Special Operations: The Aborted Rescue
#2 of Special Operations
Author's Notes: I thought this storyline was going to be a one-off. Unfortunately, or should I say fortunately, the story has grown on me and the sequel/s need/s to be told.
Disclaimer: See the first one.
Special Operations: The Aborted Rescue
May 12, 2013
FOB Phoenix
75thFast Assault Infantry Battalion
Anschluss Transport Squadron
Hauptmann (Captain) Erik Weiner
I was sitting inside the communications tent when a not unusual call came over the radio.
"Phoenix, this is Colonel Andrews of Task Force 322. I have a lost platoon. The last location we got from the CIA was the Afghanistan-Baluchistan border" the colonel said, spitting out the word CIA like it was a cuss word.
"Colonel, this is Hauptmann Weiner. How can we assist?" I answered, grabbing the microphone from a stunned petty officer.
"I got a garbled message. They said they have a hostile bunker that was just neutralized by a large wolf. I want you to bring them home for a debrief. Think you can do that, captain?" the colonel answered. The colonel seemed rather flustered at talking to me. But, I put it out of my head. Stress plays weird tricks on the mind. Especially when you lack sleep, as I did.
"Coordinates?" I asked, the portable GPS in my hand ready to input the data.
"Kilo Lima: 5812-9B" the colonel answered.
I paused as I entered the coordinates. "Sir, you know those mountains are called 'compass destroyers' right?"
"I am damned sure. I just want my platoon back. NO ONE GETS LEFT BEHIND!" the colonel answered, shouting the last part and making me wince.
"Jawohl, mein hehr" I replied, my mastery of English temporarily failing me. It was now my turn to have pink cheeks as I remembered that the colonel spoke no German.
"Did you just swear at me, captain?" he asked tersely.
"No sir. I am going for them now. Sir" I answered and put down the mike.
"Good. IN ONE PIECE" the colonel replied and signed off.
I put my left hand to my forehead and wiped the sweat I knew had formed there. Now, I just had to get the rest of the transport gruppen on standby so we could come back for some beer and sausages.
"Unteroffizier Langerhans, have the ground crew refuel the V-22s. Also, ring the barracks and have my squadron ready to move in ten mikes" I informed the petty officer manning the PA system. I got my coat and hat as I turned to walk out of the tent.
"Sir, you might need this" I heard him call out as he handed me my pistol. It turned out I had left it on the desk as I got up to leave. Thanking him, I made my way over to the mess to grab some VERY strong coffee.
Little did I know that I would need a lot more than coffee for this mission.
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Grid Coordinates: Kilo Lima 5812-9B
Taliban FOB/Staging Area
Afghanistan-Baluchistan border
1stLieutenant Gary "Mantis" Anderson, Task Force 322 member
I licked my lips with my rough tongue as I tried to remove the caked blood from my fur. I believed my radio officer when he said that we would be fetched by a number of transports. Growling softly, I surveyed the "damage" around me. On my right were those platoon members who were willing to be turned, on my left were huddled the few human members of my former command. The frightened looks on their human faces only fed my rage.
As I pulled myself to my full height of seven and a half feet, I felt a comforting paw on my shoulder. Even now, Charles was still calming me down. Poor sap, so sentimental that one.
"Gary, it is not your place to force them. I too, was not in a position a while ago to transform you into a man-eater..." Charles began.
"I thank you for turning me into one such as yourself. The power and strength I feel flowing within me is much better than what I imagined" I answered brusquely, cutting him off. "If only, more of the humans will embrace this call" I continued, my mind swirling with the possibilities.
"SIR, COMMAND'S ON THE HORN. THEY WANT AN UPDATE, SIR!" my radio officer shouted, bringing myself back to reality. Snarling, I made my way over to him. I picked up the radio and was astonished to hear my commander's voice being broadcast in the clear. I swallowed back my rage as he began talking.
"Lieutenant, I have a transport group headed towards you. Expect them within 30 mikes, as the GPS is very faulty in the area. Furthermore, did you secure any live prisoners?" I heard him speak.
"None sir. They fought to the last man" I heard myself say roughly.
"That's a damn shame. Looks like the suits won't be getting there test subjects today" Colonel Andrews replied, not even sounding sorry.
