(C-12)
Vote what vote.
Winter
2000
“If you don’t say anything you won’t be called on to repeat it.”
-Anon
Captain James Dix didn’t mind being deployed to Yakima again. Being away from Ft. Lewis and all of the off post detractions and the local collage girls would save him a lot of money. Besides as Company commander he wanted to get some quality training time in, even if his unit was only at 75% strength. The Battalion was in the same fix as the rest of the Army, a shortage of men, too many assignments, and not enough money for training. He knew this training would be limited as the Battalion only had enough fuel to let each tank use 150 gallons, about 100 miles total distance.
They didn’t even have any main gun rounds to fire, they had been short this summer and the qualification course had to be pared back, and records fudged to show that all tables were completed for each tank crew. That was the S-3’s Major Tome’s problem he had signed off on all records before he was sent on TDY to Macedonian to help with UN operations their, something Capt. Dix hoped wouldn’t happen to him. But a chance to train as a company in beautiful Yakima, in late October who could ask for anything more.
His First Sergeant E8, Roper had voiced a complaint that this sudden deployment wasn’t ever a surprise deployment, it was ordered from Washington and almost half of the posts units would be arriving no later then the end of the month. What really seemed strange to him, no provisions had been arraigned for absentee ballots for voting, and they all were restricted to the field training sites. Then the fact that this deployment would be over by the 10th of November, didn’t make any sense, not with all of the fuel and field rations restrictions and no training Ammo available, not even blanks for simulated fire.
He knew that Sgt. Roper had a bone to pick with the present Commander and Chief. He had been a Ranger, and had lost some friends during the operations in Mogadishu. He hadn’t said anything that all good soldiers had felt about the President for some time. Still Dix would have to remind the Top to keep certain thoughts to himself.
Hell he wouldn’t write up his own First Sergeant, but one had to be careful. Who knew who was listening, and would report any infraction to some brain frozen senior officer, so they could curry favor with Washington? It wouldn’t be the first time a career solider was forced to resign because he spoke the truth, just too much damn PC and backstabbing.
With just over five years in the Army Capt. Dix had learned a lot; realizing this wasn’t the same Army he had joined, and that senior officers weren’t picked for what they knew or the ability to command. More likely promoted for the ability to role over and snivel then to take charge and to train soldiers, a lot of yes men not commanders. Most acted like a boss not a leader, saying ‘go’ not ‘lets go’. Well Capt Dix knew he wouldn’t become one like that, he’d just have too bit his tongue, keep his mouth shut, and stay loyal to the men he commanded and to Solider On, to continue to work as hard as one can and maybe I will get my just rewards.
Any way he had received notification from Armor branch that his request to be posted to Korea was being reevaluated and he might just get the chance…
“Agent Salvador, how is it that you can have a San Diego Sheriffs helicopter assist the Border Patrol when ever you ask for one?” Pilot Dave Rough asked his friend, “this was the second time this week I’ve had to pilot you around.”
“It easy when you have a winning smile like mine, and say please. It also helps when the Feds pay you guys twice the normal rate to rent one of your birds. Besides who do you think paid for the FLIER pod on this baby, it sure didn’t fall off the back of a truck going past the county air operations center, and you just happened to be there to pick it up.” D. Salvador answered with a grin, as he placed his equipment bag in the back seat, and what looked like large toolbox on the back floor.
“Besides congress won’t increase our budget enough to purchase and equip a helicopter for our office. But go figure, they will give us money to repay you guys for your assistance and any special equipment that may be needed. So when I took over field operations a couple of months ago, I found out about that hidden funding clause and decided to use it.” D. then got in the aircraft placed on the passenger head set and buckled up.
Dave had finished his pre-flight checks on the outside, he climbed into the pilot’s seat, plugged in his flight helmet, buckled his harness and got out the starting procedure laminated card. He switched on the power and the intercom and started his instrument checks.
D. watched Dave go down the list checking each item off as he got to it in the start-up procedure saying, “old habits never die eh?”
With out missing a beat in his routine Dave answered as the engine started to wind up, “I had a cuss of a warrant officer instructor when I was stationed at Fort Rucker for flight training, he would fail any young 2nd. Lieutenant who didn’t do it by the book. Besides if you read it as you go, you don’t forget a thing and I’d rather be safe then sorry; wouldn’t you agree, since your ass is just as much at risk in the air as mine. Some of the other pilots cut corners in their pre-flights and don’t even use a check card, I keep telling them and saying they are only fooling themselves. When Murphy bites it’s goinna hurt really bad.”
D smiled knowingly as he added, “Several of the other agents give me a hassle when I get out my check list when planning a mission. Back in boot camp days I had a drill Sergeant who would ride you into the ground if you forgot anything you needed and it had been posted. His favorite saying ‘if you have it and its’ not needed that’s OK. But if you need it and don’t have it; worse case someone dies, that someone could be you, or worse yet, you get your buddy killed.’ In twenty years of service I never went on an operation with out a check list,” D. answered in reply.
Glancing at the back seat and the toolbox on the floor, Dave asked, “do I need to compensate for extra weight old buddy,” looking D in the eyes?
“Noop, it’s not as heavy as it looks. I’ve got you some more good stuff, two secure satellite phones/radios one made for mounting in aircraft here in your chopper, and a spare for your closest friend, plus a small hand held mobile model like I have here.” Taking the one out of his right front chest pouch on his deployment vest and showing Dave. “The two for the birds you are getting are both new in the box, with instructions on installation and use. These babies are nearly impossible to jam, the hand held unit like this one is great too and in an emergency takes just four normal AA batteries. It also comes with a rechargeable battery set too, when it’s on stand by it will last over 48 hours, less depending on how much you use it. If you knew the military code’s to link to other satellites you could talk to anyone world wide as long as they had a similar encryption system.”
“Also in the box there’s are two sets of PVS-7 night goggles, I know you flew night missions in the Army with the old AN-PVS-6’s. The light gathering quality of the 7’s is a lot better, the straps and the helmet brackets are both included, I got you two sets so you can train another pilot. With the Flir on board they work great, and if you have to debus this old bird they will be very handy, and you don’t have to use the IR emitter and illuminate the area to use the 7’s.”
With the engine noise louder and all instruments operational the hand and feet controls all checked out, David said, “Thanks man, just what have you got in mind? Wait a second D, as soon as I call San Diego radar control and get clearance for take off, then you can tell me about some of these night missions I might have to fly…”
(C-13)
March
2001
Sunny Florida.
“Perseverance is not a long race:
it is many short races, one after another.”
-Walter Elliot
To say that he was having a change of heart would be an understatement; his whole attitude was changing, as well as his understanding of what the real America was. Despite his religious classes and indoctrination these last few years, he was finding himself liking these people, the teachings of the Qur’an as interrupted from old Arabic into Farsi must be wrong. His father had once told him that Americans were good people, different but good. At that time he had thought his father was miss-guided, but not any more. It was becoming harder to not like them, especially the ones he was in daily contact with. And the people he helped had treated him with respect, and many more like he was an old friend of their family.
Al Sayhaya liked Florida, Arizona had been a good place, the training, intense and to the point. Getting his license in a single engine was just the start, he had moved quickly into larger planes, then to twin engine and still larger planes. The test for the commercial license was hard, it took him two tries to pass the written half, the actual flying part of the test he breezed right through. In Florida he would learn to fly jet airplanes.
His flight instructor in Arizona, Jose, had told him that he was a natural, he had a good attitude and enjoyed flying, was dedicated, and that came across to the people around him.
Jose had even asked his Boss to help place Al Sayhaya with a job between schools. He was now an accepted member of a small flying company that was used as a flying ambulance; shuttling patients between hospitals and taking donated body organs and medicines where they were needed. The job had been good experience, flying out to small hospitals and taking sick or hurt people to the larger hospitals for treatment. These Americans were good people they couldn’t thank him enough, even if the county paid his salary, the patients still gave him presents.
The poor ones who had nothing to give, would still ask him to their homes to feed him, and show him off to the friends they would invite over. Telling them how he had saved the life of a child or sick Aunt. He was too embarrassed to turn them down, and the instructors at the school would tease him a little about all the thank you cards he received. He was finding it hard not to like these Americans.
He could see the importance of that job, and his old boss back in Arizona had helped him get one just like it here in Florida. Now if he could stay in flight training, and obtain his commercial license, then when he returned home he would help set up a similar company. That is if he decided that he wasn’t going to complete his mission, what ever the people who paid for his lessons said it would be.
The only problem, he didn’t know what his mission was, only that he had to be a trained pilot and then he might find out. I like the American expression, if its not illegal, immoral or fatten, I’ll do it. Those people paying the bills, for his flying lessons and his expenses might not like that his attitude was changing, tough. He wouldn’t tell them, not yet anyway.
Now that he was in Florida for jet engine and aircraft training. The classes were harder; he didn’t have the technical background or mechanical experience like the better students, but still he was a lot better then the rest of the Arab students enrolled, and he worked harder. He wanted to fly and make something of himself. Most of them didn’t care.
In Arizona he had been the only Muslim at the school, here in Florida there were a dozen, four from Saudi Arabia, and the rest from other various other countries. The Saudi’s didn’t get along with the rest of us, always keeping to themselves, not interested in the class room material, and crowding out the other students in the flight simulators.
Al Sayhaya was on a tight budget and had to stay on schedule, having had the job while in Arizona he had enough money to buy his own pickup truck and was pleased with his choice. It was his and he keep it clean and in good shape.
But the Saudi’s must have money, either from the royal family or they had rich parents, they rented a Mercedes and a BMW, but they didn’t keep them clean inside or out and one of them had a wreck in the BMW. They made fun of his pickup, said he acted too American, had sold out.
