Cyber Attack

by Bobby Akart

  “Seven hostiles, five friendlies,” muttered Steven.

  Sarge admired his composure. Approximately half of the red hostile targets were visible. One hostile target towards the front swayed back and forth on a pendulum. Sarge followed Steven’s lead.

  “What’ve you got?” asked Steven.

  Sarge had used a spotting monocular before but never one as compact as this Vortex. He altered the eyecup for comfort and adjusted the focus.

  “Range is four hundred meters. Hostile target is twenty inches wide and thirty inches tall. Silhouette of the friendly is the same. Slight headwind,” said Sarge. Sarge heard someone say send it and their M2010 cracked to life. “No muzzle attachments.”

  “Yeah,” said Steven. He adjusted the Leopold Mark 6 scope and fired.

  “Hit,” said Sarge. “Center mass.” Several shots were being fired now. Focus. Sarge recalled the old golf adage—play the course, not the players. Steven fired again.

  “Hit, center mass, slightly right,” said Sarge.

  Steven was on. He emptied the magazine. Steven was right about the number of targets and the need to either reload the magazine or hand-feed the ammo through the bolt action. When he hit the last target, Steven rose up on his knees and exhaled.

  “How’d we do?” asked Steven.

  “All seven tangos down. Looks like a close second to Brad’s boys from Devens,” said Sarge. “The Coasties are dead last.”

  “What about Dodge and Rose?” asked Steven.

  “Mid-pack,” responded Sarge. Both men stood up as the firing halted.

  “Nicely done, soldiers,” said Brad. “This next challenge comes directly out of urban combat zones like Baghdad. This will require accuracy and an analysis of the most efficient way to neutralize an enemy sniper. It is also a timed challenge.” Brad started walking down the still-muddy road towards another group of stations. At the bottom of the hill appeared seven thirty-foot-tall sniper hides on stilts. At the top of each tower was an enemy gunman represented by a red hostile target.

  “This is a two-step challenge,” said Brad. “Consistent with our discussion this morning, you will be required to take out the enemy sniper first followed by the tower itself. The tower targets are four inches in diameter. Here’s another twist. The team member that fired last round must rotate out in favor of the other team member.”

  Sarge was up for it.

  “I should’ve known,” whispered Steven. “Brad can be a tricky fucker. You’ve got this.”

  “I’m ready,” said Sarge.

  “Remember, steady your breathing and gently pull the trigger,” said Steven. “No need to rush. We’ll still be using the M2010, which is a bolt action. If we were using a semiautomatic .50 caliber like the Barrett, Shore would have a big advantage. Let’s just stay up there in second next to them and we’ll make up the time downstream. Cool?”

  “Cool,” said Sarge.

  “On my signal,” yelled Brad. “Go!”

  Sarge and Steven hustled to their position, running past the other teams to reach their station first. Steven manipulated the Vortex and brought the red target gunman into focus.

  “Okay,” said Steven. “A headshot is your only option. Target is four hundred twenty meters. Target exposure is fourteen inches high, eleven inches wide. Slight left to right crosswind. Tough shot, buddy.”

  Sarge was silent as he adjusted his rifle’s scope. He fired.

  “Miss, high left,” said Steven.

  Sarge made the necessary adjustments as other rifle reports could be heard. He fired. The target exploded into hundreds of pieces.

  “Tannerite,” said Steven. Tannerite was the brand name of an explosive used for making explosive targets in weapons training exercises. Sarge knew it had many potential uses. Another explosion was heard, but they couldn’t discern which team made the hit.

  “Okay, nail one of the tower legs and see if it will be sufficient,” said Steven. “Knowing Brad, it will be the back-side target.”

  Sarge stared through the rifle’s scope. “It will take all three,” said Sarge. “They have the structure cross-braced. Let’s do this.” Sarge was fully focused in his own sniper bubble. He fired.

  “Hit!” exclaimed Steven. “Left support down.”

  Sarge operated the bolt action for his fourth shot. He fired.

  “Miss, right a few inches,” said Steven. “The wind has stopped.”

  Sarge quickly prepared himself for another shot.