"Yes sir. However, we have uncovered some useful intel on quite a few biological weapons caches nearby" I replied with a half-truth.
"Well, that's great! How many and where? I'd like you to *static* to base. How copy?" Colonel Andrews replied.
At this point, my ears perked up as I heard the tell-tale beat of twin rotor blades slicing through the air. "Game faces! Here come the suits" I yelled out, leaving the radio set behind. My hackles were raised as I stood up and grabbed my weapon from the table, forgetting that I needed it no longer. Old habits die hard.
"This is Hauptmann Weiner of the Anschluss Transport Squadron. All units are to activate their IR strobes. We are going in hot" an Austrian voice broadcast over the radio.
"Rrr, looks like our transport is here. Wonder if they'll allow us to board?" Charles growled softly.
"I hope so. They smell of innocence" I replied with a canine grin, my black nose twitching.
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Hauptmann (Captain) Wiener
Lead V-22
Callsign: Victor 7
"This is Victor 7, we are approaching the LZ. Looks like the Amerikaner had a hell of a fight" I announced over the radio as I piloted the STOL craft towards the lit pad. In hindsight, I should have known that a lit pad on an obviously darkened and destroyed base was a forewarning of what would come.
"Jawohl, hauptmann. We will be in a holding pattern until you get your contingent. Then, how about a *static*?" replied my wingman, Leutnant Blitz.
"We are at grid coordinates Kilo Lima 5812-....9....B. Stupid American technology" my navigator radioed over the communication link, whacking the GPS set on his side.
"Turning on landing lights and slowing down to a hover" I responded, switching on the external lights and lowering my airspeed until it was just above a stall. I flicked a switch and the wings rotated ninety degrees so that the engines were now vertical.
"All units in the area are to turn on their IR strobes and approach the aircraft." "Put your weapons on safety as you board" I added, feeling a distinct feeling of unease creep over me. Just at that moment, the master alarm went off inside the cockpit.
"Incoming heat signature, its moving fast! Gott im..." I could hear Blitz call out as his aircraft made contact with the missile and exploded. I saw his Osprey lose its wing as he spiraled down towards one of the mountain faces. The fireball from the moment the aircraft made contact left no hope that there would be any survivors. I felt my body chill as I watched the burning aircraft descend in slow motion. It would seem that nothing would break my trance...
"Get us on the ground, Hauptmann!" I heard my co-pilot yell into my ear, snapping me back into our current situation. With only a grunt as an affirmative, I brought down the bird for a hard smack with the pad. The impact nearly making me lose my lunch due to its violence. "Shutting her down", my co-pilot remarks from his side of the cockpit, turning off the engines and external lights.
"Poor Blitz, it was his first time in the combat zone."
"Ja, mein freund. It was his first tour outside of Germany" I remarked sadly.
"Phoenix, this is Victor 7. We lost a bird going in to rescue the task force. We have possible rebels in the mountains with anti-aircraft capabilities. Victor 3 is down, repeat, Victor 3 is down" my co-pilot, Feldwebel Johann Krupp, radioed back to FOB Phoenix.
"Victor 7, say again? You're breaking *static*. Say *static*?" the voice of the controller back at FOB Phoenix breaking up from the strength of the magnetic fields surrounding the area.
"Victor 3 is down, repeat, Victor 3 is down. We have an Osprey down. No survivors" Feldwebel Krupp reported back. He was then met with further static before the controller responded, "Use your Morse, we are only getting half *static*", came the reply.
"...---..." Krupp replied in Morse.
"Affirm, SAR enroute. Good *static*" came the reply before it went silent.
"Now what, Herr Hauptmann? We allow the troops to embark?" my crew chief asked over the intercom.
"May as well join them for the moment, we can't fly out if there's a SAM emplacement somewhere" I replied, unbuckling my harness and standing up to leave the flight deck. I heard Krupp do the same as I went aft towards the rear of the plane. My crew chief handed me a G36 with two spare 30-round magazines as I placed my hand on the button to lower the rear door. As I lowered the door, I did not hear the gasp of my two crewmembers nor did I see who was standing there. I judged the door to be sufficiently down and walked into a...muscular bed?
A warm, well-muscled, furry bed. Which appeared to be breathing. I looked up and my voice died in my throat, becoming a barely heard whimper.