They were the ones who had sold out. They were not very devout in doing prayers, or in keeping the faith. You could smell alcohol on them and they were known to frequent several of the strip clubs around. One of the other students from Tanzania said they smoked ‘ Daka’, marijuana; and that they really didn’t want to learn to fly, just pilot the aircraft. They should have failed by now except for the money they paid to keep up their lessons.
Not that it was anything for him to worry about; anyway the Saudi’s had bragged that they would be leaving soon, and they weren’t half way through their training. They were spoiled rich brats with no purpose to their lives.
He missed Reshaid, his contact from Arizona. Now he was under a man known as George Tajirian. He had never even met him, only talked to him on the phone. A strange name for an Arab, he even had a strange accent too his Arabic, not an American accent, but one he had heard back home as a young boy in the market. Try as hard as he might he couldn’t’ remember the nation or the face of the person who spoke that accent, in time it would come back to him.
(C-14)
April
We are at war!
‘Demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, and assassination.
That is the War of the future’
A. Hitler
“Every time the Russians are attacked they respond with force, most of the time they destroy buildings that they had bombed out months ago. Or they shoot women and children and drive more soldiers and recruits our way,” Kalida told Ayman as he finished reading the latest intelligence report.
“These Chechens are not going to give up, and the Russians can’t win unless they kill all of them. And the stupid Western powers won’t let the Russians do what is necessary to win.”
“But that doesn't matter as the west’s time is coming soon. They don’t realize how much they helped our cause in the Balkans, by holding the Serbs off they let an Islamic republic grow in there midst. We use Albania to direct drugs, weapons, explosives and cells of operatives into various European countries, when we are ready to move we can strike in any or all of them effectively.”
“Well they are all about to receive a tent full of camels. On one side the nose is just sticking in. Another side you see the whole face and part of the neck of two more, and the one wall they refuse to look at, Israel, there are no camels coming in t here. And the last side, the hump and hind quarters are already inside.”
Ayman smiled, and said, “the last batch of recruits we sent over for training, included a few British and some Americans, less then we trained all of last year, but the largest number for any quarter. We will have a surprise for the west when they realize that the war started years ago, and that the party is now in their house.”
Kalida with a mock surprise look on his face and a false voice said, “Ayman I’m surprised at your enthusiasm, you act as if you would like to kill our host and his friends.”
“Kill them is to mild of a word for these so called friends.” Ayman retorted, “and their hospitality that we pay for, they are corrupt and living among them makes me sick. The world will be a better place when we clean them from its face, or they convert and see the true prophet and the light he brings to their heart. We may be living here in England setting up cells and recruiting but I don’t have to like it.”
Kalida shrugged his shoulders, standing up to stretch he answered, “we won’t be here much longer, our job is almost complete. Next week we will take the Chunnel rail service back to Paris, and then on to Brussels, there is a hold up on shipping our explosives to Canada. And we need to refresh our laptops, to up date with the new encryption codes, I don’t want us to use phones or radios when we communicate any important information from now on.”
“The short range radios are OK if used for less then ten seconds and we can use the phones, both when we talk about anything but our missions. The weather, what type of meal we will have tonight, if your wife is out of the hospital, anything that is harmless and ordinary and everyday conversation. If an alert code word is used it must be in the context of the subject we talking about.”
Ayman said, “ what did you read in the Intel report, that makes you want to tighten up our security, I thought we were maintaining a fairly high standard.”
“We do have a high standard, and I want it better, the report says al Quida will be taking action very soon against a soft target. We had best be prepared if there is any backlash and we become the hunted, instead of them.” Kalida said.
“We also have to send in our latest reports on population migration to our UN office, we must keep up our cover. Who knows, being on the UN staff may someday save us a close inspection, one that would shut us down, or worse. It’s a good thing we have wasta, you know influence, that allowed us to secure a putz job, one that we work to our advantage.”
There was a knock on the door; two short raps a short pause and then a scratching noise, the code for the team. Ayman had started to reach for a pistol hidden behind some books, stopped and stood up. He looked to Kalida, who step across the small flat, over to another hidden pistol behind the room divider. He didn’t retrieve it but was just close enough in case it was needed; he nodded at Ayman to answer the door.
Ayman said, “Who’s there.”
When the answer came they knew it was Ali Jizer even though he tried to imitate the Chinese waiter at the local restaurant. “You ordered flied flish and lice. We have no flied flish today. Just a tired fliend flesh in from Florida.”
Laughing Ayman opened the door, with the safety chain still on, checking to making sure Ali was alone. He then closed the door to remove the chain and then let their friend in. Only after he had stepped in and the door was locked and secured, did Kalida step away from the hidden weapon, and the exchange of greetings and handshakes begin. It had been almost a month since Ali had gone on his mission.
Ali said, “Have we any cold beer, I haven’t had one since I went on my trip.”
Kalida walking over to the fridge said, “The same three from the time you left, waiting on your return and the good news you bring.” He took out the bottles, and removed the tops to hand them out.
“And good news it is, all went well,” Ali paused as he took the beer. He then offered a raised silent toast, which his two friends returned and they each took a drink. “That taste good, I don’t know how the English or the Germans could drink warm beer.”
Ayman chuckled and said, “ It does taste better cold, do you think we are developing a bad habit, against the teachings of the prophet. I mean one beer a month is getting to be a habit right.” The friends all laughed, and took a seat at the table.
Kalida responded, “We are all very devout Muslims, and I’m not worried about us and one beer a month, when a friend returns with news is that not time to celebrate. Tell us Ali of your trip and adventures.”
Ali took a drink then started his after action report. “Kalida you were correct, the seeds had been planted and the field is ready to be harvested. Al Quida has indeed encouraged the faithful who are ‘far from the fields of jihad’ to be vigilant. A few have researched the soft spots and many weaknesses ‘of the American infidel’s’ at home. They’re many reports, the locations and video of vulnerable structures – from bridges and tunnels their water and oil pipelines even their military installations and financial buildings – all are suitable for attack. I was like a child in a candy store, so much to chose from and so much to see. Their prosperity and lack of security are a weakness that we can use against them.”
“So when I arrived in Miami after a long, overnight boring flight. After clearing customs I called the number for our friend Isaban for a cab, he told me which company to catch a ride with, and I did so.”
“The driver knew the motel I was looking for and it was only about twenty-five minuets away. I checked in under Isaban’s name, the room was OK about the size of our lounge here. I took a quick shower, unpacked and then Isaban called me; he was outside in his car. Taking no chances I looked out the window and he was true to his word, the only other vehicles in the parking lot were at the front desk area or by the restaurant.”
“Taking my laptop and camera to blend in and looking like a typical tourist, I locked up and greeted Isaban. Then getting into the passenger side of the car, he drove me down to the beach only a few hundred meters away and parked in a public parking lot. I was impressed with Isaban’s security sense, He said lets get some lunch as it was almost noon, taking a small radio with us we walked up to a food stand. We ordered some steak sandwiches chips, and cokes, making small talk until the food was ready. We chose to set at a picnic table all by itself under a palm tree the gentle warm sea breeze blowing on our back and eat our lunch. Chatting.”
Ayman in jest said, “Enough about the warm weather and palm trees, it has been a normal British spring cold and damp, you make me homesick.”
Laughing Ali continued, “Turning on the radio and placing it between us so we could talk. He said he got the vials you sent him and he knows a professor at the university he works with, who is a trusted servant of the prophet. The professor said he could another to develop a culture and have about ten kilos ready by this time next year. I told him it was powerful but not deadly and extreme caution must be used when it is made up. He said the professor knew that already and no one but the person who worked up the culture would be involved.”
“Isaban said our next part, the recruiting of workers would take a while, but there are a lot of Filipinos and Malaysians Muslims who work as cleaning staff, room service, cooks and waiters on the various cruise lines that sail out of Miami. Once we had a name of one who would help us he could recruit others for us. The local mosque would be the place to look first.”
“We then finished our meal discussing various world political problems, especially how the last presidential election was stolen from the American people. Not our problem as neither of us were Americans, but still dangerous to us if America were to regain its moral compass.”
Taking another sip from his beer, Ali added “We both had a good laugh at that one, even as their president it will take more then one man to do that, besides the Americans are too lazy and spoiled from their soft lifestyle to change back, to a hard determined people.”
“It took us two weeks to find the right man to head up our dispersal team, his is an average white American who while in prison converted to Islam about four years ago. He works for a delivery company that hauls food supplies and cleaning materials to the various docks for the ships. This is perfect as he works directly with the people who will do the necessary work on the ships when the word is given. He took only a few minuets to pick up the plan; he even suggested ideas in how to contaminate the ships food. He then came up with six names of people he knew on five of the ships whom used the same Mosque he did.”
“Knowing the different ships schedules it was easy for him to look up a couple of people in town that day, and within a week he had recruited people on four of the ships. He said given time he could get someone on just about every cruise ship that was home ported there.”
“He knows that when Isaban contacts him by phone only, no person-to-person contact, he would receive some of the virus ready to try out, and have his best two people do a test run. There is one draw back but not unexpected, he has to have a monetary offer for his ship board companions, we settled on 200 American dollars each time but results must be impressive, around two to three hundred sick. Our contact said we would not be disappointed. He has a good sense for security details to; he will maintain contact through work with the people on each ship, but he will change mosque to cut out that connection.”
“I then took a cruise to see if our plans would work, I tell you it will be so easy. The Americans will not have any clue how it happens on so many ships and all at once when the full attack is unleashed, but they will know they are under attack. They won’t be able to stop us once it starts unless they catch one of the crew with a vile. If that happens our contact will just recruit some one else.”
“Good now what about Satan’s house, the city of Las Vegas!”
“Basically the same plan but different people trained at the camp in Iraq, all a tight cell with out any outside contact, they are to wait until we send them the code word to prepare and then when the vials arrive they will start their attacks. The leader there says they will pick and choose two test targets months and miles apart so as not to leave the impression that they are connected. When so many tourists start becoming ill with the norovirus, ha that should cut into their profits and hurt the economy.”
