kid was almost as tall as Wally.
“LT, I was an officer in the Rangers for eight years. I served in South America and the Middle East. I’ve done two PJ tours in Iraq, three in Afghanistan, all of them with the captain here. This is my third time in Djibouti. I’m not worried about looking bad, or being shown up. At this point, I care about one thing, and that’s the mission. If I’m wrong and you don’t tell me, if you let me make a mistake, that’s what makes me look bad.”
Robey hesitated before nodding. This clearly wasn’t the direction he had figured LB would take.
“Now, let me be real clear about this, so we don’t run into it again. You’re an officer. I’m not. You chose to be an officer. You’ve got to show the same commitment to leading men as me and the other guys show at being PJs. Your job is to lead. Period. You never sacrifice that responsibility for your own comfort or need to avoid conflict. Never. You’re in the fucking military. Conflict is what you do. What if I’m wrong on a real mission? You gonna worry about my feelings then?”
Robey opened his mouth to speak. LB cut him off.
“Sir, please don’t answer me. You haven’t thought this through enough to answer.”
Wally said, “They’re waiting on us.”
LB nodded. “One last thing. See this?”
He tapped the patch on Robey’s sleeve, the same one they all wore.
“That others may live, Robey. That might be the toughest motto in the military. The PJs you lead from this point on are going to trust you with their lives. They need to know you’ll lay it all down for them. They’ve got to count on you being right and saying so. You lead, Robey. Whatever shape that takes. However bad it hurts.”
LB rammed a thumb at Wally.
“I’ve known this one since he was twenty. I trained him. I argue with him as often as not. He’s too good-natured by half, but I’ll say this. I have never seen him refuse to step out in front. You stop worrying about me and start watching him.”
Before Wally could say anything about the compliment, or Robey could mutter a young officer’s thanks for the tough lesson, LB took a step backward.
He put his hands on his hips, a teakettle of a man when he stood like this, short and stout. “One last thing.”
Robey said, “Okay.”
“The men and women who turn to you will be in bad trouble. They will be in the shit. You’ll be their lifeline. They may be frightened, even panicked. They may be bigger and stronger than you. Under no circumstances can you lose your composure or your control of the situation. A PJ is trained to do his job past the breaking point of any other soldier. More than anything else, that’s what makes you a PJ. You got that? Sir?”
Robey squared his jaw before he answered. “Got it.”
Wally signaled LB that the tongue-lashing was done for now. Robey slipped on his sunglasses, too.
Backpedaling, LB watched the pair of CROs follow. In the meeting, he’d rip LT again in front of the team. Let the kid have some practice getting on his feet as an officer, defend himself. Give him a free shot, even things up.
Chapter 5
Qandala
Puntland
Somalia
Yusuf waited until all the children were seated before he would come down.
In the courtyard below, women arranged the children so the littlest ones had seats in the front. Next came the girls, and behind them, the boys were made to kneel. They, being boys, wanted to stand.
On his adobe parapet, a sundown breeze furled his robe. Yusuf turned away from the bustling below to gaze east at the blue water beyond two miles of meager land. Tonight’s sky would stay starry; the monsoons were over. One great ship rode at harbor, a Saudi vessel. The freighter was not his, but had been taken two weeks ago by another crew. Yusuf did not know how the negotiations were proceeding. From his catwalk along his walls he’d watched the supply skiffs parade back and forth. Yusuf had not ventured onto bad-weyn in seven months.
For a lark that he’d planned, he reached for a bag of coins. He tossed them in the air, scattering them over the courtyard at the feet of the children. This ruined the women’s careful seating and made them glower at Yusuf. Suleiman’s sister, Aziza, for whom the wedding celebration was being held—Suleiman had found her a Darood, though