Read Online Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I by R A Peters - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: R A Peters
Tags: thriller, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Military, War & Military, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Political, Conspiracies, Men's Adventure, Terrorism, Thrillers & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, Spies & Politics, Assassinations, Pulp
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hell, over! I’m telling you, sir, it’s a clusterfuck back here. The Guard’s got a dozen different units running around, each thinking they’re in charge. With some heavy weapons to hold the Brads at arm’s length, hell, they’ll probably fold with one big push. We could, at a minimum, break contact pretty easily. Maybe steal some civilian cars in town. It’s only about an hour drive till the border–”
Anderson cut the phone off and stood up. He dropped his K-Pod and shed his IBA. The cooling kiss of only warm air wafting over his heated, sweat soaked body made him sigh. Florida winters were always mild, but this year was insane.
“It’s over, gentlemen. Collect your units’ ammo and stack arms. Battalion formation here in 10 minutes. I still want every sensitive item accounted for.”
Everyone was on their feet now, but all the rest still in their battle rattle. The XO began shaking, his hand unconsciously dropping to his sidearm.
“Robert, I can’t believe you’re betraying us as well. I, ah, I think we need to discuss your ability to retain competent command.”
The captains moved to the colonel’s side. The first sergeants reached some private agreement with a shared glance and took a step backwards. The lieutenants uniformly had a deer-in-the-headlights look.
By his reserved standards, the colonel lost control. “Major, is it even necessary to point out how out of fucking line you are? You have just relieved yourself of your duties.” He drew his own sidearm, but aimed at the ground. “Now hand over your weapon or I’ll take your rank too!”
The oldest first sergeant nodded at the other enlisted and stood at parade rest. “Sir, I have a suggestion. How about letting us slip out in small groups? If you go parlay with them, for just a little bit longer…I mean it’s still half-dark. Like the sergeant major said, they’re disorganized. The officers and senior NCO’s will, of course, stay behind and keep up the masquerade while the rest of the men break contact by squads. I think we could get most of the boys out that way.” He strived for the missing words. “That would be the most honorable compromise, sir.”
Like a true professional, he always listened to a NCO’s advice, but like a true officer, he then ignored it.
“We’ve had enough of this every man for himself shit tonight. We fight as a unit, we die as a unit and, in this case, we will survive as a unit.” He raised his sidearm to the low ready. “If anyone has a problem with that, we can begin summary field Court Martials!”
The XO flipped open his holster cover unnoticed, or so he thought. The colonel’s 9mm flashed dramatically straight up. His warning shot was almost anti-climactic. Whether it was the therapeutic effects of letting off rounds or just impotent rage, he couldn’t stop there. He let off three more shots into the air.
*
Leaning over the engine block of a utility Humvee blocking the road, a righteously pissed off young Florida Guardsman jumped at the sound of gunfire. No official word had come down yet, but he heard from a medic buddy that his cousin died fighting at the AHA. It was bad luck for everyone that he was just moving on to the anger phase of grieving when shots rang out from somewhere over at the airstrip.
He didn’t care enough to bother telling the difference between an M16 and a pistol. Nor did he touch the radio or wait for an order. He ripped off a solid 15-round Rambo style burst from his SAW, more or less in the general direction of the sound.
Two hundred meters away, a federal paratrooper lying in a shallow, hasty foxhole answered the wildly far-off shots with a perfectly placed grenade from his M320 grenade launcher. Guided by the small laser range finder attached to it, he dropped a range perfect shot right over the truck’s hood. The 25mm flechette grenade popped barely two feet in front of the target’s face. The guardsman’s battle buddy didn’t have a chance to
Anderson cut the phone off and stood up. He dropped his K-Pod and shed his IBA. The cooling kiss of only warm air wafting over his heated, sweat soaked body made him sigh. Florida winters were always mild, but this year was insane.
“It’s over, gentlemen. Collect your units’ ammo and stack arms. Battalion formation here in 10 minutes. I still want every sensitive item accounted for.”
Everyone was on their feet now, but all the rest still in their battle rattle. The XO began shaking, his hand unconsciously dropping to his sidearm.
“Robert, I can’t believe you’re betraying us as well. I, ah, I think we need to discuss your ability to retain competent command.”
The captains moved to the colonel’s side. The first sergeants reached some private agreement with a shared glance and took a step backwards. The lieutenants uniformly had a deer-in-the-headlights look.
By his reserved standards, the colonel lost control. “Major, is it even necessary to point out how out of fucking line you are? You have just relieved yourself of your duties.” He drew his own sidearm, but aimed at the ground. “Now hand over your weapon or I’ll take your rank too!”
The oldest first sergeant nodded at the other enlisted and stood at parade rest. “Sir, I have a suggestion. How about letting us slip out in small groups? If you go parlay with them, for just a little bit longer…I mean it’s still half-dark. Like the sergeant major said, they’re disorganized. The officers and senior NCO’s will, of course, stay behind and keep up the masquerade while the rest of the men break contact by squads. I think we could get most of the boys out that way.” He strived for the missing words. “That would be the most honorable compromise, sir.”
Like a true professional, he always listened to a NCO’s advice, but like a true officer, he then ignored it.
“We’ve had enough of this every man for himself shit tonight. We fight as a unit, we die as a unit and, in this case, we will survive as a unit.” He raised his sidearm to the low ready. “If anyone has a problem with that, we can begin summary field Court Martials!”
The XO flipped open his holster cover unnoticed, or so he thought. The colonel’s 9mm flashed dramatically straight up. His warning shot was almost anti-climactic. Whether it was the therapeutic effects of letting off rounds or just impotent rage, he couldn’t stop there. He let off three more shots into the air.
*
Leaning over the engine block of a utility Humvee blocking the road, a righteously pissed off young Florida Guardsman jumped at the sound of gunfire. No official word had come down yet, but he heard from a medic buddy that his cousin died fighting at the AHA. It was bad luck for everyone that he was just moving on to the anger phase of grieving when shots rang out from somewhere over at the airstrip.
He didn’t care enough to bother telling the difference between an M16 and a pistol. Nor did he touch the radio or wait for an order. He ripped off a solid 15-round Rambo style burst from his SAW, more or less in the general direction of the sound.
Two hundred meters away, a federal paratrooper lying in a shallow, hasty foxhole answered the wildly far-off shots with a perfectly placed grenade from his M320 grenade launcher. Guided by the small laser range finder attached to it, he dropped a range perfect shot right over the truck’s hood. The 25mm flechette grenade popped barely two feet in front of the target’s face. The guardsman’s battle buddy didn’t have a chance to
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