Nightwatch

Chapter 1

Sergeant Sam Reed stepped over the fallen oak trunk without breaking his stride. The nine-man Sapper squad that he was following was making the most of the remaining light. They were moving quickly through the forest, in a modified wedge formation, a ten-meter interval between soldiers.

The summer shower that had soaked them earlier in the day had long since passed. A cloudless, powdery-blue sky prevailed in its place, with the remnants of a glorious sunset visible through the tree limbs ahead. The plan was to remain on this westerly azimuth until they reached Penns Pond, where they’d turn north toward the ridge separating Hurd Hollow and Roubidoux Creek.

This was where their objective was located — an illegal-weapons cache, controlled by the outlaw Ozark People’s Militia, that they intended to neutralize by force, if necessary.

The men of Sapper One were already running well behind schedule, and Reed was somewhat annoyed when, from the center of the wedge, the Patrol Leader raised his open palm overhead signaling the squad to a halt. A slap on the cargo pocket of his Battle Dress Utilities indicated that he was calling for a map check.

As the PL quietly conferred with the squad’s compass and pace men. Reed reached for the plastic tube that extended from his ruck and took a sip of the cool water stored in a Camelbak bladder. The humidity was fierce, and with his own BDUs long since soaked, Reed knew it was essential for the soldiers in his charge to drink plenty of fluids. With rucksacks weighing over seventy pounds, and the additional burden of their weapons and a full load of ammunition, the danger of heat stroke had to be taken seriously.

Reed watched the rifleman standing directly in front of him take a drink from his canteen, and looked on as the PL stood erect, swung his arm overhead from rear to front, and pointed toward the sunset. A bare second later, the men of Sapper One were on the move once again.

The fiery hues that had previously painted the horizon had faded by the time they reached Penns Pond. They changed azimuth here, and with the ever-gathering dusk, their pace further quickened. The forest was thick, and because of their desire to travel well away from any established trail, the going was difficult.

Razor-sharp brambles tore at Reed’s jungle boots and the rip-stop cloth of his camouflaged BDU pants. As they began their way up a steep incline, the rocky soil offered little in the way of secure footing, and Reed found himself ducking and bobbing to escape the arched oak saplings. Ever thankful for his protective eye wear he accepted a hand signal from the soldier in front to tighten their formation.

Upon attaining the slope’s summit, the men could see a crescent moon dominating the western sky. They hurriedly climbed off the ridgeline, preferring instead to travel by way of the sloping gradient that graced its far side. It was getting increasingly hard to see, and when they continued down into the hollow. Reed toyed with the idea of deploying his Night Vision Goggles.

It was shortly after an oak limb slapped Reed hard against his cheek, driving home how frustrated he was getting with this march, that the PL signaled for a listening halt. He did so by removing his BDU cap and waving it overhead. The squad removed their own caps, took up security positions, and knelt, their knees protected by pads designed to cushion the weight of their rucksacks.

Reed joined them. The purpose of this halt was to remain absolutely silent and absorb the sights and sounds of their new surroundings. They were finally closing in on their objective, and now was the time to find out if they were being followed, or if they had any unwanted onlookers nearby.

Sam Reed was no stranger to the sounds of the forest at night.

He’d grown up in the hills of Tennessee, in a hollow much like the one they currently traveled. The cicadas called to him like old friends, their throbbing chorus welcome and most familiar.

When a barn owl began hooting mournfully in the distance. Reed found himself thinking about those first hunting trips with his father and his decision to enlist in the Army on the eve of his eighteenth birthday. The military had been his entire life ever since, with the Combat Engineers his adopted family of choice.

The first visible stars penetrated the forest. A warm gust of wind caused the limbs to sway in unison, the creaking boughs seemingly moaning in protest. His night vision sharpening. Reed scanned the wood line in the direction they would be headed.

The Objective Rally Point that the squad had picked lay at the bottom of the next ridge. From there, the militia cache was less than a kilometer distant.

