by Lewis, Rykar
“Let’s get in a line and double-check everything,” the jump master, an Army sergeant first class, yelled. “If anyone needs something I want to know about it now.”
Parks cringed as he thought about how he was going to step out into nothingness, 10,000 feet off the ground. He had done it many times at jump school and while attached to the 1st ANGLICO, and now was no different. Parks actually thought parachuting was fun after he stepped out into nothingness. But that was the hardest part.
The red signal light in the C-17 illuminated and Parks knew it was almost time to go.
“Get ready,” the jump master ordered. “Step out easy and don’t look down. Remember, open parachutes at five hundred feet.”
A minute later, the red light turned green. The SFC opened the side door and Parks pulled down his goggles and made sure everything was perfect.
“Go, go, go!” the jump master shouted rhythmically above the roaring engines.
God please help me, Parks prayed. Then he stepped out into the black abyss.
The cold wind and the fact that he was falling stunned him at first. Then he regained his senses and tried not to think about how he was approaching the ground at over a hundred miles per hour.
Seconds that felt like eternity passed and Parks could sense that the ground was coming fast. He’d have to pull the parachute soon but he had to time it just right. Suddenly, Parks could make out the sand below him and he began to sweat at the sight. He knew the time was coming soon.
Using every bit of willpower he had, Parks forced himself not to just pull the parachute then and there. He waited, waited, waited, and then finally his gut screamed at him that it was time. He looked at his glowing altimeter and saw it read five hundred feet. He then pulled the string on his parachute pack and looked up in anticipation. There above him was the most beautiful sight he’d seen all day. The white canopy had opened perfectly and everything was going to be all right.
Thank You God, Parks whispered to himself as he stared at the canopy.
Only moments later, Parks hit the ground rather hard and the parachute landed directly on top of him. Parks struggled out of his pack, and tried to push out of the white blanket. He finally emerged from the covering and he scanned the area. There was nothing around. Just sand.
Parks buried his parachute, readjusted his gear, and waited for the rest of the team to find their way to him.
One by one, the rest of the men joined him. They each reported that they had buried their parachuting equipment, just as ordered.
Parks did a headcount and found that everyone was present.
“Double-check everything,” he commanded. “We’re going to find that dirt road where our vans are supposed to arrive, and wait there. It shouldn’t be far from here, but then again who knows where here is?”
The team made sure everything was in order and then prepared to move out.
“Everyone’s ready?” Parks asked.
Every man said they were.
“All right good. ‘Head ’em up, move ’em out.’”
56
Monday, April 21st – 1500 hours
The Outskirts of Tripoli, Lebanon
Parks knew that only two hours remained until the operation began. His teams were holed up in three different, deserted buildings that the CIA had prepared specially for them. The war bunker that housed the three warheads was not far away from where the teams were located now, and once 1645 arrived, Parks would send out his team to their positions.
Parks wasn’t used to doing plain-clothes combat operations. In fact, this would be his first time ever. He missed his camies, actually. They felt like his armor; civilian clothes felt very unsafe. Parks had earned the Combat Action Ribbon three times for combat against terrorists in the Middle East, and he definitely knew combat well. But this was different. Instead of commanding a company of Marines, he had government agents. Instead of having a CO on the field giving orders, he had a satellite phone with which to contact the National Security Advisor.
Parks was new to operating in this manner and he wasn’t afraid to admit that to himself. Of course, he’d never tell his team that. It was a known fact that even when a not-so-capable leader led confidently, the troops fought better than when a capable leader crumbled. Parks had to lead with confidence even though he wasn’t used to this type of combat.
As Parks waited for the time to pass he kept reminding himself of Marine poster sayings that would encourage him. He loved several of the Marines’ posters but his favorite was one that portrayed a young Marine Officer in his dress blues standing by a picture of the Trojan horse. “Superior thinking has always overwhelmed superior force,” it said. Parks knew that the statement had been proven time and time again, and there was no reason it shouldn’t be proven again today. To pull off this operation, he would need to use some superior thinking.
