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  1. #11
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    "Expelled From The Tower"

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    Vodka is a luxury we have. Caviar is a luxury we have.
    TIME IS NOT
    No Praskoviya. We cleared the whole house, ripped up carpet, beat on walls, nothing. He was in the wind.

    I threw the TV across the room cussing. I pointed to Moon Man, “Call command, tell them the target is in the wind.” I started for the back room, “And that we’re searching the house for intel.” I turned as I walked, “Everyone look for anything useful.”

    I walked back into the study and stopped, wiping my forehead with the palm of my hand; we had to find some intel on the man, or this was an absolute waste. I just didn’t know where to begin. I walked over to the computer and wiggled the mouse and to my surprise, the screen came to life. There was an alert box, in Russian. I yelled into the other room, ignoring the fact that I had a radio attached to my head, “Hey, does anyone read Russian?”

    After a few moments, in walked Odin, “Da, whatcha need boss.”

    I smiled, “Why didn’t I think of asking you from the outset?” He shrugged and walked over to the computer. I’ve been doing special forces work for a long time since the events I’m writing about here. In that time, I’ve worked with a lot of different operators, and none have been of the quality of Odin. He and I have kept in touch over the years, and at 75 years old he was still the most lethal man I knew until a fall took him out of the game a year ago from this writing. Even though he’s now retired I still won’t give his name because there are a lot of people who would want pay back for the mayhem he’s caused over the years. Even though his legs were broken in the fall, he’s back to running and kept in shape by working his upper body. Ladies, if you’re looking for a man who likes 10 mile runs along the beach, quality time with his girl Mona (his 1911 .45), and bird watching (along with neighbor, stranger, and mailman watching) have I got a man for you.

    Odin muttered to himself as he read the alert, “It’s saying it failed to shut down because outlook did not close properly.”

    I looked at him, “Can you pull up outlook?”

    Odin slid the mouse to ‘no’ and moved the cursor to the outlook button on the toolbar. After navigating through a few prompts, the email came up. He started reading through the most recent, “There’s one here from some government official.” He keyed his mic, “Hey Munky, report to the study, we need your expertise.”

    Munky walked in, took one look at the Russian on the screen, and said, “Sorry guys, I don’t speak Russian.”

    Odin waved his hand, “You don’t need to, I speak Russian so you just need to tell me what to do.”

    Munky smiled, “Computers are very specific, you would need to read and speak fluent Russian to be able to make it work.”

    Odin gave him a flat bone chilling look, “я действительно говорю на русском языке, Вы поднимаете отверстие”

    Munky just stared at him for a moment, “Ok, I’m just going to go ahead and assume that you insulted me in Russian, and that we’re good to work on the computer.”

    Odin nodded and then sat down, “So what we need is to remove pertinent intelligence from this computer. Whatever flash drives you need, we’ll just transfer the files over.”

    Munky smiled slyly, “That is entirely more work than I feel like doing when we can just take the drive with us.”

    Odin looked back, “Oh. Well then, let me print this email.” He hit print and a laserjet spit out the paper. Munky pulled the hard drive while Odin read over the paper.

    I finally got impatient, “Odin, what’s the email say.”

    He looked up from the paper like he’d been pulled out of deep thought, “Huh? Right, uh, there is a girls school about a klik northeast of here, Praskoviya was instructed to go there and await evac.”

    I nodded and was moving through the house, “right, with any luck, the evac got held up and they’re still there.” I called on the com, “Team, rally at the trucks.” Moon Man came out of a side room as I passed, “Moon Man get on coms and order eyes on the school 1 K to the northeast, advise we are enroute.”

    Everyone arrived at the trucks at about the same time as I stepped onto the bed of one, “Intel says Praskoviya might be at a school nearby, so that’s where we’re going.”

    Moon man held up a hand as he listened to his radio, “Command says the only eyes available are on an AC-130, but it’ll be a few minutes before it can get eyes on, it’s swinging back into the AO now. Intel from Guardrail, however, does support an evac of HVTs in progress.”

    I circled my hand in the air, “Let’s roll.”

    Everyone loaded into their respective trucks and we pulled away from the house. I stood in the back of the lead truck keeping eyes open for hostiles. The ride was a little bumpy, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Suddenly, we turned a corner and we could see a helo lifting away from a school with a wall surrounding and a large iron gate. I bent down, “RAM IT! WE NEED TO GET IN THERE!”

    Devil nodded and stepped on the gas, prompting me to sit against the tailgate and brace for impact. We screamed away from the other trucks as the engine on our little Toyota redlined. The gates loomed larger and larger as the guards finally noticed us and started shooting until it was almost too late to get out of the way, diving clear as we smashed through the gate at almost 80 miles per hour, devil locking the wheels and swinging the back end around with the truck skidding sideways.

    And then I was throwing myself out of the bed of the truck on the side not facing the school and opening fire on the gate guards. Due to Munkys size, he was able to slide out of Devils side with no trouble, and the two of them joined the fray as the rest of our team rolled through the gates at a slightly more sane 40 MPH. More screeching tires, and the whole team had dismounted from the vehicles.

    “Alpha 2, Alpha1, cover our advance, we’re going in the front, Bravo, flank left and enter on the side.” And with that we were charging for the front entrance as Odin, Moon Man, and Priest gathered around their truck so they could just use the ammo there and started shooting anything the popped up in the building.

    If you’ve never seen a soldier charge a position while trying to stay under the line of fire, it’s funny. Not the line of fire, but the running. Picture a man with about 50 extra lbs of crap draped across his body, leaning forward so far that if he were still he would fall over, now put him at a full tilt sprint while trying to keep his weapon in play, but out of the way.

