"I didn't want to finish this one up by myself, Goose. And it would be hard to break in a new first sergeant."

Dean Hardin sat in the passenger seat beside Remington, though. Hardin's face still bore the bruises that Goose had inflicted. The man's presence reminded Goose that even though the friendship was unique, it also came with problems.

"Move, soldier," Remington growled. "You're letting the entire Syrian army catch up to us."

Goose hobbled painfully to his RSOV as Brady and Madden cut the fallen RSOV free. The vehicle tumbled end over end down the mountain and burst into flames.

Remington took the lead, causing Brady to comment in wonderment at the Ranger captain's skill. Both vehicles battled the grade, lunging like quarter horses, then shimmying like cats on a hot roof as they fought for traction on hairpin curves.

Baker sat behind Goose.

"Are you okay?" Goose asked.

"I am." The man smiled. "I'm more okay than I've ever been, Sarge. God is with me. He made sure I was in a position to stop that RSOV's fall, and He gave me the strength to hold it there." He shook his head. "God didn't put us here to fail, Sarge. He has something planned for us."

Goose felt certain the man was delusional, perhaps hurt in ways he didn't know yet. But yet, at the same time, Goose felt an unexplained absence of fear. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the tanks and APCs were only a short distance behind. They'd lost a little of the advance they'd gained because the vehicles couldn't negotiate the turns like the RSOVs.

"Marathon One, we're blocked! We're blocked!"

The announcement filled Goose with dread. And in the next moment, the run through the mountains came to a grinding halt.

"What happened?" Remington demanded.

"One of the transport trucks lost an axle. Locked up and flipped. It's crossways in the road."

"Get it out of the way," Remington ordered.

Goose forced himself to stand in the RSOV's seat. Looking ahead, he saw the switchback where the transport truck had overturned.

And the mountain vibrated with the weight of the approaching Syrian armored cav.

"We're trapped," Madden said. "Man, we almost made it." Anger fired the corporal's words.

"No," Baker said. Even in the darkness, black bruises could be seen forming on his neck and face and across his shoulders through the tears in his shirt.

How had he taken that kind of punishment? Even in the face of the approaching maelstrom of Syrian cav, Goose was blown away by the memory of Baker standing under the RSOV, holding the vehicle up to save his friends. Then Goose remembered all the long hours that Baker had stood in the stream doing baptisms.

Baker looked at Goose, his moon face as calm as a child's. "It's God, Sarge. Can't you feel Him around us? We don't have to worry about the Syrians. All we have to do is trust in Him."

The big man pushed himself out of the RSOV, leaving his M-4A1 behind.

In disbelief, Goose watched as Baker walked fifty feet away, then knelt down on the hard rocky road. Baker held his hands out, his palms turned heavenward.

"I'm giving myself to You, Lord," Baker said in a strong, clear voice. "Take me and use me as You will. But I ask You to protect me from my enemies, and to protect the men with me."

Other Rangers went forward, all of them men Baker had baptized in the last two days.

The Syrian armor came on.

A dozen men knelt on the rock with Baker, all of them holding hands, forming a line of human beings across the road. Baker led the men in prayer, his voice strong and resonant. He spoke the verse, and they followed him.

"The Lord is my shepherd," Baker said, "I shall not want."

More men came forward, knelt and took hands. The prayer grew louder.

The vibrations from the Syrian cav units grew stronger.

"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures," Baker went on.

Goose glanced forward and saw that several Rangers were frantically working on the overturned transport truck.

"He leadeth me beside the still waters," Baker said, and the men joined him immediately. More Rangers stepped forward, filling in the human wall that separated them from the advancing Syrian vehicles. "He restoreth my soul."

Some of the pain went away in Goose's knee. A calmness came over him even though he knew the Syrian guns were already sweeping the fragile flesh-and-blood wall.

"He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake."

"Sergeant Gander!" Remington's voice cut through the descending tranquility. "Get those men on their feet!"

Goose couldn't move.

The Syrian tanks spread out along a wide place in the mountain road. The road was wider at this bend, overshadowed by a huge stone ledge. The tanks stood four across, and APCs ranked behind them.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me."

