Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt

by The Griffin's Heart(Lit)

  Then he heard it again. “You are not alone.” It was louder, but now he wasn’t sure if that’s what he heard at all. Was it a voice? Or was his mind playing tricks on him? He realized that it wasn’t her voice at all. It was more like a roar, and the sound was growing louder and louder. Soon it sounded like a wild animal growling as it grew nearer. The vision of meeting a lion or bear in the dark sent shivers down his back.

  He pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it into the darkness. Now the noise was becoming deafening. He grabbed his head and gripped it with both of his hands. I’m going crazy! That’s the only explanation!

  Rob turned to look in the direction of the roar. It was becoming the voices of thousands of people shouting, and it was getting louder. He could see a light, and it, too, was getting brighter. What was it? Had he died? Was he seeing angels? The light and the roaring grew brighter and louder until they seemed to be almost on top of him. He rolled over to a rock and tried to hide behind it. Was he going insane? Had the heat boiled his brains?

  Then, the roar seemed to rush right past him, but now it took on a shape. He could barely make out that shape. It was a tank! Then another went past. And another. And another. In all, twelve tanks and over two dozen armored personnel carriers went past. He stood up as the final tank passed. There weren’t anymore. Reflex more than effort took over. He knew instinctively what he had to do. This Armor column was bound to be going to someplace where there would be supplies. If he could hitch a ride with them, maybe he could get into some base? He struggled to get his legs to work and ran after the last tank.

  He ran with all the strength he had left. The tank was proceeding at little more than a swift idle, and he found that he was beginning to catch up to it. He continued to run for several minutes. Eventually, he was able to reach out and grip a handle near the left tread. It was part of a series of handles that seemed to be designed to allow someone to climb onto the back of the tank. First one hand, then the other, he told himself, gripping it with both hands. Finally, he was able to get both feet on to the lower handle and pull himself upward.

  He found himself lying on top of some very warm metal plating that apparently covered the engine. He was out of breath and needed to rest. Once he caught his breath, he would hide by hanging on to those handles on the back. Then he would jump off before morning. He smiled with his eyes closed as he considered his good fortune. What were the chances of meeting an Armor patrol out in the middle of nowhere? What were the chances that it would drive right past him as it did?

  I could just kiss that rock I tripped on, he thought. But his smile quickly faded as the sound of metal scraping caught his attention. He opened his eyes and caught some movement above him. The hatch was opening!

  Before he could react, a head emerged and then the upper torso. He reached down for his pistol, but it was gone. He must have dropped it back by the rock. The figure had his back to him, watching the tanks and other vehicles in front of him. Rob sat up and started to turn toward the handles just as the man turned around. He was an Iraqi officer and was apparently confused at seeing Rob on the back of his tank. Perhaps he had confused Rob with an infantry soldier who was part of his unit, but his confusion was short-lived as his eyes became wide, and he reached for his pistol.

  Once again, his reflexes took over! Rob leaped at the officer with renewed strength. It was now a matter of life and death. As the officer raised his hand, Rob grabbed his wrist and lifted it into the air. With his other hand, he managed to pull the officer’s helmet off backward. The chin strap tightened around the officer’s neck, causing him to choke. He dropped his gun and pulled on the strap as he kicked to get away. His kicking only managed to push him over onto his back and out of the hatch. Rob found himself sitting on top of the man as he was struggling to get free.

  Finally, the officer managed to pull one of his legs free and kick Rob off of him. His action broke the chin strap and sent Rob falling backward back onto that warm lower plating that covered the engine. The officer wasn’t quite as lucky. He rolled off the top and down the front of the tank. The steeply sloped armor in front provided him little to grab. He landed on the ground in front of the left track and was immediately crushed by his own tank.

  Rob struggled back to his feet and went over to the open hatch. All the noise was bound to have alerted those still inside. He found the pistol the officer had dropped just as another head emerged from the hatch. Quickly, he hit him in the face with the pistol, knocking the man back down inside.

  He knew he had to act quickly, or everyone in this Armor unit would know he was there. If that happened, he would never get out of there alive. He forced himself down the open hatch head first. The man he hit in the face was only two feet from him, reaching for a small machine gun. Rob was hanging precariously from the open hatch in a dimly lit and tightly-packed compartment surrounded by cannon shells. He tried to tell himself that the man he faced couldn’t be stupid enough to fire that gun with all the cannon shells around them.

  But the man swung his hand up with the weapon, pausing to focus on something behind Rob. The cannon rounds! They were directly behind Rob and to each side. His opponent had apparently reached the same conclusion. He was dead if he did nothing, so he had nothing to lose. The pause gave Rob time to swing his gun into position and fire. Besides, there were no cannon rounds behind the Iraqi!

  The crack of the gun was deafening inside the tank. There must be more crewmembers further inside, Rob thought, bringing his feet down to a platform inside the turret. At the opening at the turret’s base, he trained his pistol into the main body of the tank. Another head looked through the opening and shouted. He shot a bullet perfectly into the forehead and waited for more men to come. After about a minute, he slowly knelt down and looked through the opening.

