Riding With Martin

By Jax_Teller

NOTE: The original name of this story was Riding with David Lee

Martin was as normal as a teenager came, better than average grades with minimal effort and eager to get on with his life. He was even more eager to get out of the small farm town all his family lived in or around. He had no hope of going to college, being the son of a third generation farmer. His families’ reputation and legacy would ensure he led a decent, predictable life but not a very interesting one. 

When the military recruiters came to his high school on career day it seemed the perfect way out for him. Martin enlisted in the National Guard during his senior year of high school thinking it would get him out of Podunk no-where-ville. The recruiters promised that he’d get money for college and have a job in demand when he got out, all while taking care of folks in the US. 

He planned to leave the week after graduation and the family threw him a going away party. His family was not happy that he was leaving or that it was to go into the military. His mother had made a comment that military life destroys the soul and no one ever comes back the same. His mother had seen the effect the Vietnam war had on her generation and didn’t want that for her son. Martin respected his mother enough not to say that time changes everything. 

Martin’s father was proud on the surface that he’d chose to serve his nation, but underneath showed his disappointment that the farm that was in his family for three generations may end up sold off. Martin got through the party saying good byes. He never intended to return, short of a visit. He left on a grey hound bus and kept his eyes forward not looking back as the bus rambled through the small town to the highway. 

Boot camp was different than anything he knew, not difficult, just different. He worked the farm since he was big enough. He worked through the summers too so he knew hard work and to follow directions, which served him well. It seemed as though the drill instructors took special delight in teasing him about his farm upbringing. When it came time to get jobs done though they often put Martin in charge. 

Martin earned his marksmen badge while in boot came thanks to squirrel hunting back on the farm. When graduation from boot came, he knew that his parents wouldn’t be there and he didn’t ask them to be. Martin knew the farm came first in their lives. Just days after graduation he was home on leave before going to his first duty assignment and September Eleventh Two Thousand and One, happened and the world changed forever.

It seemed to clarify all the training he had just completed. Martin’s family was proud of him at that point. For him the events and aftermath of September Eleventh meant a war, actual combat, not some altruistic peace time service. Martin was eager to do his duty as most Americans were after September Eleventh. He was immediately reassigned to a combat unit and shipped out. He was among the first combat troops on the ground in Afghanistan. 

As the months passed he earned an outstanding record, his home town newspaper even wrote a front page news article about him. In times of war, experience is gained quickly and Martin was getting all the experience of service, during war. He moved up quickly in the ranks based on his performance and natural talent with a rifle. He became well known as a world class sniper in Afghanistan, his hunting skills back on the farm served him well. 

Martin became so well known that the Taliban had a playing card with a grainy picture of him and a dead or alive reward on his head. He became famous the world over when he was featured in a popular gun magazine. His long distance shooting and the gun that he used became the standard for the U.S. military snipers.

Days turned to weeks and weeks to months and Martin was routinely assigned to patrol villages for insurgents going door to door. This was a common task which was dangerous because they would never know what they faced behind the doors. This also became dangerous because they were exposed for extended amounts of time. Even with advance techniques and taking lessons from everyday debriefings the teams assigned to search the villages were in extreme danger. One day in a village 65 Km away from base, things were quiet and going quickly, with little resistance, which was unusual. 

Going from one of the building to another to get a high spot, Martin was shot by a sniper. He was hit just below the knee and the medic stabilized him while still under fire. This wasn’t a heavy fire fight but they were pinned down for a while. Martin and Mike, the medic, held that position for close to an hour while the rest of his crew retrieved their Humvee and returned for them. Mike kept loosening the tourniquet and reapplying it, listening to the sounds of women and children crying and yelling in Arabic.