"I won't stand for it. It is ludicrous and damned illegal" stormed Senator George Turnman. The Democratic Senator from California was absolutely livid over the announcement just made to the Senate Intelligence Oversight Committee.
"We cannot have our secret army running around inside the U.S. It smells of Army Intelligence operations during the 60's, and my constituents will scream!"
"Now George, calm down. These people are going to California to protect them out there. It's not a case of spying, its a case of policing."
"Bull, Gan. I don't believe that for a minute. It's a prelude to declaring Martial Law..."
"Sounds like a good idea to me..." interrupted Senator Jim Wackston.
"You just sit there and keep quiet, Senator" warned Turnman, "...you're already in deep water with me.
And that was something to worry about. As the Senate majority leader, Turnman had a major influence on Wackston's party, and their already tenuous relationship was getting worse by the hour.
"Cut it out George, Jim's just been doing his job. He isn't to blame for some bunch of terrorists invading California or is he to blame for the think tank's ideas. After all, it is just a precautionary measure. We put Rangers and Green Berets into police uniforms or in quiet civilian patrols.
"You see. You see!" the California Senator complained to the ceiling. "First it's just a little police penetration, then pretty soon we have our own little secret police reporting to those unholy bastards in the Pentagon or NSC. No way, Gan!"
Senator Gan Abrahms, the Chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, sighed and sat back down heavily in the antique chair in the smaller caucus room. He stared quietly at the ceiling, the grandeur of the painting there not penetrating his concentration. He was tired and cranky himself, but George was, as usual, going overboard. Well not overboard, just being too cautious, he guessed. The two men respected each other's positions.
Gan had been fighting the "secret police" stigma attached the elite military forces since Vietnam. It always amazed him how quickly and forcefully the left would jump on the bandwagon as soon as anyone mentioned using military force in the U.S..
Even during the riots of the 60's, everyone got very tight lipped when someone mentioned the use of the National Guard. The National Guard for Christ sakes!
And, it was a little ironic, since both he and George had served together in Germany during the second World War. They had been close friends then, having saved each other's lifes a few times over. But Gan knew his old friend was now a willing opponent in the pursuance of the never ending interpretation of the U.S. Constitution. George believed vehemently in the rights of the individual over that of the country. An honorable position, to say the least. But his fear, perhaps related to his Jewish ancestry, of the government effects on the civilian populace were chillingly real as he was eloquent.
And it was a popular believe today, that when the government operated its troops in anything other than exercises, it should be doing so only outside the confines of the country. Unless of course you were defending the country itself.
Since this defense was Gan's position at this point, he felt a pang of sorrow for his old friend. He needed to convince the angry man that they were in fact defending the country, the people and assets of Silicon Valley. And certainly right now was not the time to debate. Too many intelligence indicators were blinking red in his mind's eye. It was the most frightening set of signals he had ever seen, and his own fear was as powerful, if not as visible as the Senator from California.
Perhaps he open up a little, and show his former friend just how frightened he was.
Several hours later, a substantially quieter George Turnman was speaking quietly to several of his peers in the Senate.
"...and I fought right next to Gan in Dresden. The man had then and still has today, an iron will and the heart of a lion. But gentleman, this old soldier can tell you, Gan Abrahms is a frightened man. I don't mean a little nervous, he is scared damned well shit- less. It is his belief that we are literally being invaded by an insidious new kind of soldier, the soldier of the terrorist war. Gan won't honor them with a the label of terrorist though, he calls them children killers. Men and women who have come into our country to frighten and maim our citizens.
I am convinced he is right. Although I am not at all happy about his methods for handling the situation, I am going to approve his plans to the President. Not because they are the best plans I can think of, but the fastest way to insure our survival of this invasion. It is a risky thing we embark upon, but damn it! If my daughter lived in San Jose, right now, I would feel a little better knowing the caliber of these men embarking to provide some real security into the area."
Puzzled and serious faces nodded back to the Senator, their caution over the infringement of civil rights quelled for the moment by the excesses of their common enemy.
