Chapter 9
SHELOR FIELD
13 APRIL
0835 HOURS
THE C-130 stood by the SEALs' hangar, its ramp lowered for unloading. Besides several tons of supplies, ammo, and fuel, it had brought Petty Officer Second Class Reynauld Pecheur back from emergency leave. His wife and two sons lived in San Diego, and he had gathered them up for a trip back to their hometown in Louisiana to check things out after a violent spring storm. The roaring tempest had battered the hell out of Louisiana and Mississippi, and the hurricane season loomed in the near future.
All his SEAL buddies were curious about how Pech's folks had weathered the disaster. His Cajun family lived in boggy country in southeastern Louisiana where a lot of the houses were built on stilts. These residences were scattered through an area called Mouvants Swamp. Like everyone there, they spoke more French than English, and were fiercely self-reliant, fending for themselves in both bad and good times.
Although not flush with cash-money, they were strong and well nourished from hunting, fishing, and growing their own food. By the time FEMA had shown up with help, everyone had already repaired the damage to their homes, docks, and other structures. Any delays in taking care of that necessary mending could result in catastrophic damage during future hurricanes. Pech's last chore before taking Blanche and the kids back to California was to help his father-in-law reshingle his roof. Now, with his family reestablished in their San Diego home, he had returned to duty with Brannigan's Brigands.
THE SEALs had formed a line and were passing the smaller packages and crates off the aircraft into the hangar from man to man. Meanwhile, Randy Tooley, the intrepid little Air Force guy, had arranged for forklifts to come over to handle the heavier stuff. Colonel Leroux, the CO of the SFOB on the USS Combs, had made sure the shipment included run-flat tires for the DPVs. He also had arranged for the delivery to include a half-dozen Javelin antitank missile CLUs with trigger mechanisms and four-dozen disposable launch tubes with projectiles to increase the firepower of their arsenal. The other addition of weaponry was six M-60 7.62-millimeter machine guns to be mounted on the hoods in front of the DPVs' passenger seats.
As the unloading progressed, Lieutenant Bill Brannigan was sequestered with Lieutenant Junior Grade Jim Cruiser and Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins in the cubicle office at the rear of the hangar. Their concern was the reorganization of the detachment as had been ordered by General Leroux.
Alright, Brannigan said. This means we'll now use a total of six DPVs when we go out on an operation.
That leaves us three surplus, Cruiser said. He grinned. Of course, they're going to think we have four because of the one we gave to Randy.
Dawkins had some advice. Skipper, you better write up a report of how it was wrecked. Make that totaled.
You're right, Senior Chief, Brannigan said. I'll take care of that as quick as I can. At any rate, under this new setup, the way I see it is that each crew will now consist of a commander-driver, an M-Sixty machine gunner, and an M-Two machine gunner.
What about them Javelins, sir? Dawkins asked.
They'll be distributed evenly among all the vehicles, Brannigan replied. We'll put one CLU and four launch tubes in each one.
That'll give us a grand total of twenty-four rounds, Cruiser noted. Wouldn't it be better to put five tubes in each vehicle?
Brannigan shook his head. The M-Two gunners would be walking all over 'em. Four can be easily stacked around his seat without crowding him too much.
How're we gonna break down the vehicle assignments, sir? Buford asked. Are you gonna try to keep section integrity as it is now?
It'll be impossible, Brannigan said. With six, we can operate in three teams of two DPVs each as a rather large motorized platoon. We'll have to work out some formations, and practice dry runs in the desert around Shelor. As far as call signs, we'll just use the phonetic alphabet Alpha One and Two, Bravo One and Two, and Charlie One and Two for communications. He reached over and grabbed a pad of paper. You guys be quiet while I figure this out.
The Skipper took the present roster and studied it, then began writing the reorganization. He changed his mind a couple of times, and it took him fifteen minutes. When he finished, he shoved the new roster over for Cruiser and Dawkins to peruse.
Alpha One
Brannigan commander/driver Devereaux M-60 gunner
Malachenko M-2 gunner.
Alpha Two
Concord commander/driver Assad M-60 gunner
Leibowitz M-2 gunner.
Bravo One
Cruiser commander/driver Dawson M-60 gunner
Pecheur M-2 gunner.
Bravo Two
Olson commander/driver Bradley M-60 gunner
Redhawk M-2 gunner.
Charlie One
Dawkins commander/driver Miskoski M-60 gunner
Murchison M-2 gunner.
Charlie Two
Gunnarson commander/driver Puglisi M-60 gunner
Gomez M-2 gunner.
Looks good to me, sir, Dawkins said. Who's gonna handle the Javelins?
That'll be the M-Sixty gunner, Brannigan said. You have to keep in mind that the blowback on those babies is terrific. The shooter is gonna have to unass the vehicle to fire it, or the M-Two gunner will be blown from here to Albuquerque. Anyhow, we want to leave the fifties manned at all times. He checked his watch. We'll do some battle drills as soon as everything is off-loaded and stacked properly in the hangar.
They left the office and walked outside to the C-130. When they approached the rear of the aircraft, they could see Randy Tooley in his DPV leading a couple of forklifts across the airfield toward them.
.
MANCHESTER, ENGLAND
14 APRIL
2000 HOURS
EVEN though the man wore civilian clothing, he had the look of a soldier about him. He was lean, with a jutting jaw, and his shoulders were squared as if he were on parade at Buckingham Palace. He had parked his car along a street of working-class houses. The triplexes were narrow two-story structures with backyards that were no more than twenty by fifteen feet in size and bordered by tall fences.
He went up to a dingy residence sandwiched between two others, ringing the bell and stepping back. When the door opened, a middle-aged woman wearing a house frock appeared. Yes, sir?
Good evening, ma'am. Are you Missus Sikes?
Yes, sir.
I am Falkes, ma'am, he said displaying a military ID card. Army Administrative Services.
Oh, yes. Please come in, Mr. Falkes. I'll let me husband know you've come calling. She stepped back to allow the visitor to enter the house, calling out, Charlie! A gentleman from the Army is here.
A man carrying a newspaper he had been reading stepped from the parlor into the short hallway with stairs leading to the second floor. The man gave Falkes a quick study, saying, The Army, is it? Do you have news about our Archie?
Actually, I have some questions to put to you, Falkes said. You are Mr. Sikes, I presume.
