Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Beret Series)

by Bob Mayer

  Riley walked over to the podium. Typical briefing for the air force, he thought to himself. Try to make things look as good as possible. It didn't look as though the post commander had bought off on it, though. But the colonel would have to decide for himself.

  Riley sorted out his notes while Partusi pulled out a schematic of the air base mounted on cardboard and placed it on an easel. Partusi extended a collapsible pointer and stood at parade rest next to the easel, prepared to point during Riley's presentation.

  "Sir, I will first brief you on our perspective of the operation as it was conducted. Then I will highlight some areas, with our recommendations, that we believe your people ought to focus on to help improve weapons security.

  "To conduct this mission we recruited eighteen members of the local army National Guard to act as guerrillas for us. We recognize we used a larger force than expected but our instructions from the Department of Defense were to create a worst-case scenario. Due to your post's proximity to the Canadian border, we feel it is quite possible that a terrorist organization may be able to infiltrate by vehicle across the border and attack here, so the number of personnel that participated last night is not improbable.

  "We trained our guerrillas for two days in the Adirondack State Forest near Meacham Lake. We received intelligence regarding the physical layout of the post and guard activities from a civilian worker who has access to all areas of the post. She provided us with detailed descriptions of everything we asked for. We drew up our plan based on this intelligence and on building information we found in the Pittsburgh Chamber of Commerce."

  Riley looked up. "I don't know why they're there, but a complete layout of the nuclear weapons storage facility is on record in the Plattsburgh County clerk's office. Although it doesn't detail the security setup, it does greatly facilitate planning a mission. Anyway, to continue. We recruited the civilian who owns the Harley-Davidson dealership that is adjacent to your south fence to assist us. Utilizing his van, the diversion force arrived at the..."

  Riley proceeded to factually relate the events of the target hit. He'd done many briefings like this before. He could see that his audience was listening carefully. They usually did. Commanders' ears tended to perk up when anything regarding nuclear weapons was discussed. In all truthfulness Riley had to admit that the Plattsburgh Air Police had done a pretty decent job and had a good setup. Unfortunately, they had to realize that decent and good didn't cut it when you could get a nuke stolen. Riley finished his narration of events with both raiding parties being stopped.

  "You may have noticed some difference in our account of events and the air police's account. Most of that is due to the excitement and the darkness. However, it is important to note that your guards were not aware we were inside the storage facility until we were departing. We were not driven off. Rather, we were leaving of our own volition, having completed what we set out to do. That team's mission was to draw in your reaction force. It succeeded in doing that.

  "We did have some trouble with a couple of the National Guardsmen playing the game with the MILES equipment. Two of them were hit and their indicators went off as we departed the storage facility. Both failed to 'play dead or wounded' until I forced them to. I apologize for that. However, we were fortunate to have these men give up their free time to participate in the exercise.

  "None of the attacking personnel at the flight line were hit. Those people stayed long enough at the aircraft to simulate the amount of time they would have needed to remove one of the nuclear warheads there. We—"

  "Excuse me." An air force lieutenant colonel in a flight suit raised his hand. "I hate to burst your bubble, mister, but I believe that would have been much more difficult than you think. I'm the squadron commander for those aircraft that were on the flight line. I had my head crew chief brief me this morning on how long it would take to safely remove one of those bombs. It was quite a bit longer than the amount of time you spent there. Almost twice as long."

  Riley nodded. "Sir, the key word there is safely. I believe your crew chief was giving you data regarding how his crews remove the warheads without damaging the aircraft. The method we would have used, had we done so, would have involved some damage to the aircraft."

  The squadron commander wasn't going to give up so easily. "I know you probably don't understand all the technicalities, but you just can't mess around with one of those warheads. You go indiscriminately cutting some of the umbilicals to the aircraft and you could damage the warhead also. There are certain safety devices installed to prevent such a removal."

