by Frank Perry
command comprised of combat specialists from all service branches with immense flexibility for small-unit combat missions in all environments and circumstances.
For the next six years, Peter took every opportunity and challenge the Army could provide. He continued to receive medals for valor, including the Distinguished Service Cross for “Extraordinary Heroism in connection with military operations against an opposing armed force.” He also earned a Bachelor’s degree from Florida Southern University by studying at nights and on weekends, getting some credits for his military training. As the only college graduate in his family, he engendered even more pride at home.
He was commissioned after attending Officer Candidate School and rose to the rank of Captain after assignment with an Infantry Battalion in the 82nd. Over the following two years, he continued to lead missions that could never be made public.
Beginning his twelfth year in uniform, he was selected as promotable to Major, ahead of his peer group. But in his most dangerous mission ever, something went horribly wrong in a covert counter-terror raid into Syria.
His team was captured and he saw his men executed while a senior American officer in charge of a supporting unit with overwhelming firepower refused to help. The experience had shaken him emotionally. He was ordered to be on medical “relief-from-duty” for unspecified reasons to keep his evaluations clean. Therapy and relaxation had not helped. Sometimes laying on the beach at MacDill, he found the sand repulsive and imagined it stained with the blood of his team. It was impossible to sleep when their ghosts reappeared. Nothing the Army could do had any effect.
After several months in rehabilitation, he met with his Battalion commander, a Lieutenant Colonel named Summers, “Well, Captain, are you ready to pin on the oak leaf?”
“Sir, I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, but I think I’ll decline.” He almost choked saying it.
Summers motioned for him to sit and relax. “Look, Peter, you’ve been through a lot, but I want you to get over it and enjoy your promotion.”
Peter clasped his hands and reflected for a moment, “Thanks, Colonel, but I’ve decided to resign.” The stark reality of his decision had fully registered until he said the words.
“Peter, you don’t need to quit. Take some more time to get over this.”
Colonel Summers was frustrated, and realized he was getting nowhere. “Peter, I know you well enough not to try to talk you out of this, but I would like to treat it as a request to accept the promotion and transfer to the inactive reserves.”
“That would be fine, Sir.” It was an emotional moment for Peter. He was feeling defeated all over again.
With that, he stood and saluted the Colonel, and they shook hands. “Take good care, Peter, and keep your head down. Just call me any time you want to reconsider. I won’t rush to fill your billet.”
Regular duty officers are not officially discharged until thirty years of service, both active and reserve duty. His commanding officer reluctantly agreed to Peter’s transfer to inactive reserve status, hoping that he would ultimately resolve his problems and rejoin the active force, which both knew that was unlikely. Summers was familiar with post-traumatic stress and Peter was at least marginally affected.
A few days later, with his orders in hand, he loaded his Explorer and headed north out of Tampa with no plan or place to go. He knew that he couldn’t go back to Pennsylvania. It would be impossible to explain things at home. Nor did he want to be in hot sandy locations. He needed to leave the demons behind. So he headed for Middle America, working at several menial jobs in Atlanta and Indiana, finally arriving at the Cary Country Club, in suburban Chicago, which had exactly the kind of isolation and quiet peace he needed.
The tranquility was soon upset when an Islamic Terrorist, aided by Russian mafia, succeeded in transporting a nuclear warhead with ten bombs into Illinois.
He became involved in a plot to bomb Chicago after witnessing a murder and providing information to the FBI. Curiosity led him to contact an Army friend in the Pentagon. After some private investigating, he learned it was the same Terrorist who had killed his men in Syria. He requested reactivation of his commission in Illinois’ Military Department (National Guard) to help the FBI in the fight. When military action was needed, Peter was in charge and he met John Stokes as a newly-promoted Captain under his command. He also met Rachael when she was assigned as a DoD civilian Intelligence Analyst to the Government team in Chicago. Both Rachael and Peter were nearly killed. Rachael was critically hurt when one bomb was detonated downtown. John Stokes had taken heroic action to save Peter when he was badly wounded in a firefight with the terrorists, creating a bond that could never be broken.
