by R A Peters
On the other hand, except for providing a few more converts to the “freedom fighters” in the insurrectionist south, the victorious and bloodless (to America) war strengthened the president’s support among his base in the east. Americans love a winner. US news/propaganda networks relentlessly hyped up the silent role the URA played in the aborted Chinese invasion. Eastern television spun their inaction as culpability in allowing a foreign power to attack the US mainland. What more proof do you need that these people wanted to destroy America?
One unspinable result of the nuclear strikes was eliminating any chance of further foreign interference in the American conflict. All talk of deploying UN peacekeepers, or any type of unilateral or multilateral military intervention, abruptly stopped. Not even America’s allies were willing to get too deeply involved with these nuclear cowboys.
For better or worse, the Second Civil War would remain a purely American disaster…or opportunity.
The Beginning
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Please read on for an excerpt from “Shock and Awe,” Book 2 in the Operation Enduring Unity Series. Available from Amazon.
Just Another Day in Paradise
Private First Class Jacob Parrott hated manning the rear-facing machine gun on the last truck in the convoy. Especially when patrolling the streets of an insurgent stronghold after midnight. What a crap job. How was he ever supposed to see what was happening ahead? Of course, if something did go down behind them, then guess who would be facing that danger all alone? As the vehicle under him made another gut-wrenching turn, Parrott leaned against the g-forces. He locked his swiveling turret ring in place fast enough to keep his machine gun exactly at a 6 O’clock position.
His driver always took the turns either too sharp, too fast or drifted comically wide. The kid drove this 10-foot high armored vehicle like he raced his worn-out Mustang back home. The idiot was going to flip them all on their heads one of these days. Over the roaring from the unneeded sudden acceleration, Parrott heard his sergeant below holler, “Which damn Wal-Mart did you get your driver’s license from?”
The Georgian behind the wheel was unfazed. “Laugh all you want, but I’m crazy like a fox. If I don’t even know what I’m going to do next, do you reckon any insurgents watching the convoy could adapt fast enough?” He tapped his helmet with sage wisdom. “That space ain’t just for keeping my ears apart!”
Parrott clicked his internal radio mike on and laughed. “God himself doesn’t know what you’ll do ne–”
Kadush!
An explosion lifted the night’s skirt behind them and from the far side of the curve. Had they driven like normal people, they would have been dead center in that blast. As it was, Parrott only believed he slipped into the next world as a tsunami of smoke and dust engulfed him. Reality snatched him mercilessly back as the driver crushed the brakes and ground the truck to a squealing halt.
Parrott pinched his radio mike switch and pleaded with the driver below. “What the hell? You know the standard operating procedure (SOP): Get us out of the kill zone, man! I can’t see shit here!”
Through the swirling cloud of smoke and fear around him came a whooshhhhhh. An RPG warhead flashed through the night a few yards ahead of them… exactly where the truck should have been if they followed standard procedure and sped out of the kill zone. Parrott gave up questioning the oracle driving him around. Disciplined bursts from an enemy machine gun ahead began raking all three Joint Tactical Vehicles in his convoy.
“Contact, 11 O’clock! Dismount right!” screamed his NCO. It took all of Parrott’s willpower to avoid swinging around and covering his buddies as they surged on foot towards the enemy. The never-ending suppressive fire his section’s nine dismounted riflemen poured up-range made him grit his teeth. “Shit, I miss everything!”
Parrott was about two seconds away from breaking discipline and swiveling around to help when the storefront lights behind the convoy lit up. The street had been pitch black the whole time. The perfect environment for their night vision gear. With the sudden glare, all the expensive optics weren’t worth a damn. As Parrott fiddled with the contrast on his eyepiece, something briefly blocked one of the bright lights in the opposite direction his M240 machine gun pointed. He didn’t waste a second with positive identification. There was a curfew in place, after all. Civilians had no business wandering around a gun battle anyway.
Completely ignoring the strict rules of engagement saved his life. He reflexively fired three pairs at the mysterious silhouette with his M4 rifle. The dying shadow squirted off an RPG wildly. The rocket missed Parrott’s truck by a good ten yards before obliterating some parked civilian car nearby. Parrott didn’t have time to enjoy the fireworks display. Something cracked passed his ear way too close for comfort.
While hosing down the storefront to his 3 O’clock with his rifle, he emptied his machine gun’s belt at the muzzle flashes to his 10 O’clock with the other hand. From a distance, Parrott’s double-weapon firing put Rambo to shame. The very picture of American badassery. In reality, this 21-year-old kid literally pissed his pants as insurgent rounds dented the thin armor plating around his gun shield, just inches in front of his face. Every near miss drained his bladder even further. Terrified or not, he stood his ground and kept returning the favor in both directions.
The enemy’s fire never slackened… it just shut off. One minute the barely-seen insurgents rained lead on Parrott’s team and the next they were gone. Breaking contact as smoothly and efficiently as any professional soldier could. “Shift fire right! Three friendlies coming through!” The steady voice of his NCO reminded Parrott that he wasn’t completely alone. “Where did they go, Parrott?”