  “Hit, two down,” said Steven. The sound of explosions permeated the background. Sarge remained focus. Play the course. He drew a bead on the final strut located at the rear of the sniper hide. Send it.

  “Hit, fuckin’ A!” shouted Steven as he hugged his brother. “Nailed it, bro!” The brothers walked back up the hill to where a grinning Brad stood.

  “Well, Sarge,” said Brad, “do I need to personally deliver you to the JBCC recruiter’s station? Nice shooting.”

  “Thanks, Brad,” said Sarge. The team of Falcone and Shore came up to them a moment later followed by the team of Bergman and Rosenberg out of Fort Drum. Shore shook Sarge’s hand.

  “Where’d you train?” asked Shore.

  Sarge couldn’t tell him the truth. “Oh, our family has a little place west of Boston near Prescott that works as a pretty good practice facility,” said Sarge. Sarge caught Brad and Steven exchanging a knowing glance.

  “Well, it’s paid off for you,” said Shore. “I’m guessing that puts our two teams neck and neck at this point.”

  “Listen up everyone,” interrupted Brad. “We started with a total of seven teams, but we now must reduce this to four. The following three teams have been eliminated: the Military Police Team from Devens and the two teams from Fort Dix.” All of the teams exchanged handshakes with each other. There was no shame in being eliminated from this competition. Clearly, all of the participants were highly skilled soldiers.

  “Round three is up next. There is nothing more primal than hand-to-hand combat. In urban campaigns, it is not unusual to find yourself in very tight quarters. There may be times when your only weapon is a knife,” said Brad. “One wrong move could decide your fate. In this challenge, the first-place team will face off against the fourth-place team. You will be provided an electrically charged training knife delivering around seventy-five thousand volts. This is substantially less than a stun gun, but it will hurt you nonetheless. Also, the knife has been coated with simulated red blood for scoring purposes.”

  A makeshift ring had been created in the middle of the road. It was covered in mud, sand and loose gravel. Sarge had to be aware of his footing. He knew some Krav Maga training, which placed an emphasis on footwork. Krav Maga was a self-defense system developed for the Israeli military, and combined a variety of martial arts techniques into one discipline. It stressed threat neutralization together with combined offensive and defensive maneuvers. The key to Krav Maga was to either attack preemptively or to counterattack as soon as possible.

  “We have to go up against Rose and Dodge,” said Steven. “I’ll take Dodge so you won’t have to worry about beating a girl.”

  “Listen, Steven,” said Sarge. “Don’t underestimate her. In fact, Brad made a comment about her earlier. He called her a third-degree ball buster.”

  “Bro, maybe so,” said Steven. “But she’s still a girl. Trust me, I know!”

  “No, listen to me,” said Sarge. “He said third degree. I think she has martial arts training. She won’t fight the way you’re used to. I have.” Sarge waited for Steven to answer.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” said Steven. “Plus, Rose seems to be a douche. I might just kick his ass for the hell of it.”

  Sarge and Steven watched as the other two teams squared off. The younger men from Fort Drum were clearly the aggressors against the remaining duo from Devens. Falcone held his own, but his opponent was determined to be the victor. Shore easily defeated Rosenberg from Fort Drum. Based upon Brad’s tally of knife strikes and
a consensus of the group regarding blood splatter, the Fort Devens team of Falcone and Shore were declared the winners. They would advance to the final round.

  Sarge was first up against 2LT Dodge. Steven advised him to fight defensively. Let her come to him. Slashes were worth one point and stabs were worth two points. The brothers agreed to focus on slashes. Even an experienced fighter had a tendency to lunge when attempting a stab. Your opponent could use his arm to throw you off balance, resulting in a knife in your back. Sarge entered the ring to an awaiting Dodge. He immediately noticed she was using a forward knife grip, which would be expected from her military training. This was a traditional grip she chose to help overcome her reach disadvantage.

  Sarge knew the disadvantages of the forward, traditional grip. First, the knife was far from the body, leaving the hand and arm vulnerable to being trapped or slashed by an attacker. Secondly, the forward grip naturally pointed the knife upward. A more powerful attacker could drive your arm upward, potentially stabbing you in the face with your own knife.