    As we ran forward, I saw out of the corner of my eye Munky with his sidearm in one hand and a grenade in the other. We broke for the edges of the door and as I slammed into cover I saw the grenade fly through the door as Munky slammed into the door jamb yelling, “FLASH OUT!”

    The flash went off and I was through the door as Munky swung his AC-556 back into action and followed. We entered into a lobby area, the office was off to the left, the mess was to the right, and about 10 meters down the lobby narrowed to a hallway that cut to the left. I swept the room as I cut right through the door: 5 guys, all blind and deaf, setup behind tables, in doorways, laid on the floor with supported weapons. Devil barely made it through the door, cutting right like me, when one of the MGers found his trigger and started firing through the doorway.

    Since he was blind-firing I decided that he posed less threat than the man who was standing from behind a table sweeping the room. He saw me sighting down on him and tried to dive away, too late, and three rounds tore into his chest and left shoulder, at the very least incapacitating him. Munky, who’d cut left toward the office, swung right and unleashed five rounds into the prone MGer. Devil, who had his M16 on semi-auto, was sweeping from right to left squeezing the trigger at regular intervals, sighting on everything he could. 10 seconds and half a mag from each of us later and the whole ordeal was over. “CLEAR!”

    BANG, BANG. Devil took two in the chest as I swept for the shooter: there, the first tango I engaged had a pistol in his right hand, a makarov, and was lying on the floor peeking around the table. Munky and I saw him and the same time and dumped the rest of our mags into him. There wasn’t much left of his head or shoulders. On reflex as I spun to Devil, I switched mags.

    Munky keyed up his mic to give the ‘man down’ as I dropped to my knees next to Devil Driver. “Devil, you good?”

    Devil Driver, who had stumbled back in surprised and slid down the wall, nodded, “I’m up, got the vest, Kevlar stopped it.” And with that he climbed to his feet.

    I rolled back onto my heels and stood keying my mic, “We’re all up, lobby’s clear. Alpha 2, move up, bring some extra mags too, out.”

    After a few moments and some flash grenades on the roof, Alpha 2 walked through the entrance. I motioned for Alpha 2 to join us and we went down the hall kicking in classroom doors along the way, all of them clear, one at the end holding a few government log books. We grabbed them and moved on. There were stairs at the end of the hall leading up to the roof. Where we heard fresh gunfire.

    I keyed up my mic, “Bravo, where are you, over?”

    After a moment, Big Dog came on comm with the chatter of gunfire in the background, “On the roof, east end. there’s about 16 guys up here, we’re holding them at bay, but we can’t move. Over”

    “Roger that, we’re at stairs leading up on the west end. Moving to support. Over”

    We walked over to the stairs and just as we entered the stairwell, we saw two Pakistani soldiers enter coming down.
    Last edited by reaper239; Sep 21st, 2012 at 12:57 PM.

  2. #12
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    Munky, who was the first into the stairwell, was leading with his gun and as soon as they walked in he unleashed a salvo of ten rounds, drilling them to the wall. That’s when the third soldier stopped in the doorway.

    Munky shifted and fired, but the enemy was already backpedaling through the doorway, yelling. I moved up past Munky pulling out my M1014 JSCS and leveling it at the door. After a few seconds the door opened a crack. As soon as it did I pulled the trigger as fast as I could, peppering the door with shot. There were several yells as the door shut, then several more enthusiastic yells, followed by the detonation of a grenade which kicked the door open.

    With my shotgun empty I motioned to Devil Driver and Munky to advance as I switched back to my Mk18 and keyed my mic, “Bravo, hold fire, friendlies coming out behind the tangos, over.”

    The fire ceased as Devil moved to the open door way with a flash grenade in hand and tossed it through yelling “FLASH OUT!”

    The flash popped and Devil swung through the door and right as Munky went left. Fire resumed as I went after Munky, Odin went after Devil, and Priest and Moon Man went forward. The enemy was disoriented after both the frag grenade and the flash grenade and easy pickings. After a few seconds of confusion, and one tango superman-ing off the roof, we stood alone on the roof.

    I stood on the roof thinking while my team walked around and checked the bodies. He wasn’t here. I knew before they told me. He was on that chopper, and we were about 30 minutes too late. My only solace was that maybe we’d be able to get something from the intel we’d collected.

    I turned and circled my hand in the air, “Alright boys, pack it up, we’re going back empty handed.” I motioned to bravo team, “Head downstairs and check out the intel there, might be something useful.” Big Dog nodded and led his team through the door we had come through.

    Moon Man walked up behind me, as I was looking down at the trucks, “Big Bird is in the AO. They spotted an airfield to the east; it’s small but seems to have a lot of activity. They said there are several choppers and a significant Pakistani military presence. They’ve also spotted several small airplanes.”

    I turned, “They haven’t taken off yet?”

    Moon man spoke into his headset, listened, then shook his head, “No, according to big bird, it doesn’t even look like they’ve finished preflight checks; they’re not even warming up yet.”

    I rubbed the stubble on my chin, “How far away?”

    “About 12 kliks east.”

    I nodded, “Call command, we’re going to the air field.”

  3. #13
    reaper239's Avatar
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    Gentlemen, we just took an airfield.
    WELL THAT WAS PRETTY F***ING NINJA


    Getting to the airfield was very boring, and not really worth writing about. It involved a bunch of procedure, and a 30 minute drive. Since some important things did happen, I’ll sum it up: we were given additional names to look for at the airfield, but the main target was still Praskoviya. We were to keep an eye out for Jabruk al Somad, Mahmoud Kalpar, and Sadar al Falani. We were also informed that the airfield had some pretty intense security, but with Big Bird on overwatch, I liked our chances. Ultimately, the decision was deferred to me, as the in field commander, if I felt the intel we had was solid enough, we could come in, or we could pursue Praskoviya and friends. We went to the airfield.