* * *
It was 1645 sharp. It was time to move. But who would be waiting outside? What surprise would take place? Parks wasn’t sure, but he would be ready for anything and everything.
Parks picked up his radio. “VIPER BRAVO, this is VIPER ALPHA,” he spoke softly. “Move out. Do you copy? Over.”
Static was the only reply for a second and then he heard Solomon’s voice on the radio. “VIPER ALPHA, I copy that. We’re moving out. Out.”
Parks then radioed in to Marler. “VIPER CHARLIE, this is VIPER ALPHA. Move out. Do you copy? Over.”
“VIPER ALPHA, I copy that,” Marler responded. “We’re on the move. Out.”
Parks faced his own six-man team. “Let’s get out there and show these Lebanese what we think of their new toys,” he ordered.
Parks exited the building from a secret hatch on the side and began walking casually toward the bunker, which was not visible from where he was. The rest of his team hung back a bit and then at separate times followed from different directions. Parks tried to act as inconspicuous as he could, but his heart was pounding a million miles an hour.
The sky was black and Tripoli had a gray look to it. Parks thought it was a junky city and he couldn’t wait to leave. He wondered if the carbine and laser target designator (LTD) at his side were arousing any attention. He hoped not. He was taking back alleys and side routes just to avoid any contact with humans. So far no one had seemed to blink an eye at him.
Several hundred yards ahead, he saw it. It was unmistakable. The mosque was enormous and the only people around it were military officials.
Must be having a slow day, Parks mocked. I wonder why no civilians are inside.
Parks stopped for a moment and radioed in to Marler. “VIPER CHARLIE, this is VIPER ALPHA. Anything in front of me or my team that we should know about? Over.”
“Negative, VIPER ALPHA. It’s clear. Everything’s going good,” Marler told him.
“Let’s hope it stays good, VIPER CHARLIE. Out.”
Parks pocketed his radio and continued his stalk. He moved within seven hundred and fifty yards and when hunkered beneath a rotting pile of wood, he decided that he was close enough. He nodded to the backup painter who was close behind him that this was the place. Then he quickly set up the LTD. He gave the other two painters a little time to position themselves before he radioed in to check if everyone was ready.
“VIPER GOLF, this is VIPER ALPHA, do you copy? Over,” Parks spoke into his radio after a short wait.
A static-filled response came. “VIPER GOLF is ready, VIPER ALPHA. Over.”
“Good. Watch the clock. Out.”
Parks switched to the other painter. “PAINTER THREE, this is VIPER ALPHA, do you copy? Over.”
“This is PAINTER THREE,” the deep voice began. “I’m ready, VIPER ALPHA. Over.”
“Stand by. Out.”
Parks again put his radio in his pocket and waited. It was 1655.
* * *
It was 1659 and time to start painting. Parks aimed the laser at the side of the golden mosque and turned it on. He didn’t blink as he prayed that the others had painted their target
s, and that everything would go smoothly. So far things were going well, but that could change in a millisecond.
Parks held his stare at the mosque while he counted to sixty. Where was the bomb? A horrible thought hit Parks. Maybe the National Security Advisor was the mole and he had told Parks a story. What would happen then? There’d be no extracting helicopters for his team. There’d be no laser guides at the real bunkers housing the warheads. And worst of all, the mole would know exactly where Parks and his team were and that they were stranded alone.
What do I do? Parks asked himself. Was this a trick and was I dumb enough to buy into it? No, it can’t be, he suddenly confirmed. The CIA was here to help so we must be in the right place. But why aren’t the Lebanese out hunting for us? What’ll happen–
Parks’ thoughts were cut off by the sound of a bomb dropping. It was music to his ears. He hadn’t been tricked, and chances were Smith wasn’t the mole.