“Plan on a lot of sick Americans, and the decline of a decadent vacation industry. Ha, if you or your family own stock in those companies I would sell now.” Ali had a good laugh, and so did the other two leaders of this terrorist group.
Kalida asked, “Did you contact our man in Detroit, and find out if he received our packet?”
“You worry to much my friend, I sent him a post card of the beach and ocean, telling of the wondrous time I was having, that I hoped to see his family on my next trip to America. In less then a week I got a letter in return, they miss me so much,” Ali had to laugh at his own joke. “In the letter was a picture of a baby girl, the code I set up, and it means a safe delivery and that all is in hiding, waiting.”
“Good, Ayman I want you to head back to the training school pick out three new recruits one of them either a Canadian or American. After the first phase of training, have them dropped from all other training, telling them they are selected for a special mission. Send them to our safe house in Uruguay, I will inform the people their to train these three in the use of our special weapon.” Kalida continued, “These three once trained will move to Canada. They will not be exposed to any other cell once we place them, they are to get jobs to fit in and wait; no one outside the three of us will know their mission. And they will not know the location of the hidden dirty bomb.”
The three men nodded their head in agreement as Kalida said, “Praise be to Allah, we are closer, we are doing the work of the faithful as written by the one true prophet, Mohammad who has shown us the way to victory by Taqiyyah.”
(Koranic principle that allows deception of non-Muslims.)
“This war we are in will soon get very hot, a lot of the faithful will die, and so will a lot of the western infidels and their crusaders. Our people will endure the hardships necessary to win, as for the west again they will find out that the Americans are unreliable, weak and soft , only wanting their comforts and distractions. It is fortunate that the Americans and the rest of the west fail to comprehend the true nature of this conflict, that is until it is to late and our victory is assured; that is written.”
(C-15)
Mental Attitude
May
2001
‘A prudent man foresees the difficulties ahead and prepares for them;
the simpleton goes blindly on and suffers the consequences.’
the simpleton goes blindly on and suffers the consequences.’
- Proverbs 22:3
By calling attention to a well-regulated militia for the security of the Nation, and the right of each citizen to keep and bear arms, our Founding Fathers recognized the essentially civilian nature of our economy. Although it is extremely unlikely that the fears of governmental tyranny, which gave rise to the second amendment, will ever be a major danger to our Nation, the amendment still remains an important declaration of our basic military-civilian relationships, in which every citizen must be ready to participate in the defense of the country. For that reason I believe the second amendment will always be important. --JOHN F. KENNEDY
Lyle looked around at all the new faces, it was hard to believe in two short years we had grown from a group of thirty-five to almost one hundred and eighty-five. Also it was good knowing that he wasn’t the only black anymore or the youngest member of the Militia, it made him fell proud.
People were waking up taking notice, learning to be a part of the community again, standing together. He liked being a part of group of decent Americans, who worked hard and respected the American dream of fair play and decency. That God and Country, family and community is what life and living is all about.
Yeah he had to help the evening before to set up the tent and in preparation for training, but he enjoyed the filling of acceptance and respect shown by all the members. Besides it’s one little duty as payback for living in a free country, no sweat.
Last years election had shown that the common man was still in control, that decency and faith still mattered. He knew more still needed to be done, it would take all of us working together, to wake up those still asleep or who had become disillusioned and stopped voting, to help pull this wagon again. They must be reminded that their fate was at stake and tied to ours if they wanted to continue having the benefits of a free country, it was past time for them to step up and be counted.
Being in the Kansas Militia was open for everyone, though few cared enough to join; even the Federal law stated every male over 17 years old and up was in the Militia. That this duty was the same as jury duty, and if you were going to enjoy freedom you had to be responsible, and to precipitate.
The hand out prepared for the map class today had as it’s opening remark,
‘Freedom cannot exist with out discipline, self-discipline, and rights cannot exist without duties. Those who do not observe their duties do not deserve their rights.’
Miss Fallaci
Lyle knew that she was from Italy, and had written about her country under Mussolini, he made a mental note ‘I’ll have to read more of her work.’ Those two lines sure said it all, at least to me…
The training officer stepped to the back of the class area, Corporal Lyle Bird taking his Que. Stood up at attention, and announced “Class Attention” in his best military voice. The class rose up as one standing to attention, while Captain Jeff Green walked to the front faced Cpl. Bird, who saluted. Captain Green returned the salute, turned to the class and gave the commands “Stand at Ease, Stand Easy, please take your seats.”
After everyone sat down Jeff said, “Thank you for coming, it looks like we have several new faces and returning friends among the regulars members, when we take our break please talk to each other especially the NCO’s. Get to know us and if satisfied join us and take the oath to become an active member. If anyone needs a copy of our by-laws I have them up here on the table,” Jeff paused and held up a copy, about fifteen of the new people held up their hands. Lyle and a couple of the other junior NCO’s handed out the by-laws, as Jeff continued. “Please read the by-laws when you get a chance and understand that we are a Constitutional Militia, we obey the laws and we want the politicians to obey the law of the land; the United States Constitution and their respective States Constitutions.”
“This means that if not directly given the authority by that contract they are not to assume they can make it up as they go along. If they don’t follow the Constitution we will do our best to see that in the next election we replace them with some one who knows better. We do not seek any action other then the ballot box, but enough of me on my soapbox and politicking,” Jeff said as he smiled.
“I’ll turn the session over to our medical platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Drew Morgan, he will finish last months medical class. Sgt. Morgan.”
Drew Morgan had been standing just outside the rolled up sides of the tent stepped in and saluted Capt. Green, the salute was returned and Jeff walked to the back of the class.
“I want to apologize for last month that our three hour medical class ran into almost five hours, we had a lot of good questions that needed answers and I was surprised in having almost double the number of people expected show up, that help slow us down. I won’t use more then a few minuets to finish up.”
“We covered all but one aspect of Health and Hygiene in the field, and that is one of the most important ones, Mental Attitude.” Drew tapped the side of his head with one finger to make his point.
“Your thinking affects the way you act. If you know how, you can act quickly, with a purpose. If you are uncertain or in doubt, you will hesitate and can make the wrong decision. You must be positive in your thinking. Have absolute confidence in your own ability, in the officers, and the NCO’s who lead you. You will feel better, and the time you spend in the Militia will have a real sense of purpose. You will come to recognize that the Militia exists for the best cause in the world---to protect and serve your country, your neighbors, your family and yourself. You are a needed and a valuable part of a team. Ask yourself constantly, how can I help my team to accomplish the mission?”
Drew paused for a second for dramatic effect looking across the crowd, and then he continued, “There are four parts to mental attitude.”
Holding up one finger, “Number one. Fear, a basic human emotion, it has both a physical and mental state. There is nothing to be ashamed of if you are afraid, its how you control it or it controls you that counts. Fear keeps you more alert and better able to perform your job. It enlarges the pupils of your eyes, increases your field of vision and the ability to detect movement.” Drew bugged his eyes out and made small quick movements with his head from side to side, that got a few small smiles from the class.
“Also your breathing picks up and your heart pumps a little stronger, both are good, fear will allow you to exert more effort and strength even if you are tired and worn out. Control your fear, use it as a strength, don’t let fear control you.”
Holding up two fingers Drew said, “Two. Do not let your imagination run wild; that will add to the fear factor. You are not alone, you are part of a team; members of the militia are all around you even if you can’t see them. Men and women who are doing their job as you are too, helping each other as you are doing the same.”
Holding up three fingers Drew continued, “Number three, Worry, remember a few years ago the song ‘Don’t Worry be Happy’. A nice catchy tune, well excess worry will cause all types of body problems mostly stress, it will dull your mind slowing your thinking and ability to perceive and learn. Worry will add confusion and multiple your troubles; you will imagine things, which do not exist. When the time and situation allows talk things over with your buddy and team members they will help you with any problems, ‘don’t worry and be happy’. I shouldn’t attempt to sing should I?” That got a few laughs from the men.
Drew held up four fingers, “Number four, this last one’s maybe the most important of the four.” In a loud and commanding voice he boomed, “Stay alert and keep a positive attitude,” the in his normal voice, “stay flexible mentally to accept the changing conditions as you find them. Use your will to control your mind and to take prompt, positive action as needed, the Marines have a saying ‘adapt and overcome’ by staying focused and alert, your mental attitude is the key.” Drew nodded to Capt. Green who started to walk back to the front of the class as he finished by saying. “I won’t take any questions at this time as we need to get into our map reading class, if you need more information I have a hand out that can be collected from the information table, either at the break or after the class. And if any of the new people want some more medical training or decide they want to be medics please see me later, Thank you.” Drew then walked to the back to let Jeff start the map class.
“That always typical give Sgt. Morgan a second and he will always try to recruit more medics,” Jeff said with a grin and his comment drew a few laughs from some of the older members.
Holding up a copy of a map Jeff said, “The copies of the map in front of you are taken from the county sectional map, and in the exact center of those maps is where you are setting right now. They are on a 1 to 50,000 ratio that means one inch on the map equals 50,000 inches on the ground. I did not put the GPS coordinates on the map, as we will not be using them in this class. For those of you who don’t know the letters, GPS stands for Global Position Satellite, this system has twenty-six satellites in orbit around the earth, each is broadcasting it’s own special code. The receiver is a device like a cell phone that must pick up radio transmissions from the three nearest satellites to get a fix on where you are when you activate it….”
One of the new people raised his hand and asked, “Excuse me sir, I use my GPS unit all the time with a map just like this one, wouldn’t it be easier to teach that method.” There were several people who shook their head yes in agreement.