The Texan
Stokes drove through the night in his green Tundra pickup, arriving in El Paso after twenty hours behind the wheel. His orders were to report to the Texas National Guard commander temporarily stationed at the large Border Patrol Station located on Gateway South Blvd. With transit time allowance, he was a day early, which gave him time to move into the BOQ (Bachelor Officer’s Quarters) at Ft. Bliss and rest before reporting for duty. After checking in, he showered and tried to rest, but thoughts of Carolyn’s parting anger kept him awake. They had both made the decision to leave the military and settle down for the sake of the family; yet he was quick to deploy again, not overseas this time, but just as dangerous. She would never understand why he craved the action.
While trying to force his eyes to remain closed he could only think about her bewildered and hurt expression when he drove away. He’d been totally inconsiderate of her feelings and his responsibilities at home. After several hours of staring at the ceiling, he took some Advil for a massive headache and dressed in fresh desert ACUs (Army Combat Uniform) for work. The drive from the base to sector headquarters took less than ten minutes.
When he entered the immense building, he started appreciating how large an effort it was to protect the borders. The El Paso Sector covered over two hundred miles of an imaginary line drawn through rugged unimproved border in the desert. For its part, the El Paso Border Patrol, under various preceding names, had a robust history spanning more than a hundred years.
Border policing started at the turn of the twentieth century with two agents on horseback armed only with old-west-style Colt .45 caliber six-shooters. The manpower and weapons had been growing ever since. Initially, their role was to control the influx of unregistered immigrants from Mexico. Ironically, the first big expansion of the Border Patrol was needed to control smuggling of liquor during the 1920’s and 30’s. After prohibition ended, the role reverted to helping immigration authorities control illegal crossings.
Now, almost eighty years after prohibition ended, the role was again focused on smuggling of illicit substances, with one added responsibility. It had become common for foreign terrorists to hire drug smugglers to help them cross the border. The combination of illicit drugs and terrorists made border enforcement incredibly dangerous. The U.S. Border Patrol agents were well trained and equipped, but badly outnumbered by forces that use automatic weapons indiscriminately. The National Guard was spread thin with deployments overseas, but stateside troops were still tools of the Governors and being requested by the President for assistance to the Border Patrol.
Stokes was impressed with the large modern single-story building. Upon entering, he went to the information desk, and the National Guard commander was called. LTC (Lieutenant Colonel) Marian Colson of the Texas Military Department didn’t keep him waiting long. She met him, accompanied by Assistant Border Patrol Chief Mike Schmitt. After introductions were made, Stokes was invited to accompany both senior officers in Schmitt’s office. The LTC was technically just a visiting component and Schmitt had the larger permanent office.
He was impressed with the professionalism displayed by all the Border Patrol personnel he observed. There were very few National Guard visible as they walked through the complex. After set
tling in the office, Stokes was asked to tell them a little about his experience, which was primarily in military Special Operations. He didn’t feel particularly comfortable talking about himself, so kept the dialogue limited to general timeframes, duty stations, training and deployments, without elaborating. They asked some questions, and it was apparent that Colson had read his file.
The Colonel said, “John, it’s great to have you aboard. Our mission on the border is primarily to provide surveillance and logistics support to the Border Agents. Our ARNG (Army Reserves and National Guard) team is spread along the sector, which is approximately a hundred miles either way from El Paso. Our biggest problem is right around Juarez, which is directly across from here. This is what we call ‘urban terrain’ with a major highway crossing and rail line. Outside the two cities, there’s a little farm land, then mostly desert.
“The desert is really rough down here. It’s hot and dry most of the time and floods when it rains. It’s full of gullies and dry washes covered with yucca, cactus, sagebrush and chico brush, with lots of other nasty stuff that’s taller than you. For the past hundred years or so, Mexicans have been trekking through the worst of