Okay. The first thing we do is get those guys an extra machine gun for their DPVs, Leroux announced. That means they'll have to change their configuration to three swinging dicks per vehicle rather than two. That may cut down the number of them little off-road fuckers, but they'll be better armed. But because of the KIA, somebody is gonna have to work with just one other guy.
Actually, sir, Carey said, Brannigan has one man coming in from furlough. That means the detachment strength will stay with eighteen men. So there will be six DPVs with three-man crews.
That's good, Leroux said. We'll also see that they get armor-piercing rounds for both the fifties and seven-point-six-twos. That'll give 'em a lot of kick-butt capabilities. And that outfit needs run-flat tires. I figure twenty-four to put on right away and eighteen extras on the first issue.
We've had trouble with fuel, Berringer interjected. I'm afraid our commander out there pulled some illegal maneuvering to get his initial allotment.
Nothing wrong with that, Leroux said. A good soldier would sell his baby sister to a whorehouse if it would help the mission. They'll have plenty of fuel coming regularly now. And that goes for chow and other items on the TOA. He glanced down at the supply requisitions and issues. You said they had nine DPVs, but I see another has been sent since they arrived in the OA. What's with that?
We don't know, sir, Carey said. Evidently, the commander worked around us on that one too. He went directly to the Four-Shop at Station Bravo.
Leroux chuckled. It looks like somebody's baby sister is now a bordello inmate, hey? He leaned back in his chair. Okay. Is there anything else before I shove this shit into the pipeline?
I just want to remind the general that the situation on Operation Rolling Thunder is fluid and we expect a lot of changes and contingencies to raise their ugly heads.
So noted, Leroux said. He nodded to Berringer. Now what's this intel item you want to pass on?
Lieutenant Brannigan has sent us information that an Englishman is in command of the enemy armored car unit, Berringer answered.
Leroux frowned. That's some odd shit. How'd he learn that?
He learned about it from the head of the area UN relief group, Berringer replied. This is a Dr. Pierre Bouchier, a Belgian. He stated the individual who ordered him to vacate the area was obviously English, though he used an Arabic first name. The doctor doesn't recall what it is.
Well, that's neither here nor there for the three of us right now, Leroux said. I'll send the info to the Two-Shop at Station Bravo. They'll run with it. Is there anything else? No? Alright then. You gentlemen have a nice day.
With the conference closed, Carey and Berringer made quick exits to get down to the commo center to see if any other messages had come in from Wild Bill Brannigan.
.
SHELOR FIELD
AIRMEN'S CLUB
2000 HOURS
THE club was filled with young Air Force men and women drinking beer and listening to a self-appointed disc jockey playing CDs over the sound system. Loud conversation and laughter competed with the music amid clinking glasses as a celebration that was a nightly event rolled on.
Chad Murchison and Penny Brubaker walked into the place, going up to the bar. Several nearby celebrants gave them second glances because of Penny's white UN coveralls. Chad's BDU attire was a normal sight on the premises since SPECOPS troops passed through the airfield on a regular basis. After getting a couple of beers each, the couple turned and looked for a place to sit down. A young woman wearing the chevrons of an airman first class waved at them, gesturing to a pair of empty chairs at the table where she sat with several friends. Chad and Penny walked over and settled down.
Hi! the young airman said cheerfully. Welcome to She-lor Field.
Thanks, Chad responded to her greeting. I'm Chad and this is Penny.
I'm Wanda and here we have she pointed to another young woman and two men Betty, Sam, and Tommy. We all work in the supply warehouse.
I'm with the SEAL detachment, Chad said. And Penny belongs to the UN group.
Betty laughed. It didn't take you two long to get together, did it?
We're old friends from school, Penny said. Actually, we are much more than simply pals. She leaned over and kissed Chad on the cheek.
Oh, my God! Wanda said. What a small world! And you ran into each other here in Afghanistan?
This is the second time, Penny said.
Oh, my God! both Wanda and Betty exclaimed together.
Y'know, Sam said to Chad, we see a lot of you special operations guys, but I've never had a chance to talk to any of you. He took a sip of beer. When I joined the Air Force, I did it 'cause a couple of my buddies had decided to. Now that I'm in and seen a lot that goes on, I wished I'd tried for something like the SEALs. He gestured around the room. This fucking part of the Air Force is for candy-asses. Hell, even girls can do the jobs here.
Screw you! Betty snapped at him.
Anyhow, Sam continued, I volunteered for para-rescue and got accepted. I'm being shipping back to the States to go through my training.
Good riddance, Wanda said with a sneer.
Oh, yeah? Sam retorted. I'll be in a real adventurous outfit. Death-defying shit. Making parachute jumps behind enemy lines to rescue pilots that have been shot down. This is boring here. And will I pick up the chicks between missions! You gals don't like to admit it, but you go for us macho types.
Not me! Wanda protested. I go for guys like Randy Tooley.
Now the other airman, Tommy, jumped into the conversation. He's a little runty nerd!