“A good question, yes it would be easier and faster to us a GPS unit, but in time of war the system might be switched off for civilian models. Or what happens if the model you carry is busted or has dead batteries? Then you are up a creek without a paddle. A few months ago Popular Science ran an article on what happens in wartime to the GP system, the Government would scramble the radio frequencies to stop helping a potential enemy. And the Russians also have developed small hand held units that send out white noise on the same radio frequencies, thus giving a false radio tone that would be stronger then the one from the satellites in a limited area. The tone doesn’t carry any data for your GPS unit so the lights would be on but no information to read. If you were relaying on your GPS units to be correct and didn’t know how to read a map; I’d say you wouldn’t want to be in that situation would you and if a team was relaying on you, not good. The Russians sell these units to any government or company that wants to purchase them. So that takes us back to the basics of needing to know how to read a map, OK.”
He still could see that a few of the people had a perplexed look so he continued, “One of the best lessons I learned from a sergeant in my first militia training was the ‘K.I.S.S.’ principle, Keep It Simple Stupid. It may sound like I’m running some of your ideas down, but I’m not. Once you learn the basis of map reading and use it several times you will find it easy to navigate. You see our premise in the Militia is to teach the basics, walk before we run.” Jeff could see that this point was accepted so he said, “OK, at the bottom of the map is the ledger with ….”
(C-16)
Weaken the Enemy
June
2001
“Man prefers to believe what he prefers to be true.”
-Francis Bacon
Division Major General Dim was pacing back and forth in his new office; it helped relieve tension and allowed him to think, Senior Colonel Wuhan his chief intelligence office just set in silence waiting.
Since Xo was now the assistant PLA command and as one of the five members on the standing committee of the Politburo he had a lager staff, because of that General Dim had even more work then ever before. When he was asked by Dim to continue as his command Aide, Dim couldn’t turn him down. He knew that he had jumped over more then two hundred ranking Army Generals for this assignment and some resentment would show. Xo didn’t care he wanted his most loyal friend close. Thus they could continue with their plans.
When Xo moved up from Governor he was able to hand pick a successor who would continue their work, to map, sending in workers and infiltrate agents into the Russian maritime province. The Chinese were starting to outnumber the local Russians in a few areas so the plan was well under way and soon they would start to protest for rights to vote and elect their own people to local government. Soon thereafter; they would attempt to break away from Russia, then later to join China proper. At least that part of the plan was ahead of schedule, a schedule that was about to be disrupted by the Islamic extremist from the Arab East.
The latest intelligence report from the Middle East was on his desk, he had read and reread it many times. He knew Xo had his hands full with all his normal work and their plans for China, but how do I present this news. It will push up our timetable by two if not three years, there was no way to delay others actions not this close to their zero day, beside they wouldn’t listen. But how can we be ready without showing our cards?
The phone rang, it was his secure line and General Dim knew that it was the return call from Admiral Luosan Ju, the second in command of the navy, he had been on leave at his home out side the navel facility in Hangzhou City. Col. Wuhan looking at General Dim then picked up the ringing phone and answered, “ General Dims office, Col. Wuhan speaking. Yes Admiral he is waiting on your call a moment please sir.” The Colonel handed the phone to Dim who had walked around and set down behind his desk.
With a smile in his voice to off set his worry Dim said, “Thank you Admiral for returning my call, I hope it did not cause you any inconvenience having to go to a secure line on the weekend.” Not waiting for the Admirals reply Dim stated the reason they needed to talk, “I have on my desk an intelligence report; your copy is in the hands of your chief of security. Col. Wuhan says he should be in your office very soon. This report and our conversation must ask require the utmost secrecy.”
The Admiral a recent ally and a very enthusiastic member of Xo’s inner planning circle answered. “No problem, I was going to take my grand children out on the Hangzhou wan for some fishing, and stopping by the office was on the way. I know you wouldn’t call unless there was something amiss, so go ahead General!”
“Admiral our friends in the Middle East are going to launch a major assault on the United States in September, we do not have the exact date or target or how they plan to attack. If the Americans responses follow either of the two paths that our Intelligence service think they might, our plans for operation’ Song Bird’ might have to go into action two if not three years early.”
“What does Xo wish for me to do, hold for a minuet General,” Ju said. Dim heard the Admiral telling someone thank you, and asking them to take a seat. “General my security chief is here with the report, it’s Captain Sartu Tao, the man responsible for my recruitment into Xo’s league of friends. As I was saying what does Xo wish.”
“I don’t know yet, Xo is in route to our headquarters and won’t arrive for another,” looking at his watch Dim said, “hour or so. At that time I will inform him about the report, I made the call to you in anticipation of several questions I know he will ask.”
Ju replied, “Just looking at the first page of this report I can see that Xo will have more then a few questions. The first one he should ask is how soon we can have the two carriers ready. And the second would be, how many troop ships will be needed to move the men into the four areas of overseas operations.”
“Admiral you are either a mind reader or Col. Wuhan sent your more then I have in my report,” Dim said in surprise.
“Neither General, just a smart old salty, I’ve had almost a month to review ‘Song Bird,’ since our last meeting. And I’ve come up with several different plans for the Navy to provide support and assistance. If this intelligence if true, it will cause us to scrape three of the five plans and in the long run make China even stronger then if we were to make a conventional navel assault. Do you wish me to continue or to wait on Xo’s arrival,” Ju asked?
Dropping the formalities Dim said, “Ju I need to make one other call but I can give you fifteen minuets, so go ahead and give me the best of the two plans and I will inform Xo.”
“OK” Ju continued. “First we need to drop the idea of using carriers in our plan. They draw too much attention and would be constantly watched by satellite. I would like to have carriers, in fact I would like to have a dozen but that’s not possible until after the conflict, then we will need to build as many as twenty of them to project our power just like the Americans do now.”
Before Dim could ask Ju continued, “The reasons why I say carriers are not practicable? If we were to lay the keels tomorrow they wouldn’t be combat ready for three years, eighteen months to build and a little over twenty months to train crews and to make them shipshape. Yes we could purchase the two small Russian carriers, and use jump jets, that’s if the central committee directs us to, but if we did I would recommend keeping them in home waters. Right now we are buying from the Russians several of their newest destroyers, and the rights to build more of them. And now if we were to start building six aircraft carriers, it would cause too much scrutiny and our enemies in the west would take the necessary counter measures.”
“If things change because of our Mid-Eastern friends and we have only two years for planning and preparation; then the rest of the navel forces including any thing smaller then the carriers we start construction on in the next three to four months will be ready, as will as the crews to man them.” Ju paused to let Dim write down their discussion so far.
“The best plan we have so far is using our commercial fleet of container ships and the special assists that we purchase, all which can be converted to military use; doing so we can land six or seven million soldiers on enemy soil at the same time and at any port we choose.”
“Six or seven million troops,” Dim asked in surprise?
“Yes you see, we will need surprise and deception to achieve our landing of troops on our enemy’s shores, so by being innovative and using our commercial fleet we have the means to deliver the troops, aircraft and all necessary supplies for at least a two-year operation. For the heavy tanks and large artillery pieces, we will have to purchase four or more of the super tankers or car haulers and mammoth container ships that are in storage, off the island of Celebes in Indonesia.”
“By adapting these ships we purchase to carry the bulk of our heavy equipment, we do not tip our hand with the construction of specialty built tank carriers,” again Ju paused so Dim could write down the information.
Dim said, “Not having any experience or much knowledge of navel matters, but who has super tankers and such in storage? I thought the worlds oil supply was tight.”
Ju laughed, “No, no it’s not the oil supply, it’s the worlds oil market and distribution that is tightly controlled, by OPEC, the large financial markets and the oil companies themselves, to maximum profit. If the average man in the west knew that the amount of discovered oil reserves were greater now then in the 1960’s, and more being discovered every day, they would be upset by the lie? The people would hang the money people who cause market constricts on how much is produced and shipped to keep the price up and their profits up too!”
“And the Governments go along with this?”
“Yes, all the Governments of the world knew and they profit by the excess taxes they levy on there people. Money is the real power in this world, all politicians know that. If this was common knowledge every country would fall, chaos follow and the common man would be in charge of his destiny.” Chuckling he added, “ and we would be out of a job.”
Ju continued, “Let me give you a little history lesson. During the 1960’s and 70’s super tankers were built faster then oil could be consumed, the price of oil was dropping, the producing nations and the large oil companies were trying to cut each others throat to corner the market. All involved were losing profit, so during the 70’s they got together, and production was slowed, and the price went up as did the profit margin.”
“They found out there were too many tankers for the amount of oil being shipped, so the large companies stored them in an out of the way location. At one time there were over three hundred of them, chained together in small groups of thirty or so, like small islands in the bay. I have seen aerial as well a sea level pictures and it was impressive, but that’s beside the point.”
“Like any working machine, the life span of an oil tanker is limited, when two wore out or were damaged beyond repair, they would build one new one and take one out of storage. And each time the world has a recession, more ships are added to this unused fleet. I’m not sure of the exact count, but I would place the number at around one-hundred or so still at anchor down in Indonesia.”
Captain Sartu spoke for the first time since taking a seat. “I can call my office and we can have that information in less then ten minuets.” He got up and took his cell phone from a pocket to call and started to walk to the door to give Ju privacy.
“That’s OK Captain the exact number isn’t necessary for the moment, but if you could get me that information tomorrow with the names of each ship, it’s capacity, tonnage, dimensions, the owners and if possible its present condition and cost of maintaining each ship in storage, and if they are for sale.”
Capt. Sartu turned to the Admiral as he spoke and said, “yes sir,” and continued his call to pass on the questions.
“To obtain these ships we would use our agents in Hong Kong, to purchase and tow them to a ship yard, this would take about a month, two at the most. We would use the COSCO rebuild yard at Shanghai; they have two dry docks and the extensive facilities to gut the old fuel oil storage tanks. Then we will replace them with several internal decks, loading ramps and storage compartments each oil tanker will be able to carry two or more tank divisions with supporting mechanized infantry troops, and artillery. Or we change the mix and add fifty helicopter gun ships for close air support, plus forty jet aircraft that can be rolled off and ready to fly when they dock, and all of the light wheeled vehicles needed to support them.”