The bunker buster fell horrifically fast and hard, and Parks was mesmerized by the sight of it. Then the bomb was joined by two others, falling just as fast and as hard. The first bomb reached Parks’ laser and followed it toward the building. Parks watched with utter amazement as it slammed into the side of the mosque. Just as his brother had said, it did look fake. The mosque had a delayed reaction, but after a second, it exploded into a billion different pieces. The bunker buster also tore into the war bunker, and chunks of cement were hurled high into the air. Then the second bomb reached VIPER GOLF’s laser which was now aimed at a pile of debris. The bunker buster railroaded into the top of the war bunker and exploded with a deafening roar. Then the last one came. This would be the one that was supposed to crack the final hole in the bunker that was hundreds of feet below the surface. And it did. The final bunker buster reached PAINTER THREE’s laser that was now pointed inside the hole, and followed it right into the cement war bunker. The bomb hurled itself against the hardened object and roared even louder than the first two had as it exploded.
Parks pulled himself out of his nest and shouted into his radio. “All units, this is VIPER ALPHA! Get back to HOME now! Get moving!”
Parks took off like a rocket. He sprinted as fast as his legs could take him. He tore down a side alley and down another and another. He never looked back. He rounded one corner and ran straight into a Lebanese soldier. The soldier drew for his sidearm but Parks swung his M4 right into the man’s gut. He then clubbed him over the head with the carbine’s butt plate just hard enough to knock him out but not kill him.
Parks resumed his dash for the deserted building codenamed HOME, where he had been merely minutes before. After a few moments he stopped when he saw Samuels running at top speed down a deserted street. He was relieved that he was still okay. Parks took off again without a second glance. As he ran, another soldier appeared from around a corner. The soldier was directly in front of him so Parks just lowered his head and rammed his shoulder into the soldier’s chest. Both men slammed to the ground. Parks rolled off him and found that the man was unconscious.
Parks pivoted back to look at the mosque just to see the progress. He was just in time to see the Los Angeles Classes’ first TLAMs come barreling into the exposed bunker. The first three hit at almost the same time and a ball of fire roared up into the sky with blinding effects. Parks had to shield his eyes and then he again resumed his run.
That means thirty seconds until the helicopters come, he calculated. I hope we all make it there just as they touch down on the building’s roof.
Gunfire poured from an AK-47 on Parks’ left. Parks swung to his left, found his target, and squeezed off two rounds. The militant dropped.
The gunfight had started and Parks knew things would start heating up. But twenty seconds were all that remained until the helicopters touched down. So much depended on perfect timing.
Parks dashed into a back alley and looked around for a brief second. He spotted two of his temporary agents pinned down behind a dumpster, trying to fight off assailants. He bolted for them and then skidded down beside them.
“Go, go, go!” he ordered.
Both men obeyed without delay. Parks never saw them leave because he left the scene just as quickly as he’d come.
Parks heard the squealing of missiles and whipped around to see the final three TLAMs score a direct hit on the nuclear warheads. He faced back around and took off for the building which was now in sight.
Two Lebanese soldiers ran straight for him, bearing automatic weapons and using them in rhythm. Parks dove for the cover of a side street and then returned the fire. He saw one of them grab for his stomach and the other trip and fall. But just then someone fired on him from his left. Parks swung around and fired back. Unfortunately his bullets didn’t come in contact with the soldier, and the militant ducked behind a crate.
Parks left the alley at top speed, not caring to stay around and have a firefight.
He turned a corner and saw the building closer than it had ever been. Why had it taken him this long to reach it? Had he been tangled up in all of the alleys and side streets?
A mere second later, three Marine Corps Ospreys descended, each flanked by two Marine Viper gunships. Parks remembered that his dad had seen the prototypes of the Ospreys flying around while he was at Quantico, Virginia. Parks had never been in one before but now he would get his chance to ride in the helicopter that took off like a helicopter but flew like a plane. The side-by-side rotors allowed it that capability.
