by David Wilson
Chapter Five
After watching the men search through the destruction we had left behind at the ferry building for several minutes, Talon dropped his binoculars to hang from their strap. Digging around in his vest pouches, he finally located his M-LOC bipods. Pulling them out, he unwrapped the green duct tape holding them together and removed the Allen wrench stuck to the tape. Using the Allen wrench, it only took him about five minutes to get the bipods installed and tightened down on the M-4. Pulling his binos back up to his eyes, he again watched the men still digging around the rumble of the ferry building.
A cry of discovery drifted across the water, followed by a loud command from one of the two men still standing by the truck. Talon grinned ferally, some things never change, and by calling out loudly, one of the privates had screwed up and would be getting his ass chewed out. As he slowly refocused the binoculars on the men by the truck, one appeared to be an older man and was armed with an AK, but it was difficult to tell for sure at this distance. If the younger guy with his arm in a sling was the officer, than the older guy was more than likely his senior NCO. Watching closely, Talon saw the younger man say something to the older man, yup, no doubt now the older guy was senior enlisted. After the younger man had talked to him, the older man had come to a position of attention and then turned away and walked swiftly towards the trooper that had called out.
Watching the older man approach the terrorist that had called out, Talon was now positive that the older man was the senior enlisted. The younger terrorist jumped to his feet and stood respectfully as the older man moved in close and almost spoke directly in his ear. There was a lot of head-nodding going on, so he figured the trooper was getting his ass chewed for yelling out his find. Finally, the older man stepped back and gestured to the ground. Although Talon couldn’t see what he was asking about, he knew he was asking about the young terrorist Mat had shot earlier, as they were standing next to the pile of wooden pallets. There was some more head-shaking by the young trooper both in the positive and the negative before the older man turned and walked back to the young officer by the truck.
After a brief discussion, the younger man turned back to the truck and pulled out a SATCOM phone from the front seat. From what Talon could see, it was a very one-sided conversation. The young officer spoke into the phone for about 30 seconds, then stood and just listened as the individual on the other end appeared to have quite a bit to say. Talon could see the young officer nodding his head at several points in the conversation. The one-sided conversation didn’t take long and must have ended abruptly from the other end as the young officer pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the phone as if it had turned into a cobra. Returning to the truck, the young officer tossed the SAT phone back into the cab of the pickup and then turned back to his senior NCO.
The young officer and his senior NCO stood close together and talked for a couple of minutes before both of them turned and walked down to the ferry boat landing. Leading the way the young officer stepped off of the boat ramp and walked over to the half dozen canoes cabled together. Gesturing towards the canoes, the young officer said something, and the NCO placed his fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly.
Talon remained where he was and observed the pair carefully. His first instinct was to take the two right now. They were right at about 330 yards, and standing still, typically an easy shot. At least for the first one, the second would not be standing still, and there was a lot of cover within a few feet. No, he would wait because if they were going to do what he thought they were, then he would take them all at the same time and not leave anyone on their back trail.
The two remaining junior troops responding to the senior NCO’s whistle appeared on the riverbank above the two standing by the canoes. From the way the junior troops reacted, it was apparent the officer and senior NCO were not in a good mood. Jumping down the bank, the two junior troops began flipping over the canoes so the leaders could inspect the condition of each one. After they had the canoes turned over, the NCO spoke to them briefly, and both took off running back to the truck.
Talon watched as the two ran to the truck and jumped into the cab of the truck. He was surprised when the two turned around the truck and headed back the way the truck had come from. The officer and senior NCO examined the canoes for a few minutes more, and then each of the men found a shady place under the lip of the riverbank and sat down. Talon was puzzled by their action as he had thought they would have used the canoes to cross the river in an attempt to pick up their trail before dark. Glancing down at his watch, he knew that it would be getting totally dark within the next 30 minutes. Right now, he had good shooting light as his targets were sitting on the eastern riverbank. He was 100% confident he could take out the officer with the first shot, but he had to take both of these guys and had counted on being able to do that once they were in the canoes and crossing the water. Damn it, just once he would like for the enemy to do what he wanted them to do. Well, he thought, I might as well get ready for this, reaching for the pouch where he had stored his PVS-14’s.
