dedicated."
Even as Busch made another about-face to turn toward Castillo, the two banderas broke into spontaneous cheers, ready for a fight.
.
THE CENTRAL PORTION OF THE OA
8 DECEMBER
0945 HOURS LOCAL
THE SEAL detachment moved twenty kilometers to the east along the Rio Ancho before coming to a halt. It had taken almost twenty-four hours of slow travel while they poled the piraguas as silently as possible with the raider craft tied on the sterns. Two men per boat labored at the task, changing off every . Hour on the hour. The new scout team of Garth Redhawk and Chad Murchison each took a side of the river, moving a kilometer ahead of the main group in the dual role of security and reconnaissance.
Now the detachment was set up on both banks of the waterway while Frank Gomez monitored the Shadowfire radio. As soon as the transmission they waited for came over the headphones, he called over to Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan.
"Sir! The chopper is on the way in."
"All right," Brannigan said. He took up his binoculars and scanned the western horizon. Within minutes the bright red of the Petroleo Colmo Dauphin helicopter came into view, flying directly toward the site. It approached rapidly, then slowed as it began to descend. When it was directly over the detachment, Senior Chief Buford Dawkins signaled it in for a landing. It came down to gentle contact with the grass.
The cargo door slid open, and Alfredo jumped out. "Goodies!"
The SEALS went to the aircraft, and Paul Cinzento and Wes Ferguson jumped in and immediately began passing out the bundles of supplies to the others. Ammunition and rations made up the bulk of the cargo, but one unidentified bundle tightly wrapped was also included. Alfredo noticed everyone looking at it. "Camouflage coverings," he said, identifying it. "I figured you guys would need extra if you were going to be hiding stuff all over the OA. There're also some individual capes you can throw over yourselves to hide in the grass. They're just the right motley color to allow you to blend in with your surroundings. I brought enough for everyone:'
Brannigan unbuckled the straps and opened it up. He pulled one of the coverings out and checked it over. "Lightweight and compact," he remarked approvingly as he rolled it into a tight bundle to see how it would fit into a rucksack.
"I figured you would need 'ern," Alfredo said. "The concealment on this savannah is as scarce as tenderness in a sergeant major's heart:'
Brannigan laughed. "I've been wondering about you, Alfredo. I don't want to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, but you've had military service, haven't you?"
"I'm ex--Army Special Forces," Alfredo said, relenting. "Actually I was one of those mean sergeant majors before I retired."
"My confidence in you has blossomed, ex--Sergeant Major," Brannigan said.
"I have faith in you guys too," Alfredo said, moving toward the chopper. "Well! If you need anything else, let me know. You call. I haul. That's all." He waved as he got aboard the aircraft. The rotors kicked up, then the helicopter lifted skyward, turning back in the direction it came from.
Brannigan gestured to the section commanders. "Let's break this stuff out and distribute it. Put the leftovers in the boats. We'll cache it later."
Each man's load was increased by three days of MREs and four thirty-round magazines of 5.56-millimeter ammo. The SAW gunners' burdens were enlarged by a dozen magazines each, but some of these were distributed among the riflemen for portage purposes. Within ten minutes the job was done. Brannigan sent the men out to check the local area while he had a confab with the section and team leaders.
The senior members of the detachment settled down, lit cigarettes, chewed gum or bit into energy bars, while Brannigan strode to their front with his hands in his pockets, looking like a man about to take a peaceful walk through his neighborhood back home. He gazed at his men for a moment, then announced.
Even as Busch made another about-face to turn toward Castillo, the two banderas broke into spontaneous cheers, ready for a fight.
.
THE CENTRAL PORTION OF THE OA
8 DECEMBER
0945 HOURS LOCAL
THE SEAL detachment moved twenty kilometers to the east along the Rio Ancho before coming to a halt. It had taken almost twenty-four hours of slow travel while they poled the piraguas as silently as possible with the raider craft tied on the sterns. Two men per boat labored at the task, changing off every . Hour on the hour. The new scout team of Garth Redhawk and Chad Murchison each took a side of the river, moving a kilometer ahead of the main group in the dual role of security and reconnaissance.
Now the detachment was set up on both banks of the waterway while Frank Gomez monitored the Shadowfire radio. As soon as the transmission they waited for came over the headphones, he called over to Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan.
"Sir! The chopper is on the way in."
"All right," Brannigan said. He took up his binoculars and scanned the western horizon. Within minutes the bright red of the Petroleo Colmo Dauphin helicopter came into view, flying directly toward the site. It approached rapidly, then slowed as it began to descend. When it was directly over the detachment, Senior Chief Buford Dawkins signaled it in for a landing. It came down to gentle contact with the grass.
The cargo door slid open, and Alfredo jumped out. "Goodies!"
The SEALS went to the aircraft, and Paul Cinzento and Wes Ferguson jumped in and immediately began passing out the bundles of supplies to the others. Ammunition and rations made up the bulk of the cargo, but one unidentified bundle tightly wrapped was also included. Alfredo noticed everyone looking at it. "Camouflage coverings," he said, identifying it. "I figured you guys would need extra if you were going to be hiding stuff all over the OA. There're also some individual capes you can throw over yourselves to hide in the grass. They're just the right motley color to allow you to blend in with your surroundings. I brought enough for everyone:'
Brannigan unbuckled the straps and opened it up. He pulled one of the coverings out and checked it over. "Lightweight and compact," he remarked approvingly as he rolled it into a tight bundle to see how it would fit into a rucksack.
"I figured you would need 'ern," Alfredo said. "The concealment on this savannah is as scarce as tenderness in a sergeant major's heart:'
Brannigan laughed. "I've been wondering about you, Alfredo. I don't want to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, but you've had military service, haven't you?"
"I'm ex--Army Special Forces," Alfredo said, relenting. "Actually I was one of those mean sergeant majors before I retired."
"My confidence in you has blossomed, ex--Sergeant Major," Brannigan said.
"I have faith in you guys too," Alfredo said, moving toward the chopper. "Well! If you need anything else, let me know. You call. I haul. That's all." He waved as he got aboard the aircraft. The rotors kicked up, then the helicopter lifted skyward, turning back in the direction it came from.
Brannigan gestured to the section commanders. "Let's break this stuff out and distribute it. Put the leftovers in the boats. We'll cache it later."
Each man's load was increased by three days of MREs and four thirty-round magazines of 5.56-millimeter ammo. The SAW gunners' burdens were enlarged by a dozen magazines each, but some of these were distributed among the riflemen for portage purposes. Within ten minutes the job was done. Brannigan sent the men out to check the local area while he had a confab with the section and team leaders.
The senior members of the detachment settled down, lit cigarettes, chewed gum or bit into energy bars, while Brannigan strode to their front with his hands in his pockets, looking like a man about to take a peaceful walk through his neighborhood back home. He gazed at his men for a moment, then announced.
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