No Warriors, No Glory - Softcover

Coyle, Harold

3.9

217 ratings by Goodreads

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0765358654 ISBN 13: 9780765358653

Publisher: Forge Books, 2010

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Technology is changing the way wars are fought. Unmanned robots are used to drop bombs, launch missiles, and are even used in ground combat . . . but if things go wrong, who's really to blame?

In the ever-challenging deserts of Iraq, US army officer Nathan Dixon comes face to face with the future of warfare. Assigned to investigate a friendly fire incident involving a rogue unmanned ground combat vehicle, Dixon finds that behind every action lies a chain of hidden decisions. And this one placed hundreds, maybe thousands, of troops in harm's way.

Journalist Alex Hughes is out to expose the truth. As the insurgencies heat up around them, Dixon must weed through self-serving paramilitary contractors, fledging commanding officers, and soldiers willing to hide the facts at any cost, to discover who defines the rules of war without the soldier. And where does patriotism end and national security begin?

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About the Author:

HAROLD COYLE graduated from the Virginia Military Institute and spent fourteen years on active duty with the U.S. Army. He is the New York Times bestselling author of nine novels, including The Ten Thousand, They Are Soldiers, God's Children, and More than Courage. He lives in Fairfax, VA.

Chapter One

Alexandria, Virginia - September 3

The feeling of the sheets being pulled away from her, quickly followed by a sudden intake of breath from the other side of the bed, woke Christina Dixon with a start. Lifting her head from her pillow, she peered across at her husband, checking to see if he was awake yet. In the faint light that filtered in through the partially closed blinds, she watched as Nathan clutched the sheet to his chest in a death grip. His lips quivered as if he were speaking. It wouldn’t be long before he was awake, Christina sadly concluded. It never was on a night like this. Taking great care, she laid her head back down on her pillow before rolling over on her side, facing away from Nathan. Through trial and error she’d learned the hard way that the best thing she could do was to pretend that her husband’s nocturnal stirrings didn’t wake her. For some reason, knowing that his nightmares were depriving his wife of badly needed rest only added to Nathan’s worries. He had enough on his mind, Christina reasoned. She didn’t need to add to them.

With a suddenness that startled him, Nathan Dixon was catapulted from the dark, haunting place where his subconscious had taken him back into the dimly lit bedroom he shared with his pregnant wife. For the briefest of moments, he lay there staring wide eyed at the ceiling, gasping for breath like a drowning man as he struggled to compose himself. How strange, he found himself thinking after he’d managed to regain some semblance of mental balance, to find the memories of a battle long since past more terrifying than the event itself. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember experiencing anything even remotely resembling fear that night in the jungle. There’d simply been too much to do, too much going on around him. Had there been confusion? Yes, of course. There always was in battle, particularly that one. Cutting through it and maintaining his focus on tactical concerns were the only things he recalled running through his mind as his company came to grips with Abu Sayyaf insurgents. The fear, like the haunting memories from which it sprang, only came later, long after he’d been medevaced out of the Philippines. And rather than fading with the passage of time, his recollection of what happened that night only seemed to grow stronger, more intense, causing Nathan to wonder if his mind was hellbent on sorting out the blurred images that he hadn’t had the time to pay attention to that night.

Having regained a modicum of self- control, Nathan looked over to see if his stirrings had woken his wife. Only when he was satisfied that she was still sound asleep did he carefully lift the covers off of himself, slip out of bed and quietly make his way to the guest bathroom just down the hall. Waiting until after he’d closed the door, Nathan flipped on the light, turning to face the mirror as he did so. The first thought that popped into his head as he stared at his gaunt reflection was always the same on nights like this: was he going mad? Of course not, he quickly told himself— perhaps too quickly. It’s just the way things were, he reasoned. It was a new normal he hadn’t quite yet managed to adjust to. Like the collection of wounds he’d amassed along the way, the memories of past events were a natural and not at all surprising psychological byproduct stemming from his chosen profession. That his late father had never seemed troubled by his past didn’t matter to Nathan. Scott Dixon had always come across as being one of those people who were bigger than life, a man who always gave the impression of being in complete control no matter how dire the situation. At least, that’s the way Nathan and those who knew him chose to remember Scott. And despite his knack for coming across as a nonconformist in a profession where conformity was prized above all else, more than a few well- placed individuals who were privy to such things had pegged Scott Dixon as a shoe-in for the Chief of Staff of the Army.

