It Ain't Paranoia if... Pt. 02 Ch. 10

"True, but we will dispatch men with Javelin anti-tank vehicles along the only road to town, and both Reapers and Predators have been tasked to ensuring their destruction."

"AFTER THEY FIRE ROUNDS AT MY HOUSE AND FAMILY, SURE!"

"I'll forward your concern to my commander, Mr. MacGregor, but I've got to go; we have new information to consider."

Clay put his arm around my shoulder, patted it, and said, "It's frustrating as hell, isn't it? I can't tell you how many times I was on a team with bad intel, or that encountered unanticipated obstacles, but wasn't allowed to take the action we thought was necessary to effectively and safely carry out the mission. It's the way of a military that operates under civilian control and civilian law. In this case, we're kind of sitting on the boundary of legality, so we ARE prepared.

"If we left it to the politicians, we'd have to wait until the fighting started, let them debate and vote on the proper response before we could do anything! Mark my words; there will be politicians who will lambast us - all the way to the President, or whomever takes responsibility - because we knew this was coming and prepared militarily rather than negotiating an agreement.

"Tom says we have negotiated for years, and it's still come to this, but, hey, the critics will ignore everything except 'innocent American lives were lost expressing their First Amendment Rights to protest peacefully by a quasi-military organization supported by the government...' or some such shit.

"They will probably then be outed as insurrectionists or seditious supporters of the insurrection, but the courts will take years to try them and their conviction won't get the coverage their allegations did.

"My point is, this sucks, but it is what it is."

My turn to sigh. "Okay, dammit. Let's go open presents and go to the bunker. I'm going to ignore my phone, so you can warn me if it's critical. If it starts, don't say shit except 'BUNKER NOW!' and we'll hurry them inside."

We got hard looks when we returned, but we smiled and chatted as if things were hunky-dory, and surrounded the Christmas tree with its bounty of presents. My damn phone buzzed with the arrival of a text, but I ignored it. Clay read it and winked at me while smiling, so I kept helping hand out presents.

When each person had a pile of presents around their feet, I yelled, "Go!" and we each opened a present. We individually thanked the giver, and then I gave the command to open the second. The adults ran out of presents before the kids, of course, but we were all blessed by the gifts we received, and the love revealed by their selection.

When all the presents were open and thanks had been given, I started to put the paper and ribbons in a trash sack. Kaitlyn stopped me, and said, "Look, Honey, you have one more present! It's a small box, but it's from Santa - let's see what it is!"

"It" was two sets of keys on top of two boat registration cards and two color brochures. One set fit a pontoon / party boat that seated 14; the other was to a 30' combination ski/fishing boat. "Oh, looky!" Kaitlyn cooed, "Boats for the Lake Lairs! Santa must have known they'll be finished this spring!"

We all laughed, and I gave her a big hug and kiss. "I can't wait to see you in the bikini I'm going to buy you," I whispered in her ear; she pinched me, but rubbed a boob on me and purred.

"Well, since we opened MY present from Santa, I happen to know he has one for each of you hidden in my desk; let me run get those!"

Santa gave each person, adult or child, a first class ticket to Sibiu International Airport, located in the Transylvanian Alps of Romania, and a voucher for a 10 night stay, all expenses paid, at a ski resort. The tickets were for February 12, returning February 22. Beverly exclaimed that she knew the resort and the area well, and we were going to have a marvelous time!

With Santa off delivering presents on Christmas Eve, I got some very nice proxy hugs!

Each child was told to pick no more than five presents to take to the bunker, and then get dressed for bed. Had we just sprung this on them, they would likely have been afraid. But we had been having "campouts" in the bunker every now and then since we learned the supposed date of the attacks, so tonight was just another campout to the excited kids.

The adults gathered the go bags we had put together even before the wedding, and as soon as the children were ready, we went on down - even though it was only eight pm!

Arriving in the bunker and getting set up was a downer: not because of the paucity of our accommodations, but because moving signified the dreaded event was upon us.

