Dinka Village Firefight

From Hell and Gone, Chapter 17

If you didn’t know it, I stumbled into the book biz writing military thrillers. My debut novel, Hell and Gone, was written as a stand-alone, but it picked up some fans who wanted a sequel.

I just read some fellow authors chatting recently about not letting fans talk you into career choices. Well, the characters had legs, so I listened to the fans and wound up writing a trilogy. Each of the novels became #1 Amazon bestsellers in multiple categories, so that was one of my few savvy decisions early in my author career.

The entire Retreads Series and Paradox Series are discounted to 99 cents (E-Books) for the Based Book Sale (September 4-11).

Here is the intro to one of the action scenes. The “Retreads” have only recently met and Dwight “Rocco” Cavarra is still trying to train and organize them for a raid on a terrorist encampment. But their presence in the Sudan is discovered early and they are caught flat-footed by a surprise attack.

Enjoy!

(At a double-time.)

Well, up jumped the grunt from a paddy of rice

Was a cold mamma-jamma you could tell by his eyes.

Had a Grease Gun, Ka-Bar by his side

Those were the tools that he lived by...

THE RIFLE RANGE

Scarred Wolf was pleased with his work on the M203s. They functioned perfectly without interfering in the handling of the rifles, and his welds held up through the launching of grenades. The only drawback was that the built-in bipods had to be reversed so that they folded forward past the muzzle rather than back to sink flush into the foregrip.

He was impressed with the Dover Devil machinegun, too. Scarred Wolf had fired the M85 and M2 Browning, but had only heard of the Dover Devil from the gung-ho old-timers. It had never graduated from the prototype stage, though tested extensively in the early eighties and found to be an awesome weapon. That Cavarra knew enough to request one was almost more impressive than its successful procurement.

The Devil was lightweight for a large-bore belt-fed weapon (forty-five pounds lighter than the M2) and beautifully efficient in design. The headspace and timing were fixed, so neither a gauge, nor a man qualified to use one, were necessary. The barrels interchanged simply, and best of all, the dual-feed mechanism meant the gunner could keep firing with a belt on one side while the assistant loaded the next belt from the other. Zero reloading time. High speed, low drag.

When finished at the range, every weapon was locked and cleared and Pappadakis did a quick safety check. Then they saddled up and headed back for the village in a grabasstic gaggle. There was some smoking and joking, but not as much as there might have been among men who knew each other better.

When Scarred Wolf stopped in his tracks, the others froze, following the line of his eyes with their own, as if some unseen orchestra had begun playing suspenseful music, signaling imminent danger.

Heading toward the village from the north was a fast-moving Jeep.

"Is that Mugabe?" Asked Zeke.

"It's that Limp-Richard from the CIA," Mai said.

"Mugabe is the CIA guy," Fava-Vargas said.

McCallum reached behind himself to wriggle a hand into his buttpack. He extracted a small pair of rubber-armored binoculars, held them up to his eyes and brought them to focus. "That's a green Jeep," he said. "Mugabe drives a black S.U.V. with waterboo horns."

The Jeep slowed to walking speed just inside the village. A black man jumped out of the passenger door and hit the ground running toward the church. He was carrying...a case of beer...? The Jeep accelerated, blazing through the village, out the other side and off into the horizon. The view of the running man was obscured by the buildings of the village.

Villagers, young and old, burst from their huts and ran for the river like lemmings in overdrive.

Now Scarred Wolf pointed to a growing tsunami of dust on the horizon.

"What the...?" Zeke muttered.

"Now that can't be good," McCallum said.

Bojado locked-and-loaded.

Mai whirled on him. "You best re-clear that rifle, marine," he said, with a few expletives thrown in for emphasis. "Nobody told you to lock-and-load."

"Everybody lock-and-load," Zeke said.

Actions slammed home in a metallic cacophony. It would have been a humiliating moment for Mai, but things were happening too fast for embarrassment.

McCallum surged forward, range-walking for the village. Zeke did likewise, and the rest followed. Without a word being spoken, the men fell into a wedge formation, McCallum on point, five-to-ten meters between each man.

Scarred Wolf set down the machinegun, slung the Galil around his back and called to Bojado, "Give me that ammo can."

Bojado trotted over and dropped the heavy can. Scarred Wolf knelt, popped the lid open, pulled the first few links of the belt out and loaded the machinegun.