Despite the pee running down his leg, Parrott couldn’t help but gloat a little. Hard not to brag when you’ve stared death in the eye and kicked him in the balls. “There’s not many left to go anywhere, Sergeant. I tagged at least two. The rest must have retreated down the alley. Bastards didn’t know who they were fucking with!”
His sergeant simply nodded and snatched extra magazines from inside the truck. Parrott whistled. Had his boss really emptied six mags in that two-minute shootout up front? Parrott’s rising feeling of herodom vanished. Had he missed the real fight?
His sergeant slammed a 30-round magazine against his vest to seat the rounds and tactically reloaded. “All right, we don’t have the manpower to pursue the enemy. The rest of the section are securing the four hostiles we bagged up front. Tamajo, Jackson, on me! Let’s police up this mess back here. Grab the enemy bodies and gear and then we’ll get the hell out of here. Parrott, keep us covered.”
Parrott muttered “Roger” as the rest of his fire team ran down the block. He wished he had their driver back up the truck first. Always so close, yet still so far from the action. Up there in the turret, he was part of the team, but never actually with the team. Knowing the streets were clear, he tried to scan every window and rooftop in his line of fire. He slowly became conscious of the now-cold stain down the front of his pants. Maybe he co
uld spill his water bottle to hide the embarrassment.
His sergeant yelled from down the road. “We got a live one here… FRAG OUT!”
The wounded insurgent must have cooked the grenade off before rolling it towards the American troops. There was no time for them to do anything. A small bang knocked all of Parrott’s teammates off their feet 30 meters away from him. Specialists Tamajo and Jackson jumped back up with only superficial shrapnel injuries, but their NCO couldn’t. Hard to stand when both feet were only bloody stumps.
“Medic!” Parrott’s stomach wrenched as he jumped from the truck and found the action he was always missing.
*
As far as headquarters was concerned, this patrol had been a spectacular success. Six enemy KIA for one friendly WIA. A clear victory. Oh, and what a victory it was. The US Army killed six insurgents. Which meant that eight-man terrorist cell later recruited two vengeful brothers, a bereaved father, a bitter wife, two devastated teenage sons and six angry friends and neighbors. 8-6 = 12 bad guys… welcome to Counterinsurgency Calculus 101.
Thankfully, for the munitions makers and mortuaries at least, it was a non-linear function. You could get ahead of the curve… if you did enough killing.
Busy as Parrott was calling in a medevac request and slapping on tourniquets, he paid no attention to a lone civilian armed only with a camcorder. The mysterious figure peering out of a third-story window down the street was neither a curious bystander nor some perverted war voyeur. He used to be a lieutenant in his country’s military, before the American Army invaded and forced him and so many of his compatriots into the underground resistance.
Thanks to the video, his fallen fellow insurgents did not perish in vain. His leaders would pour over the footage to study the American army’s drills and reactions in detail. Next time the guerrillas would be better prepared. In addition, thanks to the judicious use of editing software and the internet, they’d post a great propaganda video to YouTube by the morning.
Within a quarter mile radius, over a thousand confused and terrified civilians huddled in bathtubs and under tables. Forbidden to go outside after midnight and too scared to peek out a window, they didn’t have a clue what was going on in the streets. The explosions and shooting stopped, but what did that mean? Some would wonder who won the fight. The military or the terrorists? Most didn’t care one way or the other. They hated both sides just as intently. All they wanted was for the death and destruction to end so that life could get back to normal.
How naïve they were. For the last three months since the US invasion, war was the new normal in Miami, Florida.
Nothing could change that anytime soon.
Part I: Cold War
“Shall we expect some transatlantic military giant to step the ocean and crush us at a blow? Never! All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa combined, with all the treasure of the earth (our own excepted) in their military chest, with a Bonaparte for a commander, could not by force take a drink from the Ohio River or make a track on the Blue Ridge in a trial of a thousand years.
At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer: If it ever reach us it must spring up amongst us; it cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen we must live through all time or die by suicide.”
― Abraham Lincoln, Lyceum address (1838)
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Acronyms/Slang/Terminology
.50 Cal: M2 .50 caliber (12.7mm) machine gun. Large and heavy, almost always mounted on a vehicle because it requires three soldiers to carry the weapon, tripod and just a small supply of ammo.
Relatively poor accuracy and a slow rate of fire compared to most machine guns, but its ability to throw a half-inch slug with the force to penetrate a brick wall or light-armored vehicle at over a mile makes it a favorite among all branches of the Service. Barely changed in design since World War 2.
2-oh-3: Single shot, 40mm grenade launcher. Attaches underneath a M16 or M4. Official designation: M203. Usually just called the 2-oh-3.
