Ali cursed and drew his side arm. A quick shot to the man’s head ended his suffering.
And his screaming.
“Go!” He pushed his men forward and as shots bit into the nearby trees, Ali allowed himself the luxury of moving to another covered location.
He looked back at the pale and crying babyfaced man still lying in the dirt. He couldn’t be certain, but it appeared as though he had wet himself. “Craven,” Ali muttered then darted to the next tree.
“We are coming for you, American! Give us al-Abadi and we will allow you to live!”
Tree bark erupted near Ali’s head and he ducked again. He took that as a “negative” from the infidel.
32
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
ROGER PACED SLOWLY, his eyes never leaving the bulletproof windows. “Jay’s already engaging them. Bridger is about to be overrun. How can we just sit here?”
Jim leaned against the table and shook his head. “I know you want to rush out there and get yourself killed, but that’s not how you do things.” He sighed heavily and, for all intents and purposes, appeared bored. “Think of it like an onion. Each layer protects the layer deeper inside. Right now, they’re the outer layers. As each layer gives way, the inner layers step up.”
“So they’re sacrificing themselves to protect…what?”
Jim shook his head. “Nobody said anything about sacrificing themselves.” He pushed off the table and pointed out the window. “Things get hairy, they’ll fall back. Hell, they may even use the tunnels to get back in here. But me and you? We’re the final layer. We protect the asset and the intel.”
“The asset? You mean al-Abadi? He’s no fucking asset. His own people want him dead.”
Jim nodded. “But he can testify to the facts of the case. He has believability because his own people want him dead.”
Roger shook his head. “We should be out there helping to drive them back.”
Jim crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “Orders is orders. Each man has a job to do and the whole machine doesn’t work unless each man does his part.”
Roger swore and kicked a plastic bucket across the room. “This sucks you know.”
Jim nodded. “Believe me, brother. I do know.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
“ENGAGING.” BRIDGER PULLED the trigger and watched as the lead assault team member fell, his hands instinctively grasping his ruined knee. “No body armor there, eh, pal?”
He brought his scope to bear on the second man and fired the suppressed rifle. He watched the pink mist that erupted from his shoulder before the man spun and fell to the ground.
Rapid fire erupted from his left and he watched as the assault team scattered behind makeshift cover. The suppressive fire didn’t last long and he quickly pulled the next target from a poorly hidden team member. He focused on the man’s ass cheeks protruding from behind the tree he was attempting to hide behind. He quickly pierced both cheeks with a well-placed shot. He watched as the man screamed and dove face first to the ground.
“Baby Bear, Topside. You shooting to wound?”
“Affirmative, Topside. These poor bastards are just following orders. They’re still Americans.”
Steve chuckled to himself as he lay low in the pillbox. “They won’t pull their punches if they get a clear shot of you, man. You sure you want to give them a second chance?”
“Hard to shoot somebody when you can’t stand or hold a weapon, Topside.” Bobby squeezed the trigger again and watched as another assault team member crumpled, the toes of his boot now turned to shrapnel. He watched as the team slowly began to retreat. “Looks like they’re pulling back, Topside. Want to light them up and speed them on their way?”
“Copy that, Baby Bear.” Steve poked his head back out of the pillbox and leveled the rifle on the retreating assault team members. He opened fire, keeping the rounds just short of their intended targets.
An explosion behind him had him dropping back into the pillbox. “That the claymores?”
“Affirmative, Topside. I think we have movement to the west of us.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
GREGG SQUINTED AT the monitor. “Movement to the west. Somebody tripped a claymore.”
Jay broke in on the signal. “Mother, these assholes aren’t wearing tactical gear.”
“Copy that, Poppa Bear. Looks like we’re in the middle of a three way.”
Jay groaned and settled his reticle on another advancing soldier. “Only you could make a firefight sound like something dirty, Slippy.”
Gregg smiled to himself. “And ain’t it amazing how easy it is?” His smile dropped and he leaned closer to the monitor. “Fuck me. Baby Bear, to the west. Incoming bad guys, dressed in their Sunday finest assault gear.”
Steve broke in. “I got this.” He leaned down and yelled through the hatch. “D! RPG!”
Deric hopped onto the ladder rung and handed the RPG up through the access. Steve fought to get the oversized explosive through the upper hatch and stood on the ammo can to get more clearance.
He flipped up the iron sights and stared off into the distance looking for movement in the trees. He cursed to himself and quickly pulled the plastic safety tip from the shaped charge. He cocked the rebounding hammer and rested his finger along the trigger guard. “Mother…I’m not seeing movement.”
Gregg scanned the monitors and tracked the distance. “They’re about 120 meters west-northwest of your location.”
Steve swallowed hard and slowly shook his head. “I got nothing.”