  “Ready? Go!” shouted Brad.

  Sarge stared in Dodge’s eyes, trying to maintain continuous eye contact. While he entered the ring mimicking her grip, he quickly changed to a reverse knife grip. Were the knives real, Sarge would have placed the knife edge out. This was the preferred technique of a defensive, slash-style fighter. Because these knives were electrically charged, the blade orientation didn’t matter. There were several advantages to this grip, all of which related to the ability to exert greater force on your opponent. The primary disadvantage related to reach, but Sarge already had a reach advantage due to his size.

  For a moment, Sarge maintained a passive stance, feet spread apart and his knees locked. He waited for Dodge to make the first move. He saw her glance down to assess his posture for a brief moment and then she quickly moved toward him. In an instant, Sarge switched his feet to a classic fight stance—left foot forward, right foot back and his elbows in, minimizing the target. Dodge was caught off guard by Sarge’s sudden reposition and her momentum carried her forward. She managed a glancing slash for one point, but Sarge slashed her right shoulder and quickly achieved a stab in her upper back. Dodge gathered herself, but Sarge was quicker. He quickly switched to a forward grip, allowing for maximum reach—executing a stab and a slash as he withdrew his knife. Dodge had no choice but to be the aggressor. Sarge switched back to the reverse grip and waited for Dodge to make her move. She was fast and executed a stab to Sarge’s shoulder, but he slashed her arm as part of a block attempt. The match was over.

  “Wow, look at you, bro,” said Steven, slapping Sarge on the back.

  “Don’t gloat,” said Sarge. “You’ve still got work to do.”

  Sarge knew Steven was an accomplished street fighter. Of all of the participants today, he was probably the only one who had been in a real knife fight. He had scars all over his body to prove it. This was different from a street fight, however. There were some rules of engagement and Steven didn’t always follow the rules. Sarge looked over at Rose, who seemed to be determined.

  “He looks pissed,” said Sarge to Steven.

  “It’s probably because I banged his girlfriend.” Steven laughed. Brad motioned for Steven to come into the ring. “This won’t take long.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Sarge.

  “He’s too emotional. Look at him. The veins are popping out of his neck. Also, his natural instincts will be to avoid getting cut. You always get cut in a knife fight. It’s part of the fun,” said Steven. He’s certifiable.

  Steven strolled casually into the ring. He had an added advantage. He was truly ambidextrous. He held the knife in his left hand using a forward grip, but with his hand dropped to his side.

  “Ready, go!” shouted Brad.

  Steven reached out to Rose as if to shake hands. Everyone could see this infuriated Rose. Rose charged Steven, achieving a slash on Steven’s right bicep. Steven quickly responded with a stab to Rose’s shoulder. As Rose passed him in the ring, Steven gracefully switched hands and stabbed him in the back.

  “Four,” shouted Steven. Sarge grinned. Steven was fucking with the man’s head and it was working. Sarge watched Steven ready himself for the next attack.

  Rose bull-rushed Steven. Ordinarily, the proper move was to sidestep and block the attacker. Steven didn’t move. As Rose stabbed towards him, Steven grabbed the knife blade and ripped it out of Rose’s hand. He then stabbed Rose with his own knife that was held in his left hand. As Rose struggled with his balance, Steve buried Rose’s knife in his chest. Rose promptly fell backwards into the mud.

  “Five, six, seven and out,” shouted Steven.

  Gripping both blades, allowing the voltage to shock him, he turned to Brad and offered him the knife handles.

  “What’s next?” asked Steven.

  Rose was on his feet and walking straight toward Steven with his fists balled up. Oh shit!

  Sarge didn’t have to intervene. Falcone was on Rose immediately and held him back. Steven didn’t help matters by asking what, what repeatedly with faux innocence. Technically, the rules did not prohibit disabling the attacker in the challenge, so Steven was clear to make the move. Further, no one said he couldn’t taunt his opponent. Steve fought based upon his experiences, not some textbook definition of a knife fight. Sarge sensed Brad knew this, which explained why Steven wasn’t admonished for the maneuver.