Once everyone was comfortably seated in the congregation area, which held several couches with foldout beds, bunches of bunk beds, and a couple of big screen TVs hooked to the satellite feed, Kaitlyn began streaming the black and white version of 'It's a Wonder Life.' Brooke microwaved popcorn, and we settled in. Duke had been lounging beside the couch, but Brooke's popcorn put him squarely in front of the kids, who fed him every fifth kernel.

Jimmy Stewart was running around trying to figure out why his hometown of Bedford Falls was gone and a grimy Potterville stood in its place, when I looked at the digital clock off to the right of the TV. It read 21:01:21. Somehow, that triggered my troubled mind, and I nonchalantly excused myself to go the bathroom. After insuring no one was watching, I slipped into the control room.

Esteban, Armando, JJ, and Carla, all members of the Ultimate Solutions ISR, were manning the control room. They glanced at me and nodded when I entered, then returned to their monitors. The first display showed amazingly clear black and white images of the Silverleaf ranch surrounding our home.

The second monitor showed Fort Davis and several miles to the southeast; the next monitor's view was of the western portion of the canyon-filled ranch to our north, and across the road to the 6400 Ranch located to the west. The fourth monitor displayed the area from the intersection of highways 17 and 166 southwest of Fort Davis to Crescent Moon and beyond, toward Marfa. Our ISR folks were patiently watching and waiting.

Patience, however, is not my greatest virtue, and watching and waiting for disaster to strike is not in my makeup. I anxiously waited for the Edwards boys to come check on me, and they didn't make me wait long. When they had eased inside and received the glance and nod from the ISR, they followed me to the back corner.

"Alright, I have a series of questions. Maybe we can't START anything, but are we ready if it begins right now? Are our allies ready? If the enemy attacks begin now, are we fully and completely prepared, and by 'we' I mean the Rough Riders, Militia, Rangers, our military backups to the east and north, and whoever is in play in other states?"

The brothers looked at each other, and Clay responded, "Yes, I'm certain everyone is; we were told to go on full alert at six EST. I'm confident those orders were given to everyone on our side."

Pushing ahead, I demanded, "Are they, our enemies, that kind of ready, or will getting ready take until their designated time?"

"We don't know for sure," Claude answered, "but the last time I checked they were still hustling to get things in place for an early morning attack."

Esteban got up and joined us. "Sorry, but I have excellent hearing and your conversation is much more interesting than the shadows on my monitor. The answer is no, they aren't ready! They are still hurrying around in a rather disorganized manner, based on feeds from the surveillance aircraft and reports from recon teams.

"The sicarios seem to be most prepared. In fact, they have started all their vehicles and are moving them out of the arena toward the road as we speak. Just after dark they were joined by 28 men in camo. Since they drove up in pickups, my guess is they are locals; but they could be locals who are experienced soldiers."

"Then let's assume for a moment that they are only good old boys from around here who got sucked up in this, not former soldiers," I interjected. "We know the sicarios are trained killers but inexperienced soldiers; they are on foreign soil, and they know they face life in prison if caught. Now suppose, for a moment, that something triggered them - you know, scared the crap out of 'em. How would they react?"

"It probably depends on the nature of the provocation and the degree of fear it generates, but I'd expect them to open fire on the provocateur," Clay answered.

"Do they have sufficient communication to inform their allies in Mexico, New Mexico, and elsewhere of their situation?" Esteban immediately answered, "Yes - we've listened in. Their communication system is very effective, but not at all secure."

"And will they inform the others if they feel threatened and open fire? If so, would that upset their carefully crafted time table, particularly if other provocations occurred near other elements? Say a squadron of F-16s flying toward the New Mexico staging area immediately after the sicarios are provoked, a swarm of drones lifting off and heading for Lajitas, or tanks and mobile artillery suddenly moving toward the concentrations of men?"

"Now you're out of our realm and into the colonel's. He has strict orders about starting something, but does a feint count?" Clay answered.

A secure line was one step away; I picked up the phone and called the colonel. He didn't even give me time to begin before repeating, "Rob, command will not allow us to open this dance..." I interrupted telling him I know, but what if...

We then retraced the hypotheticals. He went silent, came back on, said, "Give us 20 minutes," and hung up.

