These Few Brave Souls

by Rodney Manchester

  Secretary Leya was pleased that the President was irritated. Anytime he could cast any doubt on the bloated money hole that constituted the military, he was fulfilling his basic philosophy of 'butter, not guns'.

  "Yes sir. Between the towns of Ancon and Chancay on Peru's coast there is a local attraction called the Pacasmayo Sand Dunes. We have found that several of their craft have landed in a cluster there. This would appear to be some sort of staging area or base of operations. We have not detected any 'creatures' of any sort.

  "Our plan at this point is to gather intelligence by inserting several teams into the affected area, including some of our British friends by way of their SAS. We have two more Aircraft Carriers steaming to Peru and the Carrier on the scene has monitored the UFO’S with Naval AWACS. They seem to be running what we would term a 'Combat Air Patrol' over the central coastal region of Peru. They are currently ignoring our ships off the coast, but if we send our fighter aircraft toward the beach, they respond by patrolling closer to the coast. We have not provoked them by entering the area of their patrol.

  "We have a submarine inside their zone of protection that has not drawn a response. We are speculating that they are unaware of its presence underwater. This sub has located the UFO that the Navy shot down earlier. We are implementing a plan to recover that UFO.

  "We are also coordinating with the Senior Peruvian Military official we have located. Admiral Lopez was aboard ship at the time of the attack so he escaped injury. He is working to establish control over Peru's remaining Armed Forces. The Peruvian Air Force got involved this morning and lost eight SU-22 fighters the same way we lost our F-18."

  “In the North African arena, we have confirmed reports that the Moroccan Air Force has had at least one aircraft downed and they have lost communication with several of their police stations and check points in or near a small town named Bouafra. This town is near the border with Algeria and is under increased scrutiny following their recent war with Algeria. The British have taken the lead in this area and have sent a small contingent of Royal Marines to investigate.”

  General Easterly sat down and looked at Henry Lawson.

  Henry took his cue and spoke "Thank you General. Sharon, can you fill us in on your efforts?"

  Secretary Wilson spoke from her chair. She was uncomfortable speaking from the podium and unlike General Easterly, she had a regular seat at the table where she could clearly see the President.

  "Mr. President, since the Security Council resolutions, I have directed our representative to call for an emergency meeting of the Organization of American States. Individually, I have spoken to our Ambassadors in Equador, Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia, and Chile. They in turn have contacted their host nation’s foreign ministry. Each has pledged their support but they are all Third World countries and cannot easily afford to commit their military to some future plan in advance of specific information.

  "In general, we have met with success in all our diplomatic endeavors to date. You know about the Brits sending personnel to North Africa and additional troops to work with our Green Berets. We have not asked anyone else for assistance at this time."

  Henry saw that she was done and said "That's all we have at this time Mr. President. Does anyone have any ideas we might pursue?"

  The discussion that followed was spirited.

  In Orbit

  Twenty-two thousand three hundred miles above Quito, Equador

  Automatic machinery continued to perform according to its' programming. The torpid life form was moved by robotic means to awaiting craft for conveyance to the prepared area on the surface. The rolling sand dunes below were the preferred environment for the Kajan.

  The invasion of Earth was about to begin.

  Part II

  Colonization

  “I detest colonialism. And I fear the consequences of their last bitter struggle for life. We are determined, that our nation, and the world as a whole, shall not be the play thing of one small corner of the world”

  ― Sukarno

  CHAPTER 19

  Chancay, Peru

  Ramon was exhausted. His wrist hurt with spectacular bursts of pain that shot up his arm like fireworks. With a light purchase on the old Honda's twist grip throttle, the vibration had been easier to stomach. Still, after sixty-six kilometers, he was ready for a rest when he drove into Chancay.

  The seaside fishing town of ten thousand was empty. He drove the motorcycle down the Pan American Highway that bisected the town and stopped before an inexpensive but clean looking hotel. He shut the engine down and climbed off. The silence was deafening.

