December's Soldiers

by Marvin Tyson

  “Son of a bitch,” said Raymond, “I’m certain that’s President Jackson’s voice!”

  “And I would bet dollars to donut holes that Senator Mitchell is out there co-supervising,” snarled Sam. “I’m surprised they’d stick their necks out this far. I’m sure that’s why they brought grunts with them to take all the risk, but they’ll want to make sure our bodies are good and cold before they leave here.”

  The odds were about four to one against Raymond and his buddies, with Pat wounded and she and Sheila trapped behind Pat’s truck. Raymond knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the bad guys rushed the building.

  “Aim at the concrete top and the vent stack on the old septic tank,” J.P. said. “Maybe we can set off a spark to ignite the gasoline. There’s no way to get close enough to set it off any other way without being shot all to pieces.”

  Two of the men that jumped off the chopper had taken cover behind the top of the septic tank, which was elevated about a foot above the parking lot. There was no way to tell if one of the rounds from inside the building or the muzzle flash from the weapons of one of those two men did it, but suddenly there was a deafening blast, and a huge ball of fire erupted from the old tank. Several of the men closest to it were enveloped in fire from the exploding fumes.

  The helicopter, which had just taken off but was less than ten feet off the ground, shook violently as the rotor blades were pierced by concrete shrapnel and the cast-iron inspection cover from the top of the tank. The turbine screamed like a banshee and, as it rolled over on its side, the shuddering blades dug into the roadway. The bird went up in another ball of flame as huge chunks of caliche and clumped dirt flew from the digging rotor blades. The pilot and anyone else on board that chopper were certainly dead.

  The team ducked as objects flew in every direction.

  “Nobody made it out of that bird alive,” Sam said. “They couldn’t survive that crash.” Fire licked the sides of the copter, engulfing the big machine in hungry flames.

  Several men lay twisted and dead along the roadway next to the remains of the old septic tank. There were a couple of survivors whose clothing was still smoldering, and the team heard their groans across the parking lot.

  Then, as they watched in horror, a man staggered across the parking lot like a punch-drunk fighter, his clothing in tatters from the blast and flames. He collapsed face down on the caliche and didn’t move again. Another guy, who had apparently been enveloped in gasoline and fumes from either the chopper or the old tank, ran across the parking lot in a ball of flame. Sam put him out of his misery with a single shot.

  The stench of the years’-old sewerage was blasted into the night air by the exploding septic tank and old drain field lines. The air reeked with the smell of burning flesh and the gases and fumes from the gasoline. The turbine fuel from the crashed helicopter made the air almost unbreathable. The screams of the scared and wounded, along with the moans of the dying, sounded like a cacophony of wild animals in a forest fire instead of human beings. It was a hellish spectacle, a scene from Dante’s Inferno.

  Pat and Sheila scrambled into the building as the three men rushed out. “Stay here,” Raymond yelled. “We’ll take care of everything outside.”

  Knowing everyone out by the road would be dazed and in shock, but not knowing how many were still able to fight back or even had the stomach for it, they used basic infantry tactics to move toward the van that had brought in the assault team. They knew there had been at least fourteen or fifteen men total, including the three original men from the van and the ten or twelve that jumped off the helicopter. So, as bad as they wanted to get medical aid to Pat, they were forced to use extreme caution approaching the road. It would do no good to rush in if everyone got killed in the process.

  As J.P. put it, they were “three one-man fire teams” as they moved across the parking lot. One advanced five yards while the other two laid down covering fire, then another and another in sequence. Just as they were trained to do in response to an ambush against superior firepower, the three old soldiers moved steadily across the parking lot toward the enemy.

  By moving in a zigzag pattern across the parking lot and staying far apart, they presented a harder target to hit, but they would be better able to achieve interlocking fire on the men behind the van. Any time one of the thugs peered around the corner of the van to get a clear shot, he was exposed to fire from one or both of the other old friends.

