“Oh, I’d love to see my aunts and Jane and Rhonda, and Susan and Cecilia, oh and Mandy, too. Will Cynthia come along now that she and Benson are engaged?”
“I’m sure she will. She and Georgiana are close friends, and since she’s joining the family in June, I would expect she would want to become acquainted with the other Darcy women.”
“Oh, good. I’d love to get to know her. Invite whomever you please. It’ll be fun. Let’s see, Linda is eighteen months, the twins are almost ten, and Rebecca Jane is two, Mandy’s due in December, and Cecilia and I in February. We’ll have a house filled with pregnant women and lactating mothers.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head and chuckled. “I’ll be sure and keep the men outside safe from the gaggle of geese.”
“You’ll do no such thing! When you’re not hunting, you’ll be right here with us. Gaggle of geese indeed! I’ll make you think gaggle of geese!” She slapped him playfully. “Now tell me, how are the plans for the cabin coming along?”
“Well, Patterson had the CAD drawings modified last week. I should have them on my desk by tomorrow afternoon. With the changes you made to the loft and the ones I made to the family room, we’ll need to look them over one more time, and then they can start the construction the following week. It should be completed by mid-spring, if the weather cooperates. Perhaps we can use it in April, and just maybe there will be a touch of winter, and we’ll have snow on the ground. Regardless, it’ll still be cold. I plan on cutting the wood myself for the stove. It’ll be good for me.”
“Very good then. Now, let’s give the kids to the nannies and prepare for dinner. It’s almost ready. Come on. Let’s go. And let those dogs outside. They’re smelly.” She picked up Alex as he scooped Emily into his arms and headed in the direction of their bedroom with one small detour towards the outside entrance of the Great Hall where the pups were gracefully expelled.
~*~
That night as the family lay in bed, a violent storm tore through the lake country. Howling winds and rain beat against the windows. Thunder cracked and lightning lit up the sky. Rising from her bed, Georgiana crossed the room to take a seat on her window bench, peering out into the night. The pelting against the glass became more furious with hail striking the windowpanes like a thousand angry fists. As she sat there, an ominous feeling swept over her. Something was wrong. …He’s in trouble… I feel it.
Quickly she murmured a prayer, asking for God’s protection, but the feeling did not abate as it had done in the past. It only intensified. Worry gripped her as she breathed another prayer. This had never happened before. Shooting to her feet, she quickly moved to her bedside table and lit a candle. She would stay up all night if she had to. Joseph needed her. She swallowed hard as her body trembled. She broke out in a cold sweat, perspiration beading on her forehead. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, Joseph was in trouble. Death was looming. She knew it…she felt it…she could taste it—fear.
Chapter Eighty-four
Honor…Courage…Commitment…
United States Marine Corps.
In a mountainous area of Afghanistan, Brigadier General William B. Haines paced back and forth, smoking one cigarette after another. The General had just received the call from the Pentagon. The mission was a go. The General breathed deeply, taking a long drag off of his cigarette before stubbing it out and lighting another one.
He’d been planning this offensive since the 2001 Al-Qaeda attack on the World Trade Center. His job had been to assemble Mountain Fox, a special operations strike team able to hit with lightning speed and deadly accuracy. The General had surveyed the academies carefully, selecting the finest they had to offer for his junior officer corps. He had also drafted the top men from all branches of the Special Forces, and had personally supervised their training under the instruction of Colonel Jeremiah Burnside, a man noted for his expertise in covert operations, who answered directly to him, General Haines.
The four hand-picked men from the academies were Marine Captains Joseph E. Bennett and Michael D. Butler, and Navy Lt. Jebediah A. Johnson, known as Jeb, all from the Naval Academy, and Captain William E. Bailey from West Point. They were four of the finest men General Haines had ever trained. Each was skilled with a knife at close range and a dead shot with a pistol as well as highly proficient in martial arts and survival tactics. Each had command of sixteen men. Mountain Fox was the best of the best in the Special Operations Forces of the United States Military.
They had found and brought to justice Saddam Hussein and then later had brought about the death of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. Now they were going after the deadliest terrorist of them all, a Saudi militant known as The Sheik. To the best of the General’s knowledge, there had never been a more capable or well-trained team than the one he had created. They were perfect—highly qualified and deadly—and this was their most important assignment.
They would soon meet for one last debriefing before today’s predawn assault. They would go in one hour before sunrise with the backup of the 5th Army Special Forces out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky and the Marine Expeditionary Unit from Camp Pendleton, San Diego, California. They would be reinforced with an artillery battery, reconnaissance, an infantry battalion, and a helicopter squadron with Combat Services Support coming in to care for the wounded. And General Haines was sure there would be wounded—many of them.
As the General contemplated this mission, he began to flash back to his own days in Vietnam, remembering another mission. He’d led a group of Green Berets to take a Viet Cong command post, but the mission had not gone well. The losses had been heavy, and they did not carry the day. His best friend had died in his arms that day because he, then Major Haines, had miscalculated the enemy’s resolve. In his mind, the past weighed heavily against the present as the General contemplated today’s mission. It was crucial—vitally important that this mission succeed.
