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THE SEALs had formed a line and were passing the smaller packages and crates off the aircraft into the hangar from man to man. Meanwhile, Randy Tooley, the intrepid little Air Force guy, had arranged for forklifts to come over to handle the heavier stuff. Colonel Leroux, the CO of the SFOB on the USS Combs, had made sure the shipment included run-flat tires for the DPVs. He also had arranged for the delivery to include a half-dozen Javelin antitank missile CLUs with trigger mechanisms and four-dozen disposable launch tubes with projectiles to increase the firepower of their arsenal. The other addition of weaponry was six M-60 7.62-millimeter machine guns to be mounted on the hoods in front of the DPVs' passenger seats.

As the unloading progressed, Lieutenant Bill Brannigan was sequestered with Lieutenant Junior Grade Jim Cruiser and Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins in the cubicle office at the rear of the hangar. Their concern was the reorganization of the detachment as had been ordered by General Leroux.

Alright, Brannigan said. This means we'll now use a total of six DPVs when we go out on an operation.

That leaves us three surplus, Cruiser said. He grinned. Of course, they're going to think we have four because of the one we gave to Randy.

Dawkins had some advice. Skipper, you better write up a report of how it was wrecked. Make that totaled.

You're right, Senior Chief, Brannigan said. I'll take care of that as quick as I can. At any rate, under this new setup, the way I see it is that each crew will now consist of a commander-driver, an M-Sixty machine gunner, and an M-Two machine gunner.

What about them Javelins, sir? Dawkins asked.

They'll be distributed evenly among all the vehicles, Brannigan replied. We'll put one CLU and four launch tubes in each one.

That'll give us a grand total of twenty-four rounds, Cruiser noted. Wouldn't it be better to put five tubes in each vehicle?

Brannigan shook his head. The M-Two gunners would be walking all over 'em. Four can be easily stacked around his seat without crowding him too much.

How're we gonna break down the vehicle assignments, sir? Buford asked. Are you gonna try to keep section integrity as it is now?

It'll be impossible, Brannigan said. With six, we can operate in three teams of two DPVs each as a rather large motorized platoon. We'll have to work out some formations, and practice dry runs in the desert around Shelor. As far as call signs, we'll just use the phonetic alphabet Alpha One and Two, Bravo One and Two, and Charlie One and Two for communications. He reached over and grabbed a pad of paper. You guys be quiet while I figure this out.

The Skipper took the present roster and studied it, then began writing the reorganization. He changed his mind a couple of times, and it took him fifteen minutes. When he finished, he shoved the new roster over for Cruiser and Dawkins to peruse.

Alpha One

Brannigan commander/driver Devereaux M-60 gunner

Malachenko M-2 gunner.

Alpha Two

Concord commander/driver Assad M-60 gunner

Leibowitz M-2 gunner.

Bravo One

Cruiser commander/driver Dawson M-60 gunner

Pecheur M-2 gunner.

Bravo Two

Olson commander/driver Bradley M-60 gunner

Redhawk M-2 gunner.

Charlie One

Dawkins commander/driver Miskoski M-60 gunner

Murchison M-2 gunner.

Charlie Two

Gunnarson commander/driver Puglisi M-60 gunner

Gomez M-2 gunner.

Looks good to me, sir, Dawkins said. Who's gonna handle the Javelins?

That'll be the M-Sixty gunner, Brannigan said. You have to keep in mind that the blowback on those babies is terrific. The shooter is gonna have to unass the vehicle to fire it, or the M-Two gunner will be blown from here to Albuquerque. Anyhow, we want to leave the fifties manned at all times. He checked his watch. We'll do some battle drills as soon as everything is off-loaded and stacked properly in the hangar.

They left the office and walked outside to the C-130. When they approached the rear of the aircraft, they could see Randy Tooley in his DPV leading a couple of forklifts across the airfield toward them.

.

MANCHESTER, ENGLAND

14 APRIL

2000 HOURS

EVEN though the man wore civilian clothing, he had the look of a soldier about him. He was lean, with a jutting jaw, and his shoulders were squared as if he were on parade at Buckingham Palace. He had parked his car along a street of working-class houses. The triplexes were narrow two-story structures with backyards that were no more than twenty by fifteen feet in size and bordered by tall fences.

He went up to a dingy residence sandwiched between two others, ringing the bell and stepping back. When the door opened, a middle-aged woman wearing a house frock appeared. Yes, sir?

Good evening, ma'am. Are you Missus Sikes?

Yes, sir.

I am Falkes, ma'am, he said displaying a military ID card. Army Administrative Services.

Oh, yes. Please come in, Mr. Falkes. I'll let me husband know you've come calling. She stepped back to allow the visitor to enter the house, calling out, Charlie! A gentleman from the Army is here.

A man carrying a newspaper he had been reading stepped from the parlor into the short hallway with stairs leading to the second floor. The man gave Falkes a quick study, saying, The Army, is it? Do you have news about our Archie?

Actually, I have some questions to put to you, Falkes said. You are Mr. Sikes, I presume.

Yes, sir, Charlie Sikes answered. I'm Archie's father. Won't you come into the parlor then, sir? Make yourself comfortable.

Falkes followed him from the hall and sat down on the small sofa across from an easy chair. Sikes took the latter seat, while his wife settled down on one of the arms next to her husband. Both had worried expressions on their faces, and they waited nervously for the caller to speak.

Have you heard from your son?

Why, no, sir, Sikes said. Does your asking mean he's alright?

There has been no information, as you know, Mr. Sikes, Falkes said. No insurgent group in Iraq has revealed him as their prisoner. Nor has a corpse been found. He pulled a notebook from his inside coat pocket and looked at it. According to the records, your son Archibald Sikes was an excellent soldier. Worked his way up to the rank of sergeant in record time.

Yes, Sikes said. Archie were a strange lad, I'll not deny it. But when he put his mind to something, he always came out bright as a new penny.

He was approved for a commission, but was turned down when he applied for it in the Royal Regiment of Dragoons, Falkes said. Was he angry about that?

Yes, Sikes said. He was quite disappointed, was our Archie. He felt slighted because the officers said he wasn't good enough to be one of 'em.

Why was he so insistent on serving as an officer in that particular regiment when he could have gone to almost any other?

Now Mrs. Sikes joined in the conversation. I suppose 'cause that was the regiment he had enlisted for. He had recruiting papers and folders and such before he joined up. He chose the Royal Regiment of Dragoons after weeks of thinking about it.

I understand that the very same evening after his interview for officer training, he went into London and got into a drunken brawl, Falkes said. That started a downward spiral and he ended up being a private once again. And he never straightened up after that.

That's a sad fact, sir, Sikes said. Then he went to Iraq.

Did he mention to you before he disappeared that his conduct was so bad there that he was going to be sacked by the Army when they got back to Blighty?

Sikes looked at his wife, then back to Falkes. He never said nothing about that.