Maybe so, Wanda said. But he's a go-getter. He's only an E-Four, but he runs this place. Colonel Watkins trusts him so much he lets him do anything he wants. Have you noticed he doesn't wear a uniform? He looks like a Santa Monica beach bum who hasn't held a steady job in his life.
So what's that got to do with sex? Sam asked.
Nothing, Wanda said. But when he gets out of the service, he's going to have that same attitude. He's the kind of ninny who ends up rich and powerful. And eventually, I want a rich husband who can get me every single goddamn solitary thing I want.
Mmm, Tommy said. You're probably right about Randy.
Sam turned his attention back to Chad. So I'll be going to Fort Benning for jump school before I go through the rescue course. Is it tough?
Not really, Chad said. The guys that go into the SEALs or Marine Force Recon or Special Forces and Rangers in the Army have a lot tougher training ahead of them. Are you thinking of going to HALO school too?
What's that? Sam asked.
High altitude, low opening, Chad replied. You jump and fall a long ways before opening your chute.
Yeah! I'm gonna do that.
Jesus! You'll be splattered all over the countryside, you dumb shit! Tommy exclaimed.
You'll probably break your ankle before that happens, Chad said.
Penny was growing tired of what she considered boring conversation. She took Chad's arm and stood up. Let's dance.
They left the table and joined others dancing to the country-western singing of Patty Loveless.
.
2350 HOURS
BOTH Chad and Penny were drunk as they walked arm in arm back toward the barracks area. She was in a good mood. That guy Sam is an idiot, isn't he?
Why?
Oh, for wanting to do all that boyish stuff, Jenny said. What a moron!
He wants to prove something, Chad said, irritated by the way she didn't understand the guy.
Prove what?
Chad stopped. He wants to prove to himself that he can accept a challenge. He wants the discipline that lifestyle will give him. It all points him in a direction he wants to go.
Well, maybe, Penny allowed. Anyhow, you've already proved yourself, Chad. In another year, you'll be a civilian.
Being a SEAL is a complicated thing, Chad said. It pulls at you, enfolds you, and makes you feel outside of normal society and its decorum.
Aw! Penny said w
ith a light laugh. You'll get over that shit.
It's not shit, Chad said. It's a way of life.
Penny suddenly sobered, glancing at the young man at her side. For the first time, she felt really frightened about her relationship with Chad. Maybe she had lost him already.
.
PASHTUN STRONGHOLD
GHARAWDARA HIGHLANDS
CENTRAL WESTERN AFGHANISTAN
THE territory occupied by the PPB Pashto Rebel Army was dominated by steep peaks that eased down into slanting plateaus broken up by the craggy terrain. Natural caves dominated the region, in some cases honeycombing entire mountaintops. It was in one of these areas, 6,000 feet ASL, that the leader, Yama Orakzai, had established the base camp for his revolutionary movement.
The population of the camp was made up of five thousand men, women, and children scattered across twenty-five square kilometers of the rugged, steep countryside. Approximately nine hundred of the adult males were well-armed and equipped mujahideen. While the younger ones had not participated in actual battles, except for minor raids and ambushes against the Afghan Army and scattered settlements of Taliban fugitives, the older men had fought the Soviets. These elder members of the band saw to it that their nephews, sons, and grandsons were thoroughly trained to conduct combat operations.
Although they seemed a ragtag mob because of a lack of uniforms, they had an organization of sorts made up of various detachments of riflemen, scouts, mortar and machine gun crews, and antiaircraft elements. Most of these men were heavily involved in lucrative opium-smuggling operations that ran from the Afghan mountains through the Gharawdara Highlands and up across northern Iran and into Turkey. There, the European cartels paid hard cash for the raw powder that would be turned into the narcotics for the insatiable appetites of the Western infidels. The men of the PPB not only provided transportation in the operation, but also security. The AK-47s wielded by the fierce and skilled fighters were enough to deter even the most desperate and daring bandits.
The main goal of the PPB, however, was the establishment of a Pashtun state with independent sovereignty. Unfortunately, not only would the Afghan government refuse to give up their western areas, but the Taliban still lurked about. These religious fanatics had their own plan for the nation, and it didn't include having thousands of well-armed Pashtuns living next door. Orakzai had spent several years trying to figure out how to handle the touchy situation when the English arms dealer Harry Turpin approached him as an agent of the Iranians. These Farsis wanted the PPB to join them in an independent jihad to drive Westerners out of the Middle East. Orakzai was not interested so much in the jihad as he was in having a powerful ally that would frighten off even the zealots of the Taliban. At the same time, the Afghans would think twice about resisting his struggle for independence.
Now Orakzai and his people were ready and able to give armed support to the Jihad Abadi in whatever capacity was required. The Pashtuns' main goal was to clear their territory of foreigners and domestic enemies.
