And you've not heard from him? Not a phone call nor letter nor messages from him given you by other persons?
Sikes shook his head.
Would you describe his mood as bitter about everything that went wrong?
O'course he was bluddy bitter, Sikes said. He was a noncommissioned officer and recognized for doing a good job; then they same as told him that he wasn't good enough for their officers' mess. I never heard of such a thing! I mean, it's the twenty-first century, ain't it?
Right, Falkes said. He stood up and put the notebook back in his pocket, then produced a card, handing it to Sikes. If you do hear from him, call this number. It's most important, Mr. Sikes.
Mrs. Sikes's voice trembled. Is Archie in trouble, sir?
Believe me, Falkes said, if he does contact you, it will be to your and his best advantage if you let us know straightaway. And if he's deserted, the best thing he can do is turn himself in. Good evening.
Falkes walked from the room to the hallway and out the front door with Sikes and his wife following. They watched the man get in his car and drive off. Sikes looked at the card. The bastard! The goddamn rotter! He's an Army copper, that's what that bloke is.
Then Archie truly is in trouble, ain't he, Charlie?
Yeah, Nancy, Sikes said. Our lad is for it, no doubt. He snorted a sardonic chuckle. Not that I'm very surprised.
.
SHELOR FIELD VICINITY
15 APRIL
0700 HOURS
THE Brigands' desert patrol vehicles rolled across the hard-packed terrain at a steady fifty miles an hour on the new run-flat tires. The Skipper had been forced to work out various groupings for attack, defense, and movement. Unfortunately, he had no experience in motorized warfare. After pondering the problem, he decided to apply the same platoon combat formations used on foot.
Now, speeding across the desert, the SEALs were in a platoon line formation that was designed to put all their firepower to the front with the three teams side by side. It was an excellent arrangement to use when attacking a strong enemy in a known location. The commander/drivers all dressed down toward the left, where the Skipper and his Alpha Team rolled along.
Platoon column! Brannigan ordered through his LASH headset. The detachment moved over into line with Alpha in the lead, Bravo in the center, and Charlie bringing up the rear. This was actually a basic formation that simplified overall control during long movements from one point to another.
After knocking off a couple of kilometers of distance, the Skipper called for a platoon vee. Now both Bravo and Charlie teams were side to side to the front, with Alpha centered behind them. This would provide heavy immediate fire in case of enemy contact to the front, but was hard to control at times. The Alpha Team, however, could move back and forth behind the Bravos and Charlies to lend a hand where needed.
Platoon wedge! came over the LASH headsets. Now the Alphas were to the front, with the Bravos to the rear and left and the Charlies to the rear and right. This allowed heavy volumes of fire to the front and both flanks.
The maneuvering continued until the detachment could flow in and out of the various combat formations with ease and speed. The M-2 gunners within their firing positions had a hell of a time, however, as they were up higher than anyone else and caught the blasts of the dust-laden wind straight in their faces as the detachment sped across the expanse of the Afghan desert. Even the goggles and kerchiefs didn't help much at maximum speeds.
At 1030 hours, Brannigan called a halt to the proceedings. The water in their canteens had gotten tepid by then, but felt wonderful to their parched throats. The morning's training was topped off by a lecture from PO2C Bruno Puglisi, who gave a short talk on the proper workings of the Javelin antiarmor missiles. They learned that the CLU was attached to the disposable tube loaded with a HEAT projectile. The whole thing weighed forty-nine and a half pounds. The NVS utilized IR light for the gunner when the weapons were employed during hours of darkness or fog. The missile locked on the target and the on-board processing system guided the projectile where it had to go. With a range of 2000 meters and able to penetrate up to more than twenty-three inches of armor, it was a potent weapon.
When everyone fully understood the workings of the Javelins, they each shot off three missiles for familiarity. The SEALs concentrated on the lesson, knowing that the next time the launchers were fired, it would be done in anger and for real.
.
USS COMBS
SATELLITE PHOTO ANALYSIS
1600 HOURS
THE photographer's mate, Ernie, gazed at the cathode-ray tube that displayed satellite and aerial photos in a three-dimensional mode. The space image he now studied had just arrived aboard from Station Bravo. As he perused the screen, his pal Ned typed the labels to put on manila folders the pictures would be stored in.
Hey, Ernie said. What area is this?
Ned looked at the paperwork that arrived with the package. Western Afghanistan and eastern Iran. We've had this piece of ground sent to us before.
Mmm, Ernie said. Can you pull some of the older ones out of the file for me? I want to check something out.
Sure. Ned walked over to the file cabinet and thumbed toward the back until he found what he was looking for. He took them over and dropped them at Ernie's elbow, chuckling. Y'know something? Nobody has ever come down here and asked us for any of these photos. You're the first guy I've had to go to the files for.
As long as they find me on payday, I don't give a shit, Ernie said. He put an old photo in the scanner, sending it to the computer. Then he looked at the new picture. Now the old one again. Now the new one again.
Ned frowned. What the fuck are you doing? You look like you're bobbing for apples.
Come here and check out the Iranian marshes in both photos. Tell me what you see.
Ned walked over and studied them. There's a shadowy strip across the marshes in the new one. Probably the water in the area sank in deeper. Sinkholes or something.
Ernie shook his head. That ain't a natural occurrence, pal. Don't you remember your training? Natural objects are irregular and haphazard. This thing is man-made. It's as straight as a frigging arrow.
You're right! Ned exclaimed. There's some kind of facility a few kilometers away. It looks like a military setup.
Maybe it don't mean shit, Ernie said. But I'm kicking this one upstairs with a note.
That's what they're paying us for, Ned said. I'll fetch you an envelope.
Chapter 10
SHELOR FIELD
SEAL HANGAR
16 APRIL
0200 HOURS
DAVE Leibowitz poured the final five gallons of gas from the jerry can into Vehicle Alpha Two, while Mike Assad sat the Javelin CLU in the back with a couple of loaded launch tubes. They looked up from their tasks, surprised to see Chad Murchison stroll into the large building at that early hour. He was dressed for the field, complete with web gear and a locked-and-loaded HK-416 carbine slung on his right shoulder. His boonie cap was pulled low over his eyes.
Dave put the now-empty fuel container on the floor and began to unscrew the pouring spout in the opening. What the hell are you doing, Chad? Standing watch? I thought the Air Force was in charge of installation security.
Chad shook his head. I was wondering if I could go along for the ride.
Mike chuckled. This ain't a drive in the country. We're going on a recon patrol out in the desert. The Skipper wants to find out how them armored cars snuck up on us from the west the other day. We won't be back till after chow tonight.
I know, Chad said. I'd like to go with you.
Sure, Dave said. You'll have to ride up in the M-Two gunner's spot.
Hey, y'know, that's a good idea, Mike said. Another set of eyes will He stopped speaking as a thought leaped into his mind. Ain't them UN folks pulling out later this morning?