“The total time necessary to refit the four ships sixteen months. Each ship will retain a quarter of it fuel tank storage capacity, approximately 165,400,000 liters, enough to last a division one-year in my estimate, but that’s not my field of expertise. Are you still with me Dim,” Ju asked?
“Yes Ju,” Dim replied, “I’m not a secretary but so far I’ve been able to keep up, go ahead.”
“Other vehicles will be transported in a modern car hauler and moving troops will be even easier,” Ju said. “Every day between nine and fifteen container ships leave China headed for the United States, in total about twenty-five ships leave our ports for the world as a whole. Most of these container ships hold three thousand five hundred, twelve-meter long containers, and we have five ships that carry 4,500 of these containers, in two more years we will have twelve of these larger ships. And there are ships being built now that will carry over 6,000 of these containers.”
“Average trip to the farthest destination is 20 days. And the docks at the major ports can handle on average 15 or more ships at a time, unloading each one in less then three days.”
“Just to let you know, the Long Beach and the port of Los Angles in California receive on average twenty-two ships a day, every day of the year.”
“Now on moving troops, we can place one infantry platoon of 40 men in each container, and divide that container into three sections, two meters at the back with barrels for the latrine. And 4.2 meters for the bunks in the middle, each 70 by 70 centimeters square, and 1.65 meters long. This will leave close to six meters for food and water storage, a cooking and eating area that doubles as the exercise and ready room plus the support weapons each platoon needs. We will work out the exact details on the amount each container will need in food and water storage later.” Ju paused to let Dim catch up then continued.
“Three thousand five hundred containers of troops and one thousand containers of extra food and ammunition. As you can see each of our regular ships will carry 140,000 men. Now multiple that by thirty container ships, plus the four converted tankers, and if we add in several ships from our commercial fleet that can hold the 6,000 containers, suddenly we have a very large army on enemy soil.”
“It will be easy to land close to seven million well armed troops with armor, artillery, vehicle support and aircraft plus enough fuel and logistical back up for operations lasting a year or more depending on the ratio desired. Say we send less troops and more equipment, and logistics, they could operate for years independent of re-supply, not counting any resources they seize in the enemy country.”
“A bold plan, a daring plan, many battles are won when a decisive plan is executed. Wars are won when they are followed up by more daring plans and action.” Again Ju paused to let Dim finish writing down the high lights.
“Is there more information you think is relevant that I will need for Xo,” Dim asked?
Thinking for a second Ju answered, “Not really the majority of the report is in the details that are necessary in carrying out these plans and follow up operations. If the notes you took are detailed enough, and I’m sure they are, Xo will grasp enough of the inherent idea and the simplicity to form a strategy that fits the changing timetable.”
“Ju this is brilliant plan, you will send a detailed copy of this plan tomorrow by courier, Xo will want to study it as an option. Bare in mind that we may still keep to the original time frame and what we have talked about may just be an exercise in thought,” Dim said. “Again I thank you for your insight and taking time on your day off to return my call.”
Ju chuckled, “When you called and requested a secure line conversation, I knew there was something amiss, I will finish reading this intelligence report. After that I will take my grandchildren fishing, you can do a lot of thinking while fishing, tomorrow I will be relaxed and ready for any job. Bye.”
The Admiral then hung up the phone, turning to Captain Sartu, “I will finish reading this intelligence report, and then you can read it and lock it away. It is to be stamped Top secret, eyes only for the central committee at the present.”
“Tomorrow I will want you to hand deliver the plans for ‘Song Bird, Naval attachment number four to Xo’s headquarters. I will need you to work today, it is necessary to review the plan and revise it if needed from what you read in the report, and if you have to call in any assistance, do so using my authority.”
“I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may cause, but once you read the Intel. report you will understand.,” Ju finished.
“Sir, I have been in the navy for eighteen years, serving our country has never been any type of inconvenience, its an honor and privilege,” Captain Sartu answered.
When Admiral Luosan hung up General Dim placed his second call to the Air Force General in charge of Satellite development. The duty officer for the weekend answered, and informed Dim that the General had left two days ago for a seminar in Japan on Electronics and would be away for another day. Dim thanked him and hung up the phone.
Not able to talk with their man couldn’t be helped, so be it, Dim knew the last report from the Air Force was two weeks old. It would have to suffice for the briefing with Xo, anyway launching schedules could be moved up by only so much, it was the building of the spy satellites that required time. Would the six scheduled launches be enough or could they hurry production and get all nine built and launched.
Glancing at the clock, Dim quickly calculated he had enough time to have his notes typed and he could reread them and the latest Intelligence report from the Middle East so he could give Xo a proper briefing.
(C-17)
Korea
July
“Talk low, talk slow, and don’t say too much”
-John Wayne
Captain Dix, Armor branch United States Army; this really isn’t that bad, nope it’s too bad. So he kept telling himself, it could have been worse. A whole lot worse because he had wanted; a posting to Saudi Arabia, no booze on weekends, no women, hot hot hot and sand-sand and more sand! Yes it could have been a posting to Alaska, nine months of winter three months of mosquitoes, some of the best hunting and fishing in the world, but nine months of winter, so Korea isn’t that bad.
I could have been posted to Fort Bliss in Texas, dust, desert and wind stationed with a real live Armor Division and a great training area: or even Hawaii now that would have been paradise. I knew better then to ask to be posted to Hawaii. But none of those were good enough for me; so I had to ask for my number two choice as Germany. The best Armor units in the Army, great training locations, and some of the best off post distractions, and a chance to see Europe. But would they give me what I asked for, no-way-Jose. They decided that my second choice wasn’t right either so why ask me what the hell my second choice was either? But just to be fair we will give you a third choice, and that happened to be the most far away location that I could think of! Some one check me out, I must be nuts. Hot in summer and I’ve been told colder then Alaska in the winter, man was I lucky. I won the booby prize, I got my third choice, I got Korea.
“What’s that smell phuuu, it smells like tons of Shit,” Capt. Dix asked his driver Corporal Franks as they pulled around a slow moving dump truck, heading out of the city to the Army base.
“Your right sir tons of Shit,” the Cpl. Laughed, “I can’t say you will ever get use to the smell, but after a while you forget about it.”
“All right let me in on the joke is there a pig farm we passed, or didn’t I see the cattle feed lot, the smell isn’t as strong but its still there,” Captain Dix asked?
“No inside joke sir,” Cpl. Franks continued, “It’s the whole country especially out side of the cities, that truck we pulled around is called a honey truck. After the Korean War they used to use a wagon, it was called a huny wagon, hence the name honey truck. They use them to pick the waste up each morning right out side of the homes, that aren’t connected to a sewer system.” Glancing over at the Captain to see his expression he continued, “really sir they pick up a load of human shit, from the local waste water facility take it out to a farmer who pays to have it dumped on his field, its their source of fertilizer.”
“Corporal you’re trying to, to pull one over on me now, right,” Capt. Dix said as he laughed?
“No Sir, it’s the truth, it really is. They honestly do use human waste for fertilizer. Now you know why a posting to Korea really stinks. Now I’m joking you sir,” the corporal laughed at his own attempted humor.
Capt. Dix had to smile and chuckled, “My former first sergeant David Roper always said Korea stank, he never said it was the smell, and now I know what he meant. Though he said he always enjoyed serving here.”
“Top Roper sir, a large black guy, with a scar below his left eye trailing off too his ear lobe,” Cpl. Franks asked?
Capt. Dix answered, “Yeah about six foot tall, two hundred pounds, tough as a tank, but fair, he was stationed here before his transfer to Ft. Lewis. Did you know him.”
“Yes sir, he was my top for about a month when I got here, I really liked him.”
“Well good,” Dix replied, “I’ll have to drop him a line and let him know I met you, are you still in a line company?”
“No sir I’m in Headquarters Company now, I picked up Korean really fast and they use me as a runner and in S-3, you know battalion training, I had some errands to run today and that’s why they asked me to pick you up in Seoul. The battalion CO wants you to check in with division fast, then I’m to run you to battalion HQ to meet him and the Brigade Commander, then quickly go and pick up your TA 50 equipment. I’ve already picked up the requisitions forms and have the paper work for the officers quarters for you to sign, you’ll pick up the key for your room and--.”
“Whoa, slow down what’s the rush.”
“Sorry sir, were really short of officers in the battalion and Lt. Colonel O’Neil has you already assigned as Alpha Company commander, the company is over at camp Casey, that’s Dragon Valley as its called on the east coast, they’ve been out training for almost a week. And the Col. wants you over there tomorrow to train with them.”
Capt. Dix thought to himself, normal army BS no time to get your feet on the ground, jump right in, sink or swim. “All right I can’t change the plan but could you do me a favor.”
The Cpl. said, “If I can, what’s the favor sir.”
“When we get to Battalion I’ll need a set of maps, one of our base and the surrounding area. And if possible a TO&E of my companies equipment and the personnel roster; I can look at them on the way over. Are you driving me or am I to fly by chopper.”
“I think your company driver is in, with your Humvee, once your paper work is complete and you drop your excess baggage at the BOQ, he will take you out to the training area, it’s about an hour drive or so. If you would reach behind you seat I’ve got some maps in my map case and you can have them. I know I have some of the Camp Casey area, while you’re with the CO I’ll go to the S3 and get you some new ones. The 2nd Division and supporting units are spread over seventeen small bases sir, most between Seoul and the DMZ. The first three maps have the bases marked that apply to the Armor and Mechanized Infantry,” Cpl. Franks added.
Capt. Dix reached around and took the map case, in it he found the map of the post and training area. He was quiet the rest of the drive studying the areas of his new assignment.
