Page 41 of Operation: Reckless Angel

The article proclaimed it would be the new standard for U.S. drone technology, combining solar and traditional power to keep it aloft for up to a year at a time. It employed new stealth technology, making it nearly invisible. It had the capability of deploying up to eighteen hundred kilograms of payload from internal bays and it could achieve a top speed of one thousand kilometers per hour. Basically, it combined the aspects of the best UAV technology available into one multi-use craft.

“Son of a bitch,” Roth cursed aloud. He left his tablet on the table and got himself another beer. Then he sent Smith a text message advising him of what he just read. He knew that Smith was on in Ops that evening. Had he been at home with Hollyn, he wouldn’t have messaged. Smith replied with a few expletives of his own shortly after he’d sent the message.

Just after he’d finished eating and had washed up his dishes, his phone sounded the alert that got his blood pumping. He didn’t even need to check the display. He knew he’d just been scrambled with a priority alert, which meant report for duty within thirty minutes or as fast as you can.

He was packed and in his car, driving back to the Shepherd Security building within fifteen minutes. His was the second car to enter the parking garage. BT’s car was in front of him, and Mother’s F150 Ford pickup truck pulled up behind him. So, Delta Team was also scrambled. The three men parked and grabbed their gear just as Jimmy Wilson’s pickup truck rolled through the gates.

“Damn, three teams?” Mother asked, his gaze too on the internal garage door. “This can’t be good.”

Wilson joined the three men, who now stood in front of the elevator and the door to the stairs. They watched car after car enter the private parking garage. When Garcia’s car drove in, with both Garcia and Jackson seated in it, the scope of the emergency scramble became clear.

“All four teams,” Roth said. His adrenalin was really pumping. In the back of his mind, though, the thought that this could just be a drill loomed. And that would really suck if it was.

All the men hit the stairs or piled into the elevator. When they arrived in the large hallway conference room, it was confirmed it was not a drill. Shepherd and Lambchop sat at the conference room table with a map displaying the Nuba Mountain region in Sudan.

A quick briefing laid out their mission. Find and rescue five U.S. missionary workers who were in a village that had been attacked in the region against State Department directives. It was theorized they had either fled into the mountains with the villagers when it was attacked, or the attackers took them all prisoners and brought them to a training camp in the mountains where they would be forced to fight for one side of the ongoing conflict or the other.

An hour later they were wheels up and flying out of the military hangar at O’Hare to McDill Air Force Base, where they would transfer to a long-haul aircraft that would fly them into Djibouti, which would be their base of operations. Roth took a seat across the aisle from Cooper and Madison. The cabin lights were dimmed, and everyone would catch a nap as this leg of the twenty-hour flight would be more comfortable than on the plane they’d transfer onto at McDill.

Roth noticed that Madison’s head leaned against Cooper’s shoulder. He remembered when he’d met this team, during that special training exercise, when he had just finished his SEAL training several years before. He recalled being stunned then to learn that they were married and operating together. But now, after a year, it was just normal, and they worked together so well. Moreover, it didn’t affect the rest of the team.

His thoughts drifted to Briana Woods. She could have fit in with the team to be his Madison. She was tough enough and former military. As he drifted off to sleep, he envisioned that she was there, a part of the team, her head on his shoulder.

The flight was uneventful, long, boring, and the sidewall seats on the C-5 they transferred onto at McDill were uncomfortable. Once they arrived in Djibouti, they hit the ground running. Garcia had laid out the search grids that would follow a low drone pass with thermal imaging to seek out human targets. Cooper assigned Jackson to Echo Team. Echo and Alpha Teams would be on the ground overnights, and Charlie and Delta Teams would conduct daytime recon. Each team was assigned a Black Hawk and separately investigated potential locations near its partner team.

They’d conducted searches for four days and found nothing. Several times the heat signature of large mammals indicated possible targets, but a ground search found only wildcats and antelopes. It was getting close to Christmas and all the married team members, especially those with children, were starting to sweat it, wondering if they’d be home by the holiday. Even Roth, whose only plans were to go to his mother’s house, was anxious for this mission to be wrapped up, hopefully successful, and fly home.

