"I'm ready to start a war."
"Aw, hell!" Connie Concord said, grinning. "I was fixing to put in for a thirty-day leave."
Chief Matt Gunnarson picked up a rock and lobbed it at him. "You'll get a leave all right, but it'll be restricted to the OA. Have fun. Don't forget your old buddies if you find any good-looking women:'
"Okay, guys," Brannigan said. "The Second Assault Section is going to run a combo reconnaissance and combat patrol due north from here. Redhawk and Murchison will act as scouts. I want the area scoped out, but if an opportunity presents itself to make contact with the enemy, do so." He looked at Senior Chief Dawkins, the section commander. "But only if you have a distinct advantage in the situation. I'm talking about a win-win scenario, understood? This is not the time to take chances."
"Aye, sir," Dawkins said. "Understood. What time do we depart?"
"I was kind of hoping you were already gone," Brannigan said with a wink.
The senior chief got to his feet, tapping Milly Mills and Gutsy Olson. "You heard the Skipper." He gestured to Red-hawk and Chad. "C' mon! Let's went!"
.
1315 HOURS LOCAL
GARTH Redhawk and Chad Murchison had set up an OP a hundred meters ahead of the section. The newly acquired camouflage capes allowed them to blend in perfectly with the surroundings. They used their binoculars to maintain a sharp lookout over the grassy plain that spread out all around them. They and the section were feeling the effects of the heavy, wet heat after long hours of hiking through the grass, and Dawkins had wisely called a break in their movement.
"Psst!" Chad said. "Take look out at two o'clock." Redhawk swung his gaze in that direction. "Patrol. Four-man. I can't see any more."
"Neither can I," Chad said. He observed them for a few additional moments. "Look! They're displaying that Falangist insignia on their sleeves. We definitely have the enemy in sight."
Redhawk pulled out the AN/PRC-126 radio handset. "Brigand Two, this is scout. We've got a four-man enemy patrol about a hundred and fifty meters ahead, moving west to east. Over."
"Are they alone or part of a larger group?" replied Dawkins. "Over?'
"They're definitely alone," Redhawk reported. "Over."
"We need an EPW," Dawkins said. "It'll be up to you guys. I can't get a fire team out there quick enough. What do you think about going after them? Can do? Over."
"Can do," Redhawk replied. "We're on our way. Out." He put away the handset, looking at Chad. "The senior chief wants an EPW."
"In my opinion, that is not an insurmountable undertaking," Chad said. "They're moving on a direct azimuth of two hundred and seventy degrees. If we stay low, we can hurry in a half-circuitous route and get ahead of them."
"They call that an end around in Oklahoma football," Redhawk said. "Let's do it!"
The scouts moved slightly south, then turned straight west, keeping as low on the horizon as possible. After ten minutes, they moved toward the target patrol, noting that the group continued in the same direction.
"Y' know," Redhawk remarked, "I think that patrol leader was told to follow a westward course. And that's exactly what he's doing. Two hundred and seventy degrees by the compass and straight as an arrow."
Chad grinned. "He isn't allowing for declension. Thus, it would appear that our antagonist is a young officer. Possibly the equivalent of an ensign."
For the next half hour the two SEALs dogged the enemy patrol, gradually moving ahead of them as the trek continued due west. When they had gone twenty meters ahead of the Falangists, the scouts turned inward until they reached a point where the bad guys would be well within rifle range when they moved across their front. Redhawk and Chad went to the ground, their camouflage capes over them with CAR-15s ready.
"There they are!" Chad exclaimed.
"It looks like the second guy is the one in charge," Red-hawk said. As the senior ranking man of the pair, he would literally call the shots. "I'll take
"Aw, hell!" Connie Concord said, grinning. "I was fixing to put in for a thirty-day leave."
Chief Matt Gunnarson picked up a rock and lobbed it at him. "You'll get a leave all right, but it'll be restricted to the OA. Have fun. Don't forget your old buddies if you find any good-looking women:'
"Okay, guys," Brannigan said. "The Second Assault Section is going to run a combo reconnaissance and combat patrol due north from here. Redhawk and Murchison will act as scouts. I want the area scoped out, but if an opportunity presents itself to make contact with the enemy, do so." He looked at Senior Chief Dawkins, the section commander. "But only if you have a distinct advantage in the situation. I'm talking about a win-win scenario, understood? This is not the time to take chances."
"Aye, sir," Dawkins said. "Understood. What time do we depart?"
"I was kind of hoping you were already gone," Brannigan said with a wink.
The senior chief got to his feet, tapping Milly Mills and Gutsy Olson. "You heard the Skipper." He gestured to Red-hawk and Chad. "C' mon! Let's went!"
.
1315 HOURS LOCAL
GARTH Redhawk and Chad Murchison had set up an OP a hundred meters ahead of the section. The newly acquired camouflage capes allowed them to blend in perfectly with the surroundings. They used their binoculars to maintain a sharp lookout over the grassy plain that spread out all around them. They and the section were feeling the effects of the heavy, wet heat after long hours of hiking through the grass, and Dawkins had wisely called a break in their movement.
"Psst!" Chad said. "Take look out at two o'clock." Redhawk swung his gaze in that direction. "Patrol. Four-man. I can't see any more."
"Neither can I," Chad said. He observed them for a few additional moments. "Look! They're displaying that Falangist insignia on their sleeves. We definitely have the enemy in sight."
Redhawk pulled out the AN/PRC-126 radio handset. "Brigand Two, this is scout. We've got a four-man enemy patrol about a hundred and fifty meters ahead, moving west to east. Over."
"Are they alone or part of a larger group?" replied Dawkins. "Over?'
"They're definitely alone," Redhawk reported. "Over."
"We need an EPW," Dawkins said. "It'll be up to you guys. I can't get a fire team out there quick enough. What do you think about going after them? Can do? Over."
"Can do," Redhawk replied. "We're on our way. Out." He put away the handset, looking at Chad. "The senior chief wants an EPW."
"In my opinion, that is not an insurmountable undertaking," Chad said. "They're moving on a direct azimuth of two hundred and seventy degrees. If we stay low, we can hurry in a half-circuitous route and get ahead of them."
"They call that an end around in Oklahoma football," Redhawk said. "Let's do it!"
The scouts moved slightly south, then turned straight west, keeping as low on the horizon as possible. After ten minutes, they moved toward the target patrol, noting that the group continued in the same direction.
"Y' know," Redhawk remarked, "I think that patrol leader was told to follow a westward course. And that's exactly what he's doing. Two hundred and seventy degrees by the compass and straight as an arrow."
Chad grinned. "He isn't allowing for declension. Thus, it would appear that our antagonist is a young officer. Possibly the equivalent of an ensign."
For the next half hour the two SEALs dogged the enemy patrol, gradually moving ahead of them as the trek continued due west. When they had gone twenty meters ahead of the Falangists, the scouts turned inward until they reached a point where the bad guys would be well within rifle range when they moved across their front. Redhawk and Chad went to the ground, their camouflage capes over them with CAR-15s ready.
"There they are!" Chad exclaimed.
"It looks like the second guy is the one in charge," Red-hawk said. As the senior ranking man of the pair, he would literally call the shots. "I'll take
Similar Books
The Evil That Men Do: FBI Profiler Roy Hazelwood's Journey Into the Minds of Sexual Predators
Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood
