Steve Abbott - Devil's Gambit

“Repeat please.”

“We’re two minutes out of the drop zone. Get your men ready.”

Hunter held his hand in the air. With his index finger extended, he made a circle. Weapons were checked and loads secured. Each man checked his buddy’s gear to be sure. The helicopter touched down. Hunter was out the door in a flash. He hit the ground hunched over and running. The Hind roared off in a spray of dust and gravel seconds later. Hunter scanned the valley floor from the edge of the bluff. His men were already setting up at the camouflaged hide site.

The site, a mixture of sand bags and camouflage netting, had been constructed three months previous on very quiet orders from Channick. If the playing field were to be uneven, the Colonel had decided to throw in some potholes of his own. The valley was too tempting an avenue to leave undefended. The secret of surprise was always speed. So he had his Engineer section build the hides and Forward Observer positions in advance. A few well-placed demolition charges placed under the guise of avalanche control turned the available points of approach to the two bluffs into one single ground route.

The hides were important. The attack helicopters of the Blue Force were equipped with thermal sighting equipment. If they had relied on only the camouflage netting, the choppers would see the difference in background heat signatures. By using the sand bags as well as netting, a small bivouac was created that had the same heat signature as the surrounding ground. The mortar was set up inside it in a matter of minutes. Channick’s Engineers had stockpiled mortar rounds, extra ammunition, rations and even water.

Hunter stood in the Forward Observer bunker at the front of the bluff. To the outside eye, it would look like a pile of rocks; the engineers had done an excellent job of concealment.

Thanks to satellite technology, the latest line of secure field communications were little bigger than a cellular phone. Hunter wore his in the small of his back. He could switch secure channels by turning a small knob beside his throat mike. It was uncomfortable at times, but it beat lugging around a forty pound man pack. The units transmitted in line of sight, or bounced a signal off overhead military communications satellites. Its signal could be routed anywhere in the world. Hunter punched in the mission activation code. He was now linked to all of his assets and he could switch between each as was needed.

“Thistle one to all elements. Com check.”

“Thistle two, com five by five.”

Thistle three, com five by five.”

“Thistle four, com five by five.”

“Thorn one, com five by five.”

“Thorn two, com five by five.”

“Roger, out.” Now all there was to do was wait.

With three men and the umpire on the one twenty mortar, Hunter deployed the other four to cover the approach to the bluff. If he were the Blue commander, he would deploy air and then ground scouts ahead of his main formation. The Hinds would jump the air elements and Hunter’s men would deal with the reconnaissance elements when the time came.

All of the men wore the latest MILES gear. The new laser-sensing harness activated a vibrator located in the small of the back as well as a blinking red light between the shoulders. It gave a more realistic feel to the exercise and eliminated the annoying beeping they used to give off.

Hunter settled in; the waiting game was the worst part. To stay immobile and do nothing but watch, while bugs and God knows what else crawled over you, took extreme discipline. Hunter’s eyes swept the valley. Sometimes he used the field glasses, their lenses turned to slits with gun tape to eliminate the chance of telltale flash. Most times he relied on bare sight. He learned the valley and sought any color, any movement that didn’t belong. His ears reached out for any man-made sound over the roar of the wind.

Hunter heard the Apaches long before he saw them. The chop of their rotor blades bounced off the valley walls. It was impossible to tell from which direction they were coming. All of the men sank lower into their hiding spots.

The two olive, drab gunships burst into view at the far end of the valley. They swept up the center in line abreast formation. Hunter held his breath. If they spotted the hides, both teams would be eliminated in a matter of seconds. Where the hell were the Hinds?

Hunter switched to the secure air channel. “Thistle one to Thorn one, Hawks in the valley.”

“Copy Thistle one; we’re on it.” Seconds later, Donovan and Mackenzie thundered over the far crest of the valley. They fell upon the two attack choppers starboard flank. The twin 23 millimeter cannon on each craft chattered as blank rounds fired. Back at the main control center, computers calculated range, speeds and damage. The Apaches were taken by complete surprise. Central control ruled them destroyed and ordered them to clear the arena without communication to the Blue Force. They would be buying the beer back at the base tonight.

Hunter chuckled to himself. That was going to raise some hackles back at Command Central. The ground scouts would be next, once the Blue leader figured out his Apaches were out of the picture.

“Thistle one to Thorn one.”

“Thorn one.”

“Pull back to position two. We’ll call if we need you for dust off.”

Donovan was annoyed, but Hunter was the ground commander for this mission. He was experienced enough to have reason to order the fall back. “Roger, Thistle one.”

Hunter watched the Hinds follow the defeated Blue choppers up the valley. He did not want to lose his only fast means of escape to simulated stinger missiles the Blue Force was sure to have. He switched back to the ground channel.

“Keep it tight guys. You know what’s next.”

It was three hours before they heard the Blue columns’ approach. The valley walls acted like one big ear, directing sound right towards them. Hunter put the field glasses to his eyes. Blue would wait for a report from his scouts before he moved his tanks and equipment into the valley. He might be a hard charger, but the man was not a total idiot. Still, Hunter was going to have to draw the Blue Force into the valley and, to do that, he had to make the Blue commander sure the valley approach was open and unprotected. The man was bound to have his doubts after the disappearance of his gunships. But that could always be explained as umpires making the exercise more difficult.

There! A flash. The sun was almost right overhead, but Hunter was looking down. One of the scouts had scanned the top of his bluff and his field glasses had caught the sun. Well, they were still a ways off. He doubted Blue had the patience to wait until his men reported back.

Hunter keyed his radio. “Did you catch that Thistle two?” The radio clicked twice. They had seen the scout as well.

“Smoke, you and Dice head into the valley and take out their scouts.”

Smoke was a new addition to the Team, but Hunter had been impressed by the way the boy handled himself. His voice was eager, “You bet, boss.”

Hunter decided to temper him a bit. “Make sure you’re quiet about it.”

Smoke grinned to himself. The old man was over-cautious. He and Dice took off their rucksacks and lay them against the bluff face. With only their silenced M-4s and one hundred rounds of ammo each, they slipped away from the other two team members and moved towards the valley floor.

Hunter watched the two move down from their position; he lost them quickly. Smoke had a God-given ability to disappear in his surroundings. Dice was the luckiest son of a bitch in the unit. The man could jump in a cesspool and come up holding hundred dollar bills. The two of them were a perfect team. Each time Hunter caught a glimpse of the Blue scouts, he relayed their positions to Smoke and Dice. It took two hours for the two SEALS to neutralize all of the enemy scouts. All done quietly, as asked.