It had taken the better part of the day for Sapper One to plan this operation. The initial warning order arrived at daybreak, along with the morning rains. Over soggy Meals Ready to Eat, the squad created the detailed Operations Order that would ensure their mission’s success. This long, complex briefing included the creation of a terrain model, molded from the wet Missouri soil and given additional detail with colored chalk, strands of yarn, and toy soldiers.

By the time the OPORD was completed, every soldier knew exactly how the unit would accomplish its mission from start to finish. The details included the actual order of movement, actions at halts, the precise route, location of rally points, actions at danger areas, response to enemy contact, fire control measures, priority intelligence requirements, and rules of engagement. Each soldier was given a thorough list of the specialized equipment he would be responsible for carrying. In case of a casualty, it was imperative that items such as demolitions, claymores, spare barrels, or star-cluster flares be accounted for. Code words were also distributed, along with radio frequencies for the Radio Telephone Operators, and the proper arm and hand signals. Though time consuming by its very nature, a proper OPORD could mean the difference between life and death on the battlefield, and Reed emphasized this fact each time a point was skipped over or improperly covered.

The mission had gone off without a hitch so far. The proper azimuths were being followed, the pace count was accurate, and their objective nearby. The only problem was the late start of their movement. Because of Sapper One’s tardiness in the delivery of their OPORD, the raid would have to be set up without the benefit of the last light of dusk.

A buzzing mosquito announced the arrival of the night. Reed swatted at the insect as it passed by his ear. He reached for his water tube, and could just see the PL stand, extend his arm overhead, point forward, and rotate it in a counterclockwise direction.

This caused the squad to rise in unison, line up in a single-file formation, and continue down into Hurd Hollow, where their Objective Rally Point would be located.

Reed was last in line. From this position, he could clearly see the two rectangular, luminescent “cat-eye” strips sewn into the BDU cap of the Sapper in front of him. The file formation was used when terrain or limited visibility precluded the use of the more tactically flexible wedge. Like a single entity, they snaked their way down the sloping gradient.

Even with the file, it took Reed’s full concentration to keep from colliding with a projecting limb or tripping over an exposed root. Night vision was an applied skill. Instead of looking directly at a faintly visible object, one learned to slowly scan it. Yet another technique was off-center viewing, looking ten degrees above, below, or to either side of an object.

By the time they reached the hollow’s bottom. Reed’s eyes were fully adapted to the dark. This coincided with their arrival at the Objective Rally Point. The ORP was intentionally located out of sight, sound, and small-arms range of the objective. It would provide a temporary base of operations, and the men gratefully slipped off their rucksacks and initiated final preparations for the raid.

Reed removed his own ruck, and watched as the PL positioned his security team. Once this was achieved, the PL assembled the squad’s Recon and Surveillance unit. A flashlight with a red lens was used to doublecheck their position on a folded map, and before leaving to reconnoiter the objective with his R&S team, the PL delegated responsibility for the ORP to the Assistant Patrol Leader.

“Red Dog One, this is Red Dog Two, over,” whispered the RTO into the handset of his radio.

“Red Dog Two, this is Red Dog One, over,” replied the gruff voice of the soldier occupying the Tactical Operations Center back at Sapper base camp.

“Red Dog One, be informed that Red Dog Two has reached its Objective Rally Point at coordinates Whiskey Mike six-seven-six-five, six-seven-eight-zero, and is preparing to move on objective, over.”

“Red Dog Two, this is Red Dog One. Roger, out.”

With the conclusion of this brief exchange, silence returned to the ORP. Reed watched a pair of Sappers cache the rucksacks with straps up for quick recovery. Yet another pair of soldiers began preparing demolitions, while the APL went to work crafting Enemy Prisoner of War bindings.

A sudden rustling sound prompted Reed to turn around in time to see a tall, BDUclad figure break free from the surrounding underbrush.

“Hey, Reed,” greeted First Sergeant Louis Stewart in a hoarse whisper.

