John Ringo: Kildar

“Keldara Base this is Six,” Mike said. The radio was frequency agile and encrypted, meaning that it switched frequencies repeatedly, staying on one for less than a second, and digitally scrambled the voices. All that a very good intercept system would pick up would be random hisses on various frequencies. He wasn’t sure that even Uncle Sam could listen in. And localizing it, because of the frequency changes and the distributed system, was very difficult.

“Six, Base,” a female voice answered.

“We’re at point 274,” Mike said. Prior to setting out, he and Vanner had marked up the old Soviet map with a series of location points and 274 was very near their present position. “Negative contact, negative sign.”

“Roger, Six,” the female voice answered. “Team Sawn near point 618.” That would put them up on the first ridgeline. Mike hoped they were being careful. On the other hand, if the shit hit the fan there were something like supports handy.

“Roger 618. Six, out,” Mike said. Just because nobody should be able to listen, it didn’t mean he should take chances.

This set up the program for the next few days. The team checked in hourly — that way if they were surprised or there was a radio malfunction somebody would know they were cut off — reported negative contact and checked back out. They had enough food for four days and there was a spring not far off so they had water. They were bored out of their gourds, but Mike thought it was good training for the Keldara sniper designates.

He’d reconned the area with an eye to a possible ambush of the Chechens. They had a good view of both trails from their OP, but egressing, running away, would be difficult. On the second day, with no one in sight, he had the three Keldara start clearing the trail along the ridgeline. Both the east and west trails snaked back and forth. If they engaged from up here, they should be able to engage and then run down the ridgeline, more or less straight, to the valley. He could either bring up a vehicle on call or do the two-step boogie across the valley.

On the third day they were there, Team Oleg moved up to supporting position, fresh from a couple of days on the range. They weren’t exactly what Mike would call trained but they were better than Sawn’s group, which only knew which end the bullet came out of. Adams was with them, as well as McKenzie and Porter, his assistant trainer.

Late on the third day, just as dusk was coming on, Praz stuck his hand out of his ghillie suit and made a motion of men walking.

Mike slithered over to the lookout and peered through binoculars at the trail. There were three men moving down the trail. The men wore civilian clothing but they were carrying AKs so they were legitimate combatants; Mike had checked with Vadim about friendly forces and there weren’t any active in the area. The three weren’t being particularly cautious and looked, frankly, bored. They stopped at a place where a stream crossed the trail and the area widened out. One of them crossed the stream and went into the woods on the far side, then came back out.

As he did, a larger group moved into the area and spread out, most of them flopping to the ground at the tree line. The men weren’t wearing packs, they only had their weapons and some of them wore ammunition vests, so Mike couldn’t figure out why they looked so tired. Moving through the mountains, even in the rain, wasn’t all that hard.

The second group was followed by a third, smaller group, one of whom began to gesticulate and apparently shout angrily. The men that had flopped got up and moved into the woods as more men and now mules flooded into the area. Gear was unpacked, the men in the woods came back with wood and in less than an hour a camp was in place. They’d lit fires for warmth and to cook their food and were acting anything but tactical.

The mules appeared to be carrying stores, spare ammo and, notably, heavy weapons. There were five that carried, between them, two 80mm mortars, some ammunition cases for them and a half a dozen RPGs and ammo. All the mules were heavily overloaded and looked just about at the end of their rope. But, then again, mujahideen mules always looked at the end of their rope.

Mike did a count on the group and determined that there were quite a few short of two hundred, closer to one-eighty. He wasn’t sure if that meant another group or that the intel estimate was wrong. They might have detached a group to take the wounded to a base somewhere, for that matter. Figure five wounded based on the Spetznaz report, two or three seriously. Four stretcher bearers per, a few guards for support. That might be it.

By full dark the group had been fed and were bedded down, propping up scraps of plastic against the continuing rain. There were a few guards on duty, but the group didn’t appear to expect trouble. Given that they were deep inside Georgia, that said it all about their ability to move freely in the country.

Mike moved back to the hide and picked up the radio.

“Base this is Six,” Mike said. “SEAL REP. ECHO, One Eight Zero. Two Eight Zero Mike Mike. Six Romeo Papa Golf.” There were one hundred and eighty bad guys, heavy weapons were two eighty millimeter mortars and six RPGs.

“Six, Base,” a female voice replied. “Copy Echo, One Eight Zero. Two Eight Zero Mike Mike. Count Six Romeo Papa Golf.”

“Roger,” Mike said. “Get Five. Contact in Three Zero Mike.”

“Roger, Six,” Base replied.

“What we gonna do, boss?” Russell asked.

“We’re gonna kill ’em all and fuck their old ladies,” Mike said.

“Six this is Five, over,” Nielson called over the radio in thirty minutes.

“Five, what is the status of Team Vil?” Mike said. As he recalled, Vil and Oleg’s group were both through initial training.

“Deployed south near point 625,” Nielson said.

“Redeploy mounted to 738,” Mike said, moving the team to a point north of Alerrso near the opening to the valley. “Redeploy Team Oleg to point 618, offset five hundred meters south for ambush tomorrow. Bunker up. Will lead Echo element to ambush point. Upon ambush, Vil to redeploy to near point 274 to catch leakers. Clear?”

There was a pause as Nielson obviously considered the map and the plan.

“Clear,” Nielson said after a moment.

“Will send guide to Team Oleg, leave team in place to guide in Vil,” Mike continued. “Prepare to implement by NLT 0900 tomorrow. Six out.”

“Russell, Otar,” Mike said. “Pack up. Head for the defile we passed through. Make contact with Adams and have him lay in an ambush for the defile. Have him dig in deep; they’re probably going to try to fight through. Leave the back door open, though and make damned sure that nobody kills us when we come a running. Clear?”

“Clear,” Russell said, grinning.

“Killjoy, Vanim, move down the trail to near the base of the ridge. Find a good hide point. After we initiate the ambush, Vil will move up with his team in vehicles. Bring the vehicles to the west trail, then put them in position to engage the enemy as they retreat. Clear?”

“Clear,” Killjoy replied, smiling. “Fuck their old ladies, huh?”

“We’ll see,” Mike said. “Take most of the spare ammo and gear with you; we’re going to be moving light. Get going.”

Mike snuggled the stock of the Mannlicher into his shoulder and took a light breath, then let it out. He and Praz had carefully measured the distance to the camp, which was starting to unhurriedly break down in the morning light, and designated targets. The mortars had been unloaded at one point and they’d managed to designate the mortarmen and, most importantly, their leaders. He definitely wanted the trained mortarmen out of the equation; the mortars would be hell on the ambush no matter what.