    We drove fast, reckless fast, and after about 30 minutes, the airfield was in sight. As we approached we got word that the two planes were warming up. I sent word through Dirt Digger for Big Bird to cripple the planes. From over head we heard a dull but rapid thudding, and a moment later we heard the impact on the planes. Now they knew we were inbound.

    I told Dirt Digger to have Big Bird clear the gates for us and they dropped the 120mm howitzer and several 40mm rounds. As we tore through the gates I radioed bravo team, “Move around to the runway and secure the birds,” and after an affirmative from Big Dog I told my Team, “We’re taking the Gatehouse, be ready for heavy resistance.” As we approached the gatehouse, bravo broke off to the left and went around the building, meanwhile we began taking fire from the gatehouse.

    Bullets skipped off the pavement that stretched around us, some of them digging into the metal of the truck, but Devil kept driving full speed. Odin, who was standing in the back of Priests truck, began returning fire.

    Suddenly we were skidding to a stop and I had the door open and was on the move. Devil Driver rolled out of the cab and around the bed bringing up his M16 with his finger on the 203 and put a 40 mm grenade through the double doors like he was tossing a coke can in the trash. What glass was left in the front double doors skittered across the pavement as the 40 mm detonated killing two, we found out later, and ringing the bells of everyone else on the first floor. And then we were moving as a unit through the double doors, Munky on point.

    Munky, who was fluent in Urdu, began yelling for them to lay down their arms, but with the 40, they couldn’t hear a nuke, much less a 5’ 2” kid from Texas. I broke right shouldering my M1014 and placing the biohazard sight on the first guy I saw. He was swinging around a counter brining his AK 103 into play. The problem with shooting right handed is that when you have to turn left, it takes longer to get the gun into play, which is why I am a firm believer in training to be ambidextrous. I’m sure the guy I was sighting down on would now agree, since when I pulled the trigger I blew his mind.

    It was like some sick Abbott and Costello routine, the guy I brained with a shotgun shell fell forward revealing a mess on the ground behind him, just as his buddy came around behind him and slipped on his buddies brains, smacking his own head on the counter top. He didn’t move anymore, but I put a shell in his chest just to be sure. What a way to go. It would’ve been funny had it not been so tragic.

    I turned back to the room as soon as I had finished with tweedle dee and tweedle dum, but the room was clear. Priest called over that he found some stairs. I walked over and prepped a flash bang. The stairs went up several steps to a landing, then turned and went up the opposite direction. I used my free hand to load two more shells into my M1014, then shouldered it and trained it one handed leading up the stairs. As soon as I saw a clear opening to the second floor, I tossed the flash and ducked back yelling my warning to my team.

    BANG!

    And I was up and charging through the door. Two men were trying to clear their eyes and were holding AKs. Four shells later, both were laying dead and there was one other door across the room, a flight lounge by the looks of it.

    I turned to call for my team to stack up on the door, when suddenly I felt my left arm jerk slightly, and that’s when I heard the chink of spider cracking glass.

    I was on the floor calling “SNIPER!” I was shocked, I’d been shot, I thought. I reached over and checked my arm as Priest combat crawled over to me. Sure enough, blood, it wasn’t spurting though, so at least that was good. I thought.

    Priest moved my hand and tore my sleeve to get a look at it. Already I could feel my head clearing the shock of being shot, it wasn’t like going into shocked from trauma, it was more like being surprised, where your mind goes a little blank and you can’t think what to do. Priest finished wrapping my arm and patted the wound (what a jerk), “You’re good Soul Sister, he grazed the inside of your arm. It took a little skin, and some meat, but you’re fine to go on.” I nodded and then motioned Moon Man over. I was fine, but the hand gesture still hurt.

    Moon Man crawled over, “I’m going to draw his fire, you two figure out where he’s at.” They nodded, ok so they understood what I was doing; now I had to figure it out. Oh, that’s right; I was trying to get shot again.

    I sent them to opposite far corners of the room and they waited. The plan here was that I would pop up into the window, he would sight in on me, and then I would duck, hopefully before I got shot again. When I ducked, Moon Man and Priest would pop up and search that direction for a few seconds to figure out where he was shooting from.

    I’m up, he sees me, I’m down, this time I heard the crack of the sniper rifle, the shockwave of the supersonic round passing over my head. Moon Man and Priest were down, another shot, I was rolling. I’m up, he sees me, I’m down, CRACK!

    “Got him!” I glanced over to Moon Man, “He’s in the air traffic control tower.” Oh, that explained it. I rolled, I’m up, he sees me, I’m down, I took in the scene quickly, next to the gatehouse was a hangar that obscured the view from the tower of not only the first floor of the gatehouse, but also my team on the tarmac. I rolled.

    I’m up, he sees me, I’m down, but Moon Man and Priest were both up immediately after me lining up their shot’s. Priest fired five shots and then stopped, a second and a half later Moon Man fired one shot, “Got him! He’s down.” I’m up.

    I stood slowly and pulled my binoculars out, quickly finding the tower, and then the top floor. He was down alright, I could see him from here, sprawled on the console he’d been trying to use to steady his shots.

    I glanced back at the stairs and there was Odin, M60 on its bipod, trained on the unopened door. I gave the rally signal and everyone joined me stacking on the door, refocusing our attention.

