Apache Dawn, - [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗
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“Son, we took a beating on the day it all went down. We’ve got members of the other teams spread all over the globe. For right now, you’re Top-Hat stateside, if you want the job.”
Cooper came to attention. “I’ll do it, till you find someone better—but I don’t need a promotion, Admiral.” He tried to hand the box back.
The Admiral smiled at him. “Son, that right there is exactly why you’re getting the promotion. If we’re going to have to refill the officer corps, I want it to be filled with men like you.” After a moment, he said, “I understand Charles Marshal was due to be promoted…”
“I was about to be drummed out, sir,” said Cooper. “Charlie was next in line—”
“Belay that. He’s now your Master Chief. I’ve got Silver Stars for the rest of your team, as well as a presidential citation.”
Cooper frowned. “Sir, just point me in the direction of the armory.”
The Admiral shook Cooper’s hand again and smiled. “I know you don’t want all the attention, Lieutenant. That proves I was right in my decision, though. Do us proud, son. Good hunting.”
The Admiral saluted, then left.
Jax all but tackled Cooper. “Lieutenant! What the hell is this world coming to? Next thing you know, they’ll be giving me a gun and telling me to go shoot people!”
Charlie offered a wan smile and shook hands with Cooper. “Congratulations, sir.”
“Congrats yourself, Chief,” said Cooper with a smile.
“Master Chief! Hooyah!” hooted Jax as he shook hands with Charlie.
“Well, now that this little love fest is over, can we go get some guns? I feel the need to blow some shit up,” quipped Mike, arms crossed.
The smile faded from Cooper’s face. “Beaver’s right. Let’s get our heads straight,” he said, looking at Charlie. “We’re fixin’ to jump into enemy territory, boys.”
Cooper glanced at the map as the remnants of his team filed out, heading for the armory. Frowning, he stared at Boston on the map with angry, red markers and the German flag. Suddenly, he realized that he and Brenda were alone in the room. His heart raced.
This is so screwed up.
Before he could open his mouth and make a witty comment about the awkwardness of the situation, she leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. He could smell a faint bouquet that reminded him of honeydew melons.
“That was for getting us—me—out of Los Angeles.”
Cooper felt warmth creep up his neck. Then she put a hand on either side of his face and pulled his head down to plant a long, tender kiss on his lips.
“And that’s to make you come back.”
He grinned like a fool and she blushed, as if suddenly realizing what she’d just done. She smiled and hurried from the room, stumbling again as she found the door.
Cooper stood there, dumbfounded for a moment and looked down at his right hand, holding the display box with the lieutenant’s bars inside. Fear and self-doubt welled up inside him and shoved aside his newfound emotions revolving around Brenda as he pondered what it meant to be an officer in charge of a SEAL team—commander of all stateside SEALs. The awesome responsibility to his country, to the men he would command, to their families—it was almost overwhelming as it settled on his shoulders like a wet cloak.
He slipped the little box into a pouch on his vest and resigned himself to worry about the details later. He left the room and jogged to catch up with his men. He had a mission to execute, and he had to stop thinking about Brenda until all this was over.
But that kiss! Holy hell—I’ll cut through the whole North Korean army to come home to more of that.
Salmon Falls, Idaho
Denny looked up into the chilly rain that poured out of the sky. It appeared to be sunset, but in reality, that wouldn’t happen for two more hours according to his watch. The dark clouds continued to pummel Salmon Falls with their torrential payload. It was a cold, drenching rain. Denny pulled the poncho tighter around his neck. Mother Nature really knew how to cap off a day.
“Won't be long now,” whispered Deuce, kneeling next to him. They were crouched at the corner of a house, scanning the deserted street out front. Denny could hear the cold rain drumming off the Ranger’s helmet and body armor.
They were on the outskirts of town, behind one of the very last houses on Main Street. The Russians were checking each house in this end of town, searching for them. The storm had arrived after their disastrous initial assault and had given them the cover they needed to escape annihilation at the hands of the Russians.
Denny could still see the flaming wreckage of the two Apaches spiraling down to earth when he closed his eyes. His hopes, and those of the Rangers with him, had been dashed when only two of the three attack helicopters had arrived on station. They had no idea what had become of the third; they only knew how critical it had been to the success of their attack.
The Russian patrol they’d been stalking eventually spotted their position and opened fire. The Rangers had to request immediate sniper support—which never came. Then Captain Alston had received word that something had happened to Tuck, their sniper, off to the west of town. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but the captain was awful upset about it and no one was talking—they were too busy shooting and trying to stay alive.
The attack had turned into a running retreat as the Russians continued to chase and pour fire on them from different directions. Denny managed to keep up with the Rangers as they moved house to house and cut through yards and brier patches with reckless abandon.
At one point, Garza had dropped his pack and gear and tore off into the surrounding brush with only his sidearm and a medical kit. That was a bad omen, Denny had figured. The remaining Rangers and Denny then went in the opposite direction and made a lot of noise doing so, hoping to draw the Russians away from Garza.
The plan had initially worked. A little too well for Denny’s liking, but it had worked. They soon found themselves on the outskirts of town with a pack of trigger-happy Russians on their heels. They had been pushed back to a position where, if they had to run for cover, it would be a long and dangerous one. That end of town emptied into a broad plain that had been carved by the Salmon River eons ago. They were well east of the shelter of the mountains and well south of the foothills and forests that surrounded the rest of Salmon Falls.
“Okay, we either make a stand here, or we double back and look for cover farther north,” Captain Alston had said. They were all crouched at the corner of George McDonnell’s small ranch house.
The Rangers took up positions at the rear corners of the house—some knelt, others lay prone on the ground. They kept a sharp vigil for the Russians, still a ways down the block and systematically searching house by house for the Americans.
“Cap, we got maybe half an hour before they’re on top of us,” said Deuce.
“The rain is helping slow them down,” mused Captain Alston. He looked up at the gray sky, squinting in the deluge. “Be full dark soon…” He shivered and hunkered next to the wall of the house.
“Golf, what’s the sit-rep?” he asked with his hand on his radio.
After a moment of ear-numbing rain, Garza’s voice replied, “Got ‘im stabilized. This rain isn’t making things any easier.” He panted. “Ran into a couple hunters heading home. They’re assisting.”
“Keep trying to contact…anybody,” Captain Alston said. “See if you can make a shelter out there and ride out the storm. We’re going SERE. Actual, out.”
“Hooah,” was the response.
“See-er?” asked Denny in a whisper.
Zuka grinned, rain running down his face in rivulets. “Survive, Escape, Resist, Evade. We train for this stuff.”
“Zuka, you take Mr. Tecumseh here and make your way to the river,” said Captain Alston, motioning to the east, across the street. “Work your way north along the river and try and flank these guys.” He took another peek around the corner of the house into the gathering twilight.
“They got their flashlights out now—that should make it easier to
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