Recall Read Online Free Page B

other was a steep drop-off, several hundred feet to a dry ravine.
    Jim pushed the cover back from his watch, then grabbed the radio and held the mic close. He pressed the button and a shock wave swept over the Humvee with a deafening boom. He turned to see the front end of the M35 transport behind them on fire. He looked at the mic button. Had he triggered the explosion?
    The M35 crunched into the hill and came to a stop. Fire billowed from the engine compartment and the driver was slouched back in his seat. Automatic fire crackled from the hill above, stitching holes in the hood near the wheel. The gunner stood upright into the turret and the fifty cal boomed.
    Jim shouted into the radio, “Transport down! Suppressing fire!” Men leapt from the burning vehicle. Several scrambled behind a Cougar mine-resistant truck while another pulled the driver from the burning wreck.
    The Humvee peeled away, tires spinning, pressing Jim back into his seat. “What the hell you doing?” The truck continued to accelerate. He aimed his M4 at Crawler’s head.
    â€œI ain’t going nowhere,” Crawler said. “Point that at the guys shootin’.”
    Ahead the trail widened. Crawler turned hard and slammed the brakes, locking all four wheels. They slid sideways, almost all the way around, then accelerated hard back toward the burning M35. Jim stuck his head out the window, then leaned away as if it were on fire. The wheels were riding on the edge of the drop-off.
    The gunner ducked from the turret. “Son of a bitch! You can’t make it past that truck! I can cover from here!” Crawler said nothing, keeping the accelerator down. They plowed down the side of the burning transport, tearing off the open door where the driver had been pulled out. Jim felt the tires beneath him slip down toward the ravine, but they held.
    Red Harmon was in the middle of the trail, M4 aimed high and returning fire over the unconscious driver. Crawler headed directly for them at speed, then turned hard and slammed the brakes. This time, the skid was graceful. Red dropped to his belly and the Humvee came to a stop, straddling the pair. The fifty cal echoed from the turret as Jim helped lift the injured driver into the back.
    â€œGet the rest into the other trucks,” he shouted at Red. Jim ran back to the cab and aimed his weapon up the hill through the open window. No enemy in sight. Only dust clouds along a ridge where the gunner was concentrating the fifty cal. Tracers from the combat mix ammunition snapped like lasers every fifth round.
    The burning troop transport blocked their escape. Crawler sped up, slamming into the back of it and pushing forward. Gravel clinked against the floorboards as all four wheels on the Humvee spun. The transport wandered toward the cliff, the road curving away. After a few seconds, it rolled down the side and the convoy sped past. The sulfur stench of burning gear oil filled Jim’s nose. He pressed one nostril closed and blew onto the floor. A quarter mile later the landscape leveled somewhat.
    Loud groaning and white smoke came from the Humvee’s engine compartment, but it kept running. The sweet aroma of burning antifreeze filled the cabin. Crawler leaned over and shouted above the engine noise. “Round the next curve’s a bitch! A red zone, maybe half mile long. ‘The Gauntlet’ we calls it. Tell your guys to get low till we’re through.”
    â€œEver have trouble there?”
    â€œNo shots. But they ain’t friendlies.”
    Crawler slowed around the sharp curve. Several small white rocks the size of a man’s fist were in the middle of the road, as if newly fallen.
    â€œSee those?”
    â€œNothing. We checked ’em on the way out,” Crawler said, speeding over.
    An orange stone-walled town stood ahead, the road running straight through the middle. Situated on a ridge, it offered no way around. A burning car blocked the entrance.