Drawn by the feeling that touched his heart, Goose went forward. Taking up arms against the tanks wasn't going to stop the heavy rounds that would rip them to shreds. Even bringing the RSOV's TOW missile launchers to bear wouldn't stop the carnage that was about to be unleashed.

Remington swore and came after him. "Sergeant! I gave you an order! "

"Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

And Goose repeated the words with the men. He heard the words of the psalm rising into the night sky. His burden of worries was lifted from him. This was right. He just wished that Remington could see it. Something in the world had changed; it had grown darker and more bright. He missed Bill Townsend, but at the same moment he felt like Bill was with him, kneeling with the dozens of men praying with Corporal Baker.

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies."

Goose heard Remington ordering the other Rangers into a defensive posture.

"Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over."

Then a peal of thunder took away all sound.

"Ready!" Remington shouted into the silence that followed.

The gunners adjusted, taking advantage of the higher incline where the Rangers were.

"Aim!" Remington roared.

For a moment Goose felt fear worm into his heart as he considered that he might not ever see Megan, Joey, or Chris again. Before the fear could grow, though he heard a voice, calm and powerful.

"Be still and know that I am God!"

The voice took Goose's breath away. In the next instant, the huge stone ledge jutting out from the mountain tore free and skidded down the mountainside, triggering an avalanche of rock and boulders that gained mass and speed. To Goose, it looked like the whole mountaintop toppled and fell.

And when the mountain fell, it swept the Syrian cav away, rolling tanks and APCs and jeeps over the edge like they were a child's toys. When the mass of rock stopped moving, a thirty-foot wall of stone and dirt stood where the enemy had been only a moment ago.

For a moment, the silence was almost complete except for the rolling thunder of the echoes of the avalanche passing through the mountains.

Baker began again. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

Drained but uplifted, First Sergeant Samuel Adams "Goose" Gander bowed his head and gave thanks to his Lord.

United States 75th Army Rangers Temporary Post Sanliurfa, Turkey Local Time 1453 Hours Church was held under a canvas tent near one of the walls of the city. Benches had been fashioned out of ammo lockers and boards salvaged from the wreckage of buildings that had been hit by SCUDS.

Corporal Joseph Baker, heavily bruised from the action that had taken place only twelve hours ago, stood at the front of the congregation and talked about the miracle that had leveled a mountain and turned back the Syrian army.

Several of the men in the group were reinforcements from Ankara and from Wasp. They hadn't seen the mountain leveled, but they had been drawn to the story.

Goose stood at the back of the group. His injured knee throbbed maniacally and he kept most of his weight on his good leg. He knew that if Remington saw him favoring the limb that the Captain would order him to the temporary hospital area for treatment.

Until his unit was safe, Goose couldn't rest. He stood in the baking heat that hung over the wrecked city and hoped that what he'd been told about the coolness of the approaching evening was true. So far the Syrians hadn't tried to invade the country any farther and the sat-recon systems were all back on-line. With the reinforcements in place from the United States, the United Nations, and the Turkish military, Goose was certain the Syrians wouldn't try anything until they were able to mass an overwhelming attack. At best guess, he and his men-and the Allied forces as a whole-had a few days of breathing room.

But the attack would come. Goose was certain of that, too.

Baker described the power of the Lord, how He had reached down and saved the 75th Rangers as they'd fought and struggled to escape the Syrian forces. As he talked, media people shot footage of the Rangers.

"Probably just a Syrian missile," one of the reinforcements said ahead of Goose. "You know. Those Syrians probably launched a SCUD up into those mountains, and instead of taking our guys out it started a fissure that caused the whole mountaintop to crumble."

One of the men sitting in front of the new guys turned around and grabbed his arm. "Back off, man," the private snarled. He wore a bandage around his head and had his other arm up in a sling. "You weren't there. I was. I saw Corporal Baker start praying to the Lord. I heard his words as he called out for our salvation. That prayer-Corporal Baker's, and the prayers of every man out there-got answered. God reached down and spared us."

"Let go of me." The reinforcement brushed the other man's hand away. "I don't need to hear any preaching."

"Then what are you doing here?"

As quiet as the conversation was, the confrontation spread quickly. Several of the new men aligned themselves with the reinforcement, and men who had been in the retreat last night stood with the wounded private.

