2300 HOURS.
TUESDAY, 14 AUGUST 2112.
PESHAWAR, PAKISTAN.
In the dead of night, the stary skies were concealed by the bright lights of the city of Peshawar. Planes flew above the grand city. Streaks of light cut though the darkness and illuminated the areas they originated from. Twelve men stood separated. In groups of six did they finally halt in the place they stood, a section of city that had been completely cut off from the power grid, thus, the immediate area was painted in shadows. Not far away five streaks of light emerged from the ground and raced towards the sky in an arc. It wasn’t long before the lights flew straight and disappeared amongst the heavy, dark clouds hanging above.
“We’ve got more rockets going over the city. Recommend immediate recircle at point one-one-six.”
Kneeling in shadow, Mike looked towards Andrew. He had just alerted 1st squadron over TEAMCOM. What they were currently communicating was the possibility of rendezvousing in another two to three city blocks. Resistance when initially entering the city was fierce, and the Marines were currently occupied with securing their respective exits alongside several platoons from the 1st Infantry Division.
“Head to point one-one-five. We need to be there in two hours.” Captain Oliver’s voice was crystal clear over the distant claps of gunfire and the thunderous booms of explosions.
“And the rockets?”
“Leave them to the demolitions teams assigned to them.”
“Rog. On the move.”
Without another word said by the lieutenant, the six men rose from the ground and continued their way down the decrepit, abandoned streets that littered Peshawar. Mike was second in line, just behind PFC Simon. He kept his rifle in the low ready as he scanned each alleyway and narrow pathway through the green tint of his night-vision goggles.
Stepping over pieces of rubble, his boots crunched against the dirtied sidewalk. He adjusted course and chose a way to walk that would create the least amount of noise; