Free War Porn by Roy Scranton Page B

for a status report. Everyone responded except Two-zero-two. Yarrow screamed into the hand mike: “Crusader Two-zero-two, Crusader Two-zero-two, what’s your status, over? Respond! Respond!”
    No answer. I exhaled, staring at the road. The world was clearer now, numinous, drenched in light.
    â€œCrusader Two-zero-two!” Captain Yarrow shouted. “What’s your status, over? Respond!”
    My armor plate lay on my chest like a lover’s head. I needed a cigarette.
    â€œAny Crusader element, this is Crusader Six, does somebody have eyes on Two-zero-two?”
    â€œ Crusader Six, this is Crusader Two-zero-five November. We have eyes on Two-zero-two, status green, break. They don’t have a radio. Over . ”
    â€œWell make sure they get a goddamned radio,” Captain Yarrow shouted into his mike. “Somebody give me a sitrep.”
    â€œ Six, this is One-six November. Two grenades from the overpass, break. One fell wide and the other bounced off the back of Two-zero-three .”
    â€œAll Crusader elements, this is Crusader Six. Keep a tight eye on your twelve. Watch those overpasses and don’t take any chances. Let’s get this load of ammo to Wardog.”
    â€œYou see who was shooting at us, Healds?” Lieutenant Krauss asked.
    â€œUh . . .  honestly, sir?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œNot really.”
    At the next overpass I saw two hadjis crossing above so I swung wide right to keep the convoy from passing beneath them. As we drove into the shadows under the arch, I heard the trucks behind open fire.

 
    desiring democracy and modernization immediately
    is a good example of what
    a westerner might view as an arab’s “wish vs. reality”
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    Sergeant Chandler read Maxim . Lieutenant Krauss and Captain Yarrow watched Braveheart in the captain’s room. I sat listening to this mix CD a girl had made me and rereading the letter she’d sent. Rifle fire popped off close. Sergeant Chandler flipped a page of his magazine.
    Lieutenant Krauss stomped in, weapon in hand. “What was that?”
    Sergeant Chandler shrugged.
    The LT went downstairs, then returned a few minutes later and went back to Braveheart . Healds came in and asked me if I wanted to smoke and I told him I’d just had one.
    I read the girl’s letter again, amazed at how far away it came from, how ignorant she was of my world. I picked up a pen and paper to reply but found myself struck dumb, washed in a frustration humming like great engines.
    â€¢â€¢â€¢
    The next day we got a late start and by the time we hit the streets, the shooting was heavy. A shot every few seconds, every minute or so a long clatter of fire. Some close, some farther away. Sometimes we’d hear the ping of nearby ricochet, though it didn’t seem like we were being targeted.
    We pulled off onto a frontage road, searching for the first cache. Captain Yarrow peered at the map, at his GPS, then back at the map, sometimes giving directions. For myself, I watched the tree line, the buildings in the distance, the earth and sky, eyes wide for the spray of impact or a muzzle flash. I felt preternaturally alert and also numb. Shots cracked out all around us.
    Captain Yarrow directed us into a wide, vacant lot, about a block off Canal Road.
    â€œFuck this,” Healds hissed.
    â€œYou guys nervous?” Lieutenant Krauss asked.
    Loud zing of ricochet.
    â€œFuck no, sir. This is bread and butter. I love it when the world goes batshit and everybody’s shooting all over the goddamned place.”
    â€œYou worry too much,” the LT said.
    There was an overpass to the west and a cluster of half-built three-story homes to the north. Beyond that, northwest, lay Sadr City.
    â€œStop here,” Captain Yarrow said. He and Krauss got out and Healds and I stayed in the truck.
    â€œYou see anything?” Yarrow yelled as he and the LT stomped around searching for