Read Online Echo Six: Black Ops 8 - ISIS Killing Fields by Eric Meyer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eric Meyer
Tags: thriller, Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Mystery, War & Military, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, War, Men's Adventure, Thriller & Suspense
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how?”
“Those vehicles they gave us are falling apart. They’re not fit for purpose, Admiral.”
Brooks considered for a moments. “You have twelve men in your unit at present, is that correct?”
“Yes, Sir, we’re under strength right now.”
“You know the reason we’re up against it? Budget cuts.”
Talley grimaced. “Tell me something I don’t know. We’ve been driving the result of the budget cuts around the desert. It’s no way to fight a war, driving vehicles fit for the scrapyard.”
“What do you need?”
“Something fast, highly mobile, go anywhere, and able to mount a heavy machine gun. You want us to seek out and destroy the enemy, we need the tools to do the job.”
The Admiral stared back at him. “It sounds like you have it all worked out. As it happens, I can help you. An American company has been pushing me to take three of their vehicles for NATO evaluation, and these were sent out for another unit. I don’t suppose you’d like to take a look at them first.”
“What are they, APCs? We need something light and fast, Sir?”
“Then that’s what you’ll get, Mister. Something light and fast, and well-enough armed to get you in and out of trouble before they have time to pull up their underpants, or whatever it is these guys wear under those robes.”
“We’re not sure they wear anything, Admiral.”
He stared at him. “You’re kidding me, surely?" He shrugged, "Whatever. Come with me. Let’s go take a look.”
“Come with you where, Sir?”
“Around back. This stuff was brought here, intended for Charlie Platoon, but they’re not here. See what you think.”
Chapter Two
Mezze Air Base, Outside Damascus, Syria
Captain Yuri Semyonov stepped outside his quarters and sighed as he surveyed the chaos. He'd managed little more than three hours rest after a night bombing raid against hostile positions. ISIS, Free Syrian Army, they never told him the truth. Many things had changed in Russia, but transparency wasn't one of them. Not that he cared. They were all the same, these Muslims. He was too young to have taken part in the Afghan debacle, but Chechnya was different. Muslims terrorizing the population with shootings, bombings, and kidnapping children, then there were the Shaheeds. Who in Chechnya hadn't lost someone, even a distant friend or relative, to the crazed fanatics?
He shuddered, was there any end to the killing? Would anything satisfy these butchers other than a dictatorship of the Caliph? Dictatorship, a word to remind any Russian of the terrible times the nation had suffered under Joseph Stalin. Yet these people would never learn. Not until some bloodthirsty warlord or Mullah had clawed his way to the top over a mountain of bodies. Followed by the inevitable declaration, he was the new supreme leader, the appointed of Allah himself.
Then there were the Russian ground troops. He suppressed another shudder. Putin had recruited these men from those who'd fought in Ukraine. Men who'd used extremes of savagery to subdue the Ukrainians, measures that included murder, rape, and even bringing down a civilian airliner with a full complement of passengers. Now they were here, a company of a hundred men, including thieves, drunkards, rapists, and murderers. Only yesterday, the company commander, a Major Rostov, had insisted his squadron of SU-25 ground attack fighter-bombers fly a suppression mission for him, to devastate a rebel held area outside Palmyra. An area that they'd ordered the Major to capture to prevent the insurgents establishing a forward base.
Captain Semyonov refused. The area in question contained a large number of civilians, including a school and a medical center. Rostov had stomped away, angry and muttering threats. Too bad, he hadn't signed up to commit a war crime. He started walking toward the flight line, the row of six Sukhoi SU-25s, and the jeep almost ran him down as it screeched to a stop. The man who jumped out was Major
“Those vehicles they gave us are falling apart. They’re not fit for purpose, Admiral.”
Brooks considered for a moments. “You have twelve men in your unit at present, is that correct?”
“Yes, Sir, we’re under strength right now.”
“You know the reason we’re up against it? Budget cuts.”
Talley grimaced. “Tell me something I don’t know. We’ve been driving the result of the budget cuts around the desert. It’s no way to fight a war, driving vehicles fit for the scrapyard.”
“What do you need?”
“Something fast, highly mobile, go anywhere, and able to mount a heavy machine gun. You want us to seek out and destroy the enemy, we need the tools to do the job.”
The Admiral stared back at him. “It sounds like you have it all worked out. As it happens, I can help you. An American company has been pushing me to take three of their vehicles for NATO evaluation, and these were sent out for another unit. I don’t suppose you’d like to take a look at them first.”
“What are they, APCs? We need something light and fast, Sir?”
“Then that’s what you’ll get, Mister. Something light and fast, and well-enough armed to get you in and out of trouble before they have time to pull up their underpants, or whatever it is these guys wear under those robes.”
“We’re not sure they wear anything, Admiral.”
He stared at him. “You’re kidding me, surely?" He shrugged, "Whatever. Come with me. Let’s go take a look.”
“Come with you where, Sir?”
“Around back. This stuff was brought here, intended for Charlie Platoon, but they’re not here. See what you think.”
Chapter Two
Mezze Air Base, Outside Damascus, Syria
Captain Yuri Semyonov stepped outside his quarters and sighed as he surveyed the chaos. He'd managed little more than three hours rest after a night bombing raid against hostile positions. ISIS, Free Syrian Army, they never told him the truth. Many things had changed in Russia, but transparency wasn't one of them. Not that he cared. They were all the same, these Muslims. He was too young to have taken part in the Afghan debacle, but Chechnya was different. Muslims terrorizing the population with shootings, bombings, and kidnapping children, then there were the Shaheeds. Who in Chechnya hadn't lost someone, even a distant friend or relative, to the crazed fanatics?
He shuddered, was there any end to the killing? Would anything satisfy these butchers other than a dictatorship of the Caliph? Dictatorship, a word to remind any Russian of the terrible times the nation had suffered under Joseph Stalin. Yet these people would never learn. Not until some bloodthirsty warlord or Mullah had clawed his way to the top over a mountain of bodies. Followed by the inevitable declaration, he was the new supreme leader, the appointed of Allah himself.
Then there were the Russian ground troops. He suppressed another shudder. Putin had recruited these men from those who'd fought in Ukraine. Men who'd used extremes of savagery to subdue the Ukrainians, measures that included murder, rape, and even bringing down a civilian airliner with a full complement of passengers. Now they were here, a company of a hundred men, including thieves, drunkards, rapists, and murderers. Only yesterday, the company commander, a Major Rostov, had insisted his squadron of SU-25 ground attack fighter-bombers fly a suppression mission for him, to devastate a rebel held area outside Palmyra. An area that they'd ordered the Major to capture to prevent the insurgents establishing a forward base.
Captain Semyonov refused. The area in question contained a large number of civilians, including a school and a medical center. Rostov had stomped away, angry and muttering threats. Too bad, he hadn't signed up to commit a war crime. He started walking toward the flight line, the row of six Sukhoi SU-25s, and the jeep almost ran him down as it screeched to a stop. The man who jumped out was Major
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