    I shouldered my M1014 and leveled it at the knob, we could probably kick it in without trouble, but I was done expending extra effort. The shotgun bucked against my shoulder as the knob and jamb shattered in a spray of buck shot. Odin kicked the door open as Munky swung in, only to find two martini glasses standing empty on a table and two bodies on the floor. Wait, those guys were alive.

    Munky talked loud and clear, “Stay down, no sudden moves, keep your hands where we can see them. Munky and Odin flex cuffed them, then came the bags. we picked the up and put them in their chairs.

    I walked over and pulled the bag off of one of their heads. I pointed in his face and yelled, “AYMAN AL-ZAWAHIRI! AYMAN AL-ZAWAHIRI!”

    He shook his head frantically, “Sadar al Falani.” I nodded and replaced the bag.

    I walked over to the other one and removed his bag, but he was way ahead of me, “Jabruk al Somad, Jabruk al Somad.” I nodded and replaced his bag.

    I turned and nodded to Moon Man, “Well, I’d call that a positive ID on two, call it in.” the tarmac had been quiet for a while so I looked out a window: Bravo was laying out bodies and trying to ID them. I keyed up my mic, “Big Dog, Soul Sister, any luck?”

    Big Dog looked up to where I was and shook his head, “No, no joy. I don’t think they’re here.”

    Suddenly the doors on the hangar began opening.
    Last edited by reaper239; Dec 19th, 2012 at 11:41 AM.

  4. #14
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    I watched as Big Dog brought his gun to bear on the hangar, “CONTACT!”

    The whole team scattered across the tarmac as they doors reached their full width and the whine of a small twin prop whirring up to speed spilled out. Along with four Pakistani soldiers.

    I tapped Priest on the arm, “Watch the prisoners.” And then I was moving to the stairs, “Odin, Moon Man, suppress the enemy, Bravo is out in the open. Devil, Munky, on me,” and we were off, tearing down the stairs as the chatter of Odin’s M60 joined the din of gunfire echoing off the buildings outside. We raced to the back of the building and crashed into the door letting us outside.

    Raced is a relative term, for someone fleeing for their life, racing can mean a full tilt sprint away from danger. For soldiers running to the gunfire, it means something more like a measured jog where you can maintain situational awareness, and maintain positive control over your weapon. For Special Forces soldiers who are naturally gifted warriors and spend every moment they are not in combat, training and preparing for combat, it usually means a swift jog, borderline run.

    I hit the crash bar on the back door and spilled into an alley between the gatehouse and the hangar. At the corner stood a Pakistani with a PKM machine gun who was steady on the trigger. My gun was up and his was down.

    People often call suppressors silencers, but this is a misnomer and conveys the Hollywood impression that a suppressor makes your weapon as silent as slitting a man’s throat. Now, while this might be very close to reality for a .22lr, it is a fallacy with regards to anything else. A suppressor suppresses the sound, but it is still quite noticeable. So when I fire my suppressed Mk18, it sounds less like a rifle, and more like Ogre slamming a dictionary on the table, still somewhat loud, but not nearly as loud as it would be otherwise.

    Another soldier came out of the hangar at the sound of my gunfire and layed on the trigger, stitching a tattoo of fire along the pavement, and forcing me to dive to one side. Devil Driver, the next one out the door, had his gun shouldered and was sighting down when the man came out of the hangar, and squeezed the trigger. Three red flowers bloomed on the man’s chest causing him to misstep and fall backward, flailing his still firing gun into the air. Two miles away, a 7.62 round shattered a window. This is me kidding.

    As soon as I hit the ground I was ready to fire, so I kept aiming at the corner until Devil could clear it. As Devil walked by me, I sensed a foot by my head, and suddenly I was being lifted to a kneeling position. As he passed, Munky reached down and grabbed my harness and helped me up. Once on my knees I got to my feet and proceeded to the corner just in time to see the twin prop roll past us and begin heading down the runway.

    I keyed my radio and yelled, “SHOOT THAT THING, DON’T LET IT GET OFF THE GROUND!” as I began unloading my Mk18 at one of the engines. At this point it was already rolling at a good clip, and still picking up speed. Everyone turned and started shooting after the plane, trying to draw a bead on one of the engines. The problem was, that as it moved away, at an ever increasing speed, our bullets were going under or over the wings, and because of limited magazine size, it was difficult to make on the fly windage adjustments. The only ones with a chance were Odin and Ogre, and they didn’t seem to be finding their mark either.

    As the plane began lifting off I called a cease fire. I shook my head and swore to myself, two out of four wasn’t terrible for flying by the seat of our pants, but our primary target was still in the wind.


    After about twenty minutes we had secured the rest of the air strip and called in a Chinook to haul us out. We were told to hurry up and wait and they’d get to us when they could. In the mean time, Big Bird would stay in range so they could offer fire support if we needed it, but other than that they were being repurposed. So, we were on our own for a little bit and just had to sit there until someone got to us. Down time, now what do we do?

    I had Bravo take a break, grab some chow, drink some water, maybe get some shut eye, while Alpha stood watch over the prisoners and guarded the stairs going down to the first floor. After our run in with the tanks, clearing the school, and taking an airfield, my boys had exactly zero juice left, their adrenaline had been tapped and they were starting to get fatigued. Fatigue means sloppy, and sloppy means dead, so it was time to catch a break.

