by Zack Finley
Rough looking men with long guns sat close to the fire. Unlike the inmates at Storm Creek Lake camp, this gathering lacked a party atmosphere. No talking, no laughter. A good indication of low morale. Flickering lights came from only three trailers. The rest of the camp was dark except for the leaping flames from the two campfires.
The sound of gunfire to our east had us eating dirt before realizing it was not directed at us. The men in the campground barely glanced toward the shots.
"The shots are coming from the compound's direction," Joel radioed. "Ben, what is your 20?"
"I can hear the shots. We are at least half an hour from the compound."
"Warn us before you go in. We are setting up now," Joel radioed.
"Roger."
Hearing Ben's voice was reassuring. So was knowing we remained on the agreed upon timeline.
Our first priority was to prepare our shooting positions. For one of the first times ever, I wished for an entrenching tool. With the sporadic shots from our left, the faint sounds from our digging were even less likely to attract any attention.
Allie and Razor concentrated on the machine gun position. Tom and I shifted to dig positions along our deployment line for Joel and Mike. This freed Joel and Mike to slither closer to the encampment and prepare secondary positions within Molotov cocktail range of the enemy. I began to doubt whether the benefit we gained by using fire outweighed the increased risk to my men.
By 20:00, everyone's shooting positions were tolerable. We needed pickaxes or a backhoe to dig them any deeper. The digging in the hard rocky ground dulled and chipped our combat knives. Most of us continued picking away at the next layer of ground while we waited. It might not do any good, but it could not hurt.
I sent Joel and Mike to check out those shooting at the compound and give us a headcount. The gunshots from our left came in cycles. Sometimes five minutes passed between shots and others came as a sharp staccato. Either some shooters didn't have automatic rifles, or they were set on single shot.
"We are in position," Ben radioed, his voice at the edge of inaudible. "John is blowing the silent whistle. The attackers are shooting randomly into the compound, without any visible targets. The compound is dark, no light showing anywhere. I'm too far out to see anything on thermal scan."
"We dug in above the camp. Joel and Mike left five minutes ago to put eyes on the enemy shooting at the compound. When they return, we are good to go," I radioed.
"I will discuss our plan with Dwayne before I decide to enter the compound," Ben radioed. "John says Dwayne can be trusted, but he doesn't think much of Dwayne's family."
"We will stand by until 21:00. If you want us to delay, I need you to request it."
"Roger."
More loose ends. More unknowns.
I monitored the inmates below us. Sporadic shots continued from our left. I counted 15 people still milling around in the camp. The camp residents ignored the erratic shots.
I kicked myself for not having eyes on this group all day. I could only assume most of the inmates huddled in the trailers and tents. I wouldn't know for sure until the shooting started. That made me nervous. The herd of pickups parked in the camp was our only assurance that most of the inmates were here and not roaming the local roads.
The two main campfires no longer lit up the camp. The towering flames from only an hour ago, subsided, replaced by a red glow of embers. The faint glow illuminated the faces of the few men still warming themselves around the fire. The southern wind, combined with the impinging darkness ramped up the cold.
All the men I observed carried long guns, including a few AK47s and AR15s but mostly shotguns. At some point, these raiders intended to move in close and shoot somebody.
As I watched and waited, a different plan pushed its way into my mind. I had intended to open the fight with everything at once. To go for shock and awe, kill as many as possible, and make the rest run away. We needed grenades and Molotovs to kick off the attack, our suppressed gunfire, even bolstered by a machine gun, was too one dimensional. If I had all 20 of my Rangers, that might work. With only six of us, we needed smoke and mirrors.
I would love to kill the entire horde, but I couldn't count on it. We had to rout the enemy in the camp and then pivot to wrap up those assaulting the compound. Gather up our lost sheep and get the hell out of town.
I decided the disruption of fire and explosions was essential to panicking the raiders into abandoning their positions quickly. There were just too many raiders to allow them to rally their people. By starting with Molotovs, they might not realize the fires were part of an attack, just a big accident. The fires would screw with our night vision, but we couldn't see through the trailers anyway. Once we had fires going, tossing unlit Molotovs would keep our people hidden, but continue to expand the damage and panic. Followed by a barrage of grenades. Handled correctly, even our grenades might seem the result of the fires. While some of us created fire and mayhem, our M4 squad would silently target those with weapons and anyone attempting to rally the inmates.
At some point, our whole team would fall back to our shooting positions, cleaning up the scene with our M4s. The rifle’s suppressors would keep us hidden. Since shooting the machine gun would give away our position, we’d only use it if that no longer mattered.
We could then deal with those firing on the compound. Razor, Allie, and Tom would keep pressing the main camp, while Joel, Mike, and I pivoted toward the compound. Hopefully, Ben could provide some help for that assault.