With these thoughts crowding his mind, he put out his cigarette and headed for the debriefing room at a rapid pace. Once in the war room, the General stepped in front of the aerial map and picked up his wand.
“Gentleman,” he said, “Code name Red Death is a go. Now,” the General looked around at each man in the room, “we’ve been over these plans before, but let’s go over this again. Bennett,” he called out, “your men go in first through the center, followed by Bailey on the left and Butler on the right. Take out the sentries when you enter and then signal back. I will call in air support at that time. They will keep the enemy’s ground forces occupied, clearing the way for you to move forward. You will have Apaches and Black Hawks for cover with Super Stallions available to airlift out the wounded.” He paced back and forth, slapping his hand with the baton he held. “Taken by surprise, the enemy should not have a chance to assemble for SAM assaults, but in case they try,” he pointed at the man in the back of the room, “Johnson, your job is to see that they don’t. Got that, Johnson?” Johnson nodded. “Bennett, Butler, Bailey,” the General struck a spot on the map, “when the air strikes begin, move in with your men to this point. The Sheik is in there.” The General tapped. “We want him alive, but if you can’t take him alive, then bring out the body. I am sending you three in with your men because you are the best of the best. And failure is not acceptable. Colonel Burnside and I will be watching over you via satellite surveillance.” The General paused and surveyed the room one last time. He nodded and cleared his throat. “Good luck, men, and remember, you are the Elite Force Mountain Fox—America’s best.”
The General bowed his head and said a prayer before dismissing them.
~*~
Joseph lit up a cigarette and rested while trying to prepare himself for what he hoped would be his last mission in this bloody war. The mental anguish was intense while his mind drifted, as it usually did, to Georgiana Darcy. It had been over a year since he had last written to her. He had not wanted to become emotionally attached for many reasons, and yet he had done just that. He had implied that he wanted to marry her.
If it were not for this damned mission, he would have told her more, but he could not offer her hope for a future…not yet. Joseph had to live through this operation and make it back home alive. Distractions, even those as pleasant as Georgiana, could be deadly. He’d almost lost his life once before while thinking of her. He had to get his head focused on the assignment. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes.
Joseph stubbed out his cigarette and looked around at his men and the other force commanders. Who would be there tomorrow? Jeb Johnson had pulled out his harmonica and was playing The Green Fields of France, a sad, lonesome tune about a soldier killed and buried in France during the First World War. Bailey was keeping to himself as he always did, and Butler was listening to something a second lieutenant was telling him while the other men were smoking and quietly talking among themselves. Yes, he wondered who would live and who would die.
Bennett lit another cigarette as he thought of what was coming. He remembered the first time he’d killed a man and how sick it had made him feel. He had erroneously thought that killing was killing, but taking the life of a man was not the same as slaughtering hogs back on the farm. He could be covered in pig’s blood and think nothing of it. Take a shower and that was that. A man’s blood was different. You could wash and wash and still not be clean. He knew he was changing—had changed. It was either him or them, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.
Pulling a long draw on his cigarette, Joseph wondered if he was decent enough for Georgiana, or any woman for that matter. When had he stopped feeling? Would he ever feel anything again? No, he’d had it with the guts and glory. If he ever did marry and have a son, he didn’t want him to be where he was, losing a piece of his soul with each shot fired…each man killed. War wasn’t fun and games. War was killing people and destroying things. It was real—not a fantasy or a video game. And yet, as he thought about it, freedom wasn’t free. It came at a price, bought and paid for in blood—the blood of his friends, and maybe even his own.
“Bennett, you awake?” Butler asked as he took a seat beside his friend and lit up a cigarette.
“Yeah, I’m awake.”
“This is it. We’ve got to get through this one,” he breathed out heavily. “If I make it out, I’m going home. I have a little girl I’ve only seen pictures of. She isn’t even a year old yet. I wonder what she and her mother are doing tonight,” he said. “You know, I never imagined it would be like this when we were at Annapolis. Did you, Bennett?”
“No, I never did. I hope we make it out alive, too. I have a lady I would like to see again.”
“Yeah? You, Bennett? You never said anything about a lady. Well, if you still pray, maybe you had better say one before we go in. This is not like last time. I don’t have a good feeling at all about this one. The losses will be heavy. It’s just a feeling, but I can’t seem to shake it,” Captain Butler said as he gazed off into the night.
“Don’t talk like that, Butler! We’re going to make it. You’ll see that little girl. You have to have some faith!” Captain Bennett spoke with more confidence than he felt.
~*~
Sitting off by himself, Bailey shook his head and smiled. He’d overheard the conversation between Butler and Bennett, and the news of Bennett’s girlfriend was surprising to him as well, although he’d suspected it from that bundle of letters Bennett carried and his carelessness of late. Bailey knew that his buddies were both nervous, and he understood why. They had something to live for. Bailey, on the other hand, didn’t.
He had been at the top of his graduating class at West Point, but unlike Butler and Bennett, he was a loner. He didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend either, for that matter. His mother had died from cancer a few years back, and he’d never known his father.