    It’s important to understand the flow of combat. Soldiers start on a plateau, usually a little elevated above their resting heart rate, but otherwise alert, maybe a little nervous (ok, always nervous, and usually not just a little bit), and ready for action. Once the action kicks off, adrenaline kicks in full force. Adrenaline is an interesting chemical, for an untrained inexperienced civilian, adrenaline can induce a state of near panic, as the mind doesn’t know how to handle the heightened receptiveness the drug induces, but for a trained and experienced soldier, adrenaline heightens alertness, sharpens the hearing, and heightens the reflexes. The problem with adrenaline is that once it has run its course, the soldier experiences a near debilitating crash. This is usually when the tide of a battle shifts and can result in the famed come-from-behind victories. Food, water, and a quick cat nap are easy and effective countermeasures for dealing with the post combat crash.

    After about an hour and a half, Bravo informed me they were feeling refreshed and ready to go, so we switched. I sat down with Devil against a wall in the flight lounge and we broke open some MREs while Munky laid down using his pack as a pillow and nodded off. Priest sat in a corner next to Odin and read from his bible, then prayed, then read, then prayed. It was comforting to see such a man of faith. Odin broke down and cleaned his M60. The man looked as alert as ever and I was pretty sure that he could be napping and none of us would ever know it. Moon Man pulled out some headphones and listened to some southern rock. I know, he told me.

    After I finished eating I leaned back and drifted off to a nice nap. After an hour, and with the sun setting, I felt I light tap on my shoulder and I was awake. Moon Man stood over me, “Soul Sister, Command just radioed, they’ve got a bird inbound, said it’ll be here in about 20 mikes.” I nodded and he helped me to my feet.

    I stretched a little as I walked into the other room, “Alright, everyone up, we’ve got a bird inbound and we’re out in 20. Let’s get our package ready and rally downstairs in 10.”

    15 minutes later Dirt Digger walked over, “Sis, they want smoke.” I nodded to Moon Man who pulled out a canister with a green stripe and indicated it to Dirt Digger. “Roger that Raven 2, deploying green smoke to mark our position.”

    Moon Man stepped outside just as the gentle thrum of chopper blades began to filter in through the shattered windows. He popped the top and tossed it onto the tarmac. Dirt Digger talked on the radio for a few more minutes and finally gave me the green signal. I told everyone to move out.

    Within 30 minutes we were strolling our prisoners through a FOB set up at the staging area. Right past everyone, and into our little CIA tent.
    Last edited by reaper239; Jan 9th, 2013 at 09:12 AM.

  5. #15
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    And the German will be sickened by us, and the German will talk about us, and the German will fear us. And when the German closes their eyes at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done,

    IT WILL BE WITH THOUGHTS OF US THEY ARE TORTURED WITH


    We sat in a briefing room located in some nondescript building placed conveniently on scenic Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany. Two weeks after the invasion of Pakistan and the CIA and Army Intelligence were still pouring over the intelligence we secured.

    We had really come together since the operation in Islamabad. Going into the operation, we had come together as professionals, and experts, to form a highly skilled team that could work together to accomplish the mission, but since we had been through it, above and beyond what we were initially expecting, and had seen each other operate, we had started to come together as a unit, and as friends.

    When we got back to our tent in the FOB at Islamabad, our CIA handlers immediately began interrogating our prisoners. It didn’t take long, but it did take a pretty sweet deal to get the location of an airfield at the absolute edge of Tajikistan, one that didn’t officially exist according to Tajikistan. None of that conspiracy nonsense, it was built in secret and never reported by direction of Praskoviya, or so it would appear.

    Immediately we were in a Chinook and flying there, only to find we were about an hour too late. We alien abducted some of the airfield bosses and took them back to our CIA brain probers. It took two more precision strike operations to gather the intel to put all the pieces together, and then we were spending a week on our fourth point of contact waiting for the next operation to come down.

    Finally, we were called into the CIA controlled briefing room to learn what Langley had discovered from our hard work. We sat talking amongst ourselves for about 20 minutes until an old friend walked through the door.

    I turned as the door opened, and there stood Jeremiah Law, AKA G-Man. I laughed, “What are you, haunting me or something?”

    He raised his eyebrows with a curious smile and chuckled, “The CIA is like an amorphous alien from a strange world. We adopt a form that will most easily facilitate our business. Since you already know me, I have been selected by the collective to represent our interests.” I must have had the most confused look on my face as he immediately burst out laughing, along with Odin, Munky, Mouse, and Sydwinder, and said, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Like the other veteran CIA operatives in here, I’m on the Praskoviya task force, and have been for about three years.” CIA humor, I never quite got it.

    “Alright boys, I have been officially authorized to tell you, that you have been doing one hell of a job out there. I mean shazaam. But we’re not done yet. We’ve located one final base of operations and have actionable intel that this is where we can find Praskoviya, or at the very least find out where he’s gone to ground.”

    G-Man threw up an aerial photo with some markings made on it. It was a compound on the Coast of the Black Sea near Gudauta in Georgia. The compound was fairly large, almost like a military base, and was very remote.

    G-Man circled a point further along the coast on the smart board, “This is your insertion point, you’ll HALO in and infiltrate from the North West. This is an eleventh hour operation, we don’t know a lot of specifics about the base other than what we’ve picked up from the sat photos.” G-Man began circling different buildings in the compound, “This looks to be a garage, from the sat surveillance we’ve determined that this is a cafeteria, this building over here looks like an armory and this one next to it looks like a training house, we see arms coming out of this one going into this one and going back, so be mindful if you see a lot of people going for this building, you may be compromised. These three buildings are barracks, this one looks like the staff quarters, cooks, janitorial, stuff like that, this one looks like the guard and training quarters, and then this smaller one looks like it’s for the more important people on the compound. This is where you’re going to want to look for Praskoviya.”

