Apache Dawn, - [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗
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Chad stared right back. He was done worrying about what anyone else thought. He was ready to fight. Something had stirred inside him when he saw the Russians murder those people in town, something angry.
“Well,” sighed one of the Apache pilots, “we got enough fuel to give you one or two sorties, at least. Then we fly back up here and scuttle the birds.”
Captain Alston nodded. “That could work. We need a distraction to get our assault team into town.”
“Our last three Apaches unloading on their asses would be a pretty damn good distraction,” said the female pilot. She high-fived the man next to her.
Captain Alston looked at Garza and Tuck. They nodded. He turned back to the pilots. “Good. You come in from the north and west; we’ll make our way to the southern end of town.” He scratched a crude map of the town on the dirt floor of the cave. “Once you start tearing into them, we’ll make our move, here,” he said, pointing at the map. “Chalmers Avenue. The main north-south road through town.”
“Tuck,” he said, pointing his stick at the sniper, “you provide overwatch. Find a suitable hill outside town to the west and bring the pain.”
The sniper grinned. Chad felt cold. The man didn’t say much. That smile, though. It wasn’t natural. Chad watched as he picked up his huge sniper rifle and patted it affectionately. The menacing black gun looked more like a shoulder-fired cannon than a rifle.
“I got plenty of ammo for Clarice here, sir. We’ll make ‘em squeal.”
Captain Alston nodded. “Good. Get your BFG barking and provide cover for us as we work through town. I’m betting their HQ is in City Hall. That’s where the majority of their foot mobiles seem concentrated.”
Denny raised a hand. “BFG?”
“Big Fucking Gun,” replied Zuka with a knowing wink. The others chuckled. He said in a poor imitation of Chad’s Texas drawl, “Tuck’s got him a real popgun.”
“Fifty-cal EXACTO sniper rifle. Self-guided rounds,” said Tuck. He pulled the biggest bullet Chad had ever seen from a pouch on his combat vest and held it up. It was nearly five-and-a-half inches long. “There’s a little camera in there, and some tiny little fins. I fire it, then move to the next target. This little baby acts like a smart-bomb, cutting through wind and staying on target. If someone ducks, it sees that and moves to intercept. And she can shave a flea’s ass from a mile and a half away.”
“He ain’t lying,” added Garza. “These Russian puntos have no idea what’s about to drop on their heads.”
“There’s only a handful of us…” Denny said, shaking his head, “and so many of them…”
“Seems like fair odds to me,” said Captain Alston. He racked the slide of his pistol, checked the chamber, then reholstered with authority.
“Hooah!” bellowed the Rangers.
Chad grinned at a confused-looking Denny. “I know, I know. Crazy, right?” Chad laughed with the Rangers. “Trust me,” he said, slapping his fellow civilian on the shoulder, “be glad they’re on our side!”
El Segundo, California
Los Angeles Air Force Base
“No one fires until I do. Am I CFB?”
“Hooyah, Master Chief,” said a chorus of rough voices.
“I want leg shots if you got ‘em, otherwise, take ‘em down any way possible. On three…” Cooper said, his right fist held up in the air. “One…” He scanned the area in front of him and saw that his team was indeed watching him count, grim-faced and ready.
“Two…” He spoke louder now, sure that the airmen on the other side of the battered door knew what was coming. He wanted them to think about what was about to happen.
“Three!” His fist came down and gripped his rifle. He saw Jax nod and swing open the big door to their little sanctuary. As the door continued past him, he dropped to a knee and swung his rifle up.
Cooper took a step forward and his laser sight lit up a man standing in the middle of the doorway with a confused look on his face, a service pistol in his hand. He was short and plump—something Cooper never agreed with in a military man—and had a pinched face that immediately led Cooper to think he was a rat.
“You men, drop your weapons and surrender!” the rat barked.
Cooper took another step forward without hesitation and moved the laser dot from the man’s chest up his body to rest on the center of his head. He saw three other dots appear and light up the bulbous nose that roosted on the pompous man’s face. Cooper shot a glance at the man’s uniform and quickly noticed the rat was wearing an officer’s uniform—a colonel, no less.
“Colonel, I don’t know who the hell you are but if you don't drop your weapon, I’m going to drop you.”
The man smiled, despite the perspiration on his dome-like forehead, more of a leer than anything. He spoke over his shoulder down the hallway, “Captain, bring your men up and take these traitors into custody. If any of them resist, shoot them.”
“Sir,” answered an uncertain voice from the hallway, “I don’t think—”
“That’s right, you don’t think! Now carry out my orders or I’ll have you arrested for aiding and abetting known terrorists and traitors!”
“This is ridiculous, sir! The UCMJ doesn’t give you blanket authority…”
Good. Someone out there has half a brain…
Cooper saw his moment to avoid bloodshed. “The last thing in the world I want to do is shoot Americans. We got more than enough NKors to shoot topside.” He spoke louder now. “But I swear to you by all things good and holy, any man who raises a rifle at me or my team or anyone in the room behind me is a dead man. Colonel, before you open your mouth to argue, save yourself the breath—I don’t care what you have to say if it’s not ‘affirmative.’”
The colonel put on his constipation-smile again. He half turned his head and spoke over his shoulder, eyes never leaving Cooper’s. “Ignore his threat, men; he’s a coward and he’s bluffing. Captain, do your duty!”
“Sir…” said the man behind the colonel, with a pained expression on his face. Cooper noted his hands were nowhere near his service pistol.
More hesitation. That’s good. Come on, man, see through this guy.
“Dammit! This is insubordination! Arol, you are relieved of your command! Thompson!” the colonel said, now looking more like a sweating pig than a rat.
“Sir!” barked a much more confident-sounding voice from down the hallway.
“Get your ass up here. You’re in charge of the detachment now. Assign someone to escort Captain Arol to the brig.”
“Yes, sir! You and you, get him out of here. You three, with me.”
Cooper could hear footsteps in the hallway and a scuffle as Captain Arol struggled with his escort. “Get your hands off—” A choked-off grunt signaled the end of gentle persuasion tactics. “Son of a—”
A loud smack followed by a grunt signaled the good captain was not going quietly. Cooper grinned, never taking his eyes off the face of the colonel.
Some solid grunts, a few more punches or kicks from the airmen and the captain gave up with a whooshing sound when his body hit the floor. There were some more muttered curses, a few last thumps, and then the sound of people dragging something heavy across the linoleum floor down the corridor. Finally, he heard the echo of laughter.
“The rest of you men, watch closely. I’ll show you how to handle traitors—”
“Don’t do it,” Cooper warned. “You will lose. Sir.”
“Fuck you,” spat the colonel. “You’re a disgrace to this country. The President himself told me. All of you are.” He started to raise his pistol. It got six inches up before his head distorted into a mass of red-and-gray mist. Cooper had already swiveled to target the next-closest man before the thunder of his first shot left the hallway.
Jax calmly entered the hallway and sighted-in on the next airman before the body of Colonel Molton hit the ground in a spray of blood. Cooper
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