Padre’s. After several minutes of typing, he looked up.
“Colonel,” Avery said through the intercom.
“Yes,” Cesar replied.
“I can access their communication network. Not much activity right now. Just some chatter. Sounds like people are moving drug shipments across various points along the border.”
“Anything about the Padre?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Keep listening,” Cesar said.
The Mexican Army unceremoniously dumped General X-Ray and his men at the border crossing. With the help of some Mexican officials, the men were escorted across the bridge. The U.S. authorities on the other side had no idea what to do with them.
“I’m telling you, Tommy Lee,” a Homeland Security employee said to his partner. “There’s not squat in this here manual about what to do with civilian militia being repatriated to the U.S. of A. after being captured in a foreign military conflict.” He poked the heavy book with his finger. “If I go and do something that ain’t in the manual, I’m going to get my butt chewed.” Eventually, the U.S. officials decided that the prudent thing to do was to wash their hands of the issue and spend their energy covering their tracks. Following a thorough body cavity search, which was in the manual, the General and his men were taken to a local bus station and given vouchers for a ride back home. Their bus wasn’t scheduled to leave for another two hours.
“Men, I need to talk to you,” the General said. “I’m sorry I lied to you. That was completely my fault. You deserve better. I’m sorry. I apologize.”
“That’s okay,” said Private Zulu. “I had a whole lot of fun doing militia stuff the last couple of years.”
“We all did, sir,” added Fire Team Leader Bravo.
“You boys forgive me?”
“Ain’t nothing to forgive, General,” Fire Team Leader Charlie said. “STRAC-BOM, attention! There’s an officer on deck.” The entire militia stood at attention and saluted. Fighting back the tears that welled in his eyes, the General returned the salute.
“You make me proud, boys,” the General said, beaming. “Now, I’ve got to ask you something. There’s no right or wrong answer here. No pressure.”
“What is it, sir?” Private Tango asked.
“Men, we left a civilian behind. He’s out there somewhere, alone, hungry, and tired. I’m never leaving a man behind again. It’s in the Code of Conduct. I’m going after him. I sure could use some help, but I don’t expect any volunteers. I know you all need to get home to your families. I just thought I’d ask.”
“I’m in,” said Private Foxtrot.
“Me, too,” said Fire Team Leader Alpha. Private Zulu looked at Team Leader Charlie and nodded.
“Sir, you can count on Fire Team Charlie,” the Team Leader said.
“Same thing with Fire Team Bravo.”
“Well, that makes it unanimous, General.” Private Tango slapped his hands together. “What are the orders, sir?”
“Hot damn, boys!” the General said. “We’re back in business. Okay, first thing we need is some papers. They don’t always check at the border going in, but they always do coming out.”
“How we going to get them papers?” asked Private Zulu.
“See that over there?” The General pointed at a bus full of tourists waiting at the station before crossing the border. “Leave this to me. If you see anyone approach the bus, give me the signal.”
“What’s the signal?” Private Foxtrot asked. “It didn’t really work that swell last time.”
“Yodel.” The General straightened and dusted off his tanker uniform. He put his mirrored sunglasses on. From his wallet, he removed his library card. “Wait here and be ready to move out fast.” The General approached the bus and peeked inside the open door. The driver wasn’t in the vehicle. The General coolly and confidently swaggered up the steps. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Officer Rizzo. I’m with the U.S. Federal Customs and Border Protection Transportation Security Association of the Tobacco, Firearms, and Alcohol Bureau of Investigation.” He flashed his library card quickly to the bus full of retirees. “May I inquire as to your destination today?”
“We’re heading down to them Mexican pharmacies, sonny boy,” one of the retirees said. “Come all the way from New Braunfels to get some of that cheap Viagra.”
“Murray!” the elderly woman next to him scolded. “Don’t go telling people our business.”
“Hell, I bet half the people on this bus are going down there just to get a hard pecker again,” Murray replied. The woman hit him with her purse.
“Well,” General X-Ray said, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with the new border crossing regulation known as rule five-two-eight stroke K-forty-nine. I’ll need all the male passengers to forfeit their passports for a pre-border inspection, inspection. Please have them available as I come by. May I see your documents, sir?” the General asked the man sitting in the first seat.
“We never had to do this before?”
“I know, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience, but regulations are regulations, and this will save you a lot of time at the border. Now hand them over.”
“Why only the men?” the man asked.
“Because it’s an even-numbered calendar day. Ladies are scheduled for tomorrow. It’s in the manual.” The elderly man begrudgingly passed over his documents. “That’s it, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you. Thank you for your patience. Thank you very much.” The General collected the passports from all the male passengers as he walked down the aisle. Heading to the back to the front of the bus, he heard Private Foxtrot yodeling. “Okay, folks, I’m just going to run these through the computer machine real quick, won’t be just a minute. Thanks again, and God bless America,” he said as he waddled out of the bus as quickly as he could.
“Yodel-ay-hee-hoo!” the Private called out again, louder this time. The General made it back to the men just as the tour bus driver came out of the main depot building.
“Let’s move out!” The General quickly led his men away from the bus station and into a quiet alley a few blocks from the border crossing. He began fishing through the passports, looking at the photos. “No.” He tossed one aside. “No.” He tossed another aside. “No…no…wait.” He stopped and held a passport up to Fire Team Leader Bravo’s face. “Not bad,” he said. “Same nose.” He handed the passport to the Team Leader.
“General, this guy has lost most of his hair.”
“Don’t worry about it. They probably aren’t even going to check. It just needs to be close.” Fire Team Leader Bravo showed the picture to Private Tango.
“I don’t know,” said Tango. The General kept shuffling through the documents until every man had a document with a photo containing at least one similar facial characteristic. The biggest problem was that the tourists were all a good twenty years older than the men of STRAC-BOM. The General was unfazed.
“It’s all about confidence, men. Just follow me, walk straight across the border, go right past the officials, and don’t act nervous. If they call you over, just act old.” The men followed the General a few blocks to the border crossing. From the U.S. side, people streamed into Mexico with no problem. On the other side of the border, frustrated travelers stood in a long queue waiting to get into the United States. The General led his men to the spinning gates with heavy horizontal bars that marked the entrance into Mexico. An official closely watched the men as they passed. The General was the first through the spinning turnstile, followed by Private Zulu, Fire Team Leader Alpha, and Private Foxtrot.
“Pardon me, sir,” the border official held up the palm of his hand to Fire Team Leader Bravo. “May I see your documents?” Fire Team Leader Bravo fidgeted as he handed over his passport. The rest of the men hustled their way past and through the spinning gate as the official examined the document. “Thank you Mr. Bleaker.” The official looked at the photo and then up at the Fire Team Leader.
“Just heading over for the cheap pharmacies, officer.” The Fire Team Leader rubbed the top of his head. “Those pills and foam, they really work.” The border official looked at the photo again.
“Have a nice day,” he said as he handed the passport back. “Be sure to declare your purchases on the way back.”
“You bet.” Fire Team Leader Bravo went through the gates and joined up with the other men.