  It took a few minutes for the bad guys left by the road to recover enough to even return fire when the three amigos moved toward them. But, when they did, they returned fire with a fury.

  Chapter 56

  Raymond, on the right flank, moved further right to the rock-strewn arroyo he and Sheila used to make their escape when they were held there before. He ran down the arroyo about fifty yards, then popped up in the darkness and ran toward the road. At the road, he was less than a hundred yards from the van and the men who were using it for cover, so he laid down in the shallow ditch and fired from that position.

  The men on the road were caught in the crossfire between Sam and J.P. in the parking lot and Raymond on the far side of the road. Two of the men threw their weapons toward Raymond and rolled over face down with their hands behind their heads. That left four armed men scrambling for cover.

  As those four men raced for the cover of darkness on the far side of the road, away from Sam and J.P., another deafening blast rose from the helicopter. Almost nothing was left of the chopper except the turbine shaft and a few small pieces. Raymond wondered what they could have been carrying on that bird to cause the second explosion. It definitely wasn’t a fuel explosion because most of the remaining flames from the original crash had blown out. It had to be high explosives of some type, most likely Comp. B or C-4.

  He decided that the four men who ran off would continue to run northward back in the general direction of Dryden, back toward civilization and away from the fight. But he found out, as he moved toward the two men who were face down in the road, just how wrong he was.

  Several shots rang out, one of them catching Raymond squarely in the chest. He collapsed in a heap, with no way for Sam and J.P. to get to him without getting shot themselves. In a rage because of the wounding of their friend, and with absolutely no conversation or consideration for their own safety, Sam and J.P. charged directly at the source of the gunfire, screaming, cursing and firing rounds as fast as their weapons would fire. One bullet creased Sam’s arm, but it didn’t stop him.

  There always comes an instant in a firefight when sheer audacity can overcome monumental odds if one side is sufficiently surprised at the actions of the other. This was that time for J.P., Sam, and the wounded Raymond.

  The four antagonists had no time at all to react. With Sam and J.P. more than fifty yards apart, the thugs couldn’t concentrate their fire at any one shooter. Pat’s team was moving so fast, with only their muzzle flashes to reveal their locations, that the confused enemy jumped up again and fled. The minute they stood up, they were clearly visible through the night vision goggles that Sam and J.P. wore. They dropped two of the crooks immediately. The other two dropped their weapons and sank to their knees with their hands in the air. That part of the battle was over.

  Having nothing with them to tie the hands of the two survivors, J.P. and Sam made the crooks drag their dead comrades back to the road. They walked along behind carrying their weapons and the four rifles the baddies dropped.

  Now they had to concentrate on securing the prisoners and getting medical help for Raymond and Pat. Pat’s thigh wound was serious but not immediately life-threatening. Raymond, on the other hand, could not last more than a few minutes without professional medical help, and his wound would certainly prove fatal without a hospital trauma center and a good surgeon―soon.

  Chapter 57

  While J.P. held the prisoners at gunpoint, Sam searched the van for the cellphone signal jammer they figured must be there. He found it almost immedi
ately and threw it viciously to the ground, then fired five or six AR 15 rounds into it for good measure. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed 911. After a long conversation with the dispatcher, he was sure help was on the way. Then he dialed Marty’s cell number back in Austin.

  It took less than a minute to explain the situation to the president and ask him to light a fire under the sheriff and EMS services to speed up the process of getting medical help for Raymond and Pat. Pat was beginning to feel the agony that floods the body after the initial shock of a bullet wound. For Raymond, speed was everything now. He would have only moments to live unless help came quickly.

  It worked. Within ten minutes, they heard the unmistakable WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP of chopper blades. J.P. stood in the parking lot near where Raymond was lying, holding his rifle up over his head with both hands in the traditional military style “land right here” signal.

  Suddenly, they were bathed in the wide circle of the helicopter’s huge searchlight. A sheriff’s deputy jumped down from the chopper, and J.P. and Sam told him the story while they loaded Raymond and Pat on the copter.