  He entered the hotel only to find an empty lobby. Ramon rang the bell at the counter and yelled out "Olla". Seconds ticked by with no answer. His eyes scanned the room, noting the old, faded yellowish painted walls and the worn couch in the corner. Next to the couch was an end table upon which sat a massive table lamp. The room was clean, but old fashioned and worn.

  Ramon called out again as he opened the door next to the counter. He stepped through into a deserted living room, used by the owners no doubt. With a kitchen to the left and bedrooms to the right, the quarters were clean, certainly not modern or luxurious, but cozy Ramon began to feel uneasy. Maybe his 'farmer's pesticide' theory was wrong. Unaware, he held his breath and crept toward a closed door. Opening the door slowly, the hinges creaked with a loud screeching sound that went right through him and threatened to steal his courage. His hand slipped into the room and flipped on the light. Looking from the slightly opened door, all he could see was a wall containing a closet whose doors were partially open. He opened the door wider and poked his head around the corner. A bed with a night stand on either side came into view. The quilt covering the bed was rumpled, as if slept in, though it was now flat and appeared to hold no corpse. He let his breath out in a rush as he felt his body’s reaction to a lack of air. The air that he drew in held a smell that was new to him. Not a chemical smell, but one that was earthy. He walked toward the bed and the aroma was stronger.

  Strange, he thought, a wig left on the pillow. Leaning over the bed, he saw a powdery substance in the indentation in the pillow. He reached out with his left hand and put his index finger into the substance. Dry and composed of flakes, but heavy. Then he saw a gold tooth and he knew with a realization that chilled him to the bone. He tore the quilt and sheet off the bed and saw the same heavy powder in human outline within a nightgown. He stumbled back into the edge of the half open door, striking his head hard. Hard enough to grab him from a nightmare and deposit him firmly in reality. He turned and left the bedroom and living quarters quickly, going straight outside and stopping at his motorcycle.

  Breathing deeply, as if to purge his lungs of the offending smell, he resisted panic as best he could. The flood of oxygen to his brain was causing him to hyperventilate. Regaining control of his spiraling emotional state was difficult. Finally, reason began to prevail and he sat down to think.

  Inside a C-130 Hercules Transport

  Southbound over Northern-Central Peru

  The cargo plane was crowded with a mixed group of jumpers. There were several Green Berets Teams as well as British SAS. One Britt in particular was a battle hardened veteran, having survived several weeks in the heat of the Iraqi desert and, 9 years previous, the cold of the Falkland Islands in winter. Captain Marsh didn't speak of these things as he prepared to jump. He did notice a familiar face from another desert half way around the world as he waited for his designated drop zone to approach.

  Captain Victor Winfred, Commanding Officer of Team Bravo, stepped off the rear platform of the Cargo plane and leaned forward, his body catching the blast of the wind as he and his team began their descent by parachute. HALO is a means of vertical envelopment that allows the parachutist to travel over a great deal of terrain, enabling the aircraft to stay well away from the landing area. In this case, the C-130 was outside the area patrolled by the strange aircraft, yet the jumping soldiers would land well within that
area.

  The human body is incapable of surviving at altitudes necessary for this technique, so provisions are made to provide oxygen to breath and insulation from the extreme cold temperatures.

  Captain Winfred was first out and he wore a parachute with a faint, luminous cross on the back of the pack so his team could follow. The feeble glow blazed a trail through the sky that was necessary to keep everyone together over the long diagonal journey downward. He looked at the compass strapped to his wrist and adjusted his body slightly.

  Vic loved the physical sensation of jumping from an airplane. Getting paid to do it was an added bonus. Once they reached the ground, his skill as a woodsman, learned from his Father and Uncle during many hunting trips in his native Alabama, would serve the team well. Their mission was to investigate the UFO’S parked between the resort of Ancon and the small fishing village of Chancay.