Bridger caught the movement through the corner of his reticle and keyed his coms. “They’re breaching the edge of the woods west of you.”
Steve turned more to his right and caught the movement of another tactical team working their way towards the bunker. “Contact.” Steve pulled his finger inside the guard and rested it on the trigger. “Release.”
The RPG thumped from the launch tube and the secondary rocket caught as Steve ducked back in. He felt the concussion even inside the concrete pillbox and the screams that filled the air after the explosion told him that shrapnel had found at least some of the men.
Bridger cursed under his breath and brought his scope to bear on the second group. He saw men being pulled from the area, their boots leaving trails in the freshly disturbed earth as their compatriots dragged them to safety.
“Clear.” He lowered his eyes and sighed, the thought of possibly killing the assault team members tugging at him.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
JAY LINED UP his next shot and silently swore when he nearly killed another oak tree. “Mother, I need a head count.”
“No can do, Poppa Bear.” Gregg shifted to his other computer and tapped at the keyboard. “I’ve got nothing on thermals.”
“It would be nice to know what I’m facing out here.” Jay quickly dumped the magazine from his rifle and slid another into the well. He let his breath out slowly and scanned the area with the reticle of his scope.
“Poppa Bear, we have movement. Another team is coming up on your six.” Gregg slid to his primary computer and tapped at the keyboard. “I’ve got six bodies. Staggered two by two formation. Approximately fifty yards from bingo.”
Jay cursed and wished he had eyes in the back of his head. “I’m stuck, Mother. If I shift, I give away my position.”
“Understood, Poppa Bear. Wait one. I’m sending reinforcements.”
Jay slowly inhaled and scanned the soldiers advancing through the woods again. He caught movement but couldn’t react in time to fire. He continued to scan and smiled to himself when he heard the familiar sound of their small drone departing the pillbox.
Steve’s voice broke over the coms. “Chair Force One is in service, Poppa Bear.”
“Tell me you armed it,” Jay whispered.
“That is affirmative.�
�� Steve sounded almost sad. “I fear we’ll have to replace Chair Force One after this mission.”
Jay heard the small drone buzzing overhead and prayed that the secondary force was far enough away that he wouldn’t catch the brunt of the activity. The small drone buzzed around the edge of the tree line and Jay ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut when the C4 exploded.
He felt dirt and debris raining down on his position followed by screams from the men who were unlucky enough to be within the blast radius.
“Poppa Bear…I have an idea,” Deric said.
Jay keyed his throat mic and whispered, “I’m all ears. Hit me.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
DARREN CHESTERFIELD PRESSED his back to the tree and stared wide eyed at the men being dragged away from the site. “What the hell? I thought you guys were professionals?”
The team leader marched toward him and pressed an iron finger to his sternum. “Your intel stated that they would be holed up inside. I believe your exact words were ‘minimal resistance.’”
Darren’s eyes widened and he stared at the man. “Who the hell said that? I specifically said that they were previous military, government contractors, well armed and dangerous!”
The team leader stepped back and eyed Darren suspiciously. “That’s not what our briefing stated.”
“Somebody is deliberately trying to sabotage this insertion!” Darren spun and began muttering to himself. “Who would benefit from…” He slowly raised his eyes and met the team leader’s gaze.
“What?”
“I think I know who might purposely misguide you and your men.”
The team leader advanced and grabbed him by the collar. “Spill it, pencil pusher.”
Darren smirked and shook his head. “The only man who specifically directed me not to take this action.” He squared his shoulders and practically growled, “Colonel Nelson.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
“I DON’T LIKE it,” Bridger stated flatly. “These guys are Americans. They don’t deserve—”
“They’re trying to kill us Bridger.” Jay’s voice was curt and to the point. “They won’t give quarter to any of us.”
Bobby growled low in his chest but fought the urge to argue. “It’s your home turf. You’re calling the shots.”
Jay’s voice softened. “We can intervene if we have to. No need in letting any more of them be killed then necessary.”
“I’m prepping Little Joe now,” Gregg stated. “He’ll be airborne in a few minutes. I just hope this works.”
Bridger heard the heavy steel door of the machine shop open then the loud buzz of a large drone as it took to the air. He watched as it made slow lazy circles over the bunkers then widened its flight pattern.
“If this doesn’t work, we’ll have no choice,” Jay stated. “Let’s bring the party to a head.”
Gregg piloted the drone from his primary laptop, using the USB powered joystick to direct its flight. He buzzed low to the ground and popped up in front of the squad behind Jay then shot the drone across the open expanse to the second squad still advancing through the woods.
Gregg saw the first flashes of gunfire then dropped the drone to the ground and skimmed it across the surface toward the bunkers.
He quickly adjusted the flight pattern and buzzed the roof of the bunkers, settling the drone into another lazy circle behind the earth-bermed concrete structures.