Sergeant Teddy Strong replaced the receiver, as several of his peers, also Gunnery Sergeants, watched him for any sign of reaction. When the phone in the ready room rang it usually was business.
"Team 5, 1300, full dispatch" was all he said and with tall posture and a parade sergeant's walk he moved out of the ready room, his companions also joining him in portions of his short walk to their individual barracks. As they walked along the North Carolina bases former Stockade location, the trees swayed in the stiff breeze. Noticing the parade ground bearing of their Non Commissioned officers, men outside the barracks ducked inside. No one was around to take notice of the Sergents "peeling" off as they neared the short spotless sidewalks to their barracks. As each of the Sergeants arrived at their assigned team's barracks, there was quiet within, the grapevine having already readied the men for the visit.
"Ten Shut" sang out Charlie Nearwater as the Sergeant entered the "lead" barracks of Team 5 of the U.S. 1st Special Operations Detachment - Delta, the current "top unit" of Delta Force.
"At ease" he said quietly to his men. They had operated together in fourteen separate full training missions, and two actual combat missions. They had lost a full third of their number. But no one seemed to care amongst these men. This was truly an all volunteer force. In fact it was the premier all volunteer force in the U.S. military, if not in the entire world. They trained, trained with, and were trained by each of the elite forces in the free world, their jobs coming in the form of terrorism suppression, early reconnaissance before attack, initial response suppression, and even initial assault. Unlike other Special Forces units, Delta does not participate in training armies of other countries. But they did work with forces equivalent to themselves, that is, the British and Australian SAS, GDG-9 of West Germany, and the Canadian Special Service Group.
The pride that could easily be seen in the carriage and actions of this group of soldiers was not simply an egotistical expression, it was simply based in fact. They were best the U.S. could field, and despite the mistakes of other support units or the support units equipment, or deployment errors, they still had the best record.
Right now, each man in the barracks was finishing the task of tearing down their M16A1 5.56 mm rifle. Their version was somewhat shortened then the normal rifle, and carried the distinctive name off Colt Commando. This was their basic weapon of issue. Of course most favored the Stoner Mk23 (M63) 5.56 mm Commando Machine Gun, which they had "played with" in a joint exercise with the Navy SEALS. This weapon easily stored 800 rounds and highly classified fire rate, was deadly in "shock assault".
And all the men were trained to fight equally well with the Soviet AK-47, the newer SVD sniper rifle, or even the now venerable folding stock UZI sub-machine gun. In fact they regularly trained with every major piece of hand carried ordnance in the world. The hand guns they carried varied from National Match Colt .45s out of the box to a Hungarian Malishokov 9mm. Drop these people anywhere in the world, and they would take their opponents weapons and use them more effectively than the original owners.
In fact, Teddy reminded himself, Charlie Nearwater carried the Israeli Galil 7.62 Nato Sniper rifle. It was rested at Charlie's knee as the man stood braced in attention. As usual Charlie had ducked into the barracks, broke down and checked his weapon, and pieced it back together before the Sergeant could make his entrance. This little exercise was Team 5's mark of excellence, their own drill to keep their peak, right here, right now.
"Full Dispatch, field at 1300. Bring it all guys, it is anti-terrorism. As you know we don't have any idea what we'll run it to."
As he finished these sparing few words, a Lieutenant sporting Air Force fatigues and the helo- pilot wings and a green beret entered the barracks. Teddy braced the men again with a crisp, "Ten Shut".
"At ease, Teddy."
"At...Ease" the Sergeant replied just as crisply as before.
"We're full dispatch, men. This means 4 Night Hawks, 2 Apaches, M1 tanks, our Big and Bloody..." the men knew he was refering to the M198 155mm artillery piece, "... 1 MLRS, and all our gear. We load at 1330, 7th will be on the trailing C-5, and as usual we are in the lead."
Then the Seargent spoke the teams motto, "In and Out, no other way home."
"In and Out" voiced the men in response, as the Lt. turned quickly and stepped back out through the door. But they didn't break into loose chatter, they simply stuffed some gear in duffels and single filed out the door to the quartermaster, already running down their list of their needs in their minds.