  God, how I love pilots, Riley thought. Able to fly above it all and never get their hands dirty. Know everything there is to know, too. This guy probably watches Top Gun every night, he thought sourly. He patiently replied, "Yes, sir. I understand that. However—"

  "Mister Riley does understand the technicalities." Colonel Pike's soft voice interrupted the proceedings. Pike swiveled in his seat to look at the lower ranking air force officer. "You didn't receive the briefing on his background, and the team's. Every member of this team has gone through the navy's nuclear weapon surety program—the same program from which all of your pilots received their knowledge about nuclear weapons.

  "This team has been doing this for over a year now, traveling around the world testing security at installations that have nuclear weapons. I don't believe the Department of Defense would choose incompetents to do such a sensitive mission, do you? So I believe we can assume that they are qualified and do know what they're talking about. Wouldn't you agree?"

  The squadron commander fidgeted uncomfortably. "Yes, sir."

  Pike turned to the base commander, who had remained aloof from the conversation. "Sorry to have interrupted. It's just that I wanted the record to be straight. If Mister Riley said Master Sergeant Powers could take a bomb off your plane in the time he said, I for one believe him."

  The post commander nodded weakly. "Yes. I imagine so." He turned back to the front of the room. "You may continue, Mister Riley."

  Riley figured it was time to quit while the quitting was good. The briefing was only a formality anyway; the important thing was the stuff in black and white. "Sir, we'll be leaving a written report with our recommendations. In all we have thirty-one recommendations on how to improve security."

  Riley briefly reviewed a few of the most significant recommendations. He was tired. Tired from not having slept the night before. Tired from people treating him like the enemy when all he was trying to do was help them. But even more, he was tired from traveling around the world for the past year. Living out of bachelor officers' quarters on permanent temporary duty was getting to him. This was their last nuke mission. Riley wanted to go back to Fort Bragg and finally relax.

  He wrapped things up. "Sergeant First Class Partusi and I will remain here for another day working with Major Baley and his people. The rest of my team is departing for Fort Bragg this afternoon. We've appreciated working with everyone here and hope our visit has been worthwhile."

  As the meeting broke up, Colonel Pike shuffled over to the team. He waited until all the air force people were out, then he waved them into seats. "Gentlemen, this is the last mission you run for me. Your year is up and your replacement team is rotating in from 1st Battalion. I've appreciated working with you all and want to tell you that you've done a super job.

  "There aren't many 'atta-boys' in this job. Nobody congratulates you when nothing happens, but that's the only way to judge the success of this program. No nuclear weapon has yet been stolen from a U.S. military facility and hopefully your efforts over the past year will help things stay that way.

  "There's one more thing I want to say. You often hear bullshit speeches by commanders, saying you're the best and all that crap. Well, I'm going to tell you all something I haven't told any of the other teams: This detachment, 055 from 2d Battalion, 7th Special Forces Group, is indeed the best team that has worked for me in this program."

  Pike looked at all the
team members. "I think that's due to a lot of reasons, not the least of which is your team leader, Mister Riley, and your team sergeant, Master Sergeant Powers. And just as important is the work each of you soldiers has done as an individual and a member of the team.

  "I wish you all the best of luck as you go back to Bragg. I wish I was going with you instead of warming a desk in the basement of the Pentagon. Best of luck, men."

  Riley led the way as each member of the team walked up and shook the colonel's hand. Not many officers could make a speech like the one Pike had just made and have people truly believe it. Although Riley was glad to be done with this assignment, he knew he was going to miss the colonel. There weren't many officers like him left in the army.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PENTAGON

  11:00 A.M.

  General Macksey quickly sketched out to Lieutenant General Linders the tasking he'd been handed by the secretary of defense. Macksey wasn't happy about the mission but he was loyal to the secretary and wanted to have a good plan of action ready in case the president really did decide to give the final go-ahead with the Colombian mission. He concluded his presentation by asking Linders's opinion on how they should proceed with the tasking.

