by Philip Bond
“Standard CIA operatin’ procedure. Tidy up loose ends.”
“Exactly.”
Two lieutenants in dress uniform stride along the road attract another of Jun’s salutes.
“So now, you two are goin’ after Sanders?”
“Not by design. She came over to be with me in Berlin and things fell into place, we start doin’ assignments together and that’s when Sanders’ name pops up.”
Twenty men dressed in exercise clothing run in two lines, one either side the road in the opposite direction.
“She’s not one to back off; sounds like some of my guys.”
“Tenacious.”
A sergeant drills and grills a platoon in close order on the parade ground.
“You need to look after this woman.”
“I intend to.”
A short distance further, the men enter a barracks ready room… “Sergeant First Class Nowak, we’re not expecting you.”
The room isn’t overly large, containing a pool table, several chairs, a blaring CD player and eleven soldiers. They all stand on seeing the senior NCO enter… “At ease, gentlemen. I come with a friend,” gesturing towards Matt… “I introduce you to Griffin, formally Gunnery Sergeant Matt Leveaux of the United States Marine Corps, Marine Recon and Navy SEAL.”
A soldier steps forward, punching out a right hand… “Pleased to meet you, I’m Fergus, C section Corporal.”
Matt retaliates… “Pleased to meet you.”
“Gentlemen,” Jun booms… “As you heard, a former marine; as you see, he exchanges his weapon for a camera. Griffin’s now a CNN journalist; you men are readying for a recon patrol tonight. I don’t have any objections for him to accompany us on patrol. Obviously, the decision rests with you.”
Corporal Fergus responds first… “How long’s formally?”
“Last November,” snaps the reply… “Last special op was August.”
The corporal looks to the team for objections. A soldier standing one away speaks… “I’m slick. You were section leader to my brother Marty Kruger.”
“An exceptional soldier,” Matt’s response isn’t as crisp, somewhat remorseful… “Your family should be proud of him. He served his country and the corps well.”
“We are, gunny.” The soldier pumps his chest… “Mom’s especially touched you took the time to call upon her and explain the circumstances.”
“I’m sorry it took so long.” He’s distinctly apologetic… “The opportunity only came after my discharge.”
“Thank you, gunny,” the soldier offers his right hand to Matt… “I’d be proud to have you join our patrol tonight.”
The corporal searches the remaining faces as another soldier announces… “I’m Boots, me too.”
As they shake, the remaining members nod their agreement. Jun turns back to Matt… “We leave at 19:45. We best get you kitted up, come with me.”
Both men depart to ready for whatever the night holds.
*
The flight of four MH-6C and three AH-6C Little Bird helicopters fly black-out nap of the earth limiting noise visual and thermal imaging. All on board wear night-vision goggles. Matt rides as the fourth passenger in the lead helio while the AH-6C’s fly mission shotgun.
The night’s black.
Intermittent cloud limits whatever reference the stars might provide on the moonless night. Matt sees negative-like images as they fly past farmhouses or out buildings.
Within twenty-three minutes’ flying time, the pilot’s voice barks over the rotor noise… “LZ in sixty seconds.”
Passengers run equipment checks for the umpteenth time in readiness for insertion as the lead helio banks to the left, descending into a relatively flat field below a wooded hill; other helios follow.
Once on the ground, the passengers disperse into a well-rehearsed defensive perimeter. Watched by the offensive AH-6C’s buzzing overhead, the helios power up rising from the field to exit the area as quickly as they arrive; time on the field, four seconds. With the helio noise abating, the reconnaissance team together with the invited guest abandon the LZ, slipping quietly into the woods making their way up the hill towards the crown.
Matt remains close to Jun and Boots, moving through the woods. The insertion and movement to the observation position goes by the numbers. They move quickly to secure the OP to busy themselves positioning remote battlefield sensors.
Finally, the positioning teams return to the OP, establishing a secure perimeter. They settle in for the period, watching monitoring and listening but most of all maintaining the alert.
With activity subsiding… “Hey Jun,” Matt whispers… “Anything in particular you lookin’ for?”