“Are you carryin’ long cut or mint?”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting particular in your old age,” Reed answered, pulling out a tin of Kodiak chewing tobacco from his top pocket and handing it to the fifteen-year veteran. Stewart was a fellow observer, who began his career as a tank driver. An incessant moocher, Stewart rarely reciprocated, though Reed could forgive him because of his rotten luck in cards.

“This humidity’s a bitch,” said Stewart as he tucked a pinch of tobacco behind his lower lip.

“The twins are up in Rolla playin’ ball tonight, and I sure hope they’re pouring down plenty of Gatorade.”

“How about getting TOC on the horn and setting up an extra water rendezvous right after the raid?” Reed offered while pulling out his NVGs.

“Our Sappers are going to be awfully thirsty after expending all that ordnance.”

Stewart took a sip from his canteen and checked the luminescent dial of his wristwatch.

“Looks like it’s going to be another late one. This group’s slower than a pig in molasses.”

“At least they’re thorough and following the handbook,” returned Reed.

“Besides, what else do you expect from mechanized?”

Stewart grinned.

“Sappers might lead the way, but tankers do it in style.”

“Let’s just make certain that Sapper One doesn’t get too comfortable in this ORP,” Reed advised.

Stewart spat out a torrent of tobacco juice.

“Why don’t I check the perimeter and see if we’ve got us any sleepers? See yaup at the raid site, good buddy.”

With Stewart’s exit. Reed wiped the sweat off his forehead and slipped on his NVGs. The AN/PVS-7D binocular goggles utilized a single passive third-generation image intensifier tube, and when he switched them on, the entire forest was illuminated in a greenish-yellow hue, compliments of amplified starlight. Individual trees and clumps of shrubbery were clearly visible, and as Reed scanned the ORP, he noted the positions of each of the Sappers.

The APL could be seen huddled beside his RTO. Behind them, their automatic rifleman was attending to his M60 machine gun.

The squad had only just received a pair of M249 Squad Automatic Weapons. The SAW was designed to replace the venerable M60 in certain units. Both weapons delivered devastating firepower and could engage targets up to eight hundred meters.

Reed watched Sergeant Stewart make his rounds of the security perimeter. The Sappers there were armed with a variety of M16A2 rifles and M4 carbines with M203 grenade launchers, hopefully providing more than enough firepower for the job at hand.

The snap of a tree limb caused Reed to turn in the direction of their objective. He readily spotted the R&S team headed back to the ORP. It took his eyes less than two minutes to regain full dark adaptation upon removing his NVGs, and Reed joined the newly returned PL beside his ruck.

The results of the recon were most promising. As expected, the militia outpost was located on the adjoining ridge. A trio of armed individuals was spotted there, dressed in tiger-striped fatigues and huddled around a small campfire. A pickup truck was parked nearby, with an assortment of wooden crates stacked in its bed. Ever fearful that the weapons cache was about to be moved, the PL ordered his squad to strike with all due haste.

Sapper One moved out in a file formation, wearing Kevlar helmets and weapons locked and loaded. Their climb was a short one. The flickering campfire highlighted the objective like a klieg light, and Reed accompanied the three-man support element, whose automatic weapons were responsible for securing the right flank.

They had decided on a linear ambush. It would be a relatively basic assault, with the support element initially attacking the campsite with a volley of machine-gun fire. The assault team would then open fire from the left flank. After the PL signaled the support element to lift or shift fire, the assault team would charge across the kill zone to destroy the remainder of the enemy.

Reed watched his Sappers take cover behind a rocky berm.

Once they were in position, a red chemlite was activated to inform the assault team that they were ready to rumble. The assault element answered in kind, and Reed inserted a pair of foam earplugs. No sooner were they in place than a green star cluster flare arced upward into the star-filled heavens, silhouetting their objective in a pulsating emerald glow. And it was then that all hell broke out.

The support team’s machine guns raked the objective with a deafening barrage that delivered a continuous outburst of fire for a full forty-five seconds. The ambush must have caught the enemy by complete surprise; Reed spotted just a single muzzle flash from the direction of the campfire. This feeble response was all too brief, and by the time a red star cluster signaled the support team to lift fire, no enemy activity was noticeable.

