John could not share his own suspicions with Cindy without breaking secrecy. He chose his words carefully.
“I don’t know whether it was blind luck or some other factor, but there is no doubt that you and Joe carried out your orders professionally. I want you to take tomorrow off and take it easy. But I want you back flying the day after. Joe’s memory will be with you, but the best way to avenge his death is to use your skills as a pilot.”
Lieutenant Cho looked a little better. She would still blame herself in some undefined way for Joe’s death, but she was a fighter. She would come back swinging.
“Thank you Captain.”
John rose and left her room, but left the door open. He hoped some of the other pilots would come by and share her burden.
* * *
John’s last stop was to look up JP in the hanger. As usual, JP was on his back with his hands deep in the bowels of one of the planes. JP could not see him, so John gave his boot a slight kick.
“Who the fuck is messing with me?” JP exclaimed while dropping a wrench. He calmed down the moment he caught sight of John’s face.
“Oh, sorry about that John. What are you doing slumming down here with us wrench heads?”
“I need a favor JP. ‘Got a place where we can talk in confidence?”
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go in the records room.”
They walked into the glass walled room, filled with filing cabinets. JP closed the door and held up his hand for silence. While John waited JP opened one of the bottom files and pulled out a small device that looked like a hand-held radio. He turned it on and then faced John.
“It’s a low power jamming device. It’ll just make damn sure there is no transmission coming out of this area. I got the impression you wanted some privacy.”
“Good idea JP, this is highly classified. I need you to see if a transmissions of any kind that might have reached the north left this base between 08:00 and 10:00 hours today. It would have been a short message, perhaps five or six sentences.”
JP stared at John and thought outloud. “I get your drift. Joe was a damn good pilot – too good to get trapped like that unless those fuck heads up north had an edge. If the NC knew our flight plan, it would explain a few things.”
“You’ve got it JP. I need this done fast, and I need the answer before the Major’s debriefing tomorrow afternoon. Think you can do it?”
“I can check all the obvious things pretty fast. I’ll let you know whatever I’ve found when you land. Just pretend you have some problem with the ship when you land, and will talk in here.”
“Thanks JP. Not a word about this to anyone. Only the Major, you, and I are trusted with this one.”
* * *
John got back to his quarters and collapsed on his bunk. What a day. He was just starting to relax when someone knocked on his door. Now what?
He opened the door to see Barbara leaning on the doorframe. “Forget something John.”
“Oh hell, I forgot all about dinner. I’m sorry, I’ve had one disaster of a day.”
“So I heard. Bad news travels fast. Never mind, just shuffle your butt down the hall and I’ll feed your tired body.”
Barbara grabbed John by the forearm and steered him down the hall towards her room before he had a chance to object. John did not do much objecting in any case. Dinner with Barbara suddenly seemed like an excellent idea compared with sitting in his quarters worrying.
As the entered her room John was struck with the wonderful smells. He could not place all of the scents, but they smelled exotic.
“Wow. What have you been cooking? It smells fantastic.”
“It is fantastic. I put together a complete Indian meal. It’s all vegetarian, all good for you, and all incredibly yummy. Have a seat while I serve you a special tea with secret properties!”
John was overwhelmed. He had no idea it was even possible to cook like this in the cramped cooking area their officer’s quarters afforded. Barbara kept bringing out new dishes, each completely different from the last. Flat breads, sauces made from yogurt, salads with spices and potatoes. He realized after stuffing himself with far more than he usually ate that he had been famished. John’s mood improved steadily as his blood sugar started back towards normal and the tea warmed his body. He thought briefly about his first wife Amy cooking meals for him years before, but that fond memory was becoming faint with time.
Barbara kept up a steady stream of small talk as she cooked, served John, and took the occasional nibble herself. John noticed that she was not wearing a bra under her flannel shirt. It was not obvious, but the gentle swaying of her breasts under the fabric as she moved was very attractive. Attractive, hell. It was damn sexy.
“You starting to slow down, big boy?”
“Barbara, this is the best meal I’ve had in years. But I’m starting to worry about splitting a seam. I’m beyond stuffed.”
Barbara came around to his side of the table and promptly set in his lap. John held her gently, but did not immediately pull her close to him. He simply smiled at her as she put her arms around his shoulders.
“I’ve got an idea about how to work off a few calories.” Barbara said as she undid the buttons on her flannel shirt. She gently pulled John’s head against her breasts.
John felt the soft warmth of her breasts against his face. He inhaled deeply and sensed her femininity. He knew immediately that there was no way he would resist further. He wanted Barbara desperately, and would have her now.
Claude was awake. It was the middle of the night and very dark, but he sensed something was wrong. He listened. His mother was not coughing, which was good. He strained to hear beyond the walls. He moved silently out of bed and towards the cabin door. He opened it just a crack. His left eye scanned the snowy scene before him.
A quarter moon illuminated the ground. There were no new tracks in the snow that he could see, but something was different. He continued to watch. Cold air slid in through the crack and into the main room where his sister slept. Anne-Marie awoke and quietly made her way to his side. She said nothing, but watched and listened with Claude. Minutes passed.