“No,” the NCO remains motionless as if a log or part of a tree within the forest… “Just monitor and record. But if a tank column rolls by, things change.”
Implicit in training is to ignore bodily itches aches and pains, movement causes death… “I guess that hasn’t happened for a while?”
Although the other team members are close, given the moonless night, none are easily identifiable, especially if you do not know they are there… “Yeah, the aerial campaign put a stop to armoured movements. Now, it’s fast moving vehicles and only at night.”
This isn’t the first time both have been on a mission together… “Transportin’ weapons?” In fact, it should count as the fourth.
“Probably.” The first, a hostage recovery mission, was a world away in Colombia and both new to special operations… “We record, then in daylight, other units go out searchin’ for the vehicles.” That counted as a successful operation… “If they find anythin’ specialist, forensic teams go over everythin’ searchin’ for traces to determine what the cargo might have been.”
The second conjoining places them clandestinely in Natanz, Iran to assassinate a leading nuclear physicist critical to Iran’s nuclear ambitions.
“What’s the cargo?”
That also a successful mission.
Immediately following recovery on the third is when, during the debriefing session, Jun explodes, striking an officer. All during the debriefing, Matt only answers questions, never volunteering, just sitting with his fuse simmering away. Jun’s restraint actually saves the intelligence officers life… “Mostly weapons, sometimes people.” Jun collects time in the brig and Matt timeout from operations.
“Insurgents?”
“No, just people, women mostly.”
“What then?”
“Nothin’. No operations are authorised to investigate.”
“Sounds like you’re leadin’ up to a scenario involvin’ Sanders.”
Wrapped in sarcasm, Matt allows… “Couldn’t do that, there’s no proof,” he smiles… “But it sort of fits, don’t it?”
“Sure does.”
Both go quiet, taking turns surveilling the vista with the Sophie thermal imager. The team remains electronically dark. Matt’s attracted to a weak hot stop in his thermal imager. He focuses… “We have company; there’s two, four, no, six vehicles two thousand clicks distant.” He zooms in… “Two trucks, four jeeps, as many as thirty men forming into five groups.”
Matt hands the imager to Jun… “Check in out, two thousand clicks out eleven o’clock.”
Jun focuses… “And comin’ this way.” Activating his microphone… “Multiple bogies, two thousand clicks, eleven o’clock. Situation alpha repeat, situation alpha.”
Silently the two-man teams collapse into predetermined formations. Everyone locks and loads, except Matt, he’s frustrated. Again, Jun speaks to the radio… “Mother goose, Charlie one, request response echo.”
Jun studies the movements as Boots questions… “We gonna sit tight or fall back?”
Jun speaks for the benefit of the radio… “Affirmative, they’re advancin’ in squads onto our position. Whoever they are, their intentions don’t seem friendly.” He goes quiet listening to the response. Matt and Boots hear him challenge the orders… “Mother Goo
se Charlie one, confirming your order, positive ID before response echo, is that correct?”
“Fuckin’ a,” listening in awe, Boots speaks just about a whisper… “I’ll just go and ask for a set of dog tags. What sort of shit’s that?”
Jun glares at the soldier… “A command order, which you’ll obey.” The NCO hands the imager to Matt… “Earn you keep,” and speaks for the benefit of the team… “We have orders to ID the bogies. Griffin’s quarterback until response echo. Get frosty.”
Matt picks up the imager activating his microphone… “Bogies breakin’ into five squads advancin’ slowly, now fifteen hundred metres.”
Seeing a squad moving to the left flank, two maintain a forward motion while three flank right… “They’re doin’ a pincer, five squads, two at ten o’clock, Slick, watch for rear cut off. Two more at twelve o’clock and one at three o’clock, use your scopes, let’s ID these suckers and get the fuck outta here.”
Due to the still of the night, almost all the team hear a mortar erupt from the tube. Through their earpieces… “Incomin’ mortar, take,” the explosion overpowers Matt’s call.
Noticing the placement, Jun whispers loudly… “They’re firin’ blind.”
