Richard Herman - The Peacemakers

Allston stood and scanned the sky. The C-17 was safely climbing out.

The Paladin spun around on its track and clanked to a stop beside Allston. The commander’s hatch flipped opened and a tall and lanky young man stood, the upper half of his body well clear of the turret. He was dressed in civvies but his haircut and bearing were US Marine. He snapped a sharp salute. “Corporal Rickert… ah… ah… sorry, sir. Richie Rickert reporting for duty.” He lifted himself out of the hatch and waited. Jill’s head popped up and she climbed out. The marine helped her down the side of the turret and onto the ground. “My apologies ma’am,” he said. “It is cramped inside.”

“And very noisy,” Jill added.

“Where did you find them?” Allston asked her.

“Djibouti.” She lowered her voice as the gunner, loader, and driver climbed out. Like Rickert, they were wearing jeans and T-shirts. “They’re Marines, but think of them as temporary civilians.”

“How did you make that happen?” Allston asked. Jill didn’t answer. He didn’t need to know that the Boys in the Basement were involved and pulling strings. She introduced the four young men.

“Welcome to Mission Awana,” Allston said. “You could not have arrived at a better time.” He introduced Vermullen and asked what was on the pallet.

“Glad to be here, sir,” Rickert said, still uncomfortable in his new role. He pointed to the pallet. “Those are spare parts for the Paladin and forty rounds, a mix of high explosive and anti-tank.” A wicked grin played across his mouth and quickly disappeared. “We got two Copperheads on board.” The Copperhead was a smart artillery projectile that guided itself to a laser designated target, and was bad news for any tank that came within its range.

“We’ll make good use of those,” Vermullen promised. “For now, stay and operate from the airfield.” The Paladin was a great deterrent but it was also a target that he wanted as far from the mission as possible.

“What do you need?” Allston asked.

“Diesel fuel,” Rickert replied. “We got our field gear on the bustle.” The bustle was the equipment rack welded on the back of the turret. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Sir, we… ah… were wondering… if you might still have some of those hats.”

“You bet we do,” Allston said. He looked around the ramp. “Williams! Get your young body over here.” But the sergeant had disappeared.

The Capitol

The Speaker was hunched forward, his hands folded in front of him on the committee bench, as Richards finished her opening statement. He leaned into the microphone. “General Richards, I’m not sure I understand your point.” He was giving her a chance to change her testimony.

“My apologies, Mr. Speaker. I’ll try to clarify. When I was investigating the 4440th, I discovered they were in an untenable situation. Their commander was determined to carry out their mission of supporting the UN relief and peacekeeping operation, yet the UN commissioners running the operation are hopelessly compromised and corrupt. For example, they ordered the peacekeepers to turn over their heavy weapons and aircraft to the Sudanese Army, which is engaged in genocide operations against the Nuer and Dinka tribes. That would have been a grave dereliction of duty if Colonel Allston had complied with that order and surrendered his Hercules C-130s. It would have been a moral failure if Colonel Allston had ceased relief operations. As to the alleged charge of torturing a prisoner, the only direct evidence I discovered was the testimony of the alleged victim.”

“Then how do you explain the video?” the Speaker asked.

“The video I saw was taken at a great distance without audio. While conducting my investigation, I repeatedly heard a rumor that the prisoner had hidden a knife in his bandages and was attempting to use it. But I could not confirm that rumor.”

“But it was at your direction the prisoner was turned over to the UN. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Mr. Speaker, that is correct. The prisoner was worried the Dinka and Nuer at the mission would kill him. I believed that fear was well founded and moved him for his own safety. I never suspected that the UN would immediately release him.”

The Speaker was furious. “If there are no more questions, this committee is in recess.” He didn’t wait for the committee members to reply and banged the gavel.

Mission Awana

It was midnight when the small group gathered in Mission House. Jill spread out eight satellite photos on the table as Allston, Vermullen, Toby, and Malone crowded around. “We’re facing a reinforced regiment of over two thousand infantry,” she explained, “along with twenty tanks, and at least fifty APCs and armored cars. The good news is that they only had one battery of artillery with two pieces, which, I suspect, the Paladin made short work of. The bad news is that they still have mortars they can use as they come in range. Mortars will be much harder for the Paladin to take out.”

“Your source for all this?” Allston asked.

“The Air and Army Attaches at Addis.”

“And they arranged for the Paladin?” He was still fishing for an answer.

“Another agency, sir. The marines at Djibouti held a raffle to see who would come. It got pretty hot and heavy.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know the source of the jamming?” Vermullen asked.

Jill shuffled through the photos and found the one she wanted. “It’s a mobile unit, Russian made.” She pointed to a big truck with a canvas-covered bed and a tall mast holding multiple antenna arrays. “They have to stop to erect the mast. It takes about five minutes and they can’t move with the mast erected. That’s when they stop jamming.”

Vermullen studied the vehicle. “It is very distinctive.”

Allston knew what he was thinking. “It should be easy to identify.”

“Especially with the mast up,” Vermullen added.

The radio at the Ops desk squawked. “Outhouse, Outhouse, Gizmo One inbound. Fifteen minutes out.” It was Dick Lane in a C-130. Before they could answer, the frequency was drowned out by a loud squelch.

“Well, they’re not moving now,” Allston said. “We need to take that puppy out.” He looked around the table. “Let’s go move some people.” Another thought came to him. “Toby, let’s air evac out as many of the wounded as we can.”

E-Ring

Fitzgerald’s intercom buzzed. It was his secretary. General Richards was on the line requesting a personal meeting. Fitzgerald savored the thought of ignoring her and letting her stew but he owed her another chance. “In thirty minutes. She’s got five minutes.” His fingers danced over his keyboard as he called up the link to the NMCC. The image in front of him flickered and stabilized as the encryption circuits did their magic.

The duty officer’s image appeared on the screen. “Good evening, General. How may I help you?”

“What’s the latest on the 4440th in the Sudan?” He waited while the duty officer made the handoff.

A young-looking Army lieutenant colonel appeared. He came right to the point. “All contact with the 4440th is lost but we have satellite imagery of the four C-130s and numerous personnel at Juba. Fighting was reported at Mission Awana but has stopped, and the airfield is open.” He checked a computer screen. “We’ll have a Keyhole overhead in twelve hours and will have an update then.” The Keyhole series of reconnaissance satellites had a high-resolution camera that could breakout individuals on the ground. “The Boys In The Basement inserted a Paladin at Awana, and Special Ops will have personnel on the ground to support the peacekeepers in the next thirty-six hours. The situation appears to have stabilized.”