On the ramp of the Pope Air Force Base, adjacent to Bragg, yet another Sergeant began his inspection. In this case though, he was inspecting equipment on the ramp, ready to be loaded into the huge maws of the two C-5B Galaxy cargo aircraft. Their 240 by 60 foot cargo area would easily accomodate the equipment surrounding the aircraft. Inside, the Sergeant inspected the fastenings on a huge pallet, the M1 Abrams Main Battle Tank was strapped securely with stainless steel straps, its 60 tons ready to be launched out the back of the plane if necessary in a low altitude "push" operation. This maneuver called HSLLADS for High Speed, Low-Level Aerial Drop System was extremely dangerous, as verified by a crash of a C-130 hercules in the summer of 1987 demonstrating before a crowd on Armed Forces day. It was, never-the-less, a favorite of military commanders in dropping men and equipment into an isolated area. The procedure was to blaze into a clearing at 30 feet off the ground, release an extraction parachute, which then pulled the 60 ton tank out the back of the plane. The tank then planted itself in the clearing, its crew emerging from surrounding cover, having been dropped on a previous "airborne" assault.
In the case of the Ready Deployment Forces - RDF - and Delta Force, the C-5 was the delivery vehicle, a situation which would both alarm and amaze military analysts. For if for some unknown reason the tank were to hang up within the aircraft, the results would be the violent pitching forward and down of the plane. The result as in the C-130 accident, would be the pancaking of the huge cargo plane into the ground. C-5's didn't bounce well, and her 241,000 pounds of payload would drive her at least thirty feet into the ground. And unlike the C-130 crash, the C-5's wings would never recover from the crushing downward swing, and would empty their 100,000 pounds of aviation fuel around the crash site, undoubtedly igniting in a mammoth 400 foot fireball.
But with her computer assisted flight controls, and the MADAR II fault detection system, the C-5B was the ultra-reliable aircraft the Delta force needed. Aircraft number two, the 7th SF Groups airplane, would haul 75 men and 10 standard 463L pallets, containing ammunition, food, and special anti-terrorist gear including special purpose weapons. Also in their aircraft would be two AH-64 Apache attack helos, and the M1 Abrams Tank. Aircraft number one would carry Team 5 of Delta force, the current leaders in the personel Delta competition, details of which were secret from all but the participants. In any case, they would ride with a M1 Abrams tanks, and 2 HH-60D NightHawk helos with their RDF modifications, and a M2 Armoured Personnel carriers, and another 10 pallets of gear.
Both aircraft would be near their operational payload limits, but then this always seemed to be the case. The pilot and two pair of aircrew of the aircraft were also members of US Special Operations Command, their Twenty Third Air Force patches shouldering opposite the jagged lighting badge of Delta. These men in fact were fully trained Special Forces members, with the "additional" speciality in the C-5B transport systems. The Delta batches were honors bestowed upon the pilots whose lives the men of Delta depended upon. In every deployement these pilots would
have to deliver them in horrible or hastily planned conditions, conditions that usually went well beyond the every day pilots in the military.
And as there mission was to haul Delta Force, they stayed with their "cargo". In their previous mission, these same Air Force crewmen had joined the ground forces that liberted the second medical school contingent in Granada, one of whom received a very serious wound from an eager-to-kill Cuban regular.
The Sergeant now finished off his inspection of the tank. But the Sergeant knew that all this big equipment would most likely lay dormant during the Delta Forces missions. The real important gear was crated and stored on the pallets his men were now loading onto the two C5s.
For here were stored flash grenades, night vision scopes for the Force's shortened M16 Colt Commandos, the Quiet Night eavesdropping gear used to listen to glass windows or through walls, the Heckler-Koch PSG-1 sniper kits including extra barrells and scopes, diving gear for two ten man diving teams, and finally the various pieces of climbing and repelling gear all the men were trained to use.
The Sergeant also knew that there were various types of uniforms packed away in these pallets. In some cases this gear was intended for deception use, the Force's men could drop in and assume the role of most major opponents own elite forces. But naturally some of the uniforms allowed the Force to bolster the ranks of any of the ten allied special forces units such as the British SAS or the German Border Police's, GSG-9.
