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Gunny Belamy, the team's NCO, pushed aside the fern that provided cover for Ethan and spread a waterproof map on the moist ground. Belamy was not a Gunny sergeant. He was a Master Sergeant, but they still called him Gunny, because it sounded better than Master did. 

Gunny tapped a mark in grease pencil on the topographical contours of the map. 

"We're fucking close, Card. We ought to be about two klicks from where this pilot went down." 

"We must have come at least fifty from that hilltop where the slick dropped us," Ethan said. 

Gunny nodded agreement, folded the map and put it away. Then the older man closed his eyes and hung his head until Ethan couldn't see his camouflaged features. The mottled dark green arms of Gunny's fatigues were rolled up past his elbows revealing muscular arms. 

"Damn heat," Gunny said. "I'm getting too old for this shit. It's about time I get out of this fucking Marine Corps. I joined the Crotch when I was eighteen, right out of high school. Thirty-two years is enough time to serve my country. But the wife divorced me ten years ago, and she made sure the kids hate me. The only thing waiting back home is booze and fat sluts." 

Gunny touched the black, iron E-5 sergeant chevrons clipped to the underside of Ethan's collar. "The Colonel has taken a liking to you, Card. He wants you to take my place as an E-6 and lead the team when I go." 

"I'd like that, Gunny. If I sign up for another six, I want to stay with the unit." 

"No problem, Card," Gunny said. Then he squeezed Ethan's shoulder before vanishing into the rainforest. 

Ethan wondered if he could stay with the unit with Ortega hounding him. He cursed himself for thinking of that bastard again. Then the back of the Marine in front of him vanished, and he realized the team was on the move again. 

Another hour passed before a clicking sound caught his attention—a warning that someone was close. Hugging his Greaser, he went to ground, making himself small and blending into the forest. 

A Montagnard native in a loincloth carrying a crossbow and arrows walked into sight. The Montagnard stopped inches from the man in front of Ethan and searched the treetops. He aimed his crossbow and shot a stubby arrow. A monkey came crashing through the branches and Ethan watched the Montagnard clean his kill. Soon, the man was gone. 

Like ghosts, the recon team moved again.

§ “Running with the Enemy” was awarded an Honorable Mention in General Fiction at the 2103 San Francisco Book Festival

§ Discover a new world of Publishing–-the 2013 San Francisco Book Festival Event held on May 18