While I hoped we could leave with Andy's team immediately, I felt Dwayne's family might have a problem with that. If the roles were reversed, I could understand why. From their point of view, Andy brought these attackers to their doorstep. If we don't kill them all, Dwayne's bunch might think we just stirred up the hornets' nest. And left them to face the pissed off hornets.
To free Andy peacefully, we might need to wrap up the loose ends here in Helena.
Joel and Mike reported the 20-person group targeting the compound crowded behind cover, taking no chances. Mike interpreted their diligence to experience with either getting shot at or seeing others killed by shots from the compound.
Joel said, "About five of them shoot at the compound every few minutes, but everyone else is hunkered down behind some shot-up pickups. The shooters are not wearing NVGs or aiming at anything I could see. I swear a few shot into the air."
"I think the shooters are the only ones with automatic rifles," Mike added. "They have AK47s but mostly fire single shot; I suspect to save ammo. The non-shooters are keeping a low profile, the ones I saw carry either deer rifles or shotguns, but not AK47s, no banana clips there."
"The road we parked the ninjas on leads straight to the compound," Joel added. "But it looks like the attackers came up through the landfill. That is where the disabled trucks they are hiding behind came from. Something badass took them out. From their orientation, I think their drivers aimed to ram the gate. They are just burned-out hulks now, blocking direct access to the gate. The road into the compound cuts through a 10-foot high bank blocked by that gate. The compound likely has good shooting positions beside the gate, I know I would, but no one was shooting from there while we watched."
It seemed likely once the fireworks started in the main inmate camp, those targeting the compound would come to investigate. At least that was Joel and Mike's consensus.
I then updated everyone on my new thoughts about the attack. Everyone but Razor thought it was a better plan. We attributed his opposition to his love of the M240b.
With 15 minutes left before the deadline we gave Ben for the attack, his silence spoke volumes.
Allie, Tom, and Razor remained in their shooting positions. While Joel and Mike concentrated on the two ends of the camp, I planned to toss several grenades into the enemy group huddled around the center campfire.
Once the action started, those in their shooting positions would take down visible targets, quietly with their M4s. Their coverin
g fire should allow Joel, Mike, and I to return to our prepared positions. After that, everything depended on the enemy.
At 21:00, I heard the muffled sound of breaking glass from both ends of the camp. I watched the men gathered around the campfire, amazed they didn't react to the sound. I held the grenade, ready to pull the pin, and waited for the show to begin.
I heard the squelch, pulled the pin, and threw the grenade into the campground, grabbed the second grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it to the right. I was preparing the third grenade when the fireworks began. I tossed the third grenade to the left of the campfire and ducked.
Shouts of "FIRE" came from within the camp as the third grenade exploded.
The fire from the exploding Molotov cocktails ignited the fuel from those tossed earlier, and the fireball illuminated the area with a dazzling intensity.
I hoped no one looked our way, because the dark no longer hid us from view. If anyone spotted our mad scramble up the hill, they didn't shoot.
Before beginning our assault, we assigned firing zones to each shooter, that shifted again once all of us returned to our positions on the line. Joel monitored the far right, I had the middle right, and Razor the middle. We expected more action on the left side, toward the compound, and stacked our extra shooter on it.
I had a crowded field of fire, too many trailers, and trucks, but I kept busy. The fires began flaring up elsewhere as they found new fuel sources, chiefly under the trailers. A pickup truck hood blew open, while I watched; breaking its windshield and igniting the interior. Vehicle tires blew up, tossing burning bits all over. A truck door blew out, slamming into a nearby trailer.
Screams and shouts competed with the roar of the flames and the intermittent explosions.
The heavy smoke blanketing the area made it difficult to see anything other than brief glimpses. This was one of the disadvantages of being downwind from a fire. Despite the lack of cover, I now welcomed the flame resistance of the scraped dirt between us and the conflagration.
No one in the camp fired their weapons. Could they really believe the fires and explosions were accidents? People fled upwind, away from us. The shooting from the compound stopped after the grenades went off.
Joel, Mike, and I pulled off the line and withdrew to the road through the trees at our back. Our night vision sucked, so we stumbled a lot. Once out of the glow from the fires, our NVGs became usable again. We jogged single file along the northern edge of the road, alert for errant inmates.
At some unknown landmark, Joel shifted us to the right edge of the road and slowed. We hunched down but continued, weapons ready.
No sign of the tangoes at the dead vehicles in front of the gate to the compound. We planned to shadow them, attacking them and the rest of the camp from a new direction. We followed the tracks leading to the landfill, barely needing our NVGs to keep to it. We proceeded in a wedge formation with Joel on point. I was to his right and Mike to his left.