Matt speaks into the microphone… “Come guys, get me an ID.”
Matt hears the distant sound of another firing mortar before… “No patches, no markings but uniforms and equipment indicates,” another explosion muffles the transmission.
“Repeat ID,” Matt calls.
“Serbian,” the reply.
“Slick,” Matt speaks again… “Cover us, we’re buggin’ out. Fall back to the LZ.” Then to the helio… “Mother Goose Charlie 6, you have your ID, Serbian hostiles. Moving to response echo.”
All the team hears in their earpieces… “Affirmative,” as the team falls back towards the landing zone, shooting erupts two hundred metres distant. Matt calls to the microphone… “Sheriff, Inches coverin’ fire for Slick.”
Moving through the wood, the team’s fifty metres from the tree line… “Slug, do we have a secure LZ?”
“Affirmative.”
Sporadic firing continues as Matt barks into the microphone… “All teams to the LZ.” Then to those circling above… “Mother goose on my mark, the kill zone is the tree line plus fifty metres west. Confirm!”
“Confirming, the tree line plus fifty metres west.”
“Slick,” Matt checks progress… “What’s your status?”
Another explosion erupts in the woods behind… “Three minutes to tree line.”
Jun, Matt and the leading team members stop, setting a defensive perimeter in the landing zone. Jun fires an infrared marker flare.
Matt checks the stragglers… “Inches, give me a sitrep.”
“We’re outta the forest.”
Then the last… “Slick?”
“We’re also in the open.” Automatic weapons fire breaks the silence… “This better work, Griffin, we’re fish in a barrel now.”
Matt moves quickly… “Mother Goose start me a forest fire, mark!”
Jun runs a head count, confirming everyone is out. Another explosion, this time much closer, causes the team alarm before they hear the welcome noise of approaching helicopters. The MH-6 Little Birds touch down.
The AH-6C attack-helios line in unleashing the 7.62 mm mini-guns and a volley of 70mm rockets upon the tree line. As the team scrambles onto the helios, they see red and yellow explosions ripping the forest kill zone. Immediately, the laden Little Birds lift off, the attack helios return line in devastating the kill zone.
Consumed by relief to be moving away from the hostilities, Jun exclaims… “What just happened here?”
Sitting next to Jun, Boots offers… “That’s not normal, we got targeted.”
“No fuckin’ doubt.” Jun’s emphatic… “It ain’t no random patrol, they came to grease us.”
Looking for some perspective, Matt questions… “How often do you run these ops?”
“Randomly, every five to nine days.” Jun fumes… “Sensor life expectancy’s ten days max.”
Matt tries to get a perspective… “So, you guys go out, plant the sensors for remote monitoring?”
“Yeah,” Boots answers… “That’s about it.”
“So, this time,” Matt offers… “the only difference is what, me?”
Contemplating events… “Could also be what we haven’t yet seen?” Jun offers an alternative… “Maybe there’s somethin’ about to transit the area.”
“The sensors will pick that up?” Matt questions.
Boots provides the answer… “If they’re still live.”
Matt looks to join the dots… “The remotes feed to ops control?”
“Yep.”
That leads to the obvious… “Sanders?”
“No,” Jun breaks his silence… “He only sees reports. Not live feeds.”
Again, Matt fishes… “So, maybe he’s protectin’ an operation or somethin’ in transit?”
“That’d be my guess,” replies Jun, adding… “No one in ops control knows you’re on the mission. It’s interestin’ to note the timin’ by the unfriendlies.” Then offers something interesting… “I brought the mission forward by three hours.”
“Who would know this?”
“I made sure it had limited circulation.” Jun answers adding the benefit of his thoughts… “If we went to schedule, the unfriendlies would have hit us before we deployed the sensors.”
“So,” Matt deduces… “They came only to disrupt the mission?”
“That’s my guess. Maybe they won’t go searchin’ for sensors. Maybe, we can get an idea of what they’re trying to hide.”
The pilot calls… “ETA Bondsteel six minutes.”
“Jun,” Matt’s a plan… “The debrief, let’s see if we can keep Sanders outta the loop for a few hours. If he doesn’t know the sensors’ status, we might draw his hand.”