    G-Man started drawing lines connecting things, “From the DZ you’ll move along the coast to the compound. Once you infiltrate the compound, you’ll need to secure a means of escape and secure the principle. If Praskoviya is not on site, you’ll need to secure any intel you can, and anyone you think might be able to shed some light on this conspiracy we’ve stumbled upon.” He pulled out a thick manila folder and dropped it in front of me, “The details are all here, you guys plan the op, I’ll be here to answer any questions.” I nodded.

    Special Forces don’t operate like other units. Other units are assigned a mission and told how to do it, some planner sits with aerial photos and maps and plans an op and then sends the specifics to the unit that’s carrying it out. Spec Ops crews are given a mission, an objective, the parameters of the mission, and then told to make it happen. Because of the level of experience and skill present in Special Forces soldiers, any planner who tried to properly plan a mission for a SF unit would under utilize them, as has always happened in the past. It’s kind of like the joke that’s told to butter bars fresh out of west point: how do you hoist a flag up a ten foot pole with a five foot rope? Tell your platoon sergeant to do it, come back in an hour, and don’t ask questions.

    We distributed and passed around the materials and began to formulate a plan. First and foremost, stealth was at a premium, we had to be quiet, and we had to be quick. To that end, we would all deploy with suppressed side arms and primaries, where applicable. We would be splitting up to accomplish speed. Bravo would hit the motor pool to secure us transport, and disable the others, then move over to lock down the barracks and prepare to ambush, in case we tripped the alarm, while Alpha would rig the armory with C4, and then move to the other barracks to secure the principle. We moved out at 1930 hours.


    0030 hours local we were flying in the back of a C130 over the Black Sea. It was rather loud in the back of the plane so we didn’t talk much, but we were prepped. We were all HALO qualified, but for most of us, jumping wasn’t our preferred method of insertion. My personal favorite has always been fast rope from a Blackhawk. Except for Moon Man. Being para-rescue he jumped constantly, and was just as at home plummeting through the air as he was watching a game with a beer.

    Next to me, Priest bounced in his harness reading through his Bible. I swear, in the many years I’ve worked with him, I’ve never seen him read anything else. We were nearing the DZ and the guys were starting to rouse, checking gear, checking each other, checking gear, then checking gear again. When you’re jumping from 35,000 feet, you want to be pretty sure.

    I looked up from the deck across the bay to Munky, who had this cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. I smiled and yelled to be heard, “What are you smiling about?”

    His grin grew wider, “Right now, all across America, gamers are having a wet dream about this very moment.”

    I, and everyone else that could hear him, balked, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those gamer geeks.”

    He shouted, “BATTLEFIELD LIKE A BOSS!”

    Everyone laughed, and Priest spoke up with a smile, “You know that right now on the East coast, it’s 1530, right?”

    This garnered more laughs, “Whatever, in a few hours they’ll be having a wet dream about this.”

    Bugsy was a few seats down from me and he spoke up, “Don’t you get enough of that in your day job?”

    Munky hollered back, “Nah, it’s just for fun, although I do get a little pissed. I’m a boss in combat, but on Battlefield, I’m lucky if my KDR breaks even.”

    I felt a tap on the shoulder, our flight attendant bent down so I could hear, “We’re nearing the DZ, jump in 10.”

    I missed whatever Munky said next, but apparently it was ridiculous enough that even Odin was cracking up. I smiled, then stood up to get everyone’s attention, held my hand up next to my face, palm outward, then slowly turned my hand onto my face covering my mouth and nose. Masks on.

    Then I secured my oxygen mask in place as one by one the others performed the action back and then secured their masks. Game time.

    We rode in silence for several more minutes until our airman at the rear held up a five. Five minutes. We all stood and started shuffling to our positions. The airman started unlocking the back ramp and after about a minute it was open and you couldn’t hear anything anymore. I keyed the mic in my mask, “Mic check.” Everyone responded. The airman threw up a three zero, which I relayed over my mic, “30 seconds.” Go.

    Now I was free falling. I tumbled end over end, just letting myself fall, until I was clear of the planes backwash, then I leveled out and checked on my squad. They were all in freefall. Since Moon Man did HALO jumps on his way to breakfast, he would be the highest, keeping an eye on everyone else for any problem. Gotta love the SME.

    We fell for minutes. 35,000 ft is a long way down, and we didn’t want to open high to reduce the risk of being seen from the ground, so we had to fall a while. I checked my altimeter: 20,000 feet. 15,000 feet. 10,000 feet. 5,000 feet. 2,500 feet.

    I pulled my cord, and all of my inertia went straight to my crotch. I was fairly certain I wouldn’t be having kids any time soon. I looked up at the rest of my squad, all opening successfully. And then I saw Munky go plummeting past me, fighting with his chute.

    Like a rocket, Moon Man was in hot pursuit, dropping like a guided missile. He performed a controlled midair tackle into Munky’s back and tumbled with him for a moment fighting with his chute. I watched Moon Man wrap his legs around Munky and then go for his knife. He struggled and twisted, working the back of the pack, trying to free the chute. They were quickly running out of sky.

    Then, Moon Man pushed Munky away, starting the chute manually, then fell free to let his chute deploy fully. Moon Man fell a few more precious seconds as he sheathed his knife, then flared his body as his chute deployed. Gotta love the SME.

    A few minutes later we had all made it to the ground, and Munky was severely shaken. He couldn’t even stand yet. Moon Man and Bugsy were checking him out to make sure he was ok. After making sure the rest of my men were ready, I walked over and extended my hand to help Munky up.