  The deputy held a notepad in his hand and fired questions at them in rapid succession. J.P. grabbed him by the collar and said, “Look, deputy, my friends are in bad shape. Now you can stay here and take your damned notes or you can go with them. I don’t care which, but this bird is leaving and taking our friends to the hospital NOW!”

  The deputy noticed the two men were not exactly in a negotiating mood. And he knew it was on orders of the Texas president himself, so he agreed to take Raymond and Pat to the hospital and wait to interview Sam and J.P. when they got to the hospital.

  Another deputy walked up to them. “There are multiple vehicles on the way to the scene,” he told them as the helicopter took off with Raymond, Pat and Sheila on board. “You’ll have adequate transportation back to town.” He pointed back down the dirt road, and they saw the lights on what looked like a dozen emergency vehicles coming toward them.

  The deputy got on the radio and told his dispatcher to send several coroners’ vehicles to deal with the bodies. He was still having trouble grasping the scene around him, and had never witnessed such horrific carnage in all his years of law enforcement. In fact, the chopper was so badly damaged in the crash, fire, and secondary explosion that he couldn’t even be certain how many bodies he was looking at. Daylight would bring the crime scene into focus and let them get an accurate body count.

  It seemed to Sam and J.P. that they watched those headlights approaching for hours, even though it was only a matter of minutes.

  When the law enforcement and medical personnel arrived, one of the medics treated Sam’s wounded arm while a young sheriff’s deputy asked inane questions, filling out the requisite paperwork for a call like this.

  Sam and J.P. decided to wait until they were at the hospital and knew Raymond’s condition before calling their wives; they saw no need in upsetting them before that because they knew the wives wouldn’t be convinced they were out of danger until then.

  Chapter 58

  Sam’s phone rang while he was being treated, and he asked the deputy to answer it.

  The deputy stuttered and stammered as he said, “This guy says he’s the president of Texas and he has the president of the United States on the line, too! He wants to know if you need to call him back.”

  Sam shook his head and reached for the phone. “Hello, Marty.”

  The deputy was floored when he heard the old wounded cowboy calling the president by his first name. His jaw hung open like a busted gate.

  “Sam, how are you? I’ve been told you were wounded.”

  “A minor scrape, sir. I’ve had worse places on my eyeball and didn’t even blink. But seriously, Marty, Raymond is in bad shape. They flew him to the nearest hospital. Can you get him flown into Seton Medical? He needs the best care we can get him,” Sam pleaded.

  “Already taken care of, Sam. My own doctor is on the way there now, and he’ll fly back to Austin with Raymond as soon as he is stable. Hang on; President Barker wants to speak to you.”

  Sam waited, and then President Barker came on the line. “Mr. Waters, am I getting correct information when I’m told that ex-President Jackson has been killed and that Senator Mitchell has been seriously wounded?”

  “Yes, sir, that is correct,” Sam replied. “There is more, Mr. President. I’m afraid AG Smart is in bad shape, too. He is seriously burned and may not pull through. I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are fully informed about the details of all this. I took it upon myself to fill my daughter in on those details, all of them, as soon as I knew what was unfolding in Texas. I want you to know that you have my sympathy for you and your friends, and my deepest appreciation for what you have done. I’m sure President Kert, as well as all Texans, are proud of the way you men have conducted yourselves, and for the risks you have taken for your country. And, when I say ‘your country,’ please know that I mean Texas.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. You are a good friend to Texas, and we appreciate that.”

  The deputy was ushering Sam and J.P. toward his patrol car for the ride to the hospital as Sam said, “Mr. President, we are on our way to see how Raymond is doing. I’ll call you back when we get there.”