Bailey took a draw off his cigarette and smiled to himself. The three captains had become family over the past five and a half years with Butler and Bennett always regaling him with tales of growing up on a farm. Butler had lived on a dairy farm in Wisconsin with his parents and two brothers and a sister while Bennett had been raised in the mountains of Tennessee with four sisters and a brother. Bailey felt that he somehow shared in his comrades’ lives through their stories of home, which always brought him comfort, and he never tired of hearing them. Bailey smiled again as he glanced down at his watch. He slowly stood and shook the dirt from his fatigues before joining his friends.
Butler and Bennett were silently finishing their cigarettes when Captain Bailey approached. “Time to go, guys. Bennett, you go in first. Butler and I will follow. Good luck.” Bailey nodded to his comrades.
“Thanks, Bailey. Let’s say a prayer for the mission,” Captain Butler said.
Captain Bennett dropped his cigarette and stamped it. Then he called his men together and said one final prayer. Looking up, he eyed each man one by one. “Okay, men, lock and load…it’s time to rock and roll.”
As they moved into position, Jim Morrison’s song The End played through Bennett’s mind. All thoughts of Georgiana Darcy were carefully blocked. His mind was clear and focused. He—they—were on a mission.
All three teams crept in as silent as the grave, finding the enemy asleep at their post. It would be easy. They quietly took them out. Bennett, Bailey, and Butler had worked together and they knew their jobs well. And, all three had made a pact that if they came out of this alive, this would be it… the end. They only had to live through this one damned day.
The signal was given. Choppers hovered in the air, firing at will. All hell was breaking loose. Rockets launched. Men screamed as they jumped and died. Johnson and his men were on the move to the SAM site while the three captains with their men moved quickly to point A, killing anyone who rose up in their way. They entered the tent after their men had secured the grounds, and there he sat as if expecting them. The Sheik’s lips curved into a sickly sweet smile as he welcomed them with a gesture of his hand, but there was no hospitality in his voice. Hatred like the flames of hell burned in his dark eyes. All three stared in horror when they saw what he held in his hand, but it was Bailey who moved to take him, and then…an explosion… darkness… and finally… nothing.
Bennett groaned in agony. His face burned, and he couldn’t move his left arm. He gasped against the pain and bit back a moan as he slowly twisted his head to his left. Bailey was dead. The Sheik was dead. Butler lay sprawled and bleeding in the dirt, moaning while their men were scattered about.
“Bailey,” Bennett ground out. Bailey had laid down his life for his friends. The words of Jesus rambled through Bennett’s thoughts. …Greater love hath no man than this… that a man lay down his life for his friends. Georgiana… was Bennett’s last thought as everything went black.
Chapter Eighty-five
…the great Confederate general who was wounded at the Battle of Chancellorsville…
“Noooooooo!” Georgiana Darcy jerked awake from a restless sleep, her throat burning on a silent harsh scream. It was a dream—a horrible dream! She had seen something terrifying, but she couldn’t remember the details. She shivered against the cold sweat soaking her, inexplicably frightened.
She cast a quick glance at the clock. Three o’clock in Derbyshire meant somewhere between five a.m. and six-thirty in the Middle East. How long had she been asleep? It had been one a.m. the last time she’d looked.
Quickly scrambling out of bed, she grabbed her robe and pulled it on over her shoulders. Running to the television, she turned on the BBC and saw the news flash. “Oh… my… God,” she said in a hushed tone. Frozen in place, tears welled and spilled over her lashes. Snapping out of her trance, she hurriedly slipped into her slippers and ran three doors down to her brother’s chamber.
“Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth, come quickly! Quickly! NOW!” She banged on the door with both fists.
“What is it, Georgiana?” Fitzwilliam asked, coming to the door half-dressed.
“Get dressed and let me in. Turn on the set. Something has happened in Afghanistan!”
&n
bsp; Elizabeth made her way out of bed, picking up her gown from the floor and pulling it over her head. Then she slipped into her dressing gown while Fitzwilliam grabbed a robe. Georgiana entered and they turned on the television.
“This is Al Stokes reporting live with U.S. Army troops on the ground stationed out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky and the Marine Expeditionary Unit from Camp Pendleton. The American lead team went in this morning just before dawn, local time, in an attempt to capture a top Al-Qaeda leader. The mission is a success, but many have been injured or killed. The Al-Qaeda leader was killed. One Marine captain is dead with two others critically wounded. The Americans, as well as the enemy, have taken heavy losses.”
As they watched the news coverage for over an hour, Elizabeth cried and Georgiana was visibly shaking. The only one who remained calm was Fitzwilliam.
Georgiana finally said through her tears, “This must be the mission that Joseph told me about. It was supposed to be his last. They didn’t mention it as a Special Forces team, so it might not be him, but we have to find out.”
“Georgiana, if it was Joseph’s team, they would never tell us. They can’t. It’s top secret,” Elizabeth said in a trembling voice as she looked at her sister-in-law with a very shocked expression on her face.
“I’ll contact the Red Cross and see what I can find out. The military will contact your brother’s family if anything has happened to him, and since you’re his sister, we should be able to find out something,” Fitzwilliam said.
The Cumberland Plateau Page 91