They arrived at Division HQ a few minuets later, after meeting the G1 he was given the normal welcome to Korea speech. Sent on to records where Capt. Dix dropped of his paper work, and picked up a copy of the Army SOP (Standard Operating Procedure), for troops stationed in Korea.
Cpl. Franks then informed Capt. Dix, “The trip to the Armor Battalion HQ will take another half-hour.”
“Thank you Cpl. I’ll use the time to read the SOP and look at the maps some more,” Dix replied. The SOP was the normal full of don’ts and how to conduct yourself as you were representing not only the Army, but all of America as well, it sounded as if it had been written right after Vietnam and not revised.
As they were driving he would look occasionally out of the window at the passing countryside mostly rolling hills some fairly high; the only flat ground was around the streams and where they met to form small rivers. Not ideal tank country he thought to himself. In fact if the North Koreans invaded, a few key choke points with a few tanks hidden in defiled and a strong infantry unit for support, they would make the enemy pay dearly for any ground they attempted to gain.
Not that he wanted any war, but knowing the capabilities of American armor and the supporting combined forces of the US and South Korea, the North Koreans would win some early battles but at a price they couldn’t sustain. One and a half million men against just over seven hundred thousand South Koreans and almost forty thousand Americans, there would be a butcher’s bill to pay but the allies would win. At least that was what he was taught at his advance course.
The miles and time had passed faster then one would think. They had entered the 1-72nd Armor Battalions base and pulled up to the HQ building, Capt. Dix replaced the maps into the case and laid it on the seat. “If its OK Cpl. I’ll look at these again when we head to the Officers quarters,” he said as he got out of the vehicle.
“No problem sir, if you will go through the main door and take the left side hall it will lead you straight to the S-1 office. Capt. Borough will then take you into see the Battalion commander. I’ll head off to the S-3 and get the maps you requested. I should be back and waiting before you are sir.” Cpl. Franks said as he got out of the Humvee saluted sharply, they turned and walked across the front of the HQ to enter through a side door.
Capt. Dix returned the salute as the Cpl. took off, taking his brief case he walked up to the front door, entered and took off his cover, then made his way to the S-1 office, to report for duty.
"Statistics are no substitute for judgment."
-------Henry Clay
-------Henry Clay
D. Salvador was puzzled; his informants on the Mexican side of the border had been a good source about drugs coming across. The routes, size of shipments, and in some cases the pick up locations. But this information wasn’t about drugs, his informants were scared, it was about people trying to cross the border.
The individuals paying to come across now were “mucho hombre dudes,” Fillip his best of source for information said. He was really scared and had told agent Salvador so, and that several of the other coyotes were too. Rumor had it that several of them had moved back to Arizona and where hiding out with friends, to avoid bringing those two guys over. That’s way he was undercover today, and on the south side of the border, to get information about them?
Hearing a vehicle approach, D just like his two companions watched as the border patrol agent driving a bronco heading west on the American side of the fence. He was driving slowly leaning out to see if any tracks or footprints had crossed over onto his side. He didn’t take notice of the three men in Mexico setting under the tree watching him as he passed them and continued his fence checking. Taking a sip of water from a gallon jug, D asked “Fillip why are you so scared of these two guys, are they hit men for one of the drug cartels that controls north-eastern Mexico, maybe some one you’ve pissed off?”
“No, no it’s the look in the eyes that scare me, they have no soul, and they look like they work for el Diablo.” He crossed himself and continued, “they would kill, like you kill cockroaches, not a thought, just stomp them into the ground. They even offered up to thirty thousand dollars each just to be lead across the border. I saw two of the other coyote’s talk to them, over at Rosé’s cantina. The next day the coyote’s, both ran away, some say to northern Arizona no one seen them since.”
Fillips brother Roberto added, “Those two shits beat up a whore so bad she couldn’t work and never paid for her time. Then three of her boy friends went to collect; those two beat all three up and then cut the penis off one. They said it was an example to the rest of us, because we are non-believers, no one under stood what that meant, I just know I was afraid too.”
“Do either of you know where they are staying,” D asked, sitting on the ground in the shade.
“They were staying at another drug runners safe house on the out-side of town, but I heard that they were to cross last night. All of the local drug runners wanted them gone, they was afraid that they are bad news and a source of trouble they don’t want around.” Roberto said looking at Fillip and both nodding their heads in agreement.
Taking his hat off D sat it on the ground. He then took a small roll of twenty-dollar bills from his shirt pocket, D pilled off two for the information and sat them under his hat. “Now I need the phone number and name of the drug runner, I also want to know, would it be safe for me to talk to him.” He then pulled of two more twenty’s and placed them under his hat, as he looked both of the informants straight in the eye.
Their expression of disbelief was evident by their look and body expressions. They had a good life giving information, and didn’t want to lose it by tipping their hand. But looking at Salvador they knew it was time to make a hard choice, either talk or lose his trust and the money.
Both started at once, “It is too dangerous,” “we can no take you there,” “these drug runners are very bad,” “don’t force us.” You could see the fear in their eyes, but also something they didn’t want to reveal.
“This drug runner is he related to either of you,” D asked, as he placed two more twenties under the hat?
Before either could answer him Fillip turned toward Roberto with anger and said “Shut up you Punta, you’ll get us in trouble.”
Taking it as an insult himself D picked up the hat and the money, stood up and said “OK”, and turned to walk away. Both informers jumped up and said “wait, wait.” Fillip said “stop, por favor, you don’t understand, we, I, I can’t tell you its, its family. If I were to tell you it would ruin all the information sources we have. And we, they wouldn’t trust us any more.”
D could see what was going on; these two rats were finking on the other local gangs, helping a brother more then likely, to get a bigger slice of the action. He didn’t care, he knew that he alone wasn’t going to stop all the drugs coming across. “Tell them I need information on these two men I’m not after anything else,” today, he finished to himself as he kept walking to his old pickup.
Fillip and Roberto had caught up to him one on either side and they keep saying, “You don’t understand,” “we can’t take you there, right now, no it has to be set up in advance. Let us make a call,” “don’t leave with our money,” “por favor wait D,” “let me make a call, just wait uno momento, por favor, amigo.”
Standing next to his truck D turned and leaned up against it. He took out his cell phone and handed it to Fillip, “Make your call if we are to have a meeting it has to be in the next half hour or I take my money and drive back across and we will be done. No more easy money and I’ll be looking for your brother next.”
The fear in Fillips face was real, if he didn’t make the call they would lose their source to rid themselves of local competition. Worse still D could get another group to rat on them and but them out of business. Thinking fast, he would have to take the chance; maybe he only wants these two guys. He took the phone and walked a few steps away to call.
Dialing the number and waiting while it rang, Thinking to himself be there, be there. Then someone picked up the phone, before they could speak he said, “But my brother on.” He could hear the person who had answered the phone say, “it’s for you,” as the phone was handed over. “Don’t say a thing let me explain,” and Fillip told what had expired and the reasons he should meet with D, that if not it would hurt them all in the long run. The burst of cuss words and name-calling caused him to hold the phone away from his ear until it slowed down. Before his brother could catch his breath to start again, he quickly pleaded his case and kept saying it would work out, to trust him… D jerked the phone from his hand, and shoved him down to the ground, he then pointed to Roberto to take a seat too.
“Listen to me, this is D I know your relatives have told you all about me, I’m not after you or your local action. All I want is information about these two bad asses that have you all scared, and I need that information now. If not I clean house right now, starting with these two and I will work my way up to you. You know me and my reputation, I will get my job done. You’ve got to decide what my job will be today, right now, them or you!” D paused, letting his threat sink in, he glanced at the phone number on the screen memorizing it for future use.
The voice on the other end thought for a minuet, and then agreed in resignation, “Alright what information do you want.”
D with a mental ‘yes’, “Are these two individuals still in Mexico?”
“No.”
“When did they cross?”
“Last night.”
“Who took them across, and where,” he asked?
“Jon, at the six kilometer post east of town.”
“OK I need to talk to Jon now, right now,” he let the edge in his voice carry over the phone.
“Jon hasn’t come back yet.”
“When do you expect him back?”
“He should have been back before first light, but the pickup driver didn’t see him at the drop off site.”
“I need to go to the drop off point, do either Fillip or Roberto know it?”
Both brothers looked up at hearing their names.
The voice on the phone said, “Both know, give the phone to one of them.”
D handing the phone to Fillip as he said, “No tricks you’re to get the OK, then take me to the drop off site near the six kilometer post.”
The shacking in Fillip’s hand as he took the phone from D told the agent that these guys were really sacred, he just wasn’t sure of whom.
“This is Fillip, I need the OK.”
“If you weren’t my brother I would have you shot; never, never deal with a gringo. This one is to smart, yes you have the OK, ask to go along if you have to cross the border, I want to know about Jon. Yes our cousin, I have to know if he’s all right,” the phone went dead as the voice hung up.
Fillip handed the phone back to D, “Can we stand up, and I will then show you the drop off point?” Without waiting for a reply from D, he got up off the ground telling his brother, “Stand up Roberto we are going for a ride in our American friends fine junk pile on wheels.”
Roberto standing up and dusting himself off said, “I don’t want to go, I just want to go home it’s getting hot,” and he turned to walk off.
Fillip put a hand on his brothers shoulder to stop him, “Roberto we have to, we need to look for Jon, D will drive us most of the way, see amigo,” looking to D for support.
“See,” D answered turning to walk around the pickup truck to the driver side, as he got in the two brothers got in Fillip first sliding into the middle then Roberto got in and slammed the door, D asked, “You’ll have to tell me which road to take, and how far out we will have to go?”
Roberto pointing out the side window said, “Turn right at the next street and when we get to the last house it will be twelve kilometers from there, about a twenty minuets drive.”