  The total lack of light from the ground was disconcerting at first, but training and intelligence took over from primordial instinct as he plummeted down. Vic wore an altimeter that warned him of his height and he also carried a global positioning device that informed him of his exact location over the ground. At precisely the right time, the team opened their 'chutes, Winfred first, the remainder within seconds of each other.

  Their decent slowed abusively as their steering ability increased tenfold. The parachute used in a HALO jump acted more as an airfoil than as a braking device. The trick was to stall the wing as you touched the ground. Vic's touchdown was acceptable, though a bit hard, as he slightly misjudged the ground. Landing in the desert, without local referencing landmarks, is a challenge to the brain's depth perceptive ability.

  He quickly shed his parachute and stowed the billowing silk into the pack. He removed the oxygen and heavy fur lined coverall. Looking around, he found the remaining 6 team members spread out over the sand within a hundred yards. Outstanding, he thought. No injuries or stragglers. A good start by anyone's book.

  "Okay guys," he said as they gathered toward him, "the town of Aucallama's to the north and we're goin' south."

  Their chocolate chip desert camouflage was effective at preventing detection when they were still, but moving, they clearly stood out. Three or four hours of stealthy movement lay in store for the team as they began to move toward their objective.

  Aboard the just departed aircraft, the SAS team prepared to leave the aircraft as their drop zone approached. Captain Marsh followed the command by the Jump Master to “Stand up”.

  His team shuffled toward the open ramp in the rear and stepped off one at a time as the command to exit was given.

  CHAPTER 20

  Off the West Coast of Peru

  Lieutenant Murphy had practiced this maneuver many times in the past two months. Enough so that the gentle rocking motion and the smell of the rubber were almost comforting. Almost, he thought. They were going ashore against a hostile enemy that had already killed over six million people.

  His final briefing aboard the Coronado was numbing in its implications. Central Peru devastated. One third of its people dead. Lima sterilized. He shook his head and focused on his mission. He had too many details to remember to get caught up in the doldrums.

  They were to land at Banos Barranco, a beach south of Lima, and go due east. Their immediate destination was the US Embassy, located in San Juan de Miraflores, a fashionable suburb of Lima.

  The Los Angeles Class Nuclear Submarine, USS Cincinnati, SSN693, had surfaced less than a mile from shore and let them off. Two minutes after their departure, the sub slipped quietly beneath the gentle waves and Nicholas had never felt more alone before in his life. The lives of sixteen people now rested on the decisions he made.

  They were embarked in five black rubber rafts furnished with a variety of oar that was comical to see and difficult to use. They were semi efficient at propelling them ashore and would be worthless at getting them off. That was okay because they weren't leaving that way anyway.

  Being afloat in almost total darkness aboard a rubber raft heightens the senses to an amazing degree. Corporal Tony Benuchi could smell the salt in the air. He could also smell the rotting of decay that marked nature’s transition from water to land. He had always identified that smell as part of the sea until he joined the Corps. Then he found that unique aroma meant that land was close by.

  The Marine Corps means different things to different people. To some it means 'uncommon valor was a common virtue' on Iwo Jima or it could mean 'Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children' playing deadly games in Vietnam. To Tony, the Marines meant pride in himself and his job, whatever that may be. He had spent four agonizing months, as a newly promoted PFC, aboard the Assault Carrier USS Peleliu in the Persian Gulf War, playing war games that came to nothing. The threatened amphibious assault never materialized and that left Tony frustrated and a little ashamed of himself and the Corps. He had mouthed off in front of an old time Gunnery Sergeant who took offense at Tony's repeated slander.

  Following a short, but devastating lesson in personal defense techniques conducted with great expertise in the gym, and an even longer session with the Gunny in the library (yeah, some of them can read), Tony's perception of events changed. The Gunny had given him Sun Tzu's "The Art of War" and watched him read every single page. He found that one of war's most difficult procedures is deception. It is also very effective when done properly. Just their presence off the Kuwaiti coast had held several Iraqi Divisions in place while the Army's heavy forces had caught them from behind. General Schwarzkopf had done a good job, even if he was handicapped by being in the Army.