Without realizing it, Nathan’s concern over the recurring nightmares that plagued him was replaced by a deep, almost painful longing for his father. If there was anyone who would understand what he was going through, who could help him come to terms with his inability to put things in proper perspective, it was his father. Whether it stemmed from Scott Dixon’s experience as a long- serving officer or was simply an inherent talent, he had a way of sweeping away all the peripheral fluff and chaff with ease, striking at the heart of the matter at hand with a deftness that inspired envy and confidence.

Planting his hands firmly upon the countertop, Nathan leaned forward, peering at his own reflection. If his father’s incisiveness was an inherent trait, he thought to himself, it seemed to have skipped a generation. Even now, after devoting an inordinate amount of time pondering his future, Nathan had no idea what he would say when the question he knew was coming was put to him later that day. Glancing in the mirror at the clock on the wall behind him, he realized that he didn’t have much time left to formulate a suitable answer, one that would address all the issues and concerns he found himself burdened with.

Sadly, the younger Dixon concluded that there was little point in returning to bed where he’d do nothing more than toss and turn until he woke Chris. On mornings like this, it was better to head out into the predawn darkness and run. While doing so wouldn’t help him reach any sort of decision, pushing his body to the limit would at least give his troubled mind a much- needed break. Besides, Nathan reasoned as he turned to gather his running shorts and T-shirt hanging on the back door of the bathroom, if he did decide to stay in the Army, he needed to get back in shape. Giving into the pain that lingered from his wounds was no longer an option, not if he was going to be the kind of soldier he’d been raised to be.

The opening of the front door, followed by the sound of someone removing their shoes before venturing any farther, caused Jan Fields to stop what she’d been doing. For the briefest of moments an irrational thought flashed through her mind, one that was as foolish as her efforts to convince herself that the visit by the former Chief of Staff of the Army with the obligatory chaplain in tow had never happened. These absurd little flights of fancy weren’t helped any by the fact that her stepson’s habits, even the noises he made as he climbed the stairs leading up to the main floor of her town house, were all but indistinguishable from those his father used to make whenever he returned from an early morning run. At times like this, Jan almost found herself having to stop what ever she was doing and mutter out loud, “It’s not Scott. It is not Scott.”

She barely had time to regain her composure before Nathan came plodding into the kitchen where she’d been in the pro cess of slicing up a wedge of cantaloupe. Stealing a quick, fugitive glance over her shoulder, Jan took note of Nathan’s limp before turning her attention back to what she was doing. “You’re up early,“ she stated crisply, doing her best to sound cheery despite the pain she felt over her son’s suffering.

Before answering, Nathan reached around her, quickly snatching a chunk of cantaloupe from the cutting board. He wasn’t fast enough, however, to escape a quick slap on the back of his hand from Jan, who used the flat of her knife to punish his impatience. “Wait till I’m done.”

“Why?” he countered before popping his pilfered prize in his mouth.

“Because you haven’t washed your hands, that’s why.” She was about to add “young man” to her response as she’d done so many times over the years, but didn’t. Somehow it just didn’t seem appropriate to refer to a captain in the Army, whose name had just come out on the latest promotion list, in that manner.

For his part Nathan found it all but impossible to suppress a chuckle as he made his way over to the sink. “And what’s so funny?” Jan asked incredulously.

Knowing better than telling her what was really on his mind, he opted for a response that was in keeping with his determination to keep things as lighthearted and easygoing as possible while he and Chris were living with Jan. “Geez, Mom,“ he mockingly whimpered. #34;You’re acting like I was a five- year- old.”

“Well, when you act like you’re five...”

Her words were cut short by the sight of a hand reaching around from behind her in an effort to snatch another chunk of cantaloupe. This time she managed to slap her son’s hand with the flat of her knife before he managed to secure a piece of fruit from her cutting board.

“Ouch! That hurts.”

“Good,“ Jan replied in triumph. “Now, be a good boy and sit down and give me a chance to finish.”

“Gee,“ Nathan muttered, shuffling over to the breakfast bar where he took a seat, making a great show of rubbing the back of his hand as he did so. “Where’s the respect?”

Rather than respond, Jan smiled to herself as she turned her attention back to finishing with the cantaloupe. It was moments like this that vindicated her decision to insist that Nathan and his wife stay with her while awaiting new orders after he’d been discharged from the hospital. Whatever inconvenience and disruption they caused in her life were more than offset by the opportunity they afforded her to once more be part of a family. And though she knew that Nathan and Chris would soon be moving on, just as she and Scott had done with a regularity that was often annoying but always exciting, Jan was determined to make the most of...

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