D made the turn, and then using his cell phone he called the border agent who had driven past earlier. When the phone was answered on the second ring D said , “Prescott, how far did you drive since you saw me on the south side?”
“I went about a half mile then turned back north, then came back around on the east-side, where I could observe you guys, I see you moving, do you need for me to follow on this side.”
D looking out his side as they left town didn’t see the bronco at first glance, then he saw the glint of sunlight off the windshield, “Yeah follow us, and stay back about a half mile we are heading to a drop off point. About twelve kilometers east of here, I’ll call you when I get there, then you can stop so as not to cover up any foot tracks on that side.”
“I already drove along the fence road starting from about fifteen miles east of here and heading this away, I didn’t see any tracks on my side. You don’t think there’s another tunnel under the wire do you?”
“Don’t know when we get there the two passengers with me will share their secrets with us, I’ll talk to you on the radio when I stop.” Closing the phone and placing it in his pocket D asked the two, “You guys have a tunnel under the fence that you use at kilometer six?”
Fillip answered “No but Jon is good, he has way’s of crossing, we were never coyote’s, so we don’t know how he crosses the border.”
They drove in silence down the dusty gravel road each into his own thoughts, D glancing down at the odometer checking the distance at three and a half miles he said, “we are getting close.”
Fillip said with a chuckle, “We double the number we say, to confuse any spies.”
Good simple trick D thought these guys aren’t complete amateurs, but it only works a few times.
When the odometer rolled to six miles outside of town he said, “OK amigos we only have a couple kilometers to go, let me know where I’m to stop!”
Roberto said, “About a kilometer ahead maybe a little more you will see the twelve kilometer marker. Less then a hundred meters after that there is track to the left stop there.”
The road, which was in bad shape suddenly, went to even worse and it took almost six minuets to cover the short distance to the marker; the gravel road had lots of potholes and ruts across it. “Slow it down,” Roberto said as he raised his left hand to point, “turn here, you can drive only fifty meters then we must stop.”
D turned the truck north and stopped right after he left the road. The thorn brush and weeds was fairly thick and he could see why it was used as a drop off. He turned off the engine pocketing the keys as he got out, and told the two brothers, “Don’t get out I’m going to look for tracks. How far to the border fence 300 meters or so?”
Fillip answered, “I think so, maybe a little more.”
D reached under the seat and got his radio, turned it on and thumbing the talk button, “Hey Prescott you there, we stopped just before seven miles out, over.” Waiting for a reply he also took a revolver from under the seat and stuck it in his belt. With his dirty sweat soaked cowboy hat on, his black hair down to the worn shirt collar, the worn and faded blue jeans and scuffed up cowboy boots and now the pistol he looked the part, a bandito, and not one you would want to mess with.
Prescott answered, “I’m here and I stopped about a half mile back, you want me to wait or to walk up the fence toward you, over”
“Wait there I’ve got some scouting to do first I want to pick up the tracks and follow them to where they crossed, out” D hung the radio from his belt and started walking up the track looking for foot prints. There had been another vehicle up here he could see the tire prints, and where they stopped. Looking on the left side he found boot prints where they must have unloaded their human cargo, it was easy to follow, as there must have been three or four people walking north.
The thick brush had a well-worn path going through it with the shoe prints staying on the path. After he had covered about a hundred meters, the heavy brush opened up into sparse grass with a few low thorn bushes. Walking another two hundred meters following the path with the prints lead right up to the border fence. You could see where the fence had been pushed down and then pulled up again repeatedly, the paint was rubbed off and the post was shiny.
D stooped and looked over the fence but there were no boot tracks on the other side, they just stopped here at the fence on the Mexican side. He could see one set of tire tracks; those must be Prescott’s from his morning check. You would have seen marks if some one had swept the track on the other side with a branch or a hand full of long grass, nothing. D scratched his head walked back a pace or two looking at the boot prints he had followed sure enough they stopped at the fence.
Taking his radio off his belt he called Prescott “The boot prints stop this side of the fence. The only thing I see are your tire tracks, I’m going to jump the fence and see if I can pick up their prints in the brush, over.”
“I told you I didn’t see any sign of crossing his morning, I’ll keep my ears on over,” came the reply.
“Out” D answered replacing the radio on his belt, he walked up to the fence pushed it down, which was real easy, stepped over and pulled the fence back up.
Just as he was turning around to look for boot prints a voice just to his left and in accented English said, “OK amigo raise your hands above you head and don’t think to make any sudden move’s.”
D froze in his tracks doing just as he had been told by raising his hands above his head slowly. Then turning even slower and looking toward the area he heard the voice come from, he didn’t see any one. The area was covered with short grass and a couple of small bushes and rocks nothing else. D raised his voice and loudly said, “I’m a border patrol agent, I have a badge in my hat,” he was mad at himself he should have had Prescott drive up before he crossed over. To late now someone had the drop on him and he couldn’t even see where this guy was hiding
The hidden voice, it couldn’t be more then twenty feet away, said, “I sure hope you’re right, but we are going to take this real slow to find out. I can tell that you’re right handed, so I want you to use your left hand to remove the piece from under you belt. Real slow now, lower you left hand using only the thumb and little finger lift the pistol out by the butt.”
D was trying to pull the pistol out but he had wedged it in.
“Wiggle it back and forth to work it free,” the voice advised him. “ Be careful you don’t’ accidentally shoot yourself now, your momma would be very unhappy if you were to blow your own dick off.”
D laughed at that comment and at what he must look like. Here he was former special forces, highly trained and an American Indian to boot, standing in the desert with his right hand over his head listening to a voice telling him not to shoot off his own privates, who ever this guy was he did have a since of humor. Once the pistol was clear of his belt, he held it out and asked with a chuckle, “Now what?”
“I can see that its not a piece of junk, so don’t throw it, squat and set the gun down with the barrel facing you, after that lift you left hand back above your head. Good, now stand up and take three giant steps to your right.”
D did as he was told and waited.
One of the small bushes and the small rock behind it stood up, D could see that it was a medium size man in a ghillie suit. He was armed with a F. N. rifle, not pointed directly at D but held with easy and in a manner that said I’m in charge. Who ever this guy was he’s an expert at camouflage D thought as he said out loud, “I’ve seen a lot of guys hide, and stay hidden but never in plain sight not like that, you’re good.”
“Thanks for the compliment, let’s see that badge now and remember, move real slow.”
D using his right hand took off his cowboy hat showing the camouflaged man the inside of the hat he then used his left hand to turn down the inside sweat brim and show his badge. “See and if you’ll let me use my radio I can call in my back up. He can verify I’m a real agent.”
“But your hat back on, it’s to hot to stand in the sun with no cover on, besides any one can buy a badge. Go ahead use the radio, is your back up in the vehicle that stopped a couple of hundred yards back to our west?”
D was surprised by that statement, and said so, “Yes, how did you know, you got someone watching your back.”
“Wish I did, but no I cheated, I have on a set of ‘Ear Shot’ hearing amplifiers, next best thing to a second man.” He took off his camouflaged hat that looked like a small bush, you could see by the set up he was wearing this guy was well equipped. The burlap streamers were the same color as the short dry grass and sandy soil, and had blended in perfectly. Placing his hat back on attached to it by a short wire was a small flat piece of Styrofoam, shaped and colored to look like a rock. He had also been lying in a small narrow depression that helped to hide his shape, his face was painted with camo cream that blended in perfectly with the area. D had also noticed that when he spoke he had a slight accent, sounded a little like British, not quite as strong as an Australians would sound.
D again thought to himself, as he unhooked his radio to call Prescott, ‘this guy is really good; he used the ground just as a cougar would. Pressing the talk button, “Prescott, this is D, come in over,” as he looked to the west for his back up.
“This is Prescott, go ahead over,” came the standard replay.
“I need you to drive down here and be my reference, I’ve got a guy here who won’t take my word that I’m a BP agent, over,” as he looked back at the camouflaged man.”
Prescott answered with a laugh, “Someone got the drop on you, that has to be a first, tell him to stay real cool and I’ll be there in a minuet or so, over.”
Before D could answer, the camouflaged man said, “Tell your buddy its OK, I’m one of the good guys. I work for the rancher whose land we’re on, I just want to be sure you are who you say you are, go ahead and drop your arms.” With that he took two steps back, increasing the distance between them to over six yards and lowered the muzzle of his rifle. It was being held in a manner that was not threatening, but could easily be moved and used if necessary.
D shook his head in agreement and called Prescott, “Were both cool, just come on down, out.” They both could hear the bronco as its starter turned over and the engine rev.
The camouflaged man said, “Not having a mutual friend to make a proper introduction, let me introduce myself, my name is Elijah Maritz my friends call me Eli, we’ll shake hands later, and your agent D…”
“D Salvador, and my friend when he gets here is Floyd Prescott, don’t make the mistake of calling him by his christen name, he gets riled real easy that way. Eli I’ve heard of you, all well and good too, you’re working for several of the ranchers here about.” D turned to watch the approaching bronco; he could see movement with his peripheral vision as Eli moved behind a small bush and took up a watchful position. This guy doesn’t take chances, couldn’t blame him though, not when you’re working all alone.
Prescott pulled up about ten yards short, and shut off the engine, rolling his window down he shouted, “Where’s this guy? He can see the door and the Border Patrol emblem,” he wasn’t going to get out until he knew more of the situation at hand. The vehicle was slightly armored and would offer some protection if this was an ambush, even if D hadn’t used the code words to tip him off.
D turned to look at the small bush that Eli had gotten behind, if he hadn’t known where to look, he would have overlooked him just as he had the first time. Chuckling D said, “You can come out now, Ollie ollie oxen free”
As Eli, stood up leaving his rifle lying on the ground, you could see the smile on his camo painted face. “I haven’t heard that one in long time,” he held his hands out waist high, palms up showing that he was no threat to any one.
Prescott said, “Enough games, D I’ve got him covered get you pistol, and I’ll get out.”
