Free Sunrise Over Fallujah by Walter Dean Myers Page B

and knocked his tooth out. Then he commenced to kick my butt long enough for him to have to take a lunch break.”
    What I thought was bothering Jonesy, and what was definitely messing with my mind, was that it was hard to tell who the enemy was, and with our soldiers moving from place to place so quickly, it was getting hard to tell where our friends were, too.
    We picked up a new Intelligence officer, Captain Phil Nelson, and two other Intelligence types. We were supposed to go from the FOB, which was nothing but a few tents in the sand, to a mining area about fifteen to twenty miles away.
    â€œIs this a hot zone?” Captain Coles stood close to Nelson as he spoke.
    â€œThat’s what we’re going to find out,” Captain Nelson said. He was short with a huge round head and big blue eyes that made him look like a baby in uniform. “This place has been inspected by the United Nations a hundred times, but what I’m hoping for is that we can find some civilians who can give us a feel for the area, let us know if they’re glad we’re knocking over Saddam.”
    â€œAny friendlies there now?” Coles asked.
    â€œA marine detachment,” Nelson said. “They’re telling us it’s safe for us to go in.”
    â€œYou’re looking for civilians; do you speak Iraqi?”
    â€œI speak Arabic,” Nelson said, looking about as white as a human being could look.
    The Intelligence guys supposedly knew where they were going and would lead the way with Second Squad. Captain Coles rode with us. Inside the Humvee the captain was mumbling to himself.
    â€œSomething we should know?” Jonesy asked.
    â€œThe chain of command is getting weak,” Coles said. “If you listen to the air traffic, you hear a lot of people trying to find out where their units are.”
    â€œI thought they were hitting fast and hard?” Marla chimed in.
    â€œIf you’re in a fight and you’re winning, it’s fine,” Captain Coles said. “But if something looks fishy and you need some backup in a hurry, it would be good to know where the cavalry is.”
    â€œAnd the way I figure it, you can never tell when you’re going to need some backup in a hurry,” I said.
    â€œThis reminds me of when they started a happy hour in a bar in my hometown,” Jonesy said. “It was a colored bar and they ain’t never had a happy hour. Some folks thought they was gonna get free drinks. When they found out that they had to buy a drink to get a free one they got to fighting and tore the place up. That’s what’s happening over here. They don’t know if they should be getting happy or tearing us up.”
    Marla was on the squad gun and I tapped her knee to get her attention as Jonesy pulled the Humvee out onto the road. I thought she might be tired. She kicked me with the back of her heel.
    â€œYo, Marla, I’m a friendly!” I called to her.
    â€œMess with my leg again and I’ll shoot you through the top of your head,” she answered.
    â€œYo, Jonesy, is Marla weird or what?” I asked.
    â€œHey, man, we all weird,” Jonesy said. “Or do you always do drive-bys in the name of democracy?”
    We were going south again to meet up with a company from the 3 rd ID. Captain Coles had the GPS system going and was comparing the coordinates on the screen with our maps. That made me feel a little better because there weren’t any map landmarks that I recognized. There were some American military trucks onthe road, mostly supply units, and a few British units. There were Iraqi vehicles as well, older trucks and an occasional overcrowded bus. Captain Coles started talking about what was probably going on in his hometown and we figured out that the time difference was eight hours.
    â€œIt’s three in the afternoon here and back home they’re just getting up,” he said.
    â€œContact ahead, they’re moving to