Chosen Soldier - Dick Couch [179]
“Dustbin Two-Seven, this is Oscar Delta Alpha Nine-One-Five, do you copy, over?”
“Uh, roger Nine-One-Five, hear you five by, over, over.”
“OK, Two-Seven. We are in place. Authenticate my signal, over.”
“We hold a light-green circular strobe, over.”
“Roger the green circular strobe. Standing by for your package, over.”
“OK, Nine-One-Five, starting our run now. Two-Seven, out.”
A few moments later, a dark form flashes over the field. It’s a low, quick pass with the long snout of a Pilatus Porter STOL aircraft briefly visible. A drogue chute blossoms from under the wing with a packet attached. Olin’s recovery team has the package in a matter of moments. They call in the security element and begin to patrol to the extraction point, where two auxiliary pickups are waiting for them. A few hours later, Santos, Kwele, Olin, and Short are gathered around a makeshift table going over documents and photographs. All wear camping-type headband lights. The documents contain their mission tasker and the intelligence information for their final target.
“OK, guys, this is it. I’m going to spend some time with this material. It’ll be with me at all times if you need it. Patrick, you make security rounds.” To Olin and Short, Santos says, “You two grab some sleep. At first light, I want the team mustered and ready to begin a full-on mission-planning effort.”
The next morning, Captain Santos briefs Colonel Chissom on their mission. “I’d like to get right to the mission analysis and mission planning. Why don’t I bring in six of my mission planners, and you and Sergeant Major Johnson get a half dozen or so of your men, and we’ll lay this out for them together?” Chissom agrees with this approach, and soon they’re all gathered around the fire pit. Santos does most of the talking. Already, Sergeant Aaron Dunn, 915’s best terrain-model man, is poring over the intel photos and starting to build a scale likeness of what appears to be a prison complex. A senior member of the resistance, the man who’s destined to become the president of a liberated Pineland, has been taken prisoner by the Pineland Army forces, and being held at a local correctional facility. Nine-one-five’s mission, and that of their irregulars, is to set him free.
Captain Santos makes team assignments and 915 starts to work. Each American has one and sometimes two Gs working with him. That night, Miguel Santos and Brian Short leave the camp in civilian clothes with a member of the auxiliary. Their destination is the Pine Court Motel to meet with a partisan with intelligence on the prison. The Pine Court is not a four-star hostelry. Their contact is an informant and a member of the underground. He’s also a North Carolina state trooper and a retired Green Beret. When Miguel Santos knocks on the door, it’s opened by a woman. “C’mon in, guys,” she says with a generous smile. “You’re right on time.” She’s attired in loungewear. Santos and Short, thinking they have the wrong room, start backpedaling. Then the trooper appears, in uniform. “It’s OK, guys,” he tells them. “With the Condor teams out, we can’t be too careful.” The woman is his wife. She watches TV, while the captain, his intel sergeant, and their informant go over a sketch of the prison and some aerial photos Santos brought along. They talk about the layout, guards, patrol routines, and access to the interior of the prison. Their informant knows a janitor at the prison. He says he’ll have him unlock one of the back gates—if he can.
The next morning, Captain Santos is back with his team planning for the mission. While they’re occupied with their maps and terrain models, Sergeant Troy Blackman quietly grabs two of the Gs and says, “Get your rucks and follow me.” He takes them out of G base, slipping carefully