The crusty NCO looks out to the grounds below… “Someone put us in harm’s way tonight. I’m gonna find out who.”
*
It’s just on 1 am when Jun and Matt exit debriefing making their way to sensor monitoring… “A convoy of nine trucks transits the area. Loads in the trucks are not great; best interpretations are personal transport.”
“Heading?” questions Jun.
“The Serbian border.”
Turning to Jun, Matt whispers… “I recall there’s a military airstrip in Niš.”
“We bombed the fuck outta the place.” Jun updates him on recent events… “It’s just been converted to an international airport during the rebuilding.”
The trail’s warm and adrenaline continues surging through Matt’s body… “It’s about two hours to sun-up, what’s the chance of getting’ a helio to drop me close by?”
“Man, this isn’t you.” Jun’s surprised… “That’s Serbia up there,” the clear-thinking Matt acts like a wet behind the ears rookie… “You already know the answer. It’s outside our zone of operations. We just got through kickin’ their arse. No man, we can’t just go in and do what we want, not even the United States Military.”
Verifying the cargo is necessary to building the story. Now Matt’s really frustrated. The alternative is the CNN team in Serbia. Maybe he can utilise a different intelligence network.
Jun interrupts Matt’s thoughts… “It’s another three hours till sun-up. Get some rest, it’s been an interesting night.” He grips Matt’s shoulder with a hand… “We can catch up for lunch before you fly out.”
“Yeah man.” Matt’s beat… “I’m sorry for puttin’ the screws on you. This business is just as consumin’ as completin’ mission objectives.”
“Thanks for what you did in the field. You made a good call. I speak for the team, thanks man.”
*
He’s Here, Where?
They just step off the stairs to walk under the rail bridge… “Matt,” Harry radiates, looking more beautiful than ever… “The doctor confi
rmed it, I’m pregnant.”
It’s dusk. Lights from the city on the other side of the river provide limited illumination… “Babe, I, we, aw hell this is the best moment of my life.” They stop to embrace and kiss. Suddenly, Matt’s world is different. Exhilaration and jubilation with a welcomed weight of responsibility settles on his shoulders. The moment consumes everything.
“How touching,” a voice calls… “It’s fitting, your last moments alive are together.” Harry and Matt jolt turning to the voice. It’s Sanders, standing ten metres away beside a wall in the shadows… “You pair have reached your use-by date.” He holds a Heckler & Kock MP5 machine gun aimed at the journalists… “I just want to say, Harry, your death is not just business, it’s personal.” He squeezes the trigger, the weapon erupts.
The helicopter crewman calls… “We land in two minutes.”
Matt jolts his eyes open. He’s in a cold sweat. Looking out the window, seeing Prizren and the German sector of operations HQ in Kosovo. Standing a little bit away is Harry, waving madly. Consumed with relief, Matt uses the moment to settle his nerves.
The engines begin winding down and the door slides open. Matt collects his belongings moving towards the door. Still affected by the dream, all he wants to do now is hold Harry. He hurries towards her. Dropping his baggage and equipment, he engulfs her in his arms, holding her so tight she exclaims… “Hey sergeant, I thought in public we’re supposed to be colleagues.”
She doesn’t see the hint of tears forming in his eyes… “Don’t care, babe. Life’s too short for charades.”
“Well, sergeant, that’s fine by me. At least several males and at least one female around here will get the message.” She kisses him passionately, drawing envious looks from several nearby eyes… “So, tell me, anything exciting happen over in the American sector?”
“Babe, he’s here.”
“Sanders?”
“Yeah, in Bondsteel operations control.”
Since Matt leaves for the American sector, Harry’s been tossing over what to do when it’s confirmed Sanders is presents in Kosovo. Suddenly, everything goes blank. She’s lost for comment. Matt takes the lead… “First thing we need to do is contact Birgit. There’s something in Niš, Serbia; we need to follow up.” He’s thinking clearly now… “Let’s get something to eat and I’ll tell you all about it.”