  “The final round will be between the Fort Devens team of Falcone and Shore representing the 1st Battalion, 25th Regiment, and the boys from Boston representing,” said Brad, his voice trailing off.

  “The Mechanics,” said Sarge. “You can call us the Mechanics.” Sarge saw Brad smile.

  “In the final round, the scenario will be an urban combat zone,” said Brad. “You will be required to wind your way through a simulated Middle Eastern village, complete with a mosque, neutralizing the twenty hostiles without killing any friendlies. Then, you must locate and retrieve a hostage and return to this entrance within ten minutes. Is everybody clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Sarge.

  “For this challenge, you will be issued a Beretta M9 sidearm and a Daniel Defense Mil Spec M4A1 carbine with two magazines for each weapon. Be judicious with your ammo, gentlemen,” said Brad. “Fort Devens Team, you’re up first.”

  Sarge and Steven were sequestered in a building around the corner, preventing them from observing the tactics used by the Fort Devens team. They could hear gunfire and muffled voice commands, but that was it. Sarge listened as Steven took this opportunity to brief him on some tactics.

  “Do you hear those staccato bursts?” asked Steven.

  “Yeah.”

  “First of all, do not select full auto on the M4,” said Steven. “We don’t have to worry about return fire, so we can preserve our ammunition—maintain ammo discipline.

  “Second, let me lead with you staying to my left. You take red hostiles on the left side and I will take the ones on the right. Neither one of us will try to help the other or we’ll fuckin’ shoot each other. I guarantee there will be a decision point—a fork in the road. The course will require us to choose left or right. Most likely, the side of the road with the least number of hostiles will be the way to go. In a real battle, the enemy will try to lure you into a kill zone. We’ll accommodate them this time, but only because they can’t fire back—I hope.”

  “Okay,” acknowledged Sarge.

  “Voice commands are acceptable. Don’t hesitate to speak up. The hostage will either be at the back side of the town or in a center square or structure. We’ll know when we get in there. I expect the friendlies will be stacked in this area the most. Take your time. Shooting a friendly will be deadly—for us and for them.”

  “The Mechanics,” yelled Brad. “Front and center.”

  As Sarge moved towards the door, Steven grabbed his arm. “Wait, last thing. Once inside the building, shoulder your M4 and switch to your sidearm. You’ll have better weapons contro
l in tight spaces. We will always enter a room together and quickly. The idea is to dominate the room. I seriously doubt there will be hostiles inside the building. Brad would not risk a ricochet taking one of us out. Even if you get a loose trigger finger, better for me to get shot with a 9mm than the 5.56 rounds.”

  “I’m not gonna shoot you, asswipe,” said Sarge. “But Rose might.”

  Sarge and Steven jogged out of the building to the entrance. Sarge saw Steven wink in the direction of Dodge and Rose. He just couldn’t help himself. Sarge wasn’t sure who the wink was intended for.

  “Gentlemen,” said Brad, “the team from Fort Devens successfully completed the mission. You’re up. Do you remember the requirements of this challenge?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the Mechanics. Sarge and Steven moved through the makeshift village in a methodical, controlled manner. Just as Steven surmised, Sarge encountered four hostiles on the left side of the road to Steven’s two on the right side. A fenced compound split the road into two forks. The men took the right fork as Steven suggested and the decision saved them considerable time. No friendlies were killed and they only had three misfires each. They learned afterwards the Fort Devens team went left and spent an excessive amount of time searching for hostiles that didn’t exist on the left path. Sarge and Steven finished the challenge in just over seven minutes, well ahead of Falcone and Shore.

  “Congratulations, gentlemen,” said Brad. “Steven, as a retired Navy SEAL, you have shown your seasoned abilities and you have stayed in excellent battle condition. Sarge, I think I speak for everyone here in saying you have been quite impressive today. You could lead one of my platoons anytime.” The other participants applauded their win. Brad addressed the group.

  “Together, Steven and Sarge operated as a well-oiled, finely tuned machine befitting their moniker the Mechanics.”

  Chapter 25

  June 6, 2016

  The Boston Herald Editorial Conference Room

  Boston, Massachusetts