2-40: M240b 7.62mm medium machinegun. Normally referred to simply as the “2-40.” About 10 pounds heavier than the SAW. Just barely able to be carried and effectively used by a single soldier, it’s usually mounted on a vehicle or, if dismounted, an extra soldier is assigned to carry the ammo.
3-20: M320 grenade launcher. Fires 40mm “normal” or 25mm “smart” grenades, slowly replacing M203.
AT-4: Single use, disposable bazooka-like weapon. Standard unguided anti-tank rocket used by US Army. Swedish made, it is dirt cheap but deadly against light armored vehicles/fortifications. Effective range only 300 meters.
AHA: Ammunition holding area. Ammo dump. When not in the field, anything that goes boom, from small arms rounds to artillery shells, are stored there.
AMRAAM: Advanced Medium-Range Air-to-Air Missile. A beyond-visual-range air-to-air missile. The most modern versions have a range of 100 miles.
Apache: AH-64 attack helicopter. Fast, armored and heavily armed, this chopper also boasts a 128x Forward Looking Infrared Radar sensor system. Whether used as scouts, quick reaction fire support, or just flying snipers, the Apaches are probably the most feared and respected helicopter in the world. Primary disadvantage is the small fuel capacity, leading to relatively short on station times (1-3 hours, depending on equipment load-out).
APC: Armored Personnel Carrier. Lightly armored/armed vehicle used for support tasks. Examples: Armored ambulances, mobile command vehicles, transporting combat engineers.
B-2: “Flying wing” stealth strategic bomber. Costing $2 billion a pop, they’re the most expensive aircraft in the inventory.
COMSEC: Communications security. Referring specifically to the daily changing cryptographic code groups used by the encrypted radios.
DPICM: Dual Purpose Improved Conventional Munitions. Generic term for a variety of artillery and airdropped sub-munitions that bridge the gap between anti-vehicle and anti-personnel explosives.
FRAGO: Fragmentary order. A modification to the original mission plan that doesn’t alter the core objectives, just how they should be achieved.
HARM: High-Speed Anti-Radar Missile. Radar seeking missile that homes in on enemy air-defense radars.
HEMTT: Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck. An eight-wheel drive, diesel-powered, 10-ton cargo truck. Standard supply truck of the US Army.
Humint/Sigint: Human and Signals (electronic) intelligence. Information collected by interrogating people or eavesdropping on electronic communications.
IBA: Standard issue body armor. Each letter pronounced. Stands for the trade name, “Interceptor Body Armor.”
Weighs about 35 pounds. Double-lapped Kevlar strips give moderate shrapnel protection across most of the upper torso and, with mission-specific attachments, the groin, neck, shoulder and upper arms as well.
In addition, four “ballistic inserts,” made up of special ceramics and a thin steel backing, cover the upper chest/back and lower sides of the rib cage. Providing protection against even armor piercing small arms rounds (usually).
IED: Improvised Explosive Devices. Unfortunately, infinite variety in size, composition, triggering mechanisms, delivery means and concealment methods. Fall broadly in three general categories:
Claymore-like (anti-personnel): At its simplest, just a small bomb designed to throw out lots of shrapnel in a specific direction. Sometimes combined with homemade napalm, poisonous gases and/or acids because some people think bombs are just not lethal enough.
Shaped charge (anti-vehicle): Sometimes just a single, large convex copper plate in a tube with an explosive propellant in the closed end. Other times, sophisticated multi-battery arrays of different slugs. Intended to do one thing: hurl superheated armor-penetrating projectiles at close range into passing vehicles. Often kills occupants without destroying the vehicle.
Blast (anti-everything): From a simple artillery shell in a trash bag on the side of the road to multi-ton truck bombs and everything in between. Usually employed against buildings, fortified positions (ex. checkpoints, heavily armored vehicles) or for pure terror purposes.
Tragically, there is no rule stating that an IED can’t combine elements of all the above.
IFV: Infantry Fighting Vehicle. Heavily armored and well-armed vehicle intended to not just deliver infantry to the fight, but fight alongside them. Almost always tracked.
Javelin: Expensive and heavy super-bazooka. Fire and forget, it has the options of direct or “top attack” modes. Max effective range: 2500 meters.
Kevlar /K-pod: Nicknames for the standard issue Kevlar helmet.
LZ: Landing Zone
M1 Abrams: 72-ton US main battle tank. Armor made out of laminated strips of steel, special ceramics and depleted uranium making it the most heavily armored tank in the world.
Behind that armor sits a massive, German-designed cannon coupled with an extremely accurate fire control computer allowing a decently trained crew to hit a moving target, while the tank itself is moving, at over a mile. Effective range from a stationary position is unknown, but from Gulf War experience, at least four miles.
Also, propelled by a modified F-16 jet turbine engine, making it the fastest moving tracked vehicle on the battlefield.
Basic Armament: 120mm smoothbore cannon (Effective range: 6000m+)
7.62mm coax MG
.50 Cal MG (turret ring)