It was the smell that gave them away. Unwashed men, urine, and sweat. Even the freezing air could not stop the odor from wafting in that doorway. The horrible men from the clearing were here.
“Rėveille Papa et cherche les fusils” whispered Claude. “Wake up Papa and get the rifles.”
Their father was beside them in an instant. He understood the situation instinctively.
“This is that moment we spoke of. Say a fast goodbye to your mother and get out the escape route fast. You have no time.”
Anne-Marie and Claude crept to their mother’s bedside and held her and. Their mother smiled, but tears flowed from both eyes. Her words were almost to soft to hear.
“I am so proud of you both. Don’t worry about us. We had a good life. Now it is your turn.”
Their mother closed her eyes. Both children gave her a quick hug through the covers and raced back to the main room. They embraced their father while holding their rifles and started down the trap door into the cellar. There was no light, but they were able to locate their packs by feel. The packs were much heavier than before – their father had been busy. Looking up at the trap door they saw the outline of their father’s face as he spoke.
“Go quickly. I will keep these animals busy, but you must use that time to get as far away as possible. Cover your tracks. They may follow you. God bless you both.”
Anne-Marie whispered “I love you Papa.”
Claude waved in the dark. “I love you also Papa.”
They caught one last glimpse of their father as they started down the tunnel towards the streambed.
* * *
Topside their father closed the trap door and covered it with a rug. Jean’s goal was to give his children as much time as possible. He had decided several days ago to make his defense from the room that held his wife. At least they could be together. With C
laude’s help he had piled bags of sand up to above the level of her bed against the walls. The three windows provided good field of fire for all but the north side of the house. There was nothing he could do about the north wall, but at least that wall faced a cliff and was unlikely to be their first point of attack.
Opening one window slightly, Jean heard soft voices towards the south. He opened the south window and listened more. Jean’s English was much more limited than that of his wife, but he doubted that was going to be an issue tonight.
The machine gun fire started just as Jean was putting another blanket over his wife. Instinctually he covered her with his body as bullets tore through walls and windows. Glass fragments spayed the room. Hundreds of bullets crashed through the building from several angles. There was an odd cadence to the onslaught, as each of the hidden shooters emptied a clip and then reloaded to fire again.
The sandbags took a beating, but none of the bullets seemed to be getting through at their low level. His wife started coughing, and could not stop. As the firing stopped her coughing was the loudest sound. It was a shame, since it gave away their location and that someone was still alive. It could not be helped.
Moving away from his wife, John looked carefully over the jagged edge of the south window. Several men were visible in the shadows, with machine guns slung at hip level. He reached for his rifle and moved back so that the barrel would not protrude out the window. Glass fragments pierced his hands and legs, but he did not concern himself with that.
Jean took a bead on the rightmost man and aimed mid-chest. Jean’s rife was or hunting dear and elk, and large caliber. The crack of the rife rang in the small room. Jean watched as the man looked down at the small hole in his chest, not understanding what had happened. The man gradually crumpled to the ground as loss of blood pressure stopped the functioning of his muscles and brain. One down.
“Damn, they’ve shot Cramer.”
Machine gun fire reopened on all sides for another long minute. Jean began to wonder if the cabin would remain standing. He waited for the firing to stop before looking for another target.
* * *
Claude and Anne-Marie had reached the streambed when the first burst of gunfire began. They started running upstream when the firing stopped. They waited in the silence and then heard the familiar sound of their father’s rife as he killed the man. The voices confirmed the kill.
“Papa’s killed one” Anne-Marie whispered.
“I’ve got to help him.”
Claude starting to climb up the bank towards the house.
Anne-Marie started to stop him, but decided better of it. She climbed part way up the ridge and then turned to cover Claude’s back.
Claude worked up the edge of the bank, which was slightly higher than the slope back to their cabin. Readying his rifle, Claude took aim at the back of the head of the nearest man just as the man started firing his machine gun. Squeezing the trigger, Claude saw the small hole appear in the back of the man’s bald head, and then saw him fall forward.
Claude chambered another round and waited for another clear target. He caught a glimpse of the huge man with the deep voice who had seen in the clearing three days before. Several of the men were yelling in English to each other.
“Now Murdey’s been hit. We’ve got to kill those bastards.”
“Shit, Murdey was hit from behind.”
“There’s someone behind us, damn it. You three – get your asses back there and kill anything that moves. “
“Merde!” whispered Claude. “They are after us.”
The Claude and Anne-Marie grabbed their packs and started running further upstream. They had made about 50 meters progress when machine gun fire erupted around them. Claude grabbed Anne-Marie and pulled her behind a large tree.
Claude spoke while establishing a shooting position, resting on the right side of the tree. “You get the first one on the left. I’ll take first on the right.”
Anne-Marie nodded and took up a lower position on the left side of the tree. Three men were running straight at them, machine guns at their sides. Anne-Marie and Claude fired almost simultaneously. The man on the left simply stopped moving and fell forward. The one on the right moved one hand up to the hole that had been his eye and then seemed to lose all coordination and fall.
