by A. P. Texan
“Pack to be out overnight, just in case” Nick adds. “If we can find their boats, I would like to go down stream and see where the clowns came from.”
“I agree we need to see what we are up against.” I add.
Five minutes later we are all packed and headed back to the farm; this time a little more ready for whatever we may run into. We are in the Humvee our bags in the back, Nick standing in the top hatch with the M240 sitting on its bipod on the roof, I am driving, and Charles is riding shotgun. His AR up where he can deploy it out his window if he needs. We each have a radio with tactical headsets and boom mikes in front of our mouths (thank you National Guard). The plan is to drive straight by the house and into the pastures; we will check out the bodies and strip them of anything worthwhile weapons, ammo, food, etc. Then go see if we can find the boats. If we can then we will stash the hummer and head down stream. I have mixed feelings about this part, yes, I want to find out where these goat-humpin’ goons are coming from; but at the same time if there is very many of them, we will be outnumbered and out gunned. Finally, on the way back to the farm we will get Janet out of her place in the woods; wrap her in some blankets we have and transport her back to her family to be buried with dignity and respect.
Unencumbered by the side by sides and tractor; we make the trip back to the Smith place in minutes and head up the long drive. As we reach the house, I slow down the vehicle and head for the gap, in the four-strand barbed wire and cross over the cattle catcher. I continue to slow roll the big military truck, so that Nick doesn’t get thrown around too much in his perch as he is scanning for bad guys.
“Two o’clock, twenty yards, dead scum bag!” Nick tells us over the radio.
“Copy”, I respond as I turn the truck slightly to the right.
As we approach the body, Charles jumps out and carefully approaches it; while I keep the truck ready to move. Nick stays on the machine gun ready to rain 600 rounds per minute of pure hate on anything that moves.
As Nick had instructed during the short drive over, Charles thoroughly checks for booby traps before he touches anything. Once he is sure we aren’t all going to be blown to hell he flips the body over, takes the AK from the lifeless hands and removes all the extra magazines. He also finds an old Russian Makarov pistol and two extra magazines for that. All of which he tosses into the back of the Humvee with our bags. Before he retakes his spot in the passenger seat.
We continue this way for the better part of an hour zigzagging back and forth around the kill zone. Eighteen dead Jihadis later we don’t see any more bodies which means, Nick’s count was off or we missed some.
As we approach the water, I notice two things one: there are actually three boats not two and the river must be thirty feet wide here. Up at Pilgrimage it was only about twelve feet wide, so I just automatically expected the same here. The boats themselves appear to be flat bottomed river boats designed for bow fishing and duck hunting. They are around eighteen to twenty feet in length at least eight feet wide and have a platform on the front raised about six inches with LED spotlights, every couple of feet to illuminate the water. Behind center mount control station sitting on the transom are 250 horsepower Johnson Outboards.
“Wow, those are nice” Charles says as Nick and I just give out low whistles.”
“I wonder if they were nice enough to leave us some keys?” I ask as I climb aboard the one closest to me. “Jackpot! Not only do we have keys; we got some more ammo, some jerry cans of water and what I’m guessing is some kind of MRE.”
“Let’s each grab one, go up stream and see if we can find a place to stash two of them and then we can go see where these clowns came from.” Nick suggests.
“Sounds like a plan, Charles toss me my bag, and while you’re at it toss me an AK and some magazines. Why waste our bullets, when we can give theirs back to them?” I say with a smile; I fire up the big outboard Johnson.
Soon all three of us are traveling up stream looking for a place to stash our new boats. Ten minutes goes by and all we see is riverbank and trees. Just as I’m about to say screw it let’s just scuttle the damn things and continue mission; I see what we have been looking for of to the left is a smaller inlet a tributary to the tributary, if you will. I throttle back and aim the bow of the boat for the small gap in the muddy bank. The inlet is just wide enough that the sides of the boat don’t scrape but it is so shallow I have to kill the motor and raise it up out of the water or risk destroying the prop. However, we manage to get both boats up in it, with a little room to spare behind the second one.
“We will have to come back with some saws and camo this, but for now I think it will work.” Nick says to me as I cross from the stern of my boat onto the bow of his.
1700 hours 15 March 2022
Somewhere Downstream
of the Smith Ranch
We have been going downstream for what feels like forever with Nick laying prone on the raised platform, 240 ready on its bipod. Charles Prone next to him to assist with feeding the belt of ammo; while I stand at the control tower, steering the boat down the river when I steer the boat towards the bank and kill the engine.
“Listen, do you hear that?” I ask the other two.
“Yep, sounds like generators and lots of them.” Nick says back, his voice just above a whisper and coming through my radio headset.
“Let’s get off here and proceed on foot see what we can find out. I really don’t want to stay on this boat and just glide right up into a terrorist camp, like we own the place.” I say to the others.
“I like it, I’m going to leave the 240 and M4 here, I want to run light, but I want the optics on the rifle.” Nick says.
“Charles grab your gear; we will cache whatever we aren’t taking with us up on the bank somewhere, so we can grab it and head back on foot if the boat is compromised.” I say to my son and grab my gear.