They lifted off in their Black Hawks, as they had every other night, and headed over a sector in the search grid that held promise. Jackson descended first, reporting that the soil was loose at the base of the rope. Roth donned his NVGs and his gloves and he fast roped down. His feet slid a bit too, reminding him this was never a routine maneuver. He’d landed way too close to the edge of a drop off for his liking. But the chopper couldn’t move any closer to the mountain, its blades would impact the trees.

He gave a warning to BT, who would come down next, about the conditions and then moved to take up a cover position as Jackson had.

BT landed, his feet coming completely out from beneath him. Like the others, only his tight hold on the rope kept him from sliding down the steep embankment. When he’d steadied himself on his feet, only then did he release the rope.

He took a step towards the other men and the earth gave way, his feet sliding with the loose rocks. Roth’s heart skipped a beat when he saw him plummet down the rock face a second later. BT managed to reacquire the very edge of the rope with his left hand, but the angle in which he did twisted his wrist into an unnatural, painful position. Even from his vantage point, Roth was sure it was broken.

“BT’s down. Hold on your descent, Bubbles,” Roth broadcast as he carefully moved to a position where he could see how far over the edge he’d gone. “Hold on, BT. We’ll come to get you.”

By this time, Jackson had reached the side of the embankment and stood beside Roth. “I’ll get him,” Jackson said. He deployed a rope and tied himself off to a sturdy nearby tree. Roth wrapped the rope around himself to hold it as a backup and Jackson rappelled down a few feet to the right of where BT dangled. The steep grade of the rock wall slipped away each time his boots made contact with it.

Once he was beside BT, Jackson clamped his own line to secure himself, and then tied a line to his downed teammate. Jackson and Roth helped to pull BT up, who walked up the face of the mountain as the two others pulled him up.

When he reached the top and got over to a spot with better footing, Roth examined the wrist. He was sure it was broken. BT didn’t argue with that assessment. Roth splinted it. Then, they had Michael lower a lift, and BT was hoisted back aboard the aircraft, much to his grumbling to the contrary. He’d reopen his tablet and direct the team from an overwatch position. Michael helped him onboard before he took hold of the rope to go down. Jackson stood at the bottom and helped to guide Michael to find sure footing as he landed from his descent.

Then the three men headed off to investigate the first target location, knowing it was not ideal to be down a man. Yvette was tuned in from HQ and Alpha Team knew their situation. They were only a few clicks away and would assist if needed.

The three men spent the next six hours hiking through the very rocky landscape, which often required the use of a rope to climb to traverse the topography rather than hiking for miles to make their way around the mountains on trails and dirt roads. They checked out three locations that could have hidden caves where the people they sought could have been. Nothing.

Through comms, BT transmitted information on the next site. This one he felt held promise. A new drone pass showed multiple heat signatures less than an hour before. It was nearly twenty-four hundred hours. Unless it was a herd of animals, who would be moving around the mountain at nearly midnight? More than likely military rather than civilians.

They settled on a ridge overlooking the densely wooded area below, where significant movement was taking place. They knew the mouth of a cave was also there. There were at least a dozen heat signatures in the immediate area, and they weren’t animals. He couldn’t get a good enough look through the branches and leaves to determine who he was looking at.

They moved closer, slowly inching their way down a steep grade. Paydirt! They found the camp, villagers and men in military uniform milled around the opening to a cave. They notified Alpha Team, who was only a half hour away and then held their positions, keeping watch.

Just as Alpha Team arrived, a military attack took place that lit the night with multiple explosions and automatic weapons fire directed at those in the cave, the villagers. Military deserters were with them, trying to protect them. Many of them were killed or injured.

Roth and Doc treated those who were injured, working together seamlessly. As much as Roth enjoyed the other aspects of his job, treating the injured onsite gave him the most satisfaction. He was an emergency medic first and foremost and all his training just clicked when he needed it. It was always surprising to him how he forgot that in between missions where he utilized his training.

Unfortunately, there were sixteen fatalities among those who had sought refuge in the mountains, plus a dozen more in the force that had attacked. Thankfully, none of the villagers and none of the missionary workers they’d been sent there to find were included in that count.

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