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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Action & Adventure
- Subject: War & Peace
- Published: 06/08/2020
Government Ordered Destruction
Born 1941, M, from Santa Clara, CA, United StatesGOD
It was the end of an extremely hot day. A cold Bud at the O-club was a good way to end it. Now that the sun was down the walk to the bachelor’s officers’ quarters was a relief. The night air was fresh, crystal clear and the stars were out in force. Major Blake stopped at the intersection of the sidewalk and walk leading to the BOQ. He took in the night sky and just located the Big Dipper when his phone pinged indicating the receipt of a message. One quick look was a mood killer, it read, “report.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and fished out his car keys. He was going to drive not because it was a long way off. The message was an ASAP order not an at your convenience request.
The major parked his car in front of a non-descript building just off the flight line near the center of the base. He parked in a space marked “Visitor.” He locked his car and walked to a door monitored only by a keypad and no guard. He punched in his own personal code and heard a click unlocking the door. Once inside he faced a hall about twenty feet long. The walls were battleship gray with a blast proof door at the other end. Had he not entered the proper code; he would never reach the other door. There was no guard at the second door either. There was a retinal recognition monitor on the wall. He stooped over to have his eye scanned. A sexy female voice said, “you are expected Major Blake,” and another soft click. The 800-pound door swung open. It was so well balanced that there was no sound.
The room was just big enough for four desks, two on opposite sides of a main isle. There were three women and two men in the room, one under the rank of sergeant major, which seemed unusual for oh-one-thirty. All five came to attention and saluted. Blake returned the salute, and asked, “is the general in?”
“Yes, sir and he is waiting for you,” said the nearest male sergeant.
Major Blake approached the door and knocked twice. A very deep voice said, “get your ass in here major!” The major entered, closed the door, and saluted. The general returned the salute and said, “join me here at this table.” On the table were a stack of photos and a map. “What you see here is your next assignment, major. You will be given time to study everything. You can’t take notes or take any of this with you. When you are ready let me know.”
“Sir, when does the mission begin?”
“Wheels up in 45,” answered the general. Blake turned his attention back to the table and leafed through the photos. They were satellite photos and top quality. The map was of a sector in the middle east. It was a topographic map and indicated a valley between two mountain ranges. Not a lot of time, so Blake did the best he could to study all the information in front of him.
“Got any questions major?” asked the general.
“Well one or two, sir. Where is this, and what am I doing when I get there?”
“This is camp X-ray, and it is in the heart of Taliban country. Now, the what is, three top officials will be arriving there in four days. I want you set up and be ready when they get there. You will be the one to take them out. We don’t want to send any large force in, we want a surgical op. Look, major, I know you were promised time off, but this is critical. I tell when you get back you will have a ticket to anywhere you want to go for a full thirty days. Any requests?”
“Actually, sir I have always wanted to see the Big MO.”
“How about I get you seven days in the Captains Stateroom aboard the MO? Can do?”
“Can do, sir!” Major Blake saluted and without waiting for the return; turned and walked out.
As when he entered the five sergeants stood and saluted. Without stopping, he returned their salute and left through the door he used to enter.
Outside the building he was met by a corporal in a golf cart. “Can I help you, sir?”
“The Op center corporal, please.”
The ride took him to the head of the flight line near the control tower. Major Blake entered the Op center and was met by a young lieutenant. “Major, I have everything ready for you.” He then proceeded to point out the assembled gear, including mountain camo, a Berretta .50 caliber semiauto sniper rifle, a 9mm automatic military sidearm, sanitary kit, survival rations, blanket, and three mines. In all the gear weighed about 90 lbs. in a shoulder harness rig.
Blake signed for the gear, dressed, and met the corporal for ride to a waiting C 130 Hercules, engines running, ready to take off. He was dropped off at the rear of the plane. He walked up the ramp and was met by Master Chief, Saxton. “Welcome aboard, sir,” said the master chief. “We will be departing immediately. Our flight will be about 15 hours and will be refueled 3 times in mid-air. If there is anything you require, please let me know.”
“I think I am good master chief. I got some things to go over, and maybe catch up on some zees.”
Exactly 15 hours later the master chief said, “Major. Major.”
Coming out of a deep sleep the major opened his eyes. The cabin was bathed in red light. “Yes, master chief, I am up.”
“We’re here. Ramp’s coming down in 5. We’re at 30,000 feet and the chute is rigged to pop at 10,000 so there is an Ox 20,000-foot free fall.”
"Master chief, now I know why the Marines use you guys as our taxies,” and chuckled.
“Nowhere near funny, sir.”
The major stood and with a profoundly serious look stuck his hand out and shook the master chief’s hand, “thank you for everything master chief.”
Major Blake collected his gear and secured it to a line attached to his waist. He moved down the ramp and stepped into space. Gravity took over and he fell for what seemed hours. When the chute opened, he let the equipment bag drop free. It dangled below him freeing his hands to control the drift. When he touched down, he was within 20 yards of his jump off point. “God bless the Navy,” he thought.