D took the few steps over to his revolver, picked it up and tucked it back under his belt, turning back he told Prescott, “Its OK, Prescott secure your weapon, get out and meet Elijah Maritz.”
“You’re the boss,” Prescott said as he placed his M16 rifle back in its ready rack.
Turning to Eli D said, “Eli go ahead and pick up your rifle we’re going to all set over in the shade and talk a little.” With that he turned and walked to the tail of the Bronco opened it up and took out three folding stools and headed to a small tree for the little shade it offered.
Prescott got out of his vehicle; before he closed the door he reached behind the seat, opened a cooler and took out three full, half liters of cold bottled water. He was keeping an eye on Eli, as he closed the door and walked over to the tree that D was sitting under, handing him one of the bottles.
Eli picked up his rifle, and then he took out the magazine and cleared the chambered round. Catching the bullet before it hit the ground he re-loaded it into the magazine, following the two Border Agents to the shade. He leaned the rifle barrel against the base of a low branch, took off his hat and his ‘Ear Shots,’ and placed them over the flash suppressor. Turning to D he extended his right hand saying, “D Salvador, I’ve heard about you too, all respected comments from my employers.”
D shook the offered hand and replied with a smile, “Your bosses, for the most part are good, hard working people, my type of folk. Shack hands with Prescott, take a bottle of water and have a seat.”
Prescott and Eli shook hands and both took a seat in the shade. All three unscrewed the lids from the water bottles and took a long drink, it wasn’t 10 a.m. and it was hot already, the temperature today would continue to climb, later it would top off around 110 degrees by mid-afternoon.
D screwed the cap back on his bottle and set it at his feet, he took off his cowboy hat and wiped the sweat and dust off his forehead and face with a bandanna. Looking first at Prescott and then to Eli he said, “Eli, I was following the tracks of three maybe four individuals that stopped at the border, just after I stepped over that’s where you got the drop on me.” Raising his left eyebrow in question, “you know anything about these three?”
“Sure do, there were four, three of the individuals got into a pickup about three miles northeast of here last night at 11:30. I was in a hide position about a half-mile away at the #10 Lomus stock water tank. I watched a pickup with no lights on heading west. Its left-hand turn single blinking as a single when it came to a stop. The passenger door opened and I could see two people get in and heard one more climb in the back, the headlights came on and the pickup did a U-turn and left very fast. I called on the radio to the ranch house to let them know that some illegal aliens had been picked up and they were heading east. I’m sure your office and the Sheriffs department were able to apprehend them,” he added with a weary smile. Seeing the look on the two agent’s faces he could see they knew nothing.
D set there wearing his poker face, Eli said three got into the truck not four, he wondered where the fourth man was?
“I stayed in my position until about three this morning but nothing else was going on, so I walked over to the area where I saw the three get into the truck. Just after first light I picked up their spoor and backed tracked them about a hundred meters into the bush. That’s where I found a Mexican that had the crap beat out of him, gagged and tied to a tree, his three buddies had left him to die out here.”
D held up his hand to stop Eli and asked, “You didn’t leave him like that?”
“Nope, I untied him from the tree, dressed a couple of the worst cuts and left him in the shade of a basha I quickly made up, I gave him a bottle of water and some food. I told him I would be back by noon and get him to the ranch house, where the Sheriff Deputies or Border Agents would pick him up.”
Eli paused and Prescott asked, “What’s a basha, and what makes you think he’ll still be there when you go back?”
“The three guys who had worked him over did a real job on him, he’s pretty well buggered up, and he’ll stay put because I took his boots. His feet are real soft, so if he decides to try to walk away he might get a mile maybe two. I’ll bet he tried and walked two or three hundred meters at the most, and then went back to the shade to wait. And a basha is a small stick and grass lean-too, takes about fifteen minuets to build, it will protect you from the sun during the day and the dew at night.”
D again thinking, three cargo and one coyote, wonder why Fillip and Roberto only mentioned two?
“I then back tracked the spoor, that’s the four sets of foot prints to here, I was going to look over the border fence but I heard D drive up and park about two hundred meters or so to the south. So I picked a spot to observe and document where they cross and how many this time.”
“But instead of a group I see this real suspicious fellow approaching the fence, that’s you D. I then saw the pistol in your belt and the first thing I think is he’s coming to finish off the guy that’s been tied up and left. So I waited for you to cross, and the rest is history,” Eli finished his story and took another sip from his water bottle looking at both agents, his facial expression and body language saying, this was just another routine day at the office.
Prescott with a laugh spoke first, “Getting the drop on the mighty D, that’s going to make a good tale to tell. Not to change the subject but I just want you to know that detaining anyone, even an illegal is a chargeable offense. If he is harmed or in any way endangered you can be arrested and in more trouble then he is. I’m not saying that to scare you but it’s a fact, the Mexican government will do all that they can to see that you are the criminal, and charged. Never mind that they actively help the illegals cross, and do their best to waste our tax dollars prosecuting land owners and US citizens who try to stop them. That why I need to be assured that the man you helped isn’t tied up or restrained in any way?”
Eli replied with a weary smile, “As I told you I cut him loose from the tree and dressed his wounds, and I left him some food and water. I had some attorney friends research just what I could do and not do; yes I did take his boots but that’s just a misdemeanor offense, and I do plan on returning them. If he wants he can just walk away, but I think he will stay put! Besides to keep me safe, I have a tape recording with him thanking me and telling me exactly what happened,” with that said he pulled a small executive memo recorder from his shirt pocket to show.
D stretched his legs out as he looked at Eli and said, “Don’t worry I’ll take your word for what you said happened, just keep the recording in case of trouble later. By any chance you didn’t get a look at the license plate or the make or color of the pickup truck that the other two left in did you?”
“Wish I had but I was just too far away, and even with my binoculars it was too dark,” Eli answered.
“I take it from your accent and tracking ability you weren’t born in America,” Prescott asked?
“Anyone can learn to track, and I am a naturalized American citizen, have been since 1987. To answer the question though, I was born on a farm near Pemba that was in Northern Rhodesia in 1958, which’s now Zambia. I learned to track while growing up and working with the farm laborers on my Uncles ranch outside of Chipinga, that was in Southern Rhodesia now Zimbabwe. You guy’s don’t want my life story now do you?”
Both agents nodded their head, and D said, “Make it short though we’ve got your captured coyote to retrieve.”
“While in the army there I honed my bush craft and camouflage skills, after the war was over I worked the farm for a while. Until I saw Uncle Bob taking the country down the long drop, so I got a hold of my old unit commander. He had some friends here and a couple of Yanks I had served with sponsored me, and I ended up here working for the local Ranchers Protection Association.”
“Long drop.” Prescott asked?
With a hint of mischief in his voice Eli just said, “Out house.”
“What unit were you in,” D asked?
“Selous Scouts,” Eli solemnly answered.
D standing up answered in a low voice, “A tough luck war and even tougher unit, never met a Scout before, I did meet a Rhodesian that had been in your horse mounted unit, and another in the light infantry a while back. One thing you guys were right about, Mugaba, he’s just another communist thug who is ruining that country. Any-way have you an idea how the coyote and his friends covered their tracks when they came across the border?”
Eli standing up and pointing to some small trees about thirty meters north of the border, replied with a smile, “Easily solved it’s an old anti-tracking trick. Just inside those trees are two roles of gunnysacks, you unroll one section on the ground and step on it, then unroll the next and step on to it. You then turn and pick up the first and then place it in the direction you are going, any tracks left look like very old prints that are weeks old. Keep repeating the process until you have covered the distance to the trees, roll the sections up and stash them. After the coyote made his delivery of illegal aliens to the pickup point, he was going to return here, pick up the two rolls and repeats the process until he gets to the fence. Once there he would roll them up and hide them just south of the border until needed for the next batch.”
D and Prescott both shuck their heads in disbelief, it was so simple yet it obviously worked.
Eli continued, “We used the same system so as not to leave sign when we crossed tracks and footpaths in Rhodesia, and it worked for us. The terrorist had no idea we were anywhere around, until it was to late for them.” Not wanting to brag Eli added, “The coyotes use this system mostly when they bring across a large shipment of drugs, these three guys were special right? Either they paid a lot of money or were carrying some very expensive drugs, and they were OTM’s.”
Looking at each other D and Prescott exchanged a glance and knowing smile, this guy Eli doesn’t miss much.
Eli had it figured right that these guys were OTM’s, that’s ‘other then Mexicans’. D stood up and handing his keys to Prescott and said “Enough pleasantries. Prescott would you hop back over the fence and following the path to my pickup? I have Fillip and Roberto waiting, tell them their cousin Jon is OK. Then drive up and wait here, Eli and I will take your Bronco and we will go and fetch him.”
Eli then said, “Jon said these three guys were Muslims, and that two of them spoke another language, he thought it might be Basque as his Grandfather spoke it when was a young boy. But they had to use English for the other man whom he thought might be an Arab. They said they were talking about heading to an asylum city, something about the jihad sympathizers here that would help them.”
Prescott looked at D his expression said it all ‘so much for keeping quiet about OTM’s.’
To change the subject Prescott asked with a sly smile, already knowing his partners’ answer, “What you got planned D?”
“Oh a little Mutt and Jeff, I’ll be the bad guy, Eli by assisting him already, gets to be the good guy. After we get Jon and return here, I’ll give all three of them a real good cussing and then let them go this time; so the next time they have some bad hombres that were as bad as they say these three are, they will tip us off first.”
As Prescott walked over to the border and crossed, D picked up the folding stools to place them back into the bronco. “Eli get you stuff and come along, you won’t mind showing me where you left Jon, and I’ve got a few more questions to ask you, maybe you can assist us now and then, and maybe some time later teach me more about tracking. I thought it was something I was good at it,” with a smile he finished, “looks like I could use some lessons…
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