“Forest checkpoint, here. Ten vehicles about to turn into the farm road, but have stopped,” whispered the guard post on the other side of the road in the trees to the private road entrance off the feeder road, several minutes later. “They are discussing something. It sounds foreign from here. They are grouped together and I think planning their next move. One has a flashlight and they have a map out on a hood. I can see automatic weapons, and shoulder rocket launchers in each vehicle. It looks like one man in each vehicle has a rocket launcher, modern RPGs by their silhouettes, and all the other men seem to be armed with AK-47s. They have 30 round ‘banana’ magazines strapped back-to-back. They are ready to fight. Boy, these night goggles are good! Now they are pointing a flashlight down the dirt road and they have a second flashlight directly lighting up our fancy new private airport sign. The one who looks like the commander just got into the front vehicle and is standing through the sunroof. He has the shoulder rocket launcher ready. I confirm now that they all look Chinese, or Asian at least. A second car is moving into position next to the first one. It looks like they are planning to come down the farm road two-by-two. Now, eight vehicles have moved into position two abreast and the last two are positioning themselves to block off the road in front of us. They have turned around 180 degrees and are facing us. Over.”
There was silence as everyone waited. The winter night was pretty dark at 5:30 am in the Carolinas. “They are rolling slowly, eight vehicles in pairs coming your way, and about to turn the corner. You should have them visual in a second. First four vehicles have shoulder units at the ready and are standing out of the sun roofs. They have just put the lights on the two forward vehicles. They are now out of sight and, we are ready to terminate the last two vehicles once you guys get things started. Out.”
“Roger, Forest Checkpoint. We have the visual. You can go ahead once we have daylight from the flares. Out,” stated Sergeant Perry in charge of the ambush. Preston recognized his voice.
Preston had climbed up the stairs of his fire tower to join the two machine guns up there, and he was handed bits of cotton wool and showed via hand movements how to plug his ears. He was handed an M4 and directed to stand back in the corner where he could see everything. Preston also had a radio on his back. He had taken the one from the house since everybody had been moved into the hangar.
He saw faint lights approaching on the road and knew they would come into view in about 100 feet. “Snipers look for and bead on four men standing up through the roof of the first four cabs,” whispered Sergeant Perry. “You will have two seconds from my command to take out the four men holding the shoulder units before the flares ruin your night vision. I will give commands for snipers to fire and then for flares. Listen to my commands, men, we need prompt action here. All men behind forward barricade with me crawl to the edges to get out of a potential blast, slow and silent now. Do you have sights on the four men, snipers?”
“We have sights on three, the fourth is down very low and we can’t get a good shot. The vehicle in front of his is in the way. Over.”
“Those on left side of barricade and those on left side of tower, I want both of you to aim into the second vehicles and terminate them once the flares light up. We have ten seconds until they see our barricade. Get ready,” whispered the sergeant into his radio, and time began to slow down as the truck lights closed in on the barricade in the dark.
Preston watched as the black shapes of the vehicles came into view a couple of hundred feet away.
Very slowly, the eight vehicles came into the ambush zone, and the lights suddenly flickered onto high beam as their dimmed lights lit up the wooden tables facing the attackers. In the glow of the headlamps, the barricade really did look like a make-shift civilian barricade.
Orders barked out from the lead truck as engines revved and the first two trucks began to accelerate to rush the tables with their lights now on high beam. Preston could see the men’s silhouettes standing waist high out of the cabs, and both men raised their rocket launchers to fire at the tables. They were 40 feet from the barricade with all eight vehicles in view when the radios came alive.
“Snipers, fire!” ordered the Sergeant. “Flares, fire! Rear team fire at the last two vehicles facing you, now!” were his second and third orders as the snipers opened fire, hitting the men as the two front targets fired their rockets. One rocket went straight into the middle of the tables disintegrating the middle table, blowing the remains several feet into the air, and opening a hole in the three rows of sandbags, which flew in all directions. The second rocket angled off into the air over the barricade, the man was hit by the sniper fire a split second before he pulled the trigger and the rocket flew into a bush further down the road and harmlessly blew up.
The flares suddenly lit up the sky, and several machine guns immediately opened up, deafening Preston’s protected ears and opening the third and fourth trucks like cans of sardines as a steady line of tracer rounds from two directions rocked both trucks up and down. The man standing in the sunroof and his rocket quickly disappeared back into the cab.
All the vehicle doors opened as the flares illuminated the dark roadway like daylight, and men flew out in all directions, hitting the ground as hundreds of rounds poured into the ambush area from three directions, mowing down everything in their path.
Within seconds, the eight trucks began to look like twisted pieces of metal. “Armored car—fire down the middle space in between the vehicles–now! Men are hiding in between the vehicles,” shouted Sergeant Perry into his handset. ”Ambush squad—aim low, aim for the tires and anybody hiding underneath the eight vehicles.”
The second truck in the second row blew up, and the blast enveloped the truck in front of it and it blew up as well. The area turned lighter than day as continuous fire poured into the “kill zone.” Several of the enemy tried and succeeded to get into the forest on the other side of the road before the rest of them went down. A couple of men disappeared into the trees. “Ambush area, ambush area—cease fire, cease fire!” shouted the sergeant. Apart from the two trucks on fire and machine gun fire from the armored car at the end of the farm road, the area went silent.
It had taken less than 30 seconds and the attack was over. “Team behind the barricade, keep low, move forward slowly and in a line, there could be wounded. Secure the area.” Preston watched as a dozen men slid forward over the sandbags and tables. Two shots rang out and the shooter was immediately silenced. Silence also reigned down the road as the radio squawked again.
“Check all bodies. Need number count. Pull them out and away from the vehicles in case they blow. Snipers in the forest—I believe you have two or three coming your way. I want clean kills. Await my orders to move. Forest Checkpoint, what’s cooking?”
“Forest Checkpoint—both trucks immobile—no moving bodies. We believe two Charlies still alive and heading towards Highway Vanguard group. Over.”
“Highway Vanguard here. We roger that—we are ready for them. The road to the highway is secure and we will clear from our end. Over.”
“Forest Checkpoint,” continued Sergeant Patterson. “Stay put in case we have more issues coming your way. To all parties—we have ‘friendlies’ in the kill zone. Do not fire! They will be clearing the road towards you. Forest Checkpoint—I repeat, hold your fire.”