Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) (20 page)

Jess and Denny arrived at the guard shack together. Both of them had their professional best written in their demeanor. They both knew things were serious and about to go down.

“Jess, when I first met you, I knew a few things about you.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like your leadership. You’re up front leading the charge without hesitation. I knew from the start you were either military or law enforcement. After being with you a short while, I ruled out military. You have the bearing of a leader, but the jargon is what I was looking for. I deducted from that that you were either LE or some kind of public front-woman. When I first saw you handle weapons, I ruled out anything else not LE.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” she said.

“Yeah, he’s good at that Sherlock Holmes stuff,” Denny added.

“Here’s what I need from the two of you. I need to know how many vets and LEs we have out there, what the vets MOSes were, what the LEs area of expertise is, what our inventory on weapons and ammo is, and what health factors we need to concern ourselves with.”

“Roger that,” Denny said, and he turned and walked out the door, leaving Jess and Nathan alone. Jess looked at Nathan with her big brown eyes and smirked.

“What’s the plan, boss?”

“I want to go back to the prison and see what we can find out. I’m not saying I want to settle in it, I just want to know what it’s being used for. If it’s being used for a temporary housing facility, we need to take it and save the people.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, but as I was in there grabbing weapons, I heard the sounds of a crowd, so I checked into it. I saw several inmates clustered into the courtyard with a UN guard positioned in the tower overhead. I didn’t have time to think much of it, so I ran out.”

“I wonder if they were actually inmates or UN prisoners.”

“They could be both, but there’s no real way of knowing until we get in there again. That guard in the tower could have taken a pop at me, but he didn’t. He just stared at me.”

“That is a little weird,” Nathan said. “How do you feel about putting it to the test again?” he asked Jess.

“You mean, like, just stroll into the prison again and wave at the guard?”

“Maybe. I’m thinking that there’s a reason he didn’t shoot at you or jump on the radio. I’m suggesting we get in there and find out why,” Nathan said.

“Well, let’s do it. We can put a plan of action together on the way,” she said as Nathan pulled the door open and held it for her. She smiled at him and walked out the door, saying, “Chivalry might just save your life someday.”

“Back blast area clear,” the Marines shouted out, one at a time, as each began launching their TOW missiles towards the UN tugs. Foreign languages were being yelled from the barges they had in tow. It could only be surmised that they were shouting “incoming” or “take cover” as they were being hit by the well-placed missiles. The Marines were landing shots beyond three thousand yards. There was one exception. TOW missiles contain quite a bit of technology. From time to time a missile will travel off course. The end result will be the same: destruction. In this case, there was severe collateral damage as the missile struck one of the shipping containers. The result was catastrophic. The fire plume was wide and knocked out more than one container and sent others off the barge and into the river.

“Stay on target,” Buchanan and Franks rang out as they yelled at the TOW gunners, even though they both knew it was not operator error. Their commands to “stay on target” were two-fold. It reconfirmed with the Marines that they should keep engaging the enemy and not to stop the assault. It’s easy to get caught up in mourning for the loss of the fallen, but that can wait until the mission task is complete.

“There will be time to mourn the loss of American life after we’ve sent those Blues to the deep,” Buchanan said.

The exchange of gunfire continued from behind and in between the shipping containers, as the UN troops were using the bulky steel boxes for cover. The gunfire slowed as the bow of the barges gave rise over the top of the sinking tugboats. The weight and velocity of the barges, even loaded with tons of steel and Americans, were no match for the mighty Mississippi River. Since the ships were headed north, they were moving slowly against the river’s current, but that was changing now that the decks of the tugboats were in direct opposition to the flow of the river. The barges were crashing against the half-sunk tugs and the bows of the barges were rising as they crashed into, and upon, the tugs. The UN troops were now either dropping their weapons to hold onto something stable, or they were jumping off the deck and into the river.

“Cease fire, cease fire,” Buchanan called out.

The Marines watched in silence as men jumped ship and disappeared beneath the infamous undercurrents of the river.

Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan watched as the barges were coming to a stop against the river’s flow. They were softly colliding with one another in what looked like a classic highway pileup. At first, Buchanan wasn’t sure how to retrieve the shipments, but as opportunity presented itself, he yelled to the Marines, “Prepare to board.” Every Marine ran to the banks of the river, where the vessels were piling up and colliding into one another. The window of opportunity was small, because soon the barges would be heading south down the river. Time was of the essence.

“I want ten Marines on every barge. Drop your flaks, rifles, helmets, and sacks. Get on those barges and get us some Americans.”

Marines were running into the shallows of the river and preparing to board the barges when they heard the well-known sound of Black Hawk helos. The sound of the helos was distinct but seemed to be camouflaged in the sound of more unknown helos. This made Buchanan, Franks, and Riley nervous.

“Sir, we should take cover,” Franks recommended to Buchanan.

“Just wait a mike,” Buchanan ordered as he stood there listening.

Marines were boarding the barges when the helos came into view.

“Take cover,” Buchanan yelled as Marines began to run into structures on the back side of Front Street.

Buchanan, Franks, and Riley couldn’t believe their eyes. Two Russian Mil Mi-24 attack choppers labeled “UN” and three US MH-60 Black Hawks were flying in a strafing pattern toward their location.

Marines and freed American prisoners were evacuating the barges and coming out of the river when the attack choppers began their assault. Two of the Black Hawk MH-60s opened up with their miniguns and rained 7.62mm chainfire down upon the Marines and escaping prisoners. Buchanan took note that the third had not opened fire and remained withdrawn. The other Marines that were ashore began opening fire with their assigned weapons. Some shot their machine guns and others shot their rifles, but all were shooting on the helos.

“Concentrate your firepower and get me some heavy gunners back on that roof,” Buchanan yelled. “Gunny, can you jam their receivers?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll coordinate that with your TOW gunners,” Franks yelled back.

About the time Franks was on his radio communicating with Weapons Company, one of the Russian helos opened fire on the structures several of the Marines had taken cover in. Franks noticed the Marines were shooting from that position and it had alerted the gunners on the Mil Mi-24s. The helo was shooting a 30mm cannon at the structures and the ground fire from that location went silent.

One of the Russian helos began to blow black smoke right before it started a nose dive onto Front Street, where it landed and exploded.

Several Marines had run into the building with the flat roof and returned to the ladder leading to the top of the building. The helos were engaging ground forces and seemingly not paying attention to the rooftops. One of the TOW gunners launched a missile at one of the MH-60s. The helo canted heavily to avoid the missile impact and successfully avoided being hit by it. The laser warning receiver that was equipped on the helo had done its job, but unfortunately for the flight crew, the helo had banked too hard and nearly upturned it. It crashed in the dirt alongside the river.

The Weapons Company radio rang out, “Weapons Company from FORECON. Over.”

“Weapons Company, go.”

“Tango East is jammed. Over.”

With that, TOW gunner-1 yelled out, “Secure back blast area.”

“Back blast area secure,” a voice returned from the rear.

A missile launched from the TOW’s tube and propelled a short journey to its Russian target.

The two remaining MH-60s were still engaging people on the ground when the .50-caliber machine guns began to ring out from the rooftop of the building. It wasn’t long after they began shooting at the target that a missile from the rogue Black Hawk struck it and the Marines watched it as it just fell to the ground, as if it had been swatted out of the sky. The assisting Black Hawk retreated southward. It landed alongside Highway 100 in a subdivision area just south of their location.

“Captain up,” Buchanan requested.

Captain Riley was working with the Combat Engineers setting up a place for the fallen Marines and civilians.

“Yes, sir?” Riley said as he was headed towards Buchanan.

“The fallen will be there twenty minutes from now. Those prisoners are going to head south, down the river, if they aren’t freed.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir.”

“Gunny up,” Buchanan called out.

The gunny came walking from around the back side of a building and said, “I’m here, sir.”

“Get your men, and get me a status on that rogue Black Hawk.”

“Yes, sir,” Franks replied.

