I remembered reading, or maybe hearing, that the birds in the trees, and even the squirrels, would tell you exactly what was happening in the forest from their uncompromised vantage point, if one would only listen.
Looking up and down the peaceful river, I now realized the chatter from both animal groups had been nearly deafening for the past hour, only now calming down as they were getting used to us bumbling around their homes.
“Listen to the birds and squirrels,” I whispered into my radio, hoping Lonnie wouldn’t mind. “When they get agitated, then get ready.”
I saw a few thumbs-up out of the other holes and heard a “That’s right,” reply from Lonnie. As the morning drew on, all was quiet.
I counted three rabbits, one fox, and a beaver all near the river’s edge. Brook trout and browns occasionally jumped out of the water in the calm part of the river before me.
Occasionally I caught a glimpse of movement from Jake or Mike in my binoculars, not being able to tell them apart, and then I would lose them in the trees. They were on the opposite side of the river, although I hadn’t seen them cross.
It made me nervous that someone on our side might get excited and start shooting haphazardly in their direction.
My watch read 10:46 when the air became still, and not a sound was heard. Everything moved in slow motion, and my heartbeat rang in my ears, thump, thump, thump, getting louder with each pulse.
Did anybody else notice the change?
My hole mate seemed to understand after my warning earlier.
Calm, I told myself, motioning to my ammo feeder to scan the far side of the river with his binoculars, as I was.
The birds’ chatter started, faint at first and far away towards the highway.
“Can you get a drone up and over the trees, Mel?” I whispered into my radio.
“Yes, it’s already set up in the clearing behind us. I can get it up high and have a max range of about 4 miles, but I can get video another few miles beyond that.”
I was hoping to see what was up on the highway. We were closer now as the crow flies, but I guessed it was six to eight miles still.
“Let’s get it in the air, Mel. We need some eyes on what’s coming,” I said.
“Will do,” he replied quietly. “We have 25 minutes on the battery before I have to switch it out, so it will be basic footage only for now. I’m going to climb a large pine tree near the clearing to get a visual when it’s airborne. Just let me know when I should start.”
“Now Mel, start right now and radio quietly what you see,” said Lonnie.
“Won’t that thing just draw attention to us?” asked my hole mate.
“No, they already know we’re here; it just remains to be seen if they choose to mess with us. Seeing a drone doesn’t change that one bit,” I added.
Minutes later, I could hear the familiar buzz of the blades turning and looked behind me to watch it rise up and over the tallest trees. I followed its path with my binoculars, wondering how long it would be before they tried to shoot it out of the air.
“We’re a go,” called out Mel intensely, switching his attention from his screen to watching through binoculars.
“I’m worried about what he will see,” whispered my feeder.
“Whatever it is will be better than being blindsided. Are you ready to feed the ammo belts?” I asked him.
“Yes, I think so, just like Mel taught us. But what if the gun jams?” he asked nervously.
“Then we clear it, or figure it out,” I said, pointing to our two ARs. We’ve got plenty of ammo either way. Maybe Mel will drop a few grenades off the drone on them and save us the trouble,” I added, smiling at my own joke.
My crude attempt at a joke bombed, and I watched the man look nervously from side to side.
“Stay calm,” I told him. “It’s going to be...”
I turned, hearing him shuffle out the side of the hole and run straight back into the woods.
“Was that part of the big plan?” I asked, looking up to the sky.
He didn’t even take his pack or rifle, I thought.
“Are you telling jokes again, Lance?” asked Lonnie over the radio.
“Only one,” I responded, “but I guess that was enough. My mate here just ran.”
“Can you feed the 60?” asked Lonnie.
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied, having participated in Mel’s training course just in case something like this happened.
Mike and Jake emerged on the opposite river bank, in full view of our group, even without binoculars.
Mike held up his right hand, opening and closing it four times before pointing towards the highway and holding up two fingers.
I took that to mean 20 bad guys at 2 miles out, and I hoped I was reading him correctly.
“It’s Go Time,” I said quietly, forgetting already that my wingman had abandoned me.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
Raton Pass, New Mexico
Jim had been on the radio twice this morning with the Colonel but for only a few minutes each time. He was hoping to get a solid commitment of force, should it come to it, but so far, he was only ordered by the Colonel to radio with updates.
Having just learned about Mike’s signal and Mel having the drone in the air from Steve, he reached out again, with no luck.
“The cavalry is offline, guys,” he said quietly to Mark.
“Stay safe down there, Dad,” Mark said aloud.
The knock
