Read Online 'A' for Argonaut by Michael J. Stedman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael J. Stedman
Ads: Link
hate. He took her arm and forced her into his waiting vehicle. Resigned, helpless, she entered the Humvee.
Chapter 9
Nine
Fort Bragg, Special Operations Command
M aran sat at the defense table in the courtroom at the Army’s Special Operations Command at Fort Bragg. It was just a week since his release from the hospital.
In his hand, he held his Airborne maroon beret adorned with the SOCOM crest. The Army had wasted no time. They charged him with multiple violations against the Uniform Code of Military Justice. His lawyer, an expert on the fraternal code of the military tribunal system had succeeded in getting the hearing classified to a top secret level. No one at the Pentagon wanted to risk their futures by embarrassing the White House with such a mission failure, worse than President Carter’s 1979 Iran hostage crisis. The attorney also rescued Maran from a negligent homicide charge and a possible death sentence that would have exposed the case to public scrutiny, including closely-held TTP, classified Techniques, Tactics, and Procedures methods training.
The hearing was held by a military tribunal comprised of three general grade warfighters.
Maran’s unit, the Special Action Warfighter Command, or SAWC, was known officially as the “Center for Information Control—Army Signals Systems.” Its acronym—CIC-ASS—was a big joke for the SAWs, as the unit members called themselves secretly. For years, it had been clear that the military needed its own special action force. The Pentagon was tired of relying on the CIA. They had botched too many rescue missions. SAWC was the Army’s own black ops element, secret from everyone outside the tightly controlled “Need to Know” loop. Command, control, communications and intel—C3I—all took place from the isolated, self-contained 1200-acre subdivision at Fort Bragg. The area was cordoned off with access-controlled signals equipment, CCTV, and electrified razor wire, off-limits to all but the SAWs.
The arrangement satisfied White House demands for “plausible deniability,” which meant that Maran was on his own. He knew it and he knew he would prepare for it, adjust his plans, adapt— Victoriae !
A court officer read the charges.
“In that Lieutenant Colonel Mack Maran, while commanding a mission code-named Taxi Home under Task Force 9909, Special Action Warfare Command of the Special Operations Command Forces, did order the men under his command to advance on enemy positions in a point one-hundred-twenty miles East of Cabinda, Angola, in territory owned by the sovereign nation of the Democratic Republic of Congo on or about December 23rd, in violation of a lawful order from Major General Randy Baltimore, to wit: Abort the mission and withdraw your men to be evacuated on the beach below the oil installations at Cabinda.
“Also that Colonel Maran responded to that order in that locale on that day in a manner unbecoming an officer, to wit: he willfully and with criminal negligence terminated the call thereby countermanding a direct order under combat conditions. Furthermore, Major General Baltimore, Director of Counterterrorism at the OPP will testify that Colonel Maran, apparently unaware that the line was still open responded to his direct order: ‘You can go and fuck yourself. We won’t need choppers until we rescue those hostages.’”
I thought the radio was off, Maran thought to himself.
Maran gripped the wooden rail, stood as tall as he could. It was clear that the effort took all his strength. Outside, through a dirty wall-to-ceiling window on the south side of the security compound, he could see a fine drizzle of rain just beginning to drift down from a graying sky.
Panel Chief General Fahnestock sat at the center of the board. He looked to Maran like a giant redwood that could withstand a tornado. His tailored Class A Blues tunic displayed the Congressional Medal of Honor and he ruled the Army’s European
Chapter 9
Nine
Fort Bragg, Special Operations Command
M aran sat at the defense table in the courtroom at the Army’s Special Operations Command at Fort Bragg. It was just a week since his release from the hospital.
In his hand, he held his Airborne maroon beret adorned with the SOCOM crest. The Army had wasted no time. They charged him with multiple violations against the Uniform Code of Military Justice. His lawyer, an expert on the fraternal code of the military tribunal system had succeeded in getting the hearing classified to a top secret level. No one at the Pentagon wanted to risk their futures by embarrassing the White House with such a mission failure, worse than President Carter’s 1979 Iran hostage crisis. The attorney also rescued Maran from a negligent homicide charge and a possible death sentence that would have exposed the case to public scrutiny, including closely-held TTP, classified Techniques, Tactics, and Procedures methods training.
The hearing was held by a military tribunal comprised of three general grade warfighters.
Maran’s unit, the Special Action Warfighter Command, or SAWC, was known officially as the “Center for Information Control—Army Signals Systems.” Its acronym—CIC-ASS—was a big joke for the SAWs, as the unit members called themselves secretly. For years, it had been clear that the military needed its own special action force. The Pentagon was tired of relying on the CIA. They had botched too many rescue missions. SAWC was the Army’s own black ops element, secret from everyone outside the tightly controlled “Need to Know” loop. Command, control, communications and intel—C3I—all took place from the isolated, self-contained 1200-acre subdivision at Fort Bragg. The area was cordoned off with access-controlled signals equipment, CCTV, and electrified razor wire, off-limits to all but the SAWs.
The arrangement satisfied White House demands for “plausible deniability,” which meant that Maran was on his own. He knew it and he knew he would prepare for it, adjust his plans, adapt— Victoriae !
A court officer read the charges.
“In that Lieutenant Colonel Mack Maran, while commanding a mission code-named Taxi Home under Task Force 9909, Special Action Warfare Command of the Special Operations Command Forces, did order the men under his command to advance on enemy positions in a point one-hundred-twenty miles East of Cabinda, Angola, in territory owned by the sovereign nation of the Democratic Republic of Congo on or about December 23rd, in violation of a lawful order from Major General Randy Baltimore, to wit: Abort the mission and withdraw your men to be evacuated on the beach below the oil installations at Cabinda.
“Also that Colonel Maran responded to that order in that locale on that day in a manner unbecoming an officer, to wit: he willfully and with criminal negligence terminated the call thereby countermanding a direct order under combat conditions. Furthermore, Major General Baltimore, Director of Counterterrorism at the OPP will testify that Colonel Maran, apparently unaware that the line was still open responded to his direct order: ‘You can go and fuck yourself. We won’t need choppers until we rescue those hostages.’”
I thought the radio was off, Maran thought to himself.
Maran gripped the wooden rail, stood as tall as he could. It was clear that the effort took all his strength. Outside, through a dirty wall-to-ceiling window on the south side of the security compound, he could see a fine drizzle of rain just beginning to drift down from a graying sky.
Panel Chief General Fahnestock sat at the center of the board. He looked to Maran like a giant redwood that could withstand a tornado. His tailored Class A Blues tunic displayed the Congressional Medal of Honor and he ruled the Army’s European
Similar Books