    He looked up at me, so I asked him, “Game enough for you?”
    Last edited by reaper239; Jan 15th, 2013 at 01:52 PM.

  6. #16
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    "Expelled From The Tower"

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    He rolled over and puked. I put a hand on his back until he rolled back over, “There, all out of your system?” He nodded, “You’re not gonna compromise the mission?”

    He shook his head, “I’m good Sis. I’ve only done 7 HALOs, never in combat, and none of them have gone that wrong. It threw me a bit, but I’m good to go.”

    I nodded, “Everyone up?” my headset rang back to the affirmative. “Gear up; we’re Oscar Mike in 30.”

    I almost wanted to go over the plan one more time, but there was no need, it wouldn’t do any good and would only betray my own case of the nerves. It’s usually perceived as a bad omen when the first leg of a mission almost ends in disaster. But these guys were (and still are) professionals, and if they can’t get it right, no one can.

    Priest walked over to me, “Soul Sister, before we move out, I would like to gather everyone and say a prayer, if you would allow it.” At that point I’d have taken every bit of help I could get, so I called everyone over. Priest had us gather in a circle and put our arms on each other’s shoulders, “Our most gracious Heavenly Father, we come to you this day to ask your blessing. Lord, we do not wish to take the lives of these men; we wish instead that our mission here may be accomplished without bloodshed, but we know that may well be impossible as we live in a fallen world. Father, grant us safety as we seek out to complete our mission to protect the innocent from their oppressors, grant us wisdom to complete our mission with the minimal violence and bloodshed, and steady our hands, so that if it should come to violence, our aim will be straight and true. We lift up this day to you, and I lift up all of these men, we give you blessing for this glorious day. In Jesus name, amen.” I remember this prayer the most clearly of everything else from that mission. It is a true soldier’s prayer.

    Priest’s prayer was very sobering. Monkey no longer looked ill, everyone looked calm, I even felt calmer. It was time to go to work.

    My breath misted in front of my face as we watched and waited for the patrol to pass. The wall extended down to the beach and then cut along the water line to a dock where there were guards posted, and then continued on the other side. There were two guards on the dock facing each other talking. I considered neutralizing them and entering the compound that way, but the patrols checked in with them, and it seemed like there was one out every 15 minutes or so. We were quick, but we didn’t want to be rushed.

    We came up to the wall behind the kill house and looked over just in time to see the patrol of four round the corner and proceed along the west wall. We had to be quick. We moved to the wall and Big Dog and Ogre put their backs to the wall and provided a leg up for Devil Driver and Mouse. Devil reached the top with a pair of tin snips in hand and cut the concertina between two of the posts. Then he and Mouse used gloved hands to retract the wire and duct tape to secure it.

    Devil and Mouse were both pushed up so they could straddle the wall facing each other. Every man then took a running step, planted their foot in the hands of Big Dog or Ogre, and was hoisted over by Devil or Mouse. We vaulted the wall in quick succession, two at a time, until everyone made it over and Mouse and Devil dropped off the wall. 7 minutes from start to finish.

    We reformed teams, I waved the go signal to Big Dog, and we were off. Off to the races. Alpha went west while Bravo went east. We approached the corner of the kill house that the patrol went around and I peeked my head around. All clear. We moved around following the wall and keeping a careful eye on the corners to the front and rear. There was some gravel underfoot which, despite the Groucho walk, sounded like your neighbors upstairs stomping in at 0300 in the morning. At least to us.

    The Groucho walk is a technique used by military and law enforcement to create a stable firing platform when on the move. It utilizes the legs to absorb shock from movement and keep it from transferring to the weapon. A bonus of the technique is that the operator can use the foot roll, where the operator rolls his foot to the outside, and reduce noise from walking as well. Sometimes you wind up on carpet and nothing can hear you. Sometimes you’re on gravel and the dead are popping out of their graves to tell you to keep it down.

    We approached the other corner of the kill house and I peeked around to make sure it was clear. Nothing there. We moved across the small expanse to the armory to find the door so we could set the weapons to blow. We walked around the building until we found the door, locked up tight. Devil motioned me over, “Soul Sister, I need you to grab my tools out of my bag for me.”

    I walked over, “They in the same place they always were?”

    “Yup, second and fourth.”

    I unzipped the second and fourth pockets on his assault pack and pulled out two small kits, one labeled “LOCKS” and one labeled “HARD LOCKS” and handed them to him. He cocked his head back, “I need the bolt cutters too, there’s a padlock here.” I unstrapped them from his pack and handed them forward.

    Devil set his lock kits in a pouch attached to his vest and worked the bolt cutters around the curve of the lock, applied pressure, and the cutters did their work. He handed them back and I re-strapped them to his pack. He pulled out his lock kit and opened it up, then bent down so the knob was eye level. He pulled out a small flash light and shone it into the lock, then sighed and put that kit away. He pulled out the hard locks kits and opened it up.

    From inside he pulled out a titanium shim, a hammer, and several other tools I didn’t recognize. I walked over to the corner to make sure we were good on time, and then I heard a thud from the door. I turned back and he had broken the jamb apart with the shim. I shook my head; clearly the hard lock kit was the bigger hammer solution.

    And then the door was open and we were moving in. Munky, Devil, and I swept the armory with our side arms, but there was no one inside. Devil Driver swung his pack off as he knelt and set it on the ground. He held up a hand with all the digits extended and spread and whispered, “5 mikes, I’ll have this place rigged properly.” Properly meant: nothing but the foundation left. And then only if it was a good foundation.