Zeke, unaware of this activity behind him, pumped his fist up-and-down twice in the signal for "double-time." Maintaining the wedge formation, the men ran toward the village.

"Want me to get the tripod?" Bojado offered.

Scarred Wolf started to disconnect the tripod from the gun, then stopped and shook his head. The gun would be almost useless without it--which meant he and Bojado couldn't be separated. He'd never worked with Bojado and wasn't positive they could stay together in the impending action.

Bojado shrugged and sprinted to catch up with the others.

***

Major Hasan's column bore down hard on the village. His radio squawked. This time the call was from the halftrack.

"Major, I see men with rifles at the edge of the village. They are running toward the church."

"How many?"

"Four...five...yes, five."

"Pincers!" Hasan ordered. "You may fire at will."

The heavy machinegun atop the halftrack opened up. The long burst demolished some villager's erstwhile home.

***

At the first explosion of gunfire, McCallum dove to the ground. The others were only a split second behind him

"Hit the dirt!" Mai yelled.

A mud-and-tin shanty at the edge of the village shook violently as large-bore MG bullets tore through it. The whole structure disintegrated in a shower of clods and dust.

McCallum stuffed his binoculars inside his shirt and plucked a smoke grenade from his vest. He assessed the direction and speed of the breeze while working the pin loose. He let the spoon fly and tossed it a short distance away.

Hasan's gunjeep and one APC swung around to skirt the west edge of the village while the other armored car split off with the halftrack to skirt the east edge. One cattletruck followed each element. The gunner on the halftrack was thrown off-balance by the force of the turn and his bucking machinegun sent a heavy stream of lead skyward.

DINKA VILLAGE NORTH

Cavarra glanced around quickly. The best thing to do would be jump in the trucks and unass the area, but the gear wasn't loaded and his force was split. They'd have to fight it out. "Grab your trash!"

Lombardi, DeChalk, Terrell and Cavarra ran inside the church.

"Let's get outside!" Cavarra said, pulling on his web gear. They wouldn't suffer the same fate as the previous occupants of the church, if he could help it.

DeChalk spun in circles, a panicked expression on his face. "Where's my ammo? I had nine loaded mags!"

Cavarra glanced around. "There's ammo down below. While you're down there, grab some LAWs. And move with a purpose!" Cavarra followed Lombardi back outside.

Terrell found his magazines, but his rifle was missing. He raced DeChalk down to the basement. Both men cursed inventively on the way.

***

Campbell slung the M21 over his back and scurried up the ladder. As he hoisted himself atop the roof, Cole looked back toward him with a lost expression.

"What's our orders?" Cole asked.

"It's opfor," Campbell said. "Engage targets of opportunity...I guess."

There was no shortage of targets. Cole turned back around and put his cheek to the stock, released the safety and centered his crosshairs on the driver of the cattletruck. He squeezed the trigger. The M21 bucked in his grip.

The cattletruck windshield spiderwebbed around a small, neat puncture and the driver spasmed in his seat. The cattletruck creaked to a stop some hundred meters from the edge of the village.

Campbell pulled the ladder up after him and laid it on the roof.

Cole fired again and a front tire on the APC flattened. It swerved and almost hit the gunjeep. This threw off the aim of the gunner on the armored car's recoilless rifle (a mounted single-tube rocket launcher). His rocket missed the church and hit the building just beyond.

The jeep gunner opened up toward the church. Campbell unslung his rifle and dove to a prone firing position a few meters from Cole.

Cole fired again and the man at the recoilless rifle was twisted in his station as if struck by a wrecking ball.

The gunjeep swung into the village, between a row of buildings. The gunner had placed Cole's rifle report and adjusted fire. Heavy slugs slammed into the church just below the roofline, gouging out chunks of the wall.

Shards of brick pelted Campbell in his forward hand but he tried to ignore it as he tickled his trigger.

Crack!

The gunner's head split open as his now-limp body did a backwards somersault off the speeding jeep. The gunjeep was about to disappear behind a building when Campbell and Cole fired simultaneously. The driver took one round in the chest and one in the face. The jeep swerved wildly and tipped over.

***

Siyr found cover on the concrete steps leading down from the rear of the church. He readied his rifle, sighted down between two buildings into the swarm of troops unloading the cattletruck, and opened fire.

Lombardi charged around the corner, heard the whine and snap of bullets splitting the air around him, skidded to a stop, fell on his butt and scrambled backwards for cover. He rolled to the prone position, sighted around the edge of the steps and fired.