The End Read Free Page A

Gordon’s words perfectly. He quietly sobbed as he rocked back and forth, shaking in fear.
    Gordon left the room and started slowly upstairs. His progress was interrupted by Smitty’s panicked voice: “The other fucker—”
    A loud explosion shook the room.
    Gordon whipped back around. Chaos had erupted downstairs; the two Marines who had been following Gordon were now yelling, though he couldn’t make out their words.
    Gordon headed back downstairs, into what was left of the room. The wounded Iraqi was now blown apart. A Marine had also been torn up by the explosion, but he couldn’t tell who it was.
    Gordon heard a voice from the hallway. “Sergeant!”
    Gordon turned and saw Smitty lying on the ground, covered in the blood of four people including his own.
    â€œWhat happened?” Gordon asked, kneeling next to him.
    â€œThe motherfucker on the ground wasn’t dead. He turned over and had a grenade. He blew up Grebbs.”
    â€œDirty motherfuckers!” Gordon cursed.
    Just then, another squad of Marines emerged from the entrance of the building. They were followed by an imbedded reporter and his camera crew.
    A corpsman followed behind and immediately started to look over Smitty.
    â€œSuicide bomber killed a Marine in that room,” Gordon informed the new squad of Marines, pointing to the room. “Upstairs is not clear yet. Let’s go.”
    Gordon and the new squad proceeded upstairs and cleared the area. On the roof, they could see the mosque. There was still no apparent movement.
    â€œLet’s go take it,” Gordon said to the Marines. They rushed back downstairs and out across the street. The reporter and his camera crew followed closely.
    Smoke flowed from a few windows on the south side of the mosque. The entire south and east sides were riddled with bullet holes. Gordon and the squad approached the front door and stacked up along the east side. Gordon kicked the door, but it did not break down. He kicked it twice more. Nothing.
    â€œSergeant, I have a shotgun,” a Marine in the squad offered.
    â€œOkay, get up here.”
    The Marine shot the door handle twice with his 12-gauge shotgun and backed away. Gordon took a step back and kicked the door; this time it flew open. He tossed a high-explosive grenade through the open door and stepped back, leaning against the wall. The grenade tumbled and rolled down the narrow hall and into the large great room of the mosque. The explosion shook the ground. As was standard operating procedure, he and the Marines proceeded into the mosque after the grenade detonated. The reporter and camera crew followed right behind the last Marine.
    The first room on the right side was full of munitions and small arms. The room on the left was vacant except for soiled mattresses. The men proceeded down to the great room, where they found a few Iraqis leaning up against a wall. The Marines loudly demanded they stay still. They all appeared alive, but wounded.
    â€œDo not fucking move, fucking stay put!” Gordon yelled at them. He quickly assessed the situation in the room.
    In the background, Gordon could hear the reporter talking to a rolling camera.
    â€œI’m here inside a mosque in Fallujah with the Marines. The battle has been fierce and the Iraqis have put up a tough resistance. In the end, though, they are no match for the superior firepower of the United States Marines. These wounded Iraqis here have managed to survive the heavy onslaught and are requesting aid—”
    â€œRequesting aid? They haven’t said a fucking thing!” a Marine from the squad snapped at the reporter.
    Gordon, with his rifle firmly planted in his shoulder, kept scanning over the half-dozen Iraqis. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Iraqi at the end of the line move his arm toward something on the ground.
    Without hesitation, Gordon turned and fired off a single shot, hitting the Iraqi in the head. The sound from