0830 HOURS LOCAL
'CHOPPER!'
Bruno Puglisi's voice alerted everyone, even those dozing in the bottoms of the piraguas. All eyes snapped northward to catch sight of a helicopter rapidly approaching. It was obvious the fliers had caught sight of them by the way the aircraft was rapidly climbing and swinging out to make a quick run past them.
Brannigan put his binoculars to his eyes, studying the growing image of the approaching helicopter. 'Hold your fire! It has the light blue roundels of Argentina on the fuselage. We don't need to create an international incident here. There's already enough butt-wipes shooting at us.'
'Shit, sir!' Puglisi said, hefting his SAW in his usual shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later attitude. 'Nobody told us what kind of aircraft markings them Falangists have. If any.'
'Patience, Puglisi,' Brannigan counseled him.
The helicopter came boldly on, flying directly over them. Chad Murchison spoke over his LASH. 'It's a Eurocopter EC-635. That's a twenty-millimeter cannon sticking out its nose, fellows. It's an efficacious aircraft employed by several nations for its qualities and attributes.'
Joe Miskoski growled, 'I don't have the slightest fucking idea of what you just said.'
'Jesus, Chad!' Frank Gomez added. 'Couldn't you just say it's a damn good chopper?'
The helicopter made one circle around them, then straightened up and sped off in the direction from where it had come.
Puglisi groused over his LASH, 'I still think we shoulda shot the motherfucker down.'
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FUERTE FRANCO
0855 HOURS LOCAL
SUBALTERNO Ernesto Pizzaro was the first helicopter pilot to desert his country's armed forces to become a permanent, active member of the Ejercito Falangista. Before cutting out, he had been doing the same as all the renegade pilots, going back and forth between his Argentine Air Force helicopter squadron and the Falangists when the opportunities presented themselves. His absences were misrepresented by his unit's adjutant, a Falangist sympathizer, who covered his ass by listing him as TDY when he wasn't present for duty. But now Pizzaro wanted to stay permanently at Fuerte Franco for the action and adventure when flying in the service of the generalisimo.
He had just returned from a mission with Sargento Antonio Muller as an observer. They had spotted the bandidos moving eastward on the Rio Ancho with three piraguas. Muller left the young pilot with the aircraft after landing, rushing over to the Command Bunker to report the crucial findings of the short reconnaissance patrol.
When Muller presented himself to Castillo, he found Coronel Jeronimo Busch also in the earthen office. The sargento gave an oral report, not wasting words as he quickly told them what he and Pizzaro had seen.
Castillo was pleased. 'This is most interesting. It appears that the bandidos are making a major transfer of their command complete with bag and baggage, verdad?'
'Seguro, mi generalisimo,' Busch agreed. 'They are obviously withdrawing because their support from the Petroleo Colmo Company--or I should say the CIA is gone. I wonder if they are trying to reach Paraguay. Perhaps they have aid available there.'
Castillo nodded his head. 'In that case, we must keep them from traveling that far.' He swiveled in his chair and looked at the map of the Gran Chaco on the wall behind his desk. 'Now, if I were the commander of the bandidos, what would motivate me to travel eastward whether I had support or not?' he mused.
'Ah!' Busch exclaimed. 'The high country of the jungles. The Selva Verde Mountains! It would be a perfect place to set up defenses or link up with reinforcements.'
'Of course,' Castillo agreed. 'A perfect place to hole up and hide until further help arrives, no?'
'You are absolutely correct when you say they must not be allowed to reach those mountains, mi generalisimo,' Busch said. 'The bastardos have been ambushing our patrols almost at will. Now it is their turn to endure strikes from the unknown.'
'Tiene razon! ' Castillo exclaimed. 'You are right! And let's take into consideration that we have two helicopters at our disposal, and they have none. Alert the garrison, coronel, we are going on the offensive. Now we shall mount a full-scale attack on those damned bandidos!'
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1100 HOURS LOCAL
GENERALISIM0 Castillo had been very precise as he dictated his operational orders to Suboficial Ignacio Perez. After writing down the combat directive word for word, the little man turned to his portable typewriter and carbon paper to make enough copies to pass out to the field officers who would lead the various echelons. In order to get out nine clear copies, he'd had to type the document three times. Fuerte Franco, without the power of generators, had no way to run word processors or photocopiers to ease the administrative burdens of the little adjutant and quartermaster.
Two lifts of twenty-four fully equipped men--each with eight on the EC-635 light utility helicopter and sixteen on the SA-330 utility helicopter--were organized for the trip to the battle site. Coronel Jeronimo Busch would be overall commander with Suboficial Punzarron, SargentoMayor Chaubere and Sargento Muller serving as his personal equipo comando. The three stalwarts would stick close to their field commander while he directed the operation to destroy the enemy in this one final effort.
Comandante Javier Toledo would command the first lift with Capitanes Francisco Silber and Roberto Argento as detachment leaders. Comandante Gustavo Cappuzzo was to lead the second lift, having as detachment commanders capitanes Tomas Platas and Pablo Gonzales. The latter was a recently arrived infantry officer from the Bolivian Army.
The basic concept of the OPLAN was that after Busch and the equipo comando were set down in the EC-635, it would return to Fuerte Franco to join the SA-330 to begin the transport of the two main lifts. The first was to be taken to a point on both sides of the river ahead of the bandidos, while the second lift would be landed behind them. At a signal from Busch over the RMAM radio, the battle would commence with an all-out infantry attack supported by machine guns.
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RIO ANCHO
THE SEALS
1245 HOURS LOCAL
THE sound of a single helicopter engine caught the immediate and collective attention of the detachment. Everyone went on the alert, including the men napping in the piraguas. They all sat up expectantly while the Hankers scanned the skies for a sighting of the aircraft.
Joe Miskoski was on the left bank with his SAW, while Bruno Puglisi, who had been on break in the piragua, climbed up on the right bank to add his own SAW to the firepower on that side.
Brannigan spoke calmly into his LASH. 'Command Element, get into the piraguas and be ready to lend a hand where and when necessary. Let's go, people! The shit's about to hit the fan!'
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THE LOZANO GRASSLANDS
THE EQUIPO COMMANDO
THE EC-635 came in slow about two meters off the deck with Coronel Busch and his comandos standing in the doors. As soon as Busch spoke 'Vamanos! ' into his LASH, all four leaped to the thick grass, hitting the ground at a run. They continued going until the chopper pulled up and away to return to Fuerte Franco.
Busch took the lead, heading toward the river with his picked men. They were stripped down lean and mean for light travel and quick attacks. They carried only weapons, ammunition, grenades, knives and canteens. The equipo kept a close watch in all directions as they hurried across the savannah. The only sounds from their rapid trek were the swishing noise made by the grass brushing against their uniform trousers. None of the superbly conditioned men breathed hard as they continued toward the bandidos, all eager to lock horns in this final corrida.
After a half hour of hard pushing, Busch suddenly signaled for them to hit the ground. All four dove into the grass. 'Enemy sighted!' the coronel said softly. 'Ciento metres adelante--a hundred meters ahead.' He gave each man a chance to raise his head just enough to see the bandidos. 'We will do nothing now but trail after them for the