Pulling the PVS-14’s out of the pouch, Talon dumped out the battery and replaced it with a new AA battery, he did not want to take the chance the battery would dump on him in the middle of the operation. Occasionally glancing up and making sure his targets were still sitting on the river bank, he got the night vision scope tightened down and mated up with his ACOG. Moving slowing, Talon slid around the oak tree he had been leaning against and crawled away from the river bank. Knowing he didn’t have much time, he quickly scouted around and found a slight depression just a few yards downriver from where he had been sitting. Pulling out his e-tool, he double-checked that he could not be seen by his targets, Talon began digging out a shallow trench.
Twenty minutes later, Talon decided that the hide site was deep enough and would provide adequate cover and concealment from anyone returning fire from the level of the water. For the final touch, he found two large fieldstones and had used these to construct a crude firing port in his hide site. Crawling into the hasty hide, Talon made sure he was completely covered as possible by his ghillie blanket. Between the ghillie blanket, his face paint, and the shallow hide site, Talon was reasonably comfortable. He was pretty sure he could not be spotted by anyone on the opposite river bank. Checking again on the terrorists to make sure they were still sitting and waiting on only God knows what, he sighed, just as his Hunter Ear picked up the sound of an approaching vehicle engine. Moving as quickly as he could, Talon finished packing down the loose soil at the front of his hide site. Talon next pulled out two of his extra magazines and laid them down within easy reach.
Resting his elbows on the soft earth of the hide site, Talon settled down and began watching the men across the river. They had obviously heard the truck engine also, as they had stood up and started walking back up the boat ramp to the parking lot. Damn it, thought Talon, as the original truck pulled into view, closely followed by a second truck with what appeared to be two additional men.
The man Talon had identified as the senior NCO began yelling at the men the second they parked and shut off their vehicles. The men started grabbing equipment bags and weapons out of the back of the trucks and headed down towards the canoes. One of the men pulled a set of bolt cutters out of an equipment bag and started cutting all of the cables attached to the canoes. Another of the men ran up to the outbuilding, pausing briefly as he passed the body of the young terrorist but continuing on into the outbuilding after getting yelled at by the officer. Moments later, he reappeared with a double armload of canoe paddles.
Talon put away his binoculars as they had begun to strain his eyes as the daylight faded entirely, and the men he was watching became nothing but dull shadows in the eyepieces. Reaching over, he turned on the PVS-14 and heard the gentle hum as the Night Vision Device came to life. Having already extended the legs of the bipod and released the front connection of his two-point sling, he raised the stock of the M-4 into his should
er and peered through the sight. Once again, he thanked the man above for the resources to help protect those in his charge. This would have been almost impossible without the aid of the NVD and the M-4. Slowing his breathing with a conscious effort, Talon knew he must remain as calm as possible to get this mission over as quickly as he could. Speed and shock would be the key to success, well that and a little luck.
Just as he thought that he grimaced as he watched the men placed RPG’s in two of the canoes. Both of the launchers were loaded with anti-personnel rockets. Talon’s mind drifted a little as he thought back to the first time he had seen this type of munition in Kabul. At first, he had assumed it was some type of training round but had discovered it was, in fact, an anti-personnel rocket-propelled grenade that the government forces used to good effect in the built-up areas. The rockets had contact fuses and were about twice as powerful as a hand grenade. Snapping back to the present, Talon noted which canoes the launchers were in and vowed to take out the two gunners of the RPGs first. His little hide site was good against rifle and pistol rounds but not so much against those damn things. Not that it wouldn’t be funny to watch the gunners fire them from a canoe. If they were not really careful, the guy sitting in the back of the canoe was going to get fried when the guy in the front fired the rocket launcher, not to mention maybe blowing out the bottom or sides of the canoe. But he couldn’t take the chance that one or both of the gunners might get in a lucky shot.