The fires showed no sign of abating. Flames roared above at least three trucks, but the carcasses of the trailers hit earlier by the Molotovs just smoldered. No one lingered in the fire zone. They milled around on the south side. Only a few carried visible weapons.
"Hostiles consolidating to the south, move to the west side of the compound and let's target them in a crossfire. Do not go past the southernmost vehicle to avoid friendly fire," I radioed.
Three squelches while Joel, Mike, and I settled behind the best cover we could find.
A few minutes later, Tom radioed "in position."
"Go."
We caught the panicked group by surprise, with devastating effect. My team concentrated on those with visible weapons. Razor plowed through the main body with his M240b. I doubted any of the enemies suspected my group was around since the machine gun was so dominant.
Our five shooters using M4s doubtless accounted for most of the inmate deaths, but the machine gun terrorized them. Many threw down their guns and ran. We couldn't let them return another day, so showed no mercy. These weren't men defending their homes; these were criminals attacking families.
Once we had no remaining targets, we settled in, monitored our 360, and waited for daylight. We kept two in each nest awake, rotating duty to allow one at a time to rest.
When I woke at first light, it was quiet except for an occasional hiss and pop from the now smoldering camp. Wispy plumes of gray smoke rose like tendrils from most of the ruined hulks. Black smoke billowed from one of the trailers, but it was the only active fire remaining. The flames were only intermittently visible since this last ruin was more smoke than fire. I suspected the smoke came from burning tires, but I couldn't tell from my vantage point.
"Tom, have your group withdraw to the ORP," I radioed. His team would secure our rides.
"Roger."
I was worried about Ben, John, and of course, Andy's bunch.
"Any signs some inmates survived?" I asked.
"No movement in that group since it got light and none from the burned area either," said Joel. "I’m sure some got away in the dark. I just don't know whether they took their guns with them. If they stop before they reach the Arkansas River, I'll be surprised. We should be careful, but I don't think they represent a serious risk anymore."
"Yeah, those in the compound must be mighty curious," Mike added. "I didn't spot anyone prowling around, even on thermal scan, so they probably are waiting for dawn to take a peek."
"Let's withdraw into better cover so we can monitor the compound without inviting a shot," I said. "Those inmates may have reinforcements arriving. Between them and the compound let's not become complacent. I won't be happy until everyone is on the Cumberland and were chugging upriver."
"People in the compound, please release my people," I radioed. "We've cleaned up the trash for you, please let my people go." First time I ever used Moses' big line.
Even scripture didn't inspire them to answer.
We waited.
"Boss, I don't like leaving all those weapons on the field. If someone is playing possum, they could pose a threat," Razor said.
"You are right, take Joel, clean up the battlefield, and bring the pickups up to the ORP."
"Coming in to the ORP," Joel radioed.
Squelch.
"Tom, Allie move up," I radioed. No reason to split up more than we were.
Squelch.
Mike slipped out through the trees behind me, to bring in Allie and Tom without exposing them to fire from the compound. They brought the M240b and two cans of ammo with them.
I wasn't giving up on a peaceful resolution.
"People in the compound, send Andy or Ben out to talk with us," I radioed.
With no sign of movement after five more minutes, "I must assume you are holding our people prisoner. Let them go. Do you really want to defend your place against us? I prefer handling this peacefully, but if you refuse to see reason, I must assume our people are no longer alive and act accordingly. I give you one hour to consider your options."
That would give Joel and Razor enough time to collect the spoils and move the pickups forward.
"I'll keep watch, the rest of you rest until the guys return. Then we will evaluate our options," I said.
Within minutes only Allie and I were awake.
"How can they fall asleep so fast?" Allie asked.
"Too many deployments, in the field most of us can sleep anywhere at the drop of a hat. Insomnia only strikes when I'm home safe, in bed. Some guys use meditation, others relaxation techniques. Close your eyes and concentrate on relaxing one muscle group at a time. Even if you don't sleep, you won't be as tired."
"Okay, but my mind won't be still."
"Take charge of it and focus on muscle groups. Practice helps push you into a receptive state sooner. Try it and don't be discouraged if you don't fall asleep this time. It will come with practice and exhaustion."
Allie moved around, seeking the least uncomfortable position before going still. I didn't think th
e relaxation effort was working since she looked very stiff, but just closing your eyes could help.
It was a long hour with Joel and Razor both absent. It took them another half an hour to return and roust everyone.
"We didn't use all our Molotovs," Joel said. "We can toss a few on both sides of the gate to clear out any booby traps, and maybe wake them up."
Razor added, "I have two cans of ammo left for the M240b. Once we've cleared off the ridge beside the gate, it could backstop any operation inside their perimeter."
"Is there any chance they aren't monitoring Ben's radio?" Allie asked. "He might have hidden his radio or his batteries to protect our communications, planning to retrieve them if he got a welcoming reception."
