Chapter 1
Sergeant Sam Reed stepped over the fallen oak trunk without breaking his stride. The nine-man Sapper squad that he was following was making the most of the remaining light. They were moving quickly through the forest, in a modified wedge formation, a ten-meter interval between soldiers.
The summer shower that had soaked them earlier in the day had long since passed. A cloudless, powdery-blue sky prevailed in its place, with the remnants of a glorious sunset visible through the tree limbs ahead. The plan was to remain on this westerly azimuth until they reached Penns Pond, where they’d turn north toward the ridge separating Hurd Hollow and Roubidoux Creek.
This was where their objective was located — an illegal-weapons cache, controlled by the outlaw Ozark People’s Militia, that they intended to neutralize by force, if necessary.
The men of Sapper One were already running well behind schedule, and Reed was somewhat annoyed when, from the center of the wedge, the Patrol Leader raised his open palm overhead signaling the squad to a halt. A slap on the cargo pocket of his Battle Dress Utilities indicated that he was calling for a map check.
As the PL quietly conferred with the squad’s compass and pace men. Reed reached for the plastic tube that extended from his ruck and took a sip of the cool water stored in a Camelbak bladder. The humidity was fierce, and with his own BDUs long since soaked, Reed knew it was essential for the soldiers in his charge to drink plenty of fluids. With rucksacks weighing over seventy pounds, and the additional burden of their weapons and a full load of ammunition, the danger of heat stroke had to be taken seriously.
Reed watched the rifleman standing directly in front of him take a drink from his canteen, and looked on as the PL stood erect, swung his arm overhead from rear to front, and pointed toward the sunset. A bare second later, the men of Sapper One were on the move once again.
The fiery hues that had previously painted the horizon had faded by the time they reached Penns Pond. They changed azimuth here, and with the ever-gathering dusk, their pace further quickened. The forest was thick, and because of their desire to travel well away from any established trail, the going was difficult.
Razor-sharp brambles tore at Reed’s jungle boots and the rip-stop cloth of his camouflaged BDU pants. As they began their way up a steep incline, the rocky soil offered little in the way of secure footing, and Reed found himself ducking and bobbing to escape the arched oak saplings. Ever thankful for his protective eye wear he accepted a hand signal from the soldier in front to tighten their formation.
Upon attaining the slope’s summit, the men could see a crescent moon dominating the western sky. They hurriedly climbed off the ridgeline, preferring instead to travel by way of the sloping gradient that graced its far side. It was getting increasingly hard to see, and when they continued down into the hollow. Reed toyed with the idea of deploying his Night Vision Goggles.
It was shortly after an oak limb slapped Reed hard against his cheek, driving home how frustrated he was getting with this march, that the PL signaled for a listening halt. He did so by removing his BDU cap and waving it overhead. The squad removed their own caps, took up security positions, and knelt, their knees protected by pads designed to cushion the weight of their rucksacks.
Reed joined them. The purpose of this halt was to remain absolutely silent and absorb the sights and sounds of their new surroundings. They were finally closing in on their objective, and now was the time to find out if they were being followed, or if they had any unwanted onlookers nearby.
Sam Reed was no stranger to the sounds of the forest at night.
He’d grown up in the hills of Tennessee, in a hollow much like the one they currently traveled. The cicadas called to him like old friends, their throbbing chorus welcome and most familiar.
When a barn owl began hooting mournfully in the distance. Reed found himself thinking about those first hunting trips with his father and his decision to enlist in the Army on the eve of his eighteenth birthday. The military had been his entire life ever since, with the Combat Engineers his adopted family of choice.
The first visible stars penetrated the forest. A warm gust of wind caused the limbs to sway in unison, the creaking boughs seemingly moaning in protest. His night vision sharpening. Reed scanned the wood line in the direction they would be headed.
The Objective Rally Point that the squad had picked lay at the bottom of the next ridge. From there, the militia cache was less than a kilometer distant.
It had taken the better part of the day for Sapper One to plan this operation. The initial warning order arrived at daybreak, along with the morning rains. Over soggy Meals Ready to Eat, the squad created the detailed Operations Order that would ensure their mission’s success. This long, complex briefing included the creation of a terrain model, molded from the wet Missouri soil and given additional detail with colored chalk, strands of yarn, and toy soldiers.
By the time the OPORD was completed, every soldier knew exactly how the unit would accomplish its mission from start to finish. The details included the actual order of movement, actions at halts, the precise route, location of rally points, actions at danger areas, response to enemy contact, fire control measures, priority intelligence requirements, and rules of engagement. Each soldier was given a thorough list of the specialized equipment he would be responsible for carrying. In case of a casualty, it was imperative that items such as demolitions, claymores, spare barrels, or star-cluster flares be accounted for. Code words were also distributed, along with radio frequencies for the Radio Telephone Operators, and the proper arm and hand signals. Though time consuming by its very nature, a proper OPORD could mean the difference between life and death on the battlefield, and Reed emphasized this fact each time a point was skipped over or improperly covered.
The mission had gone off without a hitch so far. The proper azimuths were being followed, the pace count was accurate, and their objective nearby. The only problem was the late start of their movement. Because of Sapper One’s tardiness in the delivery of their OPORD, the raid would have to be set up without the benefit of the last light of dusk.
A buzzing mosquito announced the arrival of the night. Reed swatted at the insect as it passed by his ear. He reached for his water tube, and could just see the PL stand, extend his arm overhead, point forward, and rotate it in a counterclockwise direction.
This caused the squad to rise in unison, line up in a single-file formation, and continue down into Hurd Hollow, where their Objective Rally Point would be located.
Reed was last in line. From this position, he could clearly see the two rectangular, luminescent “cat-eye” strips sewn into the BDU cap of the Sapper in front of him. The file formation was used when terrain or limited visibility precluded the use of the more tactically flexible wedge. Like a single entity, they snaked their way down the sloping gradient.
Even with the file, it took Reed’s full concentration to keep from colliding with a projecting limb or tripping over an exposed root. Night vision was an applied skill. Instead of looking directly at a faintly visible object, one learned to slowly scan it. Yet another technique was off-center viewing, looking ten degrees above, below, or to either side of an object.