Talon smiled to himself as he watched the Iranians load more and more gear into the canoes. He almost wanted to yell at them for being so stupid. Not only were they overloading the canoes, but they didn’t bother to even take the time to tie everything down. The older guy that Talon believed to be the senior NCO waded into the water and began giving orders to move some of the equipment from one of the canoes to a different one. This meant the junior terrorists had to almost completely unload both of the canoes before the loading could go on.
Waiting was always the hardest part of any operation. Talon double-checked for the fifth or sixth time that he had a round in the chamber of his M-4 and reached out and touched the spare magazines lying on a flat rock by the right side of his weapon. He mentally rehearsed the order he would take the terrorists, moving his rifle from one to the next until he had covered taking out each of the six men and from changing magazines. Each of the men would get a three-round burst, center mass, then he would change magazines and look for any survivors. Talon knew precisely why it seemed to take forever for the canoes to finally reach the middle of the river, but just knowing the why didn’t help stop the build-up of adrenaline, dopamine, and norepinephrine in his bloodstream as he waited.
Chapter Six
Captain Ardashir cursed to himself again as he climbed out of the cab of the truck, but he kept it to himself as he didn’t want to show weakness to his remaining men. That very last shotgun round fired by that woman, before Abbas shot her, had almost ended his days on this earth. He had managed to dive out of the doorway as she had fired that accursed pistol at him. Once again, he was amazed at the number and type of weapons these Americans had. Who but the Americans would make a pistol that fired shotgun shells. He had pulled the weapon out of her dead hand and ended up keeping the gun. He had found several reloads for the gun in her pockets and thought it fitting to keep the weapon that had almost killed him. Four pellets from the gun, now in his upper arm and shoulder were a grim reminder of just how deadly the weapon was. He and his men had been shocked not only by the savagery that the Americans had fought with but with the weapons, all of them had possessed. Abbas would have to dig those pellets out when they stopped for the night.
Moving to the front of the truck, he rested his elbows on the hood and carefully examined the ferry building and the surrounding area. The scene before him didn’t really surprise him as the last communication he had received from Captain Farrokh’s son was that all of his team members had been killed by a small group of Americans. After watching the area for several minutes, Captain Ardashir called his senior NCO over to him, “Abbas, take one man and do a quick recon. Try and find Captain Farrokh and his son. If either of them is alive, let me know immediately, General Farrokh is waiting to hear what we find. I do not see any movement, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. The Captain might be in pursuit of whoever attacked them, but he should have left at least a couple of men here with their vehicles. There is a large pile of bodies in front of that burned-out building. If you can do it safely, attempt to identify anyone in that pile.”
The Captain stood by the truck and watched as Abbas and the private walked down the parking lot towards the still smoldering ferry building. He was not particularly hopeful that Captain Farrokh or any of his men were still alive, and that did not bode well for him or the operation. General Farrokh had been beyond mad when he had ordered him to hurry to this location. The General had been on the Sat Phone with his Grandson when the Americans had killed or captured him. I am cursed thought Captain Ardashir for the tenth time in the last three hours. First, we could not find this damn place, then the roadblock, and now it appears whoever had been attacking Captain Farrokh’s team has already successfully crossed the river. Hopefully, his gamble of splitting his men would pay off, and his men would catch the Americans by surprise. The General had been very clear with his order to kill or capture the leader of the Americans or not to come back.
After a few minutes, Captain Ardashir saw Abbas walking back towards him. He had out his cell phone in his hand, and as he approached, he offered the phone to his Captain. “Sir, I have never met Captain Farrokh, and all of the men down there are dressed the same,” Abbas stated.