He slowly advanced the drone to the north, then toward the west, doing his best to catch the attention of both groups of assault teams.
“Okay. They know that we know where they are. Let’s lose another drone.” He shot the unit upward and put it into a hovering holding pattern above the front of the bunkers. “Let’s see if they rise to the bait.”
He wheeled over to his second computer and switched the exterior cameras to IR. He watched as heat signatures slowly emerged from the trees. Switching to another camera, he could see the second group round a bend and slowly converge on Jay’s position.
The cameras to the west had been taken out by the RPG, but he was able to observe the most northerly group slowly come together and form up a second time.
He watched as the three teams slowly advanced on the bunkers. “Okay boys. It’s showtime.”
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
ALI WAVED HIS men forward. “They know we are here. Follow the machine and find me al-Abadi!”
The group slipped from tree to tree, their confidence growing as they moved more rapidly with no shots were fired in their direction.
“Perhaps the explosion killed their sniper?”
Ali shook his head. “Or he is leading us into the open so that he can kill us all.” He grimaced and waved the men forward. “Either way, we must have al-Abadi.”
The team reached the edge of the trees and had no choice but to step into the clearing. Ali bent low, hoping the tall grass would conceal him. “Move! Now!”
His group of soldiers slowly advanced, cutting wide figure-S shaped swaths in the grass. Ali caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw his second group advancing from the other side of the clearing. He smiled to himself as he realized that soon he would be standing at the front of the compound, al-Abadi firmly in his grasp.
33
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
DARREN CHESTERFIELD FROZE and stared at the off-white drone hovering over their staging area. “What the…”
“They got eyes on us!” The team leader drew his sidearm and took three shots at the hovering device. The drone quickly ducked, weaved and shot away at low altitude.
“If that thing has a camera…” Darren stammered.
“We’re on it.” The team leader hit his throat mic. “Converge on me. We’re taking this place now!”
Darren slid against the tree he had been hiding behind and stared at his hands shaking. “This can’t be good.”
“Move your ass, pencil pusher.” The team leader grabbed him by the chest and half dragged him up the hill behind the bunkers. “This was your baby, remember?”
Darren tripped over himself as the pair advanced.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
ALI BIN-HAMZA waved his second group forward, his eyes scanning the bunkers for signs of movement. “Shoot on sight,” he ordered into the radio.
When no resistance was offered, he slowly advanced his own group, closing the distance between their position and the front of the bunkers. He waved his second group to the farthest bunker while he and his men converged on the first.
They lined up along the outer edge of the berms and staged for a breach. He waved his munitions men forward and prepared for them to place breaching charges when he caught movement from the corner of his eye.
Men dressed in black tactical gear poured around either side of the three bunkers. “Shoot them!”
Ali aimed his AK and began laying down suppressive fire while backing away from the bunker, praying to find some place to take cover.
He watched as his men opened fire, their training tossed out the window as most sprayed and prayed that they might hit something.
Men in black crumpled to the ground but others appeared almost immediately, their weapons belching fire and hot lead at his soldiers. Ali felt his guts tighten as his men fell. Some screamed, clutching ruined limbs. Others fell, their lifeless eyes staring into the great beyond.
Ali bin-Hamza dropped to the ground and peered through the tall grass. He fired at the advancing men and prayed that Allah would find him worthy of a successful hunt. He had to kill al-Abadi to prove himself to his masters.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
JAY WATCHED THE battle ensue just meters away from his position. He ducked his head low and prayed that none of the stray bullets would find him. He knew that his ghili suit offered no protection other
than from view.
He fought the urge to break and run for the cover of the trees, but he knew that once his position was spotted, he couldn’t rely on the concealment to work again. He tucked his arms tightly to his body and continued to pray as rounds erupted into the soft earth around him.
He felt the concussion of a grenade and nearly shit his pants. It was entirely too close for comfort. He could feel the heat from the blast and the debris that fell over him sounded wet as it splatted the outside of his ghili suit.
“Fuck me! Who’s bright idea was this again?” he practically yelled into the coms.
“Sorry boss. I was hoping they’d duke it out on the backside of the bunker.” Deric had to yell to be heard even through the earpiece that Jay wore.
“Runners!” Bobby announced. He focused on the rearward jihadists and began to drop them systematically, working his way forward when a round erupted near his head, spraying his position with bits of splintered wood and bark.
Bridger tilted his rifle and laid it flat on the ground, ducking behind the stock as more rounds erupted above his head. “I’m made!”
Jay flipped the ghili up and peered through the wreckage of bodies. He couldn’t spot the shooter gunning for Bridger until another shot rang out. He saw the muzzle flash in the grass and aimed for where he assumed the shooter was lying.
Flags of The Forgoten Page 29