Fifteen minutes later, we are walking quietly towards the sounds of the generators; our gear stashed in a cluster of mesquite and salt cedar fifty yards from the bank of the water.
The sun is starting to get low on the horizon and we won’t have much time till it starts getting dark, but we are prepared for that. Nick and I both have a PVS-14 monocular mounted to our weapons just behind our optics and Charles is sporting a Massive ATN passive night and daytime vision digital scope on his. What is nice about the ATN is it will allow him to capture 4k digital video and still photos of whatever we come across for us to review later.
As we come to the top of a small rise in the terrain; we can clearly hear the sound of multiple diesel generators and in the twilight, we can see the sky glowing from the reflection of artificial light. Whatever is going on it is a significant operation and I’m more than a little surprised, we haven’t run into any sentries.
“Have you guys noticed we haven’t seen any sentries or guard posts up to this point?” I ask the other two, in a low whisper over the radio.
“I was thinking the same thing, let’s see what we got.” Nick says as he signals for Charles and I to follow his lead. Dropping down to a crouch, he advances through the trees. Charles and I close behind him and then he drops to his belly and begin to low crawl. The two of us continue to follow his lead, knowing this man made a career out of doing this very thing in the deserts of Iraq and mountains of Afghanistan.
When he stops and brings his rifle to his eye, we both freeze hoping we haven’t been discovered, but then without taking his eye from the scope he uses a free hand and signals us both forward.
When I crawl up beside him, what I see sends chills down my spine. This can’t be happening on American soil. What I see before me can only be described as a concentration camp. I see hundreds of people dirty and in rags; shuffling around below me caged inside barbed and concertina wire enclosures. Their captors patrolling the grounds around the enclosures, with their rifle slung some slapping people around, others mocking them in their native language of Arabic or Farsi or whatever these guys speak. At o
ne enclosure that appears to be strictly women and children; I see a guard actually urinating into a trough inside the wire. As I look around the other areas, I realize these troughs are actually their drinking water. So, on top of being forced to drink water like livestock, this asshole is actually taking a piss in the water for women and children.
“Dad, we have to do something about this.” Charles says his normally calm voice seething with unbridled anger.
“Right now, we can’t”, Nick says to us both. “Look there must be at least a hundred scum bags down there and that is only the ones we can see; how many are in those tents sleeping or having a meal. The minute we try to do something, they are on us and not only are we dead but more than likely a large number of those prisoners are too. Charles start getting video and photos of everything; we are going to have to come up with a really good plan for this.”
Charles is scanning for several minutes, when he taps me on the shoulder.
“Dad, the third cage, the one made of scraps of chain link fencing, see the female with her hands in her pockets and walking around with her head down.”
“Yeah, what about her?” I whisper back.
“She has her head down like that for a reason, she isn’t looking at her feet she is taking in everything around her. Here, look through the twenty power.” He says, as he hands me the ATN.
“Damn, you’re right. She is casing the place. Oh, SHIT! That’s not just any female.”
“It is Shannon!” we say in unison.
“Dad if she is in there, then Church is either in there or... Dead.” Charles whispers.
Joseph Michael Logan, affectionately known as “Church” has been my best friend for close to thirty years. We met in eighth grade and other than when I was in the military and he was at college; we have been pretty much inseparable. However, around four years ago Shannon came into his life. They fell almost instantly in love and she has taken over most of his time, and you know what that’s okay. I’m more than happy for him, as he needs that kind of companion in his life. She is the one who gave him the moniker “Church”, although she has never really been able to completely articulate where she came up with the name, it does seem to work to “keep him centered” as she puts it.
Knowing she is inside however, is telling me he is either in great danger or is no longer with us. Nick has told us there is nothing we can do right now, and we must form a better plan but, I need to get inside that camp.
“Charles keep scanning; see if you can find him. If she is in there, then he is too. Because if he was dead, she would be too. Neither one of those two would let the other go down, unless they went down with them.” I say as I hand the ATN back to him. “Nick, fall back with me we need to talk” I say, while I start scooting backwards.
When I am far enough back to be in defilade to not be seen; I get off my belly and take a knee and wait for Nick.
“Chase, I don’t know who these people are but I know what you’re thinking and no we can’t do it; the place is crawling with ragheads and there is no way to do this, without all of us being killed.” Nick says as takes a knee with me.
“Nick you don’t understand, Church has been my closest friend since the eighth grade. If he is in there, I am going to go get him with or without your help. Honestly, I would prefer your help, but either way I am going in that camp and I am either coming out with Church and Shannon or I will die trying.”
“Give me the Springfield, I need the better optics and the suppressor. I will stay on overwatch and cover you. I don’t know how many shots I can get off, before the camp goes crazy; though the .308 still makes a pretty good bang with the suppressor.”
“Thanks Nick, if we get out of this alive, I will definitely owe you one” I say. As I hand him the Springfield and drop back down to my belly to find out if Charles has found anything.
“Hey buddy have you seen anything?” I say as I low-crawl up to his side.
“Yeah, I think so, there is a small structure off by itself here” he points to a secluded corner of the camp.