Chapter 9
SHELOR FIELD
13 APRIL
0835 HOURS
THE C-130 stood by the SEALs' hangar, its ramp lowered for unloading. Besides several tons of supplies, ammo, and fuel, it had brought Petty Officer Second Class Reynauld Pecheur back from emergency leave. His wife and two sons lived in San Diego, and he had gathered them up for a trip back to their hometown in Louisiana to check things out after a violent spring storm. The roaring tempest had battered the hell out of Louisiana and Mississippi, and the hurricane season loomed in the near future.
All his SEAL buddies were curious about how Pech's folks had weathered the disaster. His Cajun family lived in boggy country in southeastern Louisiana where a lot of the houses were built on stilts. These residences were scattered through an area called Mouvants Swamp. Like everyone there, they spoke more French than English, and were fiercely self-reliant, fending for themselves in both bad and good times.
Although not flush with cash-money, they were strong and well nourished from hunting, fishing, and growing their own food. By the time FEMA had shown up with help, everyone had already repaired the damage to their homes, docks, and other structures. Any delays in taking care of that necessary mending could result in catastrophic damage during future hurricanes. Pech's last chore before taking Blanche and the kids back to California was to help his father-in-law reshingle his roof. Now, with his family reestablished in their San Diego home, he had returned to duty with Brannigan's Brigands.
THE SEALs had formed a line and were passing the smaller packages and crates off the aircraft into the hangar from man to man. Meanwhile, Randy Tooley, the intrepid little Air Force guy, had arranged for forklifts to come over to handle the heavier stuff. Colonel Leroux, the CO of the SFOB on the USS Combs, had made sure the shipment included run-flat tires for the DPVs. He also had arranged for the delivery to include a half-dozen Javelin antitank missile CLUs with trigger mechanisms and four-dozen disposable launch tubes with projectiles to increase the firepower of their arsenal. The other addition of weaponry was six M-60 7.62-millimeter machine guns to be mounted on the hoods in front of the DPVs' passenger seats.
As the unloading progressed, Lieutenant Bill Brannigan was sequestered with Lieutenant Junior Grade Jim Cruiser and Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins in the cubicle office at the rear of the hangar. Their concern was the reorganization of the detachment as had been ordered by General Leroux.
Alright, Brannigan said. This means we'll now use a total of six DPVs when we go out on an operation.
That leaves us three surplus, Cruiser said. He grinned. Of course, they're going to think we have four because of the one we gave to Randy.
Dawkins had some advice. Skipper, you better write up a report of how it was wrecked. Make that totaled.
You're right, Senior Chief, Brannigan said. I'll take care of that as quick as I can. At any rate, under this new setup, the way I see it is that each crew will now consist of a commander-driver, an M-Sixty machine gunner, and an M-Two machine gunner.
What about them Javelins, sir? Dawkins asked.
They'll be distributed evenly among all the vehicles, Brannigan replied. We'll put one CLU and four launch tubes in each one.
That'll give us a grand total of twenty-four rounds, Cruiser noted. Wouldn't it be better to put five tubes in each vehicle?
Brannigan shook his head. The M-Two gunners would be walking all over 'em. Four can be easily stacked around his seat without crowding him too much.
How're we gonna break down the vehicle assignments, sir? Buford asked. Are you gonna try to keep section integrity as it is now?
It'll be impossible, Brannigan said. With six, we can operate in three teams of two DPVs each as a rather large motorized platoon. We'll have to work out some formations, and practice dry runs in the desert around Shelor. As far as call signs, we'll just use the phonetic alphabet Alpha One and Two, Bravo One and Two, and Charlie One and Two for communications. He reached over and grabbed a pad of paper. You guys be quiet while I figure this out.
The Skipper took the present roster and studied it, then began writing the reorganization. He changed his mind a couple of times, and it took him fifteen minutes. When he finished, he shoved the new roster over for Cruiser and Dawkins to peruse.
Alpha One
Brannigan commander/driver Devereaux M-60 gunner
Malachenko M-2 gunner.
Alpha Two
Concord commander/driver Assad M-60 gunner
Leibowitz M-2 gunner.
Bravo One
Cruiser commander/driver Dawson M-60 gunner
Pecheur M-2 gunner.
Bravo Two
Olson commander/driver Bradley M-60 gunner
Redhawk M-2 gunner.
Charlie One
Dawkins commander/driver Miskoski M-60 gunner
Murchison M-2 gunner.
Charlie Two
Gunnarson commander/driver Puglisi M-60 gunner
&nbs
p; Gomez M-2 gunner.
Looks good to me, sir, Dawkins said. Who's gonna handle the Javelins?
That'll be the M-Sixty gunner, Brannigan said. You have to keep in mind that the blowback on those babies is terrific. The shooter is gonna have to unass the vehicle to fire it, or the M-Two gunner will be blown from here to Albuquerque. Anyhow, we want to leave the fifties manned at all times. He checked his watch. We'll do some battle drills as soon as everything is off-loaded and stacked properly in the hangar.
Rolling Thunder (2007) Page 9