  Tony's attitude had changed dramatically following that lesson. He began to take pride in their mission and in the Corps fierce reputation, which, after all, was the reason the deception worked so well. He began to see his place in events, not as just a participant, but as an influence on the outcome. This minor perceptual change is, nonetheless, a major change in the development of people in the Corps. These subtle attitude perceptions are taught at Annapolis, but learned the hard way in the enlisted ranks. They mark the difference between those who put in their time and those who become true professionals at their craft. Tony's promotion, first to Lance Corporal, then to Corporal, marked his superior's acknowledgment of his growing professionalism. Now, four months into his second hitch in the Corps, Tony found himself as a squad leader laying low in a raft, listening to the gentle waves break on the Peruvian beach. Looking over the side, the luminescence of the foamy white breakers was a welcome sight. Marines may be 'Soldiers of the Sea', but this one liked solid ground under foot.

  As they drew near, the rear portion of the raft was lifted and propelled forward. The passengers stepped out into warm sea water that came to their knees. The following breaker removed any hope of dry pockets as it wet them to the chest. Dragging the rubber boat ashore, they gathered around the Lieutenant and waited until all the platoon was present.

  "Gibbons," Lt. Murphy said, "You take point. The Avenue of Panama is half a click east. Hit it and go left"

  Wordlessly, with minor shuffling, the platoon moved off the beach. They found the road and began their move into the city.

  Lieutenant Murphy was struck by the eerie sensation of being surrounded by six million silent corpses. It was during a short but wandering trail of imagination that he had a significant thought. There was no smell of decay, only a strange, almost familiar scent. With six million dead for over a day in this hot, humid environment, there should be the Mother of all stenches. They had yet to find a corpse, but disaster had struck in the middle of the night, so most people had been inside, asleep.

  Silence, only the slapping of equipment was to be heard by those alive as they crept north. Their pace was too slow by half when they reached Benavides Avenue, their turning point east.

  "Benuchi, your squad takes point. Turn on a little more speed. We need to be at the Embassy by daybreak," Lt. Murphy said in a stage whisper. "About six kilometers, we can make it in plenty of time if we don'
t stop to sight see." Nicholas took out his map and looked at the circle of light his flashlight cast upon the paper. 'US Embassy, Grimaldo del Solar, 346' was printed beside the drawn red circle.

  "Let's move." The regular morning fog was starting to settle down upon them, dampening their already quiet movements and adding an extra reason to feel apprehensive about this open air tomb.

  The surrounding buildings cast a grimy pall over each of them, matching the dingy texture of the once white stucco with the grey trepidation of their emotions. As the first group felt the eeriness of the situation and slowed their pace, this squad reacted just the opposite and sped up. Care was taken at each side-street and intersection, yet they now moved at a brisk pace.

  The sky was starting to lighten through the enveloping blanket of gray damp 'garua' as they found the shiny brass plaque emblazoned with the words 'Embassy of the United States of America'. This was the moment Nicholas had anticipated with dread. Inside, he would find Americans and fellow Marines, dead in their beds and at their posts.

  Inside the compound, they passed through a well-tended garden of once bright flowers that reflected the mornings dim beginnings. The main entrance was locked and they forced the door open with difficulty. Sergeant Adams went first through the door, crouching, weapon at the ready position. Of course, there was no movement inside and he felt foolish. He opened the first door he came to and looked inside. He found an office left neatly anticipating a new day.

  The platoon followed inside, leaving two men to secure the garden and the entrance. Forty-five minutes later, Lt. Murphy broke radio silence as he reported "no survivors, compound secure."

  CHAPTER 21

  Onizuka Air Force Base

  Sunnyvale, California

  He heard the threat over his own singing. Sometimes Daddy said the same thing to Warren.