He took a quick look at his watch, twenty-two hundred hours. He had a long walk and a lot of weight to carry. He started by locating a goat path he had seen in the photos. It took him up sheer cliffs and narrow clefts in the rock walls. Five hours and four rest stops later he found a promising hide he also noted in the photos. Oh-three hundred, three hours till dawn, but the job wasn’t over. He got the three mines and went back down the trail. At two hundred yards he set a booby trap, again at one hundred and the last at fifty. He then went back to the hide and settled in for a nap.
The chirping of a bird woke Blake. The sun was just coming over the crest of the range he was camped out in. He moved to the lip of his hide and peeked over the edge. A mile and a half below him was camp X-ray. He picked up his binoculars for a better look. The lenses were coated to prevent the reflection of sun light off them. He could see the camp coming to life. At the far end he saw three groups of men engaged in what looked to be morning prayers. He also saw numerous tents and three wooden buildings. There was one tent with a shaft of smoke raising, 'morning food prep,' he thought. Not a bad idea, he grabbed a power bar and began munching.
Everything looked normal. Wait, near the prayer meeting was a white Toyota four door driving slowly to keep the dust to a minimum. He watched it drive to a tent near the wooden buildings. He saw the driver get out, walk around to the passenger side, and open the rear door. A man in a suit got out and stood aside while a man in a turban baggy top and pants followed. The tent flap opened, and a second man dressed in baggy clothes and turban joined the other three. After a short time, all three entered the tent.
Blake retrieved the Berretta .50 and set it up. The lenses on the sniper scope were also treated to keep sun light from reflecting off them as well. He entered numbers into his sighting computer and then dialed the results into the scope. Next, he sat with his eye pressed to the objective and waited. Twenty minutes passed until the men came back into view. They had nothing to fear so, they just stood talking. Blake took careful aim and fired. Four seconds later the first turban male lay dead. Then a second shot and four seconds later the suit lay dead. A third shot and four seconds later the other turban male lay dead. The driver was the only one that didn’t look around for the shooter, he ducked down behind the car’s front fender. Unfortunately for him he didn’t get down low enough and he died.
Four shots and four dead men. Now came targets of opportunity. The camp was like an ant farm that had just been disturbed, men were running everywhere. They quickly disappeared into tents or behind whatever they could find. But there was still one object that couldn’t be hidden. It was a large tanker-truck. Blake unloaded the .50 caliber round magazine and replaced the antipersonnel rounds with HP rounds. He fired twice. The second round caused an explosion that sprayed the wooden building with burning fuel. The poorly equipped camp was unable to fight the fire. It burned out of control for about an hour. Then in a split second there was an explosion that leveled two-thirds of the camp. The shock wave took a full three minutes to reach Blakes hide and then at this distance it amounted to just a puff of wind.
Blake figured that the building must have been the armory. With the devastation he saw before him, he felt his mission was complete. He began to collect his gear to get ready to pull out. While he busied himself, he heard one of his mines fire off. He took all that he had, piled it in the middle of the hide and set the timer on a thermite bomb. He kept his combat vest with extra 9mm mags, took his survival rations and got out.
As he hurried, but took the time to steal a look over his shoulder, he saw gray smoke pouring from the rock face. All that his pursuers would find was ashes and the melted remains of the rifle. While he was looking, he heard several pops, the remaining .50 caliber rounds were cooking off. 'That should slow them down,' he thought.
Further down the trail, he found the remains of a long dead bush. The trunk stood about three feet tall and was pressed against a rock wall. He took just a few minutes to rig a hand grenade booby trap and was off again. Twenty minutes later there was a small pop sound. The grenade had been triggered. They were close.
His mind was working overtime. He was more than familiar with American tech. He knew that the military was probably watching everything via satellite. So, when he reached his point Alfa, he pulled out his radio, “Snow White, Snow White, this is Sleepy. Come in Snow.”
“Sleepy, Snow White, go ahead,” came the answer.
“Snow, I’m here and the Wicked Witch is on my six!”
“Sleepy. This is Doc. We’re coming up at you two o’clock. Keep your head down.”
Blake hit the dirt as 7.62 rounds flashed over his head kicking up dust and scrub brush. The chopper hovered a foot off the ground. Blake sprinted to the open door and was pulled more than climbed in. No sooner had he gotten aboard than the pilot lifted off and banked hard pulling away.
Twenty-four hours later Blake was sitting on a hospital bed in a gleaming white room. The door to his room opened and in walked the general. “Good morning Colonel, glad to see you back. They tell me a case of dehydration is all you have. When you get out of here I have you booked for a week on the USS Missouri.”
“You mean Major don’t you, sir.”
“No your promotion came in this morning, but don’t look for a commendation. This mission is off the books.”
“Thank you, sir.” They exchanged salutes and the general left the room.
Blake walked to the window and he looked out at an enclosed rose garden. He wondered, all the major religions in the world have one God. Even those religions that have many gods have “...one to rule them all.” But, his, represented peace and love, theirs, believe or die. How could one God be so different. He settled on the line from The Wizard of Oz. "What a world. What a world.” In reality, “what insanity.”
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