  Linders pondered the situation for a minute and then started jotting his ideas on a notepad as he spoke. "OK, sir. First we're going to have to get a ground unit to go in and do the verifying. They'll also probably do the final targeting. We don't need a lot of folks. Probably no more than ten to twenty. They've got to be good soldiers, because we damn sure don't want them to get caught." Linders circled the number 10 on his pad.

  "They've got to be good at infiltration, exfiltration, and surveillance. I'd say we take them from either the Rangers, Special Forces, or Delta. Delta would probably be the best, but I'm not sure we want to use that asset. As you know they've got other things they're tied up with right now and they're stretched pretty thin just maintaining their counterterrorist reaction force. The Rangers are damn fine soldiers and—"

  Macksey interrupted. Linders was air force and sometimes didn't quite understand Macksey's own service—the army. "Rangers are damn fine soldiers but surveillance isn't their mode of operation." Macksey pointed at the black-and-gold Ranger tab on his own left shoulder. "Rangers like killing things. Asking them to go look at something and not do anything is like asking a kid to go into a candy store with a dollar and not buy anything."

  Linders nodded in agreement and underlined Special Forces. "If I remember rightly, most of the Special Forces guys have worked a surveillance mission under various proposed wartime scenarios. They're trained on laser designating and electronic beacons, which we're probably going to have to use. They've got the radio equipment and long-range communications ability we'll need to talk to them in country. Also, they're proficient in the infiltration and exfiltration techniques that could be used down there: parachuting, helicopter infil, maritime operations."

  Linders's reasoning made sense. Macksey nodded. "I want you to get with the Special Operations Command at Bragg and get us some people. Enough to run two surveillance missions at the same time. One A-Team in split team mode ought to be able to do that."

  "Yes, sir." Linders looked at his notepad. "Another thing, sir. I'd recommend we pick a senior officer with some experience to head this thing up. This task force is going to be working with the CIA and DEA, so we need someone who can handle that."

  "You have any recommendations?"

  "He ought to be of flag rank at least. That limits us. Every general is slotted against a billet somewhere and we just can't pull one out of the woodwork. Plus the guy ought to have some Special Operations experience, and you know how few of those we've got with flag rank."

  "How about we pull some colonel and brevet him to brigadier?"

  "That would work, sir," said Linders. A thought struck him: "I think I have just the man we need. Colonel Pike. He's got considerable Special Operations experience with both Special Forces and Delta, and he works in my office. He'll be back tonight from Plattsburgh Air Force Base. I'll also get a hold of General Slaight over at SOCOM to OK the requisition of the bodies.

  "Initially, we can base these people out of Fort Belvoir. There's plenty of room there since the army engineer school was moved over to Fort Leonard Wood. That puts them close to the intelligence base here in the D.C. area and also close to us. Once the task force is operational we can move them down to Fort Gulick in Panama."

  Macksey shook his head. "I don't think Panama is such a great idea. It's still too much in the press. Maybe the aircraft, but not the ground people. Let's keep them based out of Belvoir so we can keep an eye on things and keep it quiet."

  Macksey checked his desk calendar. "I've got to go to Fort Monroe for a TRADOC meeting this afternoon and I won't be back until tomorrow evening. I want to see Pike then." Macksey penciled in the meeting. "1800 sharp. I want to brief him personally. We'll run this with Pike as the officer in charge. He'll go to you only for help. Your job will be to provide Pike with whatever support he requests from the Special Operations community. Most particularly aircraft."

  Linders stood up and saluted. "Yes, sir."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SATURDAY, 24 AUGUST

  FAYETTEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

  1:43 P.M.

  The wheels of the 707 hit the ground with a bounce. Riley turned to Partusi with a nod out the small window. "Home, sweet home."

  "I can deal with it."

  "Bet you can't wait to meet your old lady."

  Partusi smiled at the thought. "Yeah. She's been pissed as hell with all the temporary duty this past year. She'll be glad to have me at home for a little while."