  Other than the two dead soldiers on the floor, the compartment was empty. But the tank was still moving. The tank’s throttle was set, and it was still rumbling forward. He realized that he had accidentally captured a tank. But what should he do now? He could try to flee, but a tank would be a pretty large target to hide so close to such large Iraqi military bases.

  He lowered himself into the compartment and looked around. Surrounding what was apparently the driver’s seat were several large periscopes, obviously designed to give the driver a three hundred and sixty degree view of the outside. It’s remarkable how well you can see in the dark, he thought as he sat down in the seat. It must have some night vision devices. The controls at his hands and feet were simple enough. The pedal was an independent brake while the hand levers were clutches. This isn’t that much different from the bulldozers out on Dad’s construction sites, he told himself. I can drive this!

  He studied the terrain one last time. All the other vehicles were in front of him. He was in perfect position for an ambush. If he started shooting, how many could he get before they realized it was coming from him? They would be looking everywhere but at him because he was one of them!

  Then the idea hit him. There were only three men in this tank. That must mean that it had a self-loading gun! With that, he could fire about ten to twelve rounds a minute! If he was lucky, he could destroy most of the tanks before their crews even knew what was happening!

  He left the tank rumbling forward, went back to the turret, and sat in the gunner’s seat. He studied the simple pistol grip that fired the main gun. Carefully, he placed his hand around the pistol grip and realized that his hands were trembling. Was it from fear or dehydration? He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. The controls were simple enough. It’s just like a joystick, he thought.

  Rob examined the controls closely. The trigger to fire the gun was located under a periscope sight, but he couldn’t figure out what the button next to his thumb did. One push ejected a cannon shell from the breach and loaded another. Now he knew what to do. And now he was ready. He moved the controls slightly to center the sight crosshairs on the tank in front of him. He took a deep breath and pulled the
trigger.

  Salah Ad-Din Territory

  Iraq

  As Marie continued staring into the distant south, she heard Logan’s footsteps as he left. She wondered if anyone was close to him. She had talked mean to him, but deep down she understood. He was not a coward. He was doing what he believed was right out of loyalty for his country. She didn’t blame him for that. She just felt that he was misguided. He did seem to care about her, and because of that, she didn’t fear him, even when he had kidnapped her.

  The night air was getting chilly, and she knew she had to get back to her children. She looked up one last time into the beautiful stars and turned to leave. As she turned, she hardly noticed the dim flashes of light barely visible in the southern sky.

  Salah Ad-Din Desert

  Salah Ad-Din Territory, Iraq

  The first tank exploded in front of Rob in brilliant splendor, and the tank he was in barely missed it as it kept moving. He was aware of the metallic sound of the shell casing ejecting from the breach and another round loading as he quickly moved the sights and fired at the next tank in formation. It, too, exploded with the same ferocity. But what happened next took him completely by surprise.

  The patrol tanks were apparently ready for combat and went immediately into action. They split formation and began moving in different directions. Rob could hear shouting coming from the headset lying on the floor next to him. He moved his sights onto another tank and fired, reducing it to a flaming pile of metal. By now, tanks and armored vehicles were everywhere. He fired again, destroying a fourth tank, when the unbelievable happened.

  An armored vehicle about halfway up through the column began to fire at his tank. It had seen Rob shoot at the tank in front of him and fired back. It must have fired before it had time to aim. The shot flew past his tank without hitting anything. Then the tank behind it apparently mistook an armored vehicle for the enemy and shot and destroyed it. Then another tank shot at him. And another. Finally, as Rob watch through his sights, several tanks were firing at the first, and before long, tanks all around began to fire at each other and the armored vehicles. They couldn’t tell where the enemy was, and that, combined with the tales of their invisible enemy, created this unbelievably volatile situation.

  Rob’s tank slammed into the back of a burning tank and stopped. He was too involved watching the battle around him to move the tank away from the fire. To his enemy, it looked as though his tank had been hit and was burning, so none of the other vehicles targeted it.

  Within what seemed to be only a few short minutes, it was over, and every tank and armored vehicle was destroyed. Had Rob’s tank continued on its course, it, too, would have been destroyed. His luck had not failed him. He now had quite an opportunity. His tank could flee, and it would only appear to be fleeing an ambush. The Iraqi military was looking for a strike force, not a single Iraqi tank. If he moved quickly, before the Iraqis figured out what had happened, he might be able to slip into a city or military installation.

  Rob checked his watch and noted that it was just after midnight. He was in control of a formidable machine and would be able to approach any Captain military installation unchallenged. From where he sat in the driver’s seat looking through his night vision equipment, he could make out every detail of the terrain. But now it wasn’t the Iraqi military that worried him as much as the American. He knew from the newsclips from the last war that the U.S. Air Force could find and attack his tank in complete darkness. Worse yet, he wouldn’t even know it was coming. That was enough to convince him it was time to stop and try to get some rest.

