“A couple of engineering degrees and one for physics and another for lasers thrown in for good measure,” Ellis said, “I think we’re in good hands.”
“And feet,” Ronald added with that bright smile once again, “I’ve got a black belt in karate.”
“That’ll come in real handy when the Grays are mind-fucking you to death,” the general said, something Ronnie could only frown to.
“Next up is Stan Griggs,” Ellis continued quickly before Ronnie could get a word in edgewise, “and he’s—”
“You don’t have to tell me anything about Stan Griggs,” General Anderholt said with a smile and a laugh, “test piloted the A-4 Skyhawk, the A-7 Corsair II, and the F-8 Crusader. Turboprops, jets, helicopters, gliders, hot air balloons… hell, I bet Stan there could fly a bathtub if you put wings on ‘er.”
“Over 9,500 flight hours so far,” Stan said modestly from his spot at the table, his lips barely seeming to move from under his large, brown handlebar mustache, “7,800 of ‘em in a jet.”
The others stared at the quiet NASA astronaut from Oregon, the one many had heard of before. Since ’74 he’d been piloting the new space shuttle prototypes and then actual models. Few in the room had as much flying time as he, and that included the many WWII-era craft he collected in his free time.
“Next up is Charlie Beckwith,” Ellis said with a ‘go-figure’ shrug at the general’s words, “a man I’ve known for some time and who single-handedly started Delta Force.”
“Chargin’ Charlie,” Anderholt said with a laugh, “we’ve all heard his story.”
“Well you’re about to hear it again,” Charlie scoffed, “for I’ve had to sit through all yours.”
Everyone in the room had a laugh at that, and then Ellis continued, regaling them with Charlie’s Korean War exploits and then the Rangers School and Special Forces assignments in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. From there it was Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia, not to mention the classified operations in Thailand and into China.
“It wasn’t until ’77 that we got Delta Force up and running though,” Charlie said at that point, “and that was mainly with the help of the Brits and their Special Air Service forces that were working with hostage rescue at the time.”
“It’s the best damn force on the face of the planet, bar-none,” Ellis said, and everyone nodded to that, even General Anderholt.
“Next is Roger Donlon, and he’ll be leading up our final Combat Assault Team, CAT-4,” Ellis went on.
Roger nodded at the others, and seemed a bit timid doing so. His blond hair was but about as close as you could get in a butch-cut and he looked just like the all-American boy next door. How anyone could feel threatened by him was beyond them all.
“Call me Donlon,” Roger said, “makes it easier for the radio chatter.”
“Some of you might remember why Roger here was awarded the Medal of Honor in ‘65,” Ellis continued after smiling. “In ’64 he was commanding an outpost at Nam Dong, right on the border with Laos. Two battalions of around 900 men assaulted the small base for five hours, nearly overrunning the 373 soldiers stationed there. Roger was wounded four times but did more than any other that day to hold those forces off. He’ll be a fine addition to our team.”
Ellis looked over to the general, who only yawned and nodded for him to continue.
“Next up is Aaron Haney, another veteran of Delta Force.”
“Don’t look it,” Charlie said.
“I might only be in my mid-twenties,” Aaron said with a smile, “but I can beat your ass into the dirt any day of the week.”
Aaron Haney was the kind of guy you wanted on your side in a street fight — skilled, intelligent and disciplined, but distrustful of the motives of some authority figures, especially career-climbing colonels and D.C. bureaucrats. He was a loose cannon in other words, but one that was loyal to his men, and each of them knew it. But that didn’t mean Charlie liked his tone.
“Why, I… I don’t take that guff from no—”
“Alright, alright!” Ellis said, raising his arms up to stop the two from killing each other right then and there. “You don’t have to worry about Aaron — of the 163 soldiers that tried out for Delta Force two years ago, just twelve made it, and Aaron was one.”
“He’ll tear your fucking head off, that’s for sure,” Eddie said with a laugh, and that broke the tension enough for others to laugh a bit too, although just a bit.
Ellis sensed that everyone was growing a bit impatient with the introductions — especially the general — so he hurried it along.
“And last, but certainly not least, is Colonel Stuart Rose.”
“Call me Stu,” Colonel Rose said with a nod at the others. His red hair was short but wavy and he looked like he probably never did too well with the ladies, but that confident and penetrating look of his showed that beneath those clearheaded, brown eyes laid the mind of a genius.
“Nice white suit there, professor,” Aaron said with a laugh.
“Thanks,” Stu replied with a smile, and nothing more.
“Stu here started as a smokejumper before getting into the Air Force in the ‘50s. He was a member of the ’66 astronaut class at NASA and then began doing some serious test flights and engineering work, both here and in Japan. He’s got 5,500 hours of flight time, nearly all of it in a jet, plus 217 hours in space.”
“Space?” Donlon said, a bit taken aback.
“Apollo 14,” Stu said, “and I would have commanded Apollo 17 had it not been cancelled in ’76.”
“Well, we’ve got a helluva mission for you now,” General Anderholt said from the back of the room, then stepped forward. “And now that these introductions are finally over and we know the main men of our team, let’s introduce you to our new men, the boys that you’ll all be commanding, plus the six… super soldiers.”
7 — Super Soldiers
“Super soldiers?” Charlie scoffed, but he quickly quieted down as a group of men began to filter into the room from the same door Anderholt and Ellis had come through.
“Whoa!” Ronnie laughed. “These boys are… well, just boys!”
It was true — most of the men coming into the room looked barely old enough to shave.
“They’re all approaching 30 if they’re not past it, and all have seen the battlefield,” Anderholt said, his arms crossed over his chest as the men kept coming in, forming a line in the center of the room.
There were many — more than a dozen in fact, and not all of them so young. Many of them actually looked older than the astronauts and specialists sitting at the table.
Finally as the last entered and all nineteen were standing, General Anderholt stepped forward, and Ellis moved over to his side. The men around the table all stood up as well.
“These are the men that’ll be heading into Dulce with you,” Anderholt said, walking forward to stand in front of their line, “and these six men especially should aid each of your teams. Gentlemen!”
Anderholt stepped out of the way as he gave the command, and six men stepped forward, six that looked just like plain, everyday ordinary soldiers.
“What’s so special about them?” Stan laughed.
“Let me tell you,” Anderholt said, stepping up to the first man that’d stepped forward, a young man with short black hair that seemed never to have figured out how to lay down properly.
“This is Corporal Tommy Wynn,” Anderholt said, “killed in Vietnam in ‘68.”