The Pale: Volume One, Jacob Long [best beach reads TXT] 📗

Adam and Benito’s morning alarm sounded harshly before the sun even had a chance to rise over the mountains of Afghanistan. Groggy and anxious, the two soldiers nevertheless climbed out of bed with little hesitation. The inherent seriousness of the day’s projected events motivated them with grave purpose. In short order, Adam and Benito emerged from their housing unit clad in the battle dress of the modern soldier: combat helmets, ballistic eye protection, improved outer tactical vests, knee and elbow pads, and pouches for everything from first-aid kits to weapons magazines. On their backs were small digital pattern assault packs holding the minimum supplies for a short-range mission. They carried their M4 carbine assault rifles as they walked to the designated formation area.

The squall from the previous night had completely died down. In its absence, the wind only blew a calm, chill breeze through the base. Other infantrymen from the soldiers’ platoon could be seen funneling toward the formation area. A half moon shone brightly amid a sea of twinkling stars, uninterrupted by cloud or shade.

After trundling through the loose sand for some minutes, the two soldiers came upon the formation. Soldiers milled about without form, but their bags had been lined up in a box shape with stout rifles leaned against them to keep the muzzles out of the sand. Adam and Benito piled their equipment with the rest of their comrades and then joined in on their idle conversation. So much about the Army involves just waiting for enough time to pass.

Without much of a delay, someone called for the soldiers to fall in on their gear, and a roll call was performed to ensure accountability of all the troops. No one was missing. Everyone was aware of the seriousness of the situation. Another lull passed while the soldiers stood by their gear, and Adam became aware of all the people who had surrounded him. More than just the other infantrymen, another neat formation had formed off to the side, with nearly as many soldiers. These other men wore the distinctive “Ranger” tab above their unit crest. Adam had qualified to jump out of a plane in his time, but these guys had taken it further. Their demeanor was surprisingly similar to that of his own platoon. He’d never seen a group of rangers altogether like that before, but he’d expected them to be more taut, quiet, and serious, like their heads went somewhere else. This did not appear to be the case.

On top of the rangers and standard infantry, there were even more men. This third group had a few more years on the earth in comparison. They took no formation whatsoever, and instead stood around looking very relaxed. Each of their ranks denoted them as officers and warrant officers of varying degree. Helicopter pilots, Adam decided. This guy they were after, Adam had only gotten the warning order earlier, but for some reason, his house was getting smashed on, up close and personal.

A master sergeant stepped outside of the hangar nearest the gathering of soldiers. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Mission brief, inside!”

Arduously, everyone milling around made their way, single file, through the entrance adjacent to the giant rolling door that dominated one end of the hangar. Inside was devoid of any aircraft. Only two rows of tables, one on either side of the building, still stood. They provided support for forms, ruggedized computers, and many other items, most of which Adam had not been taught to use. At the far end of the hangar, another table had been placed with a projector resting on top. It cast the image of the impending presentation’s title over the bare wall: “Operation Lone Prairie.”

Adam shook his head. Where did they get these names from?

“Make it tight!” the master sergeant shouted. “Make it tight! We’re burning daylight.”

Adam heard Alvarez imitate the sound of scratching a vinyl record behind him. It made him smile.

There were no chairs. The soldiers in front just started sitting cross-legged on the floor. Adam was about to follow suit when someone shouted, “Attention!” Adam didn’t even see who had entered the room, but he stood rigid, just as he had been conditioned to. Adam knew that there was already at least one colonel in the room, which meant for someone to call attention.

“Relax, everybody,” the incoming general said in a silvery old voice.

Adam did as he was told and then turned around to gaze upon the general. He’d seen generals up close before, but discovering a new one never ceased to be a novelty. This particular one was surprisingly short. He wasn’t just an old white guy quite yet, appearing perhaps to be in his late forties or early fifties. He hid male-pattern baldness by shaving his head to a chrome-dome sheen. Two-stars on his chest put him in charge of the entire division, yet he took time out to attend that mission brief. No doubt it was under his authority that the Army rangers and all of these helicopters became involved too. Hopefully the mission brief would enlighten Adam as to why it was so important.

The general walked silently to the front of the room, offering a quick smile and nod to the soldiers staring as he passed. “How’s everyone doing this morning?” he asked before he reached his destination.

The crowd responded with a loud “Hooah!” Except Adam, of course. He didn’t usually participate in being loud just to impress a high-ranking officer. He had no doubt he wasn’t going to appreciate the patronizing introductory speech the general would inevitably give either.

“That’s good. It’s good to see that you guys are so motivated this early in the morning. But I didn’t expect anything less. Nothing but heartbreakers and life-takers in this formation, am I right?”

“Hooah!”

“And the drone guys!” one of the rangers put in. This elicited a small chuckle from the group.

The general smirked and shrugged. “That’s right. The UAV guys are going to be watching every inch so no target escapes our net. Eye in the sky!” he finished with a flourish.

“Hooah!” the dozen or so drone operators in the room sounded off.

