Detachment Delta by Don Bendell Page A

explosive and blow the door to the room. Any aggressors within would hide in the next room while the door was blown, and then jump into the room and try to shoot the Americans as they entered.
    The job of each trainee or each aggressor who got shot was to drop in place and die in a rapid and grotesque manner. The Tacs (Special Forces-qualified training sergeants), who are like drill sergeants on steroids, were assembled and watching the trainees go through this exercise.
    The plan was for four men to blow the door, and then breach the room and search for any aggressors, killing or taking them prisoner. The men approached the door, while the rest of the team covered the outside watching for potential escapees. The assault team used a small C4 charge to breach the door, as they hid behind a Kevlar shield.
    Instead of hiding in the next room, Charlie stood in the middle of the room and braced himself for the explosive impact. He knew that the first trainee would come into the room and move to his right, his eyes sweeping the whole right side; the second would move in and go to the left, his eyes sweeping the left; the third would come in with his eyes sweeping the center of the room; and the fourth would stay back close to the door, covering all.
    The door blew and Charlie shook it off, aiming at where he thought the center mass on the first trainee would be coming through the door. Sure enough the first trainee appeared in the doorway and Charlie watched the fake blood splatter all over the center of the man’s Kevlar. Shocked, he looked down and then fell, feigning death right in the doorway to the room. The second man was right on his heels and had to jump over him, getting blasted by two red paintballs in the center of his chest before his feet hit the floor. When they did, he fell backward on top of the first faux dead trainee. The third man jumped over his dead partners and Charlie had him center-mass coming over the pile. He squeezed and Click! Click! He looked down and saw his rifle was jammed. Charlie’s eyes went up and everything went into slow motion. He saw a grin start on the face of the third trainee, and his eyes open slightly, while also seeing his trigger finger tighten, and Charlie drop-stepped with his left foot spinning sideways. The man’s paintball splattered on the wall behind Charlie, and he immediately drop-stepped with his right foot and drew his chest back, as a second paintball also slammed into the wall. The trainee knew he had to take more careful aim. Charlie threw his weapon up in the air for a distraction and took two long fast steps and hit the trainee with a diving tackle, his shoulder catching the young man in the center of his midsection, as Charlie heard the wind leaving him in a rush. They flew backward out into the dirt in front of the building, and the trainee, now under Charlie, scrambled to get free and struggled to breathe right, getting panicky.
    The team commander yelled, “Take him prisoner! Do not shoot! Do not shoot!”
    The rest of the team ran up and all jumped Charlie at once, and laughing at them and taunting them, he leg-swept the trainees, put a few in wrist locks as they would try to grab his arms, and really frustrated them with his powerful resistance.
    Imitating the Saturday Night Live send-ups of Arnold Schwarzenegger, while getting strangled, punched, kicked, and pulled on, Charlie said, “Come on, guys. Are you a bunch of girlie men who cunnot evun cuff one scrawny boy?”
    One trainee finally got frustrated and put his left knee on the side of Charlie’s neck and punched him full power in the face.
    Charlie laughed, spit out blood, and said, “Ees that all the harder you can punch, you girlie man? You punch like a pussy boy!”
    It was more than fifteen minutes before Charlie was finally cuffed and pulled to his feet. His lips were swollen and bleeding and his right eye was swelling shut.
    He looked at the trainee who’d