    Munky and I walked outside to help watch the perimeter, and found Moon Man hoisting Priest onto the roof. Once up, he stayed low and swept the area from his vantage point. Over comms I heard, “Patrol on the move, 10 mikes out.” This presented a slight problem.

    To the casual observer it would seem that we had five minutes until they arrived, but line of sight doesn’t work that way. We had 10 minutes before they reached our position, but any strange noises, or odd shadows, would bring them around much quicker. In five minutes, we could have a running gun battle through the camp because someone caught a glimpse of us. We wanted to be long gone before they got anywhere near us.

    “Devil, you hear that?”

    “Affirmative, gonna double time, be out in two mikes.”

    I motioned Munky over and dug through his pack. I found what I was looking for in a side pouch: industrial strength double sided adhesive. I peeled the wax paper off of one side and placed on the mating edge of the door. Devil walked out and I peeled the other side and shut the door, as Priest reported, “Patrol, 75 meters, north east, seven mikes out.”

    I rallied everyone to me, “Priest, did you check the path forward?” He nodded, “Good, it looked clear?” Another nod, “Alright, I’m on point, and remember: ROE is to engage only when absolutely necessary, we don’t need to fight our way out if we don’t have to.” Nods all around. Good, now to continue the mission.

    I stepped around the corner of the range, between that building and the staff quarters, and moved slowly along the wall to minimize my profile. I approached the corner of the building and glanced around to see if it was clear, and saw three soldiers walking around the corner of the cafeteria.

    I jerked back around the corner and held up a fist, which then immediately transitioned to an open palm pointed down leveled at my hip. Stop and low. I crouched down and fished a small compact out of my cargo pocket, a woman’s foundation kit, and opened it. There was no makeup inside, but there was a mirror, and I slid that mirror around the corner, at about ankle level, and wiggled it around until I found the patrol. I whispered into my mic, “Patrol, 15 meters, north, wait one.”

    I continued to watch for a few tense moments. This wasn’t the patrol Priest spotted, that was a wall patrol; these guys were patrolling between the buildings. Priest must not have been able to see these guys because they were hidden by the cafeteria. After several seconds, their course was clear, they were going around the range, the long way, which meant they wouldn’t be heading our way just yet.

    I stood and put the compact away, then leaned out a little so I could watch them more clearly. They disappeared around the corner and I gave the go signal. Now we had to be quick, we were in the path of a patrol. I stepped softly but quickly. My Mk 18 was slung across my back and I had my P99 DOA in my hand. I could feel the sweat sliding down my face despite the cold.

    We moved between the guard quarters and the cafeteria, and hugged the cafeteria wall. At the end of the path we were on, I could see a round building that seemed to be the center of operations here. There was an alley on the right that separated the guard quarters from the officer quarters.

    We came to the alley and looked down it to clear it, and saw a screen door hanging slightly ajar. I motioned for Munky to follow me, and then for everyone else to maintain over watch while we investigated. We walked side by side down the alley, guns trained on the screen door, walking swiftly, but cautiously.

    We walked up to the door and saw a closed door on the other side of the screen door. I grabbed the handle and slowly pulled it open, trying to reduce noise. Munky reached in past me and slowly turned the handle, and when it gave he looked at me and nodded.

    “Soul Sister, Moon Man, patrol, 30 meters, west, approaching.”

    I glanced down the alley and saw my team huddled at the corner, “Door’s open, come on down, we’re going in.”
    A few seconds later my team was walking through the door and into a kitchen. I used to have an aunt who lived in Texas. She inherited her house from my great great great grandpa who settled the land before Texas’ war for independence. He built that house with his own two hands, and developed that land into a prosperous farm. It never recovered from the dust bowl in the dirty thirties. That’s what I thought about as we walked through the door into the officer quarters. It was an intense sense of displacement.

    We walked in quietly and cleared the kitchen, closing the door softly behind us. We spread out and explored the several offshoots from the kitchen, but the one that looked most promising led to a small foyer with some stairs.

    Suddenly we heard a loud thud upstairs and some shuffling, and finally some footsteps accompanied with some hurried talking. Priest speaks Georgian fluently so he translated to me, but he missed the first part.

    ჩვენგვჭირდებაგადაადგილებააღჭურვილობაშევიდაCan ada, before the whole operation dissolves entirely.”

    I glanced at Priest, but he was sure his translation was right. Two men came down the stairs as we hid in the shadows around them, “Praskoviya needs the equipment, but those Americans keep intercepting our outposts.” They turned off the stairs and headed for the door, “There is even suspicion they know of this place. We need დატოვოსდადატოვოსსწრაფად.” Their voices became unclear as they went out the door, and were greeted by the patrol we were dodging.

    We needed to follow them and keep listening. Praskoviya clearly wasn’t here, but these guys seemed like our HVTs.

    თუმათიციან, რომჩვენაქვართ

    We walked across the foyer to a closed door and I opened it and stepped inside.

    მაშინჩვენუნდასაკუთარითავიდაყველაჩვენიდაზვერვისგარე თ.

    There were three men sleeping inside. As we entered they began to rouse, but Odin, Priest, and myself drew our knives and dispatched them silently.

    დასადუნდაწავიდეთ? რუსეთშისადაცჩვენნადირობენ? Or perhaps to Europe, or South America? We have nowhere to go. No, our course is to contribute to the operation as planned from here. If the Americans come, they may come.

    We rushed to the window and opened it as silently as possible, letting Priest slip out first followed by myself and then the rest of the squad. We followed them to the operations center where the patrol broke of and went to a side door, and our HVTs went in and up a set of stairs.
    Last edited by reaper239; Jan 29th, 2013 at 06:10 AM.


 
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