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The nights in the desert were so cold a part of him feared that if he stayed still for too long he would freeze solid, and the situation wasn't helped by the shortage of winter gear caused by them having been cut off from their supply lines for so long. He dare not move a muscle though. Crouching beside the open, first-floor window enemy troops passed by outside only a few feet below him, as they fanned out to secure the square. A single shiver, or a chattering of teeth, and they would hear him. He barely even exhaled.
They all waited... waited... waited, as the Iberian company below scanned the ground before them step by step, wary of any mines or traps that might have been laid to greet them. If only they knew how long ago his platoon had run out of mines, they wouldn't have been so cautious. It was the one advantage he knew he could use. After he'd been booby-trapping every corner of every street over the last few weeks to stall the enemy's advance, they were looking down, not up.
'This is insane!' he thought, but he knew he must purge himself of all doubt. He could not afford to hesitate when the fighting started. They were outnumbered, low on ammunition, and had gone without food and sleep for the better part of three days. Unless each and every one of them made every shot count, they were all dead. Had they been able to retreat further, find a decent bottleneck and perhaps fresh supplies, their situation would be much less desperate. Those had not been their orders however. Their armor and artillery needed time to pull out of the district and regroup, or risk falling into enemy hands. If that happened, the city really would be lost. Perhaps they had already done so, and his platoon were free to fall back; or perhaps they'd already been flaked and captured. They might just all be about to throw their lives away for nothing. They had their orders though, or at least the last orders they had received before they'd lost communication. 'Hold the line! Do not let the square fall at any cost! The Tigers do not not bow to greasy Spanish Rats!'
He wasn't a Tiger though. He'd thought so, once, what seemed like years ago already. It had been so easy to be brave and fierce, when they were winning.
All the Iberian troops had entered the square now. They had needed to wait until their were none behind to escape and call in an airstrike. If they could kill them all, and quickly, the Iberian command might think there were more Tigers holding the area than had been anticipated. Perhaps they would take time to rethink their strategy, which would give the Captain and his men some respite.
He gave the signal to the other men in the room, and primed his own flash-bang grenade, as all the others did the same with the one they'd been rationed. They threw all in unison, from all sides of the square, before ducking back down and covering their eyes and ears.
In the dark the effectiveness of the grenades was maximised, and the Iberian men screamed and stumbled.
"OPEN FIRE!" he yelled, shouldering his battle rifle and slotting a single shot through the head of a man below.
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Col. Lee woke with a start, slumped over his desk. He clenched his fists, half to stop his hands shaking and half out of frustration with himself.
'You'd stopped having the dreams dammit! Why now? why must it be now after so long?'
He took a deep breath to calm himself. Times like this would be when he'd used to head straight for the whisky cabinet, to spend a few hours drowning the darkness, so that he might achieve at least some sleep in peace. Not now though. He'd brought none with him to RACDI-Alpha, not daring to tempt himself. Besides, there was too much at stake to go down that path now. He must find the strength to overcome within himself, just as he had before.
It was still the dead of night outside. By the morning, he would be composed as ever, ready to do his duty.