He concluded his inspection of the gear, and signaled to a young airmen in the C-5's aircrew that the last of the equipment was ready for loading. In another thirty minutes, both C-5s would be ready for their 1700 mile flight where they would be refueled, then sent on the second part of their journey. The Sergeant, like the air crew, the men of Delta, knew not where the planes and passengers were bound yet.
"Your man Colonel Jackson showed up again" said Jennie over the phone, calling from the Pentagon.
"Yeah, got you all hot and bothered, does he?" asked Henry "Buck" Dayton. Jennie had given him excellent tips in the past, but their relationship had always been that of adversaries. Occasionally they swore at each other near the end of their conversations. Today, Buck was determined to avoid that at all costs. After all he was trying to relax.
"Listen here. I don't gotta' call you everytimes sumptin' gets exciting around here. There is lots of men I'd rather talk to than you, ya' know!"
"Alright, Jennie, I'm sorry. Who's Jackson meeting with now?"
"Just some four star General I've seen meeting with the Chiefs before. I think his name is James or Jusdin or sumtin' like that?"
"You mean Jamison, Jennie. Is it General Jamison?"
"That could be him, Honey. You sound excited. Did I do good?"
"Jennie, you're a sweety! This is dynamite. I owe you a big one!"
"Yeah, well too bad you can't deliver, I could use a big one. Just forget who told you, honey. My black ass would be grass if anyone saw my name in print. So long, CLICK"
"Ahh, that was great", thought Buck. Jamison was the Commander of the US Special Operations Command, responsible for integrating the U.S. Army's Special Forces assets into a viable team. If Jackson was meeting with Jamison, then something was up. And Buck knew he had a major story brewing. And he if he kept quiet and lurked around a bit, he had even a bigger story. But he needed to insure his story wouldn't endanger the lifes of friendlies, and he would have to have facts about the operation being mounted. With the events on the West Coast fresh on everyone's mind, he had a good idea what Jackson was up to.
He had been aquainted with the man last year, in fact he hadn't realized it at the time, but Jennie had also given him the first inkling of the man's movements, in very much the same manner as this time.
Fishing through his files on computer, he finally found the research notes he had on Delta Force. The information was sketchy to say the least. He had grabbed up all kinds of commercial works such as ARCO's "Modern Elite Forces", and the many Salamander publications such as "The Modern U.S. War Machine". These works, though only updated occasionally were great for getting an understanding of the units involved in Special Operations throughout the world. It was a chart from the latter which held his interest now. He was looking for the West Coast "connection" for Special Forces.
Wiley, his ever present male secretary, burst in with a print out from the AP machine.
"Somebody hosed down a CPO club on some base called Moffet Naval Air Station. It says here its in Sunnyvale, California."
Buck stared at him for a second, then reached over into his littered stacks of papers, dug around for a minute and came up with a copy of "Air Force Magazine", this one entitled Air Force Almanac, May 1986." Looking through that last pages of the 86 report on the Air Force, he came up with a small entry entitled "Sunnyvale AFS, CA." Just for kicks, Buck searched around some more and came up with the 1988 version of the same report, and after puzzling on the missing name "Sunnyvale AFS" found a new AFB in the bay area, Onizuka AFB listed as " 37 mi. South of San Francisco at Sunnyvale, Ca....renamed for Lt. Col. Ellison S. Onizuka, killed Jan. 28, 1986 in the Space Shuttle Challenger accident."
He tossed the magazine to Wiley saying, "If memory serves, Onizuka AFB, formerly Sunnyvale AFS sits right at the end of Moffet NAS' runway. Right in the heart of Silicon Valley. How much you wanna bet its only yards away from the CPO club at Moffet? I want to be there in the morning, Wiley."
And then he turned away from his assistant and began to plan his strategy for linking up the information he had received in the last ten minutes. Sometimes it was like that, nothing for months, then a rush of overwhelming information. What a business.