  Day Fourteen

  Salah Ad-Din Desert

  Salah Ad-Din Territory, Iraq

  Rob opened his eyes and looked around. It took a minute for him to realize where he was and remember the events of the night before. The position of the sun in the sky told him that it had light out for some time. He must have been very tired to have slept so long. He was lying beside the tank under the cover of a small cove of trees. He barely remembered arriving here last night and getting out before he passed out on the ground. Now he would have to try to find supplies and get back as quickly as possible.

  He climbed back into the tank, and within minutes, he was rumbling on across the prairie. The land here was flat and featureless, and riding on the tank, he could see for miles. Off in the distance, he saw smoke, and as he proceeded, it became more apparent that the smoke was coming from a large complex of burning buildings and warehouses.

  He stopped the tank and used the telescopic sight on the tank’s main gun to examine the complex. First, he noticed that a high chain link fence surrounded the complex, and there were several burning aircraft that appeared to have been tossed about. He jerked his head back and rubbed his eyes. An airbase? Was it possible that he had stumbled upon one of the airbases his missiles had just destroyed? He looked again. Yes, it was clearly an airbase.

  The buildings he’d mistaken for warehouses must actually be aircraft hangers. He tried to remember the drawing he and Wright had made in the sand. What did Wright tell him about this area just before he left? He had said that the airbase where he landed the Concorde was just to the south. He turned the turret to examine the rest of the base.

  Could the Concorde still be here? And if so, what kind of shape was it in? He continued to rotate the turret. “There it is,” he said out loud as he peered through the sights. Parked at the west end of one of the long runways was the Concorde, seemingly undamaged. He twisted the sight to zoom in with maximum magnification. The telltale features of the large fan-shaped tail made the white silhouette of the Concorde unmistakable. The Iraqis had apparently parked it at one end of the airbase to keep it out of the way, putting it out of the missile’s path as well.

  His first impulse was to avoid the airbase and look for a simpler target. But then he reminded himself that he was in a tank! Since he had an Iraqi tank, it would not seem unusual for him to approach an Iraqi airfield. He examined the base carefully. He needed to locate their defensive positions. But try as he might, he could not find any activity. The base seemed deserted, and no one was trying to put out the fires or repair the airfield. It had been evacuated!

  As he put the tank in gear and slowly approached the base, he wondered how long it would be before repair crews would arrive to repair the facilities. Before long, he came upon the road leading to the airbase. He pulled the tank onto it and began nearing the front gate. At about a hundred yards, he stopped to again examine the base.

  At the front gate, the guard house was completely vacant. Near the center of the base, he could see that the command center and tower were, for the most part, collapsed and smoking. He believed this would probably be the best place to start looking for supplies. Once again, he put the tank in gear, but this time, he raced at top speed through the security gates and on toward the command center. Then, just in front of the command center, he stopped the tank and rotated the turret to examine the base through the telescopic sights. Still he could find no activity. The base was truly deserted.

  He opened the hatch and climbed out onto the top of the tank. Other than the crackle of fire and an occasional distant explosion, the base was quiet and empty. As he stood there, he remembered that Wright had referred to this base as being a minor airbase. Apparently, Iraq was concentrating their repair crews on the more important bases. What luck! he thought. The missile attack not only cleared the base but caused a diversion! He hopped off the tank and went to examine the interior of the command center.

  Large sections of the structure were collapsed, but the important parts were still standing. That’s understandable, he thought. The more important parts would be better fortified. He found a stairway and followed it down to a long, large hallway. Only the emergency lights were still lit, but they provided more than enough light. At the end of the hallway, he found a large metal door. Since it was unlocked, he opened it and entered. An ammunition locker! Not a small arms locker, but an aircraft weapons locker: rows
and rows of self-contained cannon pods, missiles, and bombs. He knew he would have to try to explode this before he left.

  The room was well lit from what must have been it’s own backup power supply. All these supplies, but nothing he needed. Right now, he thought, I’d trade it all for a Big Mac.

  He retraced his steps back down the hall and up the stairs. He started searching the rest of the facility and finally found what he was looking for: a large supply of non-perishable foods and a freezer full of food. It didn’t take him long to find a dolly, load it with supplies, and head back out to the tank. Once there, he put the supplies on top of the tank’s back. Not only could the tank could easily carry all the supplies they needed, but it would also provide the convoy with much-needed fire power.

  After placing a couple of crates on the back of the tank, he stopped and thought again of the Concorde. Why not take it instead? Could he land it in the desert? It would be a lot simpler if he could just take the Concorde, pick up the people in the convoy, and fly away. Why not?

  Then he remembered Marie’s argument when he told her no one else could fly. “Neither can you,” she had said. It was true. He had never tried to take off, but then landing a plane was supposed to be the hardest part. Certainly if he could land one, he could get it off the ground.