In another minute, Goose realized, the pushing and shoving would start. Military men standing down while in war zones didn't wear well. And there was always resentment between men who had been blooded in a conflict and those who had not. The tension was a product of testosterone and fear, all mixed into a combustible concoction that would spill over onto everyone around them if somebody didn't stop it right now.

Goose stepped forward, trying not to limp. He carried his M-4A1 slung over his right shoulder, barrel pointed up, his pistol holstered on his hip, and had the chinstrap of his helmet looped over his left shoulder.

Even as Goose started to move, epithets and curses erupted between the two groups. Hands curled into fists.

Goose pushed his way in between the men. At first they resisted, but they gave way immediately as soon as the soldiers caught sight of his stripes. He put steel in his voice. "Stand down now."

"Yes, Sarge," the private said.

"Understood, Sergeant," the other man said.

Goose swept the men with a gaze, feeling the eyes of everyone else under the canvas watching him. They were all waiting to see which side he would be on.

"You men are gathered here as brothers," Goose said. "Sworn to fight a common enemy. That enemy lies just outside the gates of this city, and he'll be coming again in just a matter of days."

Sweat beaded the faces of the men watching him.

"I've left dead men scattered from here to the border," Goose went on. "Something I swore as a Ranger that I would never do."

Guilty looks on the faces of some of his men made it clear he wasn't the only Ranger regretting this.

Guilt stung Goose, too, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Those men stood together," he said. "They fought together and they bled together and they died together." He paused. "I'm going to tell you now that you men don't stand a chance if you don't stand together. If you're going to stand together when we're attacked or-God willing-when we take the attack to them, then you'll start standing together now."

Silence filled the canvas canopy.

"Is that understood?" Goose growled.

"Yes, Sergeant," all of the men chorused.

Goose looked back at Joseph Baker. "Sorry to interrupt your service, Corporal. Carry on."

Baker smiled and saluted with his Bible. "Thank you, Sarge."

Turning, feeling pain bite into his knee, Goose walked back toward the rear of the tent.

Captain Remington, resplendent in a fresh uniform, stood there looking at him. Dark aviator sunglasses hid his eyes, but Goose knew from years of friendship that Remington wasn't happy.

"Could I see you a moment, Sergeant?" Remington asked as Goose joined him.

"Yes, sir."

Remington turned a cold, perfectly executed about-face and walked out from under the tent.

Goose followed. As he moved out of the shade, sweltering heat hammered him, boiling up from the parched earth. Micro-mirages danced above broken street sections that thrust up out of the ground like rolling sea caps.

The latest Syrian SCUD attack had been partially directed at Sanliurfa and had leveled much of the city. Many tall buildings lay scattered in ruins. Military and civilian crews worked to clear the blocked streets. Other crews fought to contain and extinguish the fires that still burned among the piles of rubble.

Carrion birds gathered throughout the city, perching on broken buildings and swooping from the sky, looking for the victims of the attacks. A third contingent of workers followed the birds, looking for the dead.

When bodies were found, they were piled into the backs of cargo trucks and driven to mass burial sites. Even though Sanliurfa would not in all probability be held for long, the dead had to be cleared out to prevent the spread of disease, and some attempt had to be made to identify the corpses, though most were burned or crushed too badly for recognition to be easy. Goose moved upwind from a group of those searchers.

Remington stopped by the Hummer he was using as his personal vehicle. Anger showed in the set of his shoulders and the stiffness of his neck. He swung around on Goose and pointed toward the canvas church. He swore. "That, Sergeant, is precisely the reason I didn't want this stuff started."

"Yes, sir," Goose responded, staring at the twin reflections of himself on Remington's sunglasses. He didn't try to argue with the captain. Both of them knew the free time the men had was their own. Arguing with Remington wouldn't have gotten anywhere anyway.

"And don't tell me that all this Bible thumping is good for the morale of the men."

"No, sir," Goose said.

"What happened on that mountain last night," Remington said, "was not some kind of mystical event. No Second Coming." Goose remained silent.

Remington swore again. "Baker is pouring this swill out like slops to hogs in a trough, sergeant. Don't tell me you believe in this nonsense."