going to end well.  Some of these guys might not hate Americans as much as AQI or Jaysh al Mahdi, but they don’t love us, either.”
                  “Something else to consider,” Nick pointed out.  “If they were jamming last night, and it’s lifted, what does that potentially mean?  It tells me they’re getting ready to push.  Being the tripwire that sends up the flare that these guys are coming may be the only thing left to do, anyway.”
                  “Alright,” I said.  “We’re going with the tripwire plan.  Kemosabe, get your team where you can observe the main road between Tikrit and Samarra.  We’ll do the same on this side of the river.  I don’t need to tell you not to get cornered.”
                  “No, you don’t,” Jim replied.  “We’ll send you all the reports we send to Erbil.  See you on the other side.”
                  “Roger,” I said.  “Out.”
                  Larry turned us onto 55, and we