  Partusi nudged Riley. "Last time I talked to her on the phone she said she had a girlfriend from work she wants you to meet. You'll have to come over for dinner soon. But not too soon. Me and Gina got some lost time to make up for."

  Riley rolled his eyes in mock dismay. "Not another one of Gina's real estate girlfriends. I'd rather do a blind night drop into Panama than go through that again."

  "I'll tell Gina you said that," Partusi threatened playfully.

  "You do and I'll jumpmaster your next jump and forget to check your static line. I like Gina but I can't deal with those friends she sets me up with." Riley waited until the plane rolled to a stop and then stood up. "Let's go."

  He led the way through the aisles, down the stairs, and across the tarmac to the small terminal that served Fayetteville. Entering the building he spotted the back of a figure encased in camouflage fatigues and topped with a green beret. "Our ride's here."

  Riley snuck up behind his team sergeant and grabbed him around the neck. "Man, you'd get run over by a bulldozer, you're so unobservant."

  Powers didn't turn. "Seems some sort of insect is hanging off my back. Probably be best if that bug lets go before I squash it."

  Riley released his grip, laughing. "I'm too fast for you, Dan. You'd have a heart attack trying to catch me before you could squash me."

  Powers finally turned. "Yeah, right, Dave. I didn't see you come in 'cause you're such a miniature human being it would have required binoculars to spot you."

  Riley nodded. "Sure. You missed Partusi, too." Leading the way to the baggage claim, Riley tried to get up to speed. "What's going on back at group? What's the team doing?"

  Powers grabbed Riley's duffel bag off the carousel. "Not much. Most teams in the battalion are down in Panama doing the police MTT. Nobody has said much of anything to me. I gave the guys Monday and Tuesday of next week off. Only reason I'm in uniform is to pick you up. You all can sign in and I'll drop you off at home. The colonel said not to show up until Wednesday."

  Riley smiled. "Sounds like things are finally going to slow down. Maybe they've got a good deal lined up for us."

  Powers turned and shook his head. "When you've been in the army as long as me you don't believe in good deals. It's like in combat: Just when you think things are quieting down is when you g
et hit the hardest."

  CHAPTER NINE

  PENTAGON

  8:00 P.M.

  Colonel Pike eyeballed Macksey's aide warily. Meeting the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff on a Saturday evening in the Pentagon was most unusual. Meeting him anytime would be unusual for Pike, since he was just one of hundreds of colonels running around the Pentagon. Certainly his job was involved in a sensitive area but not one that had ever gained such high-level notice before.

  In addition to the time and place, not knowing the purpose of the meeting put an extra edge on Pike's unease. He doubted very much that he had been called to the Pentagon on this Saturday evening to be congratulated for doing such a "fine job" on the nuclear security mission. On the other hand, Pike couldn't think of anything from his job, unless it was the Colombian thing Linders had mentioned, that would require the involvement of the chairman. Pike smiled wryly to himself. Nor could he remember mouthing off to anybody lately, either. So that left a whole bunch of in-between reasons for the meeting.

  The general's aide put down the phone and indicated for Pike to go in. Pike knocked on the chairman's door and entered. Behind a massive desk, flanked by flags, the chairman looked up from a file he had been reading. Pike crossed the room stiffly, stopped three feet in front of the desk, and snapped a salute. Macksey returned the salute smartly and indicated the chair he wished Pike to sit in. He then continued to read the file, occasionally glancing up at his visitor. Great leadership technique, Pike thought to himself. Macksey was what Pike termed a "political officer." The chairman had risen so high that in Pike's opinion he'd forgotten what it was like to be a soldier and real leader.

  After several minutes, Macksey put down the file. "Very interesting." He looked Pike in the eyes. "You and your people are doing a fine job on the nuclear testing. Very good job."

  "Thank you, sir." And? Pike thought.