From nowhere, a man leaped on Parks and tackled him to the ground. Parks leaped up and quickly found that his gun was knocked far out of reach. He had to fight this soldier with his own two hands. But strangely, the man didn’t have a gun either, only a knife.
The man lunged at him but Parks sidestepped and reached over and grabbed the man’s hand that held the knife. Then Parks moved behind the man and used his feet to trip the man to the ground, all the while fighting to keep the knife centered at the man’s chest. Momentum was used against the attacker and he fell on his own knife.
Parks scrambled for his M4 and then suddenly Solomon ran up.
“Get down!” Solomon yelled as he pushed Parks to the ground.
A Soviet-style Rocket-Propelled Grenade soared overhead, barely missing the two men. Solomon and Parks stood up and began moving for the building but a dozen soldiers blocked their path.
“Cut over here!” Parks commanded as he led Solomon down a side street.
It was going to be a detour but Parks prayed it wouldn’t deter them from reaching the helicopters.
The two leaped over a brick wall and saw several soldiers running at them from the front. Thankfully, there was another small rock wall in front of Solomon and Parks and they dropped behind it as the Lebanese soldiers fired upon them.
Both men took turns raising their carbines and returning the fire. They both knew they couldn’t stay there, but if they stood they would surely be cut down by enemy gunfire. They had to fight it out.
“Doesn’t all this gunfire make you nervous?” Solomon asked.
Parks squeezed off five rounds and dropped back down behind the wall’s protection.
“No it doesn’t!” he yelled back. “In the Marine Corps they say you never hear the one that kills you! So as long as I keep hearing them, I’m fine!”
The firing ceased and the two men popped their heads up to see if the way was clear. Somehow they both knew it wasn’t but they were ready to take the risk and run for it. They half-stood preparing to run. Then Parks heard a bullet slice past him. He looked to Solomon and saw him collapse. Parks dove on top of him to shield him.
“Solomon!” he shouted. “Are you all right?” He knew he wasn’t but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
More fire came from the opposite side of the wall and Parks returned it, dropping the remaining soldiers.
“KP,” Solomon managed to say.
Parks knelt beside him. “Are you okay?”
Solomon held out his fist. “Take care of y
ourself man.”
Parks punched to meet Solomon’s fist and felt his emotions get the better of him. Then Solomon went limp. “No!” Parks screamed in denial. Then he reacted. He shouldered both M4s, and then tugged Solomon’s limp body over his left shoulder. It would be a long way to fireman’s carry Solomon, but Parks wasn’t about to leave him there alone.
Parks began to run as fast as he could in the direction he thought the building was. He came to a cross street and looked down a rather steep, paved hill to his back right. He knew that wasn’t the way. He glanced up, and concluded that that was the way to go.
He took a step forward and caught movement out of the corner of his left eye. It was another soldier, aiming an automatic weapon right at him. Parks dropped to the ground, making sure his body was shielding Solomon’s. Then he felt something knick the left side of his head and then slice into his left shoulder. He jerked back instinctively and rolled off Solomon. But that wasn’t where the rolling stopped. He continued rolling down the paved hill. About halfway down, he lost consciousness.
* * *
Greg Norse was positive that he would be the last one to reach the helicopters. He was near the building but there was still quite a distance to go. He dashed down a street, only stopping to navigate himself. He then reached a brick wall and leaped over it. There was a small path that led up to a main road, and he took that. After quite a few seconds of running, he found something that stopped his heart. There in the road was the body of someone familiar. As he approached he was sure it was Solomon.
He ran up to Solomon and knelt alongside him. “Solomon,” he said between gasps for air, “are you...are you alive?”
Norse checked for a pulse and found a very weak one. It was enough to tell him that his friend and coworker was still alive. Norse pulled Solomon over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and tried to figure out where he was. He decided to go up the road because down the hill didn’t look promising. So he ran as fast as he could up the road.
He turned left on a side street and then he saw it. Atop the building where Parks had been waiting for the operation to start, were the helicopters. There were several of them hovering and Norse’s heart leapt with joy.