An exploding smoke grenade veiled the assault team’s charge across the kill zone. Reed left the support team behind at this point and headed for the objective himself.

He arrived beside the campfire just as the PL was calling for an Ammunition Casualty/ Report. Through the thick white smoke. Reed spotted the bodies of two militiamen lying on their stomachs on the far side of the fire. Neither one of them was moving. Apparently they never had the chance to put their rifles into play.

He supposed that the sole muzzle flash had originated from the corpse in front of the truck. It too was sprawled out on its stomach, an M4 carbine close by.

Once the team had determined that there were no friendly casualties,

the PL called out the EPW search team. All three of the enemy were labeled definite kills, and Reed watched a pair of Sappers prepare to search the body of the militiaman lying beside the truck.

While one of the Sappers stood guard at the enemy’s head, his buddy kicked aside the M4 and knelt to roll the body over.

Reed noted the way in which he lay prone on the enemy’s back before proceeding. This technique was used to shield the Sapper should a grenade booby trap be encountered.

He reached around and grasped the militiaman’s lapels, but without waiting for his co-worker to give him the go-ahead, as he should have, the prone Sapper rolled the body over. And there, to the standing Sapper’s horror, was a single grenade.

Before the Sapper could brace himself or even curse, the fallen militiaman’s eyes suddenly snapped open and he deadpanned, “Boom!”

“Damn it. Sapper, you just went and killed your buddy!”

exclaimed Reed. For in reality, the militiaman was only playacting, and he couldn’t help but smile as Reed then read his trainees the riot act.

“There’s no use going to all that trouble if you fail to get your Sapper buddy to step aside.

“Cause where he was standing, that grenade would have cut him in half!”

Reed pulled a flare gun from his Load Bearing Equipment harness, pointed the blunt muzzle skyward, and launched a white star cluster. It activated with a loud pop, its dazzling light now illuminating the objective like a newly risen sun.

“Listen up. Sappers!” Reed proclaimed.

“We just had our first friendly casualty over here, and all because of a soldier’s carelessness.

I realize that all of you are tired and hungry. But this isn’t the time to go and get sloppy. You did a great job to this point. EPW search teams, mind your technique! And, PL, how about getting your Demo team in place? We’re already running late, and I want that cache blown and us off this ridge and on our way to the Roubidoux within the next thirty minutes!”

The flare faded, along with Reed’s anger. He removed a flashlight from his THE and illuminated the body of the fallen militiaman.

“Nice job, OPFOR,” said Reed.

“Sorry we had to keep you out here so late.”

The fallen militiaman, who was a corporal assigned to Leonard Wood’s Military Police detachment, stiffly got to his knees and stood.

“Not to worry. First Sergeant. Next time you’ve got to let me and my boys try a little flanking action.”

Sergeant Stewart emerged from the trees, his own flashlight in hand, and addressed the MP.

“Hey, Corporal, you carryin’ any long cut?”

“My old lady made me give up the habit, Sarge. Care for any M&M’s?”

Stewart grimaced and looked to his fellow Sapper instructor for salvation. Without a word spoken. Reed tossed Stewart his can of Kodiak, while the voice of the PL boomed out behind them.

“Demo team’s up!”

The plan was to detonate a five-pound block of C-4 to simulate the destruction of the weapons cache. Since blowing things up was one of the things that every combat engineer did best, Reed was content to let Louis Stewart grade their efforts. He watched while the three members of the OPFOR began extinguishing the campfire, and pulled out his two-way to contact operations. Yet before he could activate it, his attention was drawn to the woods, where five heavily camouflaged men were in the process of emerging from the tree line. Each of these armed individuals wore ghillie suits, specially designed fatigues covered with strips of brown and green cloth and favored by snipers.

Reed’s first confused thought was. Who ordered the additional OPFOR? But if that were the case, why would two of them be sporting long ponytails, with an associate bedecked in a full beard?

For the first time since being assigned as a Sapper Leader course instructor, Sam Reed wished he had a weapon with real bullets in it.