Seals
Jack Terral
*
Book Cover:
Bloody Work
Pulling their K-Bar knives, Brannigan and Mike moved slowly towards the two fighters who were guarding the hostages, appreciative of the noise from all the shooting some hundred meters away. They stopped a scant two paces from the guards, then Brannigan nodded the order to attack. Both SEALs struck simultaneously with the viciousness of cobras, driving the blades of the weapons under the back of the rib cages and up into vital areas where organs and arteries were located. The knives were violently twisted to enlarge the wounds. Brannigan and Mike kept their hands over the victims' mouths, working the knives until the mujahideen went limp. At that point the dead men were lowered gently to the ground to avoid unnecessary noise.
"Damn!" Mike whispered. "The son of a bitch vomited."
"It's a messy job no matter which way you cut it." Brannigan said. "No pun intended."
.
TABLE OF ORGANIZATION
BRANNIGAN'S BRIGANDS
.
FIRST SQUAD
William "Wild Bill" Brannigan
Lieutenant
Platoon Commander, First Squad
and Alpha Fire Team Leader
.
ALPHA FIRE TEAM, FIRST SQUAD
PO2C Mikael "Mike" Assad
(Recon/Scout)
PO2C Francisco "Frank" Gomez
(Radio Operator)
PO2C David "Dave" Leibowitz
(Recon/Scout)
.
BRAVO FIRE TEAM, FIRST SQUAD
SCPO Buford Dawkins
(Team Leader)
PO1C Mike "Connie" Concord
(Weapons/Fire Support)
PO2C Guttorm "Gutsy" Olson
PO3C Chadwick "Chad" Murchison
.
SECOND SQUAD
James "Jim" Cruiser
Lieutenant (J. G.)
Platoon Executive Officer, Second Squad
and Charlie Fire Team Leader
.
CHARLIE FIRE TEAM, SECOND SQUAD
PO2C Michael "Milly" Mills
PO2C Josef "Joe" Miskoski
(Demolitions)
PO3C Kevin Albee
.
DELTA FIRE TEAM, SECOND SQUAD
CPO Matthew "Matt" Gunnarson
(Team Leader)
PO1C Adam Clifford
PO2C Bruno Puglisi
(Weapons/Fire Support)
PO3C James Bradley
(Hospital Corpsman)
.
When you're wounded an' left on Afghanistan's plains, An' the women come out to cut up what remains, Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains, An' go to your Gawd like a soldier
--Rudyard Kipling, Barracks Room Ballads
PROLOGUE:
BAGHRAN, AFGHANISTAN
2 AUGUST
1620 HOURS LOCAL
THE stranger walking through the bazaar showed obvious signs of having endured a difficult, strength-sapping ordeal. His clothing was dusty and sweat-caked as would be expected from a traveler who had made a long foot journey. His eyes, red with fatigue, looked out from under his bushy eyebrows in a dazed sort of way, and his thick black beard was unkempt and in bad need of a trim. What casual observers couldn't perceive was that deep inside the man's psyche, his waning strength and alertness functioned more out of stark fear than physical vigor. He struggled to keep moving in spite of the exhaustion that threatened to drop him to his knees.
A couple of thieves skulking in the marketplace caught sight of the limping man. They tried to determine if the fellow might be worth robbing. After a few moments of observation, they changed their minds about any attempts to overpower him, even though he seemed an easy mark. The Kalashnikov assault rifle and bandoleer of ammunition across his chest gave evidence that his lifestyle was not a particularly peaceful one. An old Pashtun proverb taught that an exhausted man with a weapon was like a wounded tiger with teeth. Both could summon spiritual rage to fight off enemies.
The man seemed to know where he was going as he painfully shuffled through the crowd and lines of kiosks in the bazaar. He reached a narrow alleyway, and turned down it to walk past a blacksmith's stall before reaching a gun merchant's shop. He went inside and nodded to the clerk, who was cleaning a Heckler & Koch assault rifle in preparation for display.
The gun cleaner, a teenage boy, politely stood up. "Asalaam aleikum, sir. How may I serve you?"
"I wish to speak to Ilyas," the man said in a raspy voice.
The name he spoke caught the boy's interest. This was one of those special customers that came around now and then, and only the boss could speak to them. "I shall inform him, sir." He went through a curtained door and entered an interior room. His employer, Nader Abiska, sat in his favorite chair, sipping a hot cup of sur chaff tea with milk. The boy approached him closely and whispered in his ear. "A man has come making inquiries about Ilyas."
Abiska pulled the Beretta automatic from his shoulder holster and went to the curtain to peer out. He could see the disheveled man leaning against the counter. The shop owner opened the curtain. "Come in."
The boy went out as the stranger entered. "Sit down," Abiska invited him.
"Shukhria--thanks," the man said gratefully, settling down onto the cushion of a wicker chair. "I am Ishaq."
"We thought you were dead," Abiska said.
"I damn near was."
"You are compromised, la?"
"True," Ishaq said wearily. "But I am still useful. I must get out of here."
"That can be arranged," Abiska said. "But first I suggest you take a few days to recover from whatever hardships you have endured so recently. You are obviously exhausted."
Ishaq shook his head. "There is no time to be wasted. I must get back."
Chapter 1
THE PLATOON
NAVAL AMPHIBIOUS BASE
CORONADO, CALIFORNIA
THE platoon was new, having been activated less than a month previously from veteran personnel drawn out of the ranks of SEAL Teams One, Three and Five. Most of the men knew each other well from having served together at various times in the past. They also had participated in many drinking sessions at the Fouled Anchor Tavern in Coronado, thus it didn't take them long to form into a cohesive unit. Within a short time they began referring to themselves as Brannigan's Brigands after their commanding officer Lieutenant William "Wild Bill" Brannigan.
They were a typically dedicated SEAL unit who had endured the near unendurable to earn their way into that elite branch of the United States Navy. Consequently, they performed their duties with exceptionally high morale, esprit de corps and a special elan. Among the other platoons, Brannigan's Brigands were noted to possess that little extra something special that occurs when the right chemistry develops among congruous people. The men even had unique T-shirts made up from a design a couple of the more artistic in the group had dreamed up. It consisted of the unit's name around the image of a leering buccaneer wearing a pirate hat. But instead of the usual skull-and-crossbones emblem on the headgear, it bore the eagle-and-trident insignia of the SEALs.