"So let's suppose they don't say 'hell no!' There's a rocky outcropping that forces a sharp curve on the road the sicarios have to use to get to Fort Davis. The road is narrow around that curve, with a rock wall rising on the left and a steep drop-off on the right. We could cause a rockslide right there that would stop them dead in their tracks, but I don't know that will cause them to fire on us. What would?"

We discussed options for a few minutes, but kept coming back to curve on the narrow road. None of us can see letting them getting close enough to bombard and assault the town, or the Mountain Lair - not when there was another alternative!

Sure, we know they were originally hired to kill me, but tanks and armored personnel carriers indicate they intend to do more than that! And how many innocent civilians might be killed simply because they encountered them along their route?

Clay's training and experience in special operations kicked in and he took over the planning. We had a workable solution by the time we heard back from the colonel; if it worked, the first shots would be fired by the interlopers, kicking the party off half a day before they had planned.

We got our wish, sort of: "My command believes the movement of the tanks this early and their chosen pathway through town could lead to deaths among the civilian population. I have been given a certain amount of leeway, but with the continuing caveat that we must not fire the first shots."

"We understand," Clay responded. "We're ready to go; are we rogue, or will some of the Riders go with us?"

"I've retasked a squad, and the major has retasked a RPA in support. Sheriff Goodson will lead the squad from here; he says to meet him with your squad where that county road they are on meets the pavement on 118. You also need to know that heat signatures show that a group of twelve broke off and started northwest on foot, but the others remain with the tanks and APCs.

"Do you have what you need to set off the rockslide? If not, we do."

"No, we're good. With luck, they'll do it for us; if not we have explosives," Clay replied, "However, we might need more Javelins."

"No problem; they're loaded and ready to travel with us," Sheriff Goodson replied. "See ya in 30."

"Let me grab one of my sniper rifles from the armory. I'll be right back," I said, before hurrying to the closet. When I returned I was directed to the staging room, where Clay, Felix, and eight others were going over the plan. They broke as soon as he told them to meet him in ten minutes at the Humvees, which were waiting under camo in a high meadow above the creek.

"Sure glad you let me practice with this thing," Felix told me with a grin as he took my rifle. "I'm the sniper on this foray."

"Then what's my role?" I asked Clay nervously. He smiled before earnestly stating, "You and Claude are going to stay here, keep the civilians calm, and be available to Esteban, the colonel, or whoever else needs you. I know it's your plan, but you aren't a former Seal, Ranger, Raider, Recon, or Green Beret like the guys I've chosen to carry it out.

"You and Claude stay here, take care of our families, and make sure we get the support we need."

That was an adrenaline killer, but Claude just nodded and clasped his brother on the shoulder, so I swallowed my pride, promised we would stay on top of things, wished them well, and turned to Claude. "What now?"

"Let's go watch a little of the movie to reassure everyone that things are okay, and then we'll return to the control room in 25 minutes, after they link up with the Riders."

He looked over his shoulder and said, "Esteban, make sure Raymundo Escamilla and Comandante Sosa are fully informed and ready, and please let us know as soon as things start happening." We went back out, took our places on the couch, and ignored the probing looks. The cops were at Jimmy Stewart's house, about to arrest him, and the beautiful and elegant Donna Reed was looking at him lovingly.

Clockwatching only exacerbates my impatience, and I swore the movie was never going to end, nor was the digital clock ever going to reach 2200 hours... but both did. We put the kids to bed, told our wives we would be in the control room, and urged them to get some sleep. Instead, they made a fresh 48-cup pot of coffee and rejoined the elders in the congregation room.

A bewildered Duke alternated between standing guard over his sleeping children, and trying to understand the troubled demeanor of his adults, who should also be in bed. We took turns petting and rubbing him, and reassuring him things were going to be okay.

Esteban interrupted our conversation to let us know that our forces had joined up, moved down the road, and were in position. He broadcast feed from the reconnaissance drone to the TV in our room, and we saw that one of the MRAPs was parked across the road with a blue, red, and white strobe light flashing atop it. It was formidable sight sitting on a rise about 100 yards past the rocky point, but it couldn't be seen until a vehicle had cleared the curve.