What I see is a small structure made from corrugated sheet metal, it is about four feet by four feet and about six feet tall. It actually looks a lot like an old out house. The most remarkable thing about it though, is the fact that it is surrounded by four guards. One on each corner.
“Looks like there is something important or dangerous in that building.” I say.
As I am observing the building with my naked eye, I see another guard carrying something towards the building. As he approaches one guard unlocks and opens a door as another unslings his rifle and points it into the open door.
“Bingo!” Charles says into his radio mic. “That’s him, he appears to be butt naked and cold; he is curled into a little ball and shivering. Looks like they brought him some food and something to drink. They are setting it on the floor and backing out.” Charles tells us as he sees what’s going on through the twenty-power scope.
“Okay so we are going to have to get to Shannon first, then try to get to Church he probably is in no shape to fight and would just be a liability trying to get Shannon.”
“Both of you fall back with me.” Nick says.
At the bottom of the hill, he lays out the plan even drawing a diagram of the camp in the dirt with a stick.
“You two are going to have to move all the way around to the back side of the camp without being seen. Cut the outer fence here where there isn’t as much light. Once you are inside, make sure your shemaghs are up and around your face and head, if both of you are careful and keep your heads down, hopefully they will just assume you’re one of them. As soon as you spring the female, work your way around the camp through this area as it has less guard patrols from what I can tell. When you get here, we will each take out one bad guy. Can Shannon take her guy out quietly?” He asks, as he lays out the plan.
Charles and I both kind of giggle and nod our heads.
“That girl is scary good.” I say “you don’t have to worry about her. But like you said that Springfield is load even with the suppressor. So is my .45 for that matter.”
“That’s a chance we will just have to take.” Nick says. “Before we kick this off, I’m going to go down to the Cache and grab the 240. I’m also going to move everything back to the boat. When you spring Church, get down river as fast as you can. I will leave the OP and grab the boat; I will haul ass downstream and grab you. As we are moving back upriver, I’ll be on the 240, Chase you on the wheel. We will haul ass back by here and I will lay down some fire into the bank and over their heads. I don’t want to fire into the camp and risk hitting the innocents, but I’ll do what I can. Then I’ll be on the back of the boat with Charles watching the six. We get back to the Hummer scuttle the boat and haul ass home. Janet will just have to wait another day. You think we stirred up a hornet’s nest before. This will make things ugly for sure.”
Thirty minutes later Nick is back up on top of the hill with us; this time with what looks like a blanket of grass and leaves and sticks covering him and his weapons.
“Here we go, see you down river brother”, I say as I fist bump with the sniper and back down the hill.
Using a combination of dead reckoning and the illumination of the sky from the artificial light; I lead us slowly around the outside of the camp. In order to be quiet, we move as slow as possible and it takes us a good two hours to move around the outside of the camp and approach the darker area. Where the lights are blocked by the large mess tent. I use the same small bolt cutters; I used to break into the school maintenance yard six months ago, to this time break into a prisoner camp set up on American soil by Middle Eastern Jihadists. In seconds we are through the perimeter fence and I take time to stash the bolt cutters and pull out my razor-sharp Gerber parang machete. This will be a lot quieter than my .45 even with the suppressor on it. Behind me, Charles has his Ontario knife and Company Airforce Survival knife and we slowly start moving towards the enclosure housing Shannon.
; “Dad,” I hear whispered into my radio headset. “How do we keep the rest of the women from blowing our cover?”
“I don’t know but we can’t worry about that now.” I respond.
As we approach the chain-link enclosure, I stop behind the generator powering one of the light towers and inspect the enclosure, its occupants, and the guards. This cage seems to have fewer guards than the rest. Probably because of the eight-foot-tall chain-link, topped with barbed wire is more formidable than the strands of concertina and barbed wire that form the other enclosures. Really this is the only true ‘cage’ in the camp.
I see three guards; one is standing by the gate, and the other two are walking opposite directions around the outside. This means that the two guards cross each other in front of and around the back every couple minutes. If we can take them out quietly when they are both in the back, we will have about two minutes before the gate guard will notice them not showing up back in front of the cage. Two minutes is not long so we will have to make this quick. Also, inside the cage is Shannon walking slowly shuffling her feet and acting dejected and beaten. However, I can tell from the way her head is moving and her fingers are counting that she is formulating a plan.
“We need to get her attention somehow.” I say to Charles in a voice just above a whisper.
“Get ready to signal her. I got an idea.” Charles says
Just as I’m about to ask him what his plan is, I feel the light tower shake and when it does the lights waver. Which although almost imperceivable to most people catches Shannon’s eye and she glances our direction and when she does, I wave which catches her attention. I signal that I am going to move around to the back of the cage, and she needs to be ready.
“Good job”, I whisper into my headset boom mic “Let’s move”, and I take off at a crouch taking the long way around as to not catch the guard’s attention.
After ten minutes of maneuvering through the camp staying hidden from guards; we get to a good spot behind Shannon’s cage. I again pull my bolt cutters out of my bag, but this time slip them into my belt where I can quickly get to them. Charles and I are both set to pounce like cats stalking a mouse.