The third attacker dove for the rocks and hid lying on his back. The first glimmers of dawn were playing across the sky, which helped Claude make out the man’s outline against the rounded rocks of the creekbed.
“I can see his leg” whispered Claude. “I’ll shoot him there, and then you shoot him when his head pops up.”
Anne-Marie nodded and took aim. Claude aimed the shot as close to the rock as he good without hitting it to get the maximum penetration. Claude’s shot struck the man’s kneecap, causing searing pain. He jerked into a sitting position, instinctively reaching for his shattered knee. Anne-Marie’s shot entered his brain from behind. The small caliber bullet penetrated the skull on the back side, but then ricocheted around inside his brain without leaving. The damage briefly rewired the synapses. The man died in a series of jerking convulsions.
Claude and Anne-Marie grabbed their gear and moved as quickly as they could up river towards the high ground. It did not sound like anyone else was after them. They headed for ridge where they could look down on their cabin without being seen.
* * *
Jean had heard the machine gun fire in the distance, and knew his children were being pursued. They were in God’s hands now he thought. He prayed for his children’s safety, for his wife’s salvation, and asked God for himself: “Let me kill as many of these daemons as I can.”
He saw a flicker of fire from behind a boulder. A man hurled a burning bottle towards cabin, and then ducked down before Jean could get off a shot. The bottle broke on the wooden roof of the cabin and started a small fire. The snow-covered wood would be slow to burn.
Another flash of fire and a second bottle hurled towards the house. He heard a third bottle crash against the North wall, away from his line of fire. There was nothing he could do now but wait.
Minutes ticked by without any of the men being visible. He started smelling smoke, and heard the unmistakable sounds of damp wood starting to burn.
* * *
From the ridge, Anne-Marie and Claude could see the yellow flames growing on the cabin roof. The north wall of the cabin was also on fire, and smoking heavily. Smoke began to pour out of the numerous holes in the cabin walls.
As the flames started to weaken the roof, they heard their father’s gun fire. A moment later it fired again. There was no other gunfire. The cabin gradually burned to the ground.
Anne-Marie put her pack back on.
“I’ll cry for them later. Right now I want to get away from this place.“
Claude nodded and they set off.
Mark Kauf was exhausted. He had always prided himself on being in excellent shape, but this training program was beyond anything he had imagined. Boot camp had been a light workout compared with Special Training.
Each morning his class did a four-mile run before breakfast. Four miles was an easy run for Mark, except these runs were done with 40-pound packs. The added weight combined with the uneven surface of the trails made the run hell on their backs, legs, and ankles. Two men had dropped out of training due to fractures in the small bones of their feet and ankles.
After breakfast they did the obstacle course. Each day they found a different layout to the course. Initially it was run singly by each man, but now they were focussing on four man squads getting through as fast as possible. The first team through got to rest while the remaining teams fought for the honor. After five or six passes everyone got the message. The teams that worked well together got through a lot faster than those working as four individuals.
Weapons training was held before and after lunch. There was a lot to learn, but it was interesting. They spent a considerable amount of time learning how to use explosives an
d booby traps. Mark learned that explosives could be used with precision, to cut through wood or steal. They also learned how to set triggers of various types, including timers, pressure sensors, electrical circuits and remote detonations.
Hand to hand combat training focussed mainly on using a combat knife, and disarming of someone else armed with a knife. During missions each member of the team would carry a knife on either a belt clip or ankle scabbard. Most people felt the ankle location was easier to reach, but it uncomfortable, particularly on long hikes. Mark was surprised that they did not spend time on martial arts without weapons. The instructor explained that martial arts took years of training. They only had a few weeks, so they stuck with things they knew would work. It was a lot easier to kill someone with a 10-inch knife than with your hands and feet.
Firearms training covered three weapons. The first was a 9-mm pistol. This was for close-in fighting, and much of the training took place in abandoned buildings at the north-west end of Camp Wilson. Teamwork was again stressed, as each team needed to pass through the maze, firing on all of the silhouette targets placed throughout the rooms. They were trained not to attempt a pistol shot if the target was more than 10 paces away.
The second weapon was a 9-mm machine gun, fitted with a noise suppressor. Although it used the same ammunition as the pistol, this was a more sophisticated weapon. The clips held 78 rounds, as compared with 11 in the pistol. Although the machinegun was not silent, it was much quieter than the pistol and good for distances up to 50 yards.
The machinegun’s fire-selection switch had four settings: Safe, Single, Triple, and Auto. Single-shot was preferred as it saved ammo and encouraged good aim. The Triple setting fired three shots in rapid succession. The three shots would fall within a few inches of each other on the target, assuring a kill. Auto emptied the clip in a few seconds. It basically sprayed bullets. Each clip weighted several pounds, so most pack setups only allowed each man to carry four extra clips. You could not use the Auto setting very long without running out of bullets.
Heavier Than Air Page 6