  The sheriff issued orders to secure the scene and insisted that no one was to move anything until the Texas Rangers arrived to take charge. It was clear that this was an international incident that could start a war if it wasn’t handled properly. Even if they weren’t immediately identifiable, the likelihood was that an ex-U.S. president and at least one U.S. senator and U.S. attorney general were among those dead and wounded bodies scattered across the field and parking lot.

  It was only in the light of the departing helicopter’s searchlight that they realized the moaning survivor was Senator Mitchell himself. He made sure the deputy knew that and, after the deputy searched the senator for weapons, Mitchell was loaded on another chopper getting ready to leave. The senator was worth far more to them alive than dead.

  They found out later that ex-President Jackson was the man they’d seen running across the parking lot in a ball of flame. He had apparently sought shelter behind the cover of the septic tank before it lit off and he had perished at Sam’s hand.

  When the Rangers arrived just after sun-up, they had eight FBI agents from the Austin office with them “as a courtesy.” None of them had ever seen anything like the scene on the ground there.

  A crater at least twenty feet wide and ten feet deep was where the septic tank had been, a charred and smoldering unrecognizable hulk was all that remained of a fourteen-passenger Eurocopter, and bodies were scattered across more than five thousand square yards of field and parking lot. Some of those bodies only had bullet wounds, but some were blasted apart or burned beyond recognition. Smoke was still rising from more than two dozen small fires that still smoldered.

  The stench of burnt flesh, jet fuel, and sewerage gases was overwhelming everywhere except the extreme upwind side of the parking lot. In fact, several of the FBI agents lost their breakfasts as they rushed to get “up close and personal” to the scene as soon as they left their own helicopter. Several were still wracked with nausea and dry heaves.

  While the Texas Rangers and the FBI searched for clues to put everything together, Pat, Sheila, Sam and J.P. were at the hospital in Alpine. Raymond was there as well, being stabilized for transport to Austin and a hospital with a first class trauma center. A helicopter from the local sheriff’s department was waiting to take them all to their destination, as a medical helicopter transported Raymond. Sheila would ride with Raymond.

  They waited only a few minutes, although it seemed like hours, before a doctor advised them that Raymond was ready to go and he was confident he would survive.

  They were soon on their way to Dell Seton Medical Center at the University of Texas in Austin. The medical chopper landed on the hospital’s helipad while the sheriff’s copter landed across th
e street at a helipad reserved for law enforcement.

  Marty and his wife Victoria, along with Pat’s husband Rick, were there ahead of them.

  “I was on the phone with President Barker when you called from Alpine, Sam,” Marty said. “We were talking about something that may very well tie all this together. It seems that our search for Senator Mitchell and the ex-president set off alarm bells around town.” Marty started pacing the room. “A young man fresh out of the Marine Corps approached the Capitol police station outside the White House and had some interesting news for us. The Capitol police in turn called the FBI, and this is what we know so far: almost two weeks ago, this young man and several others were contacted by a Mr. Beck.”

  Marty paused his pacing for a moment, then started up again. “It appears this is the same Mr. Beck who has been keeping company with Senator Mitchell for quite some time now. He said he wanted to recruit these young men for a job of the highest priority. After getting them all together in downtown D.C., he told them the job was to stop ‘this Texas secession nonsense.’ He played it up as being a super-patriotic mission to prevent any separation, and these young men went for it hook, line, and sinker as soon as they found out their ex-commander-in-chief was leading it. They were told they would be working through the CIA and everything was strictly top secret. In addition, they were told they would be going on a mission to take ‘several of the ringleaders of the Texas secession movement’ into custody, and that would restore order and tranquility to the Union.”

  Sam frowned. “So you think this affair may be part of that?”

  “It certainly sounds like it could be connected to me,” Marty replied. “Neither Mitchell nor Jackson would take something like this on themselves, but I can see them using it to eliminate witnesses against them. Of course, these young men would have to be eliminated as soon as the dirty work was done. They would know too much to be left alive to tell the tale, so I’m sure there was a plan to do away with them, probably an attempt to make it look like our guys killed them in cold blood.