Taking the phone, Captain Ardashir flipped though the photographs until he found the one he was looking for. Damn, he thought, the only good thing was the kid’s photo was not among the pictures as he handed Abbas back his cell phone. Just as he thought that one of the privates yelled that he had found something. Turning to Abbas, he said, “Go see what that idiot is yelling about.”
As Abbas turned to deal with the private’s find, the Captain walked back over to the truck’s cab and slumped against the fender. His shoulder was killing him, and he was hoping to hear from his other men soon.
Abbas was only gone for a couple of minutes before he returned at a rapid walk. Upon reaching the truck, Abbas again handed his phone to the Captain. Captain Ardashir took the phone and flipped through the photographs of the dead men, stopping briefly on Captain Farrokh’s photograph and then again on Captain Farrokh’s son. Damn it he thought; hopefully, the General will direct his anger towards the Great Satan and not him and his men. Walking back over to the cab of the truck, he reached in and attempted to grab the Sat Phone lying on the seat. Bumping his right arm on the door, Captain Ardashir cursed and almost threw up as pain ripped through his right shoulder. He was beginning to think Abbas might be right, that one of the pellets were lodged somewhere between the shoulder joint. The wounds were not that sore to the touch, but every time he bumped the shoulder or attempted to use it, the pain was almost unbearable.
Taking a deep breath, Captain Ardashir opened the door of the truck and picked up the phone. Pushing the call button on speed dial, the call was picked up on the first ring. The person answering had a fairly strong British accent, “Be brief, the General is a very busy man!” responded the voice on the other end of the phone call.
Captain A did not say anything but waited for the General to come on the phone.
He did not have to wait long as the gruff voice of the General came through clearly, “What is the status of my son and grandson,” asked the General.
“Both are dead, killed by the Americans,” Captain Ardashir responded with the most neutral voice he had, “All of Captain Farrokh’s team members were killed by the American’s. It appears the American’s were able to cross over the river before my team arrived. I have dispatched my best men to cross the river one mile upstream to locate and pin down the American unit that did thi
s. Once I can get my remaining men across the river, we will crush them between us, and I will personally cut off the head of their leader as you commanded.”
Captain Ardashir paused and listened for a reply. The General came back on briefly, “Make sure you do, but before you do kill him, find out what organization they are with and how much they know about our operation. Do NOT FAIL me in this. I have alerted three other teams assigned to the northern Virginia area to link up with you as soon as possible. They will contact you within the next six hours. Find these Satan spawn and kill them.” The Sat Phone went dead in the Captain’s hand.
Cursing to himself, he tossed the phone back into the cab of the truck. Turning to Abbas, the Captain frowned and stated, “We must buy our team more time. I am sure we will get cut to pieces if we try and cross the river here, I can just feel the American’s waiting for us to try and cross. It is what I would do. No, we must wait until the rest of our team gets into a position to ambush them from the flank, and that will be a least another hour or more. Have the privates go back and pick up the last two of our men that we left at the roadblock. Meanwhile, while they are gone doing that, you and I are going to go down to the river and sit in plain sight, so our friends across the river do not get nervous.”
Chapter Seven
The head shrinks called it tachypsychia, a more or less neurological condition brought on by, or a combination of stress, fear, or anger. Talon knew that tachypsychia was common in combat or leading up to combat. Most men that have been in the military or law enforcement have experienced some form of tachypsychia, whether it is those last few moments before the shit hits the fan while on patrol, stacking on a door in a hostage situation, or on an ambush site were effected by tachypsychia. Given the right conditions, tachypsychia could alter the perception of time and could even cause auditory exclusion and tunnel vision resulting in the loss of peripheral vision. Some people call this the “fight-or-flight” response, but they are kind of right but mostly wrong. They are both triggered by high stress, but the fight-or-flight mostly deals with your organs and not your sense of perception. Talon worked his hands, opening and closing them, to keep from clinching his rifle too tightly and causing his hands to go numb. Swinging his head, slowing to the right and back to his left to combat the tunnel vision effect, he returned his attention to the canoes.