Adam rubbed his forehead. The amount of “hooah” in the room could give anyone a headache, and it would only get worse. The general proceeded to list off all the other groups in the room. Each of them responded with “Hooah”—the Apache and Blackhawk pilots, the rangers, the Stryker troops, and finally the regular infantry.

The general bobbed his head in approval. “That’s some good motivation, and we’re going to need every ounce of it. Today’s operation is a special one. You all got the WARNO, and you know that we are going after an HVT on his home turf. We are taking the fight right to him, and we want him alive. This operation is high visibility. The media already has its eye on Mr. El-Hashem because of his lucrative human trafficking scheme that he runs out of the compound. Well, Captain Donowitz will be able to tell you more, but we cannot afford to screw this up. All right? I have no doubt that we have the right men assembled here for the job. I don’t want to talk all morning. You guys have work to do, so I would like to hand it over to your battle captain for this operation, Captain Donowitz. Good luck, Godspeed. Light, silent, and deadly.”

“And smelly,” Alvarez muttered.

The general moved away from the front table with a few more “Hooahs” in his wake. The captain walked up and shook his hand as they exchanged some platitudes Adam couldn’t hear. The general then continued on his way out of the building, and the captain took his place for the full mission brief. Adam couldn’t wait.

The captain was a broad-shouldered black man, also with a shaven head, who appeared to not have even reached his mid-thirties yet, but the shape he was in, it could have just been hard to tell. He held a short stack of papers in one hand. “All right, good morning, light fighters.”

“Hooah” again.

“All right, hooah, hooah. This is the mission brief for Operation Lone Prairie. Its classification is Secret, and the risk level has been approved by the division commander, who you just saw, obviously.” Like most soldiers giving a presentation, Captain Donowitz fidgeted while speaking. “Next slide, please.”

The soldier operating the computer advanced the image, and the title was replaced by a short paragraph, which the captain read nearly verbatim.

“Operation Lone Prairie is a joint effort, clandestine in nature, between the Seventh Infantry Division and the Second Ranger Battalion, with other supporting units. The mission is to, using simultaneous air, ground, and reconnaissance forces, breach the enemy compound and detain the high value target. Next slide, please.”

Once again, the presentation advanced, switching to a picture of a man and a short profile. The man was Middle Eastern, slight of build, in his mid-thirties, and wearing a plain taqiyah atop his head. A few weeks’ worth of beard growth carpeted his cheeks. The picture had been taken at some sort of gathering. Many more people, perhaps thousands, stood in the back ground, all facing the same direction.

“Our target,” the captain continued, “Harun El-Hashem, is a known Taliban sympathizer and the leader of the Scorched Sand, a criminal organization very active in the region. It is suspected that they have been supplying the Taliban in the region with a majority of their small weapons, as well as maintaining operations smuggling large quantities of opium and human trafficking. It’s this link that we are trying to exploit.” The captain began pacing from side to side in front of the presentation and talking with his hands. “Hashem is officially a high-level target. We want him brought in for interrogation, which means that you need to familiarize yourselves with this face. We want him alive. Now, luckily, we know right where he is. Next slide, please.”

The slide advanced to a top-down satellite image of a walled compound. Inside the walls were eight smaller buildings, about the size of duplexes, and one very large house at the far end. The large house was enormous, probably mansion-sized, and not nearly as decrepit as the others. Adam surmised that the smaller buildings were for workers or working. Two elongated buildings looked like they could be barracks, and the mansion, of course, was for El-Hashem and his buddies to swap stories, drugs, and people, too, apparently. Desert still dominated the ground inside the compound, but an area in the corner appeared to be tilled and was growing vegetation, either grass or perhaps farming.

“This is Hashem’s compound outside of the town of Kohsān,” the captain continued. “Because we are trying to avoid a conflict altogether, the first step will be surrounding the compound on all sides as fast as we can. We give Hashem no escape and no options, and hopefully, he will just surrender.” There the captain looked at his group and shrugged. “We’ll see. Anyway, in the event that he does not surrender, our objective will be the swift neutralization of his guards, breach and clear on all the buildings, and finally, securing Hashem. It’s important to remember that it’s not just bad guys in there. These other buildings surrounding the mansion are where Hashem keeps workers from the nearby town. These people are likely to be unarmed, and beyond that, their only allegiance to Hashem is a reliance on the money he pays them, and it’s probably not much. There may also be slaves on the property. Hashem is known to traffic in persons. These are girls and women, some of them probably no more than teenagers, or God help me, younger, so the name of the game here is PID. Know exactly what it is you’re aiming at. The media has already done a profile on Hashem and his activities. The world knows who this guy is, and once word is out about this operation, we’ll be under the microscope. So I remind you, keep the collateral damage to an absolute minimum, and we may come out of this heroes yet.”

The captain used a laser pointer to circle areas along the walls of the pictured compound. “Each element will have a specific compartmentalized task and direction of approach. Seventh I-D will cover most sides. The rangers, as well as a contingent of the infantry, will approach from the southeast, the area closest to the mansion. The rangers will breach the mansion to engage any hostiles and search for the target, while the rest of the element pulls security outside. This is both to watch the rangers’ backs and also to prevent Hashem from attempting an escape. Inside the mansion is likely