It wasn’t long before several Force Recon Marines returned with three men dressed in black fatigues. Two Recon Marines were in the lead with weapons at low-ready. Behind the three prisoners were the remaining FORECON Marines that went to spy out the rogue chopper. Gunnery Sergeant Franks approached the two leading Marines.

“Report,” Franks said to Sergeant Banks with his commanding voice.

“Gunny, these men report to be Army Rangers,” he replied.

“And they didn’t put up a fight?”

“No, Gunny. They were lying prone about fifty yards from the Hawk. They surrendered voluntarily and had no weapons on them.”

“They were searched thoroughly,” Corporal Smith said from the rear escort position, and then added, “The pilot was shot in the head. He’s dead in the pilot seat.”

Franks looked at them sternly and then turned his attention towards the sergeant first class.

“Are these your men?” Franks asked him.

“No. They’re America’s sons, as I am.”

Franks perceived he was speaking to another patriot like himself, but the fatigues and the attack choppers threw him off a bit. He rolled the idea around in his head that maybe they were just in a bad situation and found a way out.

The man appeared “saltier” than the others, and that intrigued Franks the most, especially because he was the same rank as Franks.

“We’re going to see our CO and you’ll get a chance to talk your way out of this mess,” Franks told him.

With that, Franks stepped aside and motioned the Marines to continue marching their prisoners toward Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan.

Sergeant First Class Reynolds was, indeed, a salty Army dog. He had seen quite a bit of action in the Middle East wars against the jihadists. He generally chose his words wisely, carefully thinking ahead and making sure his words couldn’t be miscomprehended. When he was escorted to Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan, he knew one of two things would happen. Either he would be killed, which he felt was the most unlikely of scenarios, or he would be spared and closely observed to determine his motives.

Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan was helping to locate the bodies of the fallen Marines. When Franks arrived with Reynolds, he counted upwards of thirty fallen Marines. Buchanan was laying the Marines in a neat row along the highway, in the grass. Buchanan had just crouched to lay a Marine down when Franks arrived with Reynolds. Buchanan took one look at Reynolds and asked, “Does he speak English?”

“Yes, sir, and he’s an American,” Franks replied.

Buchanan walked away towards the flat-roofed building. Buchanan wasn’t ten feet away when he called out, “Gunny, bring our friend into this fine establishment.”

Gunnery Sergeant Franks escorted Reynolds into the building, leaving behind the other two soldiers, who were being placed in a sitting position on the ground.

By the time Franks and Reynolds entered the building, Buchanan was already sitting at a table in the middle of the room. “My name is Lieutenant Colonel Charles S. Buchanan. These Marines are following me and those Marines have gone to a place I cannot lead.” Buchanan was pointing to the fallen Marines in the front.

“Our objective, Sergeant First Class, is to find as many Americans as we can, liberate them, and re-establish an America free from tyranny.” Buchanan sat and looked at Reynolds, but Reynolds chose not to speak until he was given permission to do so.

“That’s my endgame, what’s yours? How about you start from the beginning and finish with how you watched four helos shoot up my men.”

“First off, thank you for your hospitality. I know how this must appear.” Reynolds had an East Coast accent. He pulled a package of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered a cigarette to Buchanan.

“No, thanks. I was forced to quit when I could no longer afford them.”

Reynolds then asked, “May I?”

Buchanan nodded to Reynolds as he lit his cigarette.

“Before the flush, I was stationed in Georgia and assigned to the 75
^th
. I am a direct action Ranger. Been doing that for years with a background in Airborne.

“My unit received a command to unite with the Washington units and head to D.C. Once there, we were briefed on operation ‘Shakedown,’ which was a fancy code word for ‘confiscate, inventory, and control.’ The briefing was conducted by a UN general by the name of Muhaimin. In the room with us, there were ten white-collars, whom I was able to identify as regional czars. Two more showed up late to the party, for a total of twelve. We were briefed of impending riots, mob action against President Baker, and unprecedented crime rates. We were assigned with specific tasks to enter these hostile environments to quieten the ‘resistance.’ It was the word ‘resistance’ that first confirmed my fears that our government was the ‘hostile.’