No one was in sight, but we could see the red images of our team when that overlay was added to the picture.

The waning crescent moon provided only a sliver of light, so the cameras were using night vision, which showed the video feed in stark shades of black and green-grey.

The signature heat of their engines indicated a column of vehicles was now moving along the narrow roadway, toward the sudden curve that would decide their fate. The silhouette of the first vehicle indicated it was one of the tanks; it clawed its way around the curve on its tracks, proceeded about 30 yards, and then stopped, facing the MRAP blocking the road.

The reconnaissance drone overhead picked up a demanding voice projected loudly over a bullhorn or speakers, and a bright spotlight shown down from the rocky promontory above and to the right flank of the tank. The voice ordered the tank to stop and the men inside to come out with their hands up. The demand was made in English, then Spanish.

The APC made the curve and then stopped near the rear of the tank. A machine gun mounted on the vehicle was quickly pointed toward the light, and the tank swiveled its big gun in the same direction. The offending spotlight was located at about 8 o'clock from the vehicles and perhaps 400 feet above them, at the base of the towering rock cliff.

When the machine gun began firing, the tank fired its 125mm smoothbore cannon at the light; the first shots had been fired, and the battle had begun - on our timeline! The wisdom of that change was currently unknown, but we would soon know.

When the explosion cleared, the light was out, but a large chunk of the rocky cliff had broken off, and boulders as big as pickups were joined by rocks large and small as an avalanche formed and cascaded down the steep incline toward the road, and the vehicles on it. We hadn't planned it this way, but wished we had!

The next two vehicles in the column were stopped in the midst of the curve: another tank and another APC. The cascading avalanche picked up speed and debris, sweeping the tank and the APC behind it off the road and into the deep canyon.

The lead tank then swiveled the turret back to face the Humvee and lurched forward... for about three yards, before one of the Javelins struck the tracks and it lurched to an fiery halt.

The men in the APC behind it scrambled out, fearing another missile strike. The amplified voice ordered them to drop their weapons and lie face down. Instead, they fired blindly into the night and attempted to scatter; immediately, semi-automatic rifle fire rained down on them, punctuated by tracers. There were screams, and we could soon hear men shouting, "I surrender!" in English and in Spanish.

Blind firing had broken out from the vehicles behind the rockslide, but it quickly ended when laser-guided Paveway bombs from an RPA struck multiple vehicles in the convoy. Within twenty minutes, scores of disarmed prisoners were lying face down in the dirt of the roadway with armed Riders walking among them.

"Jeez! That happened too fast! Did they at least get a message out?" I asked Armando, who had been monitoring their communications.

"Four actually. The first was that they had encountered a law enforcement vehicle blocking the road to the targets. The second was that they were being spotlighted and had been ordered to stop and surrender. They requested permission to fire on the spotlight and the cop with the bullhorn. There was a lot of confusion on the other end before the request was approved. After a pause, they reported that the cannon shot had started an avalanche that blocked the road behind them.

"They were then ordered to destroy the law enforcement vehicle and proceed on their mission. Their next transmission was an excited diatribe about being hit with a missile and the tank being on fire! There have been no more messages exchanged, although their command kept trying to reach them for a few minutes before ending their transmissions.

"Before you ask, the command messages came from a site a few miles northwest of here, so someone is already in position to attack the Mountain Lair."

"And do the colonel and major know this?" I asked with concern.

"Yes, and they are tasking additional aircraft to us right now. Our men on that side of the ranch are also preparing for any eventuality, but right now we don't know whether we're facing an infantry assault, missiles, aircraft, or tanks. We also don't know where they came from; as of yesterday evening, there was no evidence of vehicles or personnel in that quadrant!"

"The ranch to our north is a mélange of canyons, caves, and creeks, heavily covered by brush and trees. If they were well hidden and had been for a while, it would probably take a patrol walking up on them to find them," I reminded him. "What I don't understand is why we saw no heat signatures. Are you seeing any now?"

Esteban shook his head, and Armando stated, "No, which means they are using some combination of Mylar and paint that hides thermal imprints. We can hit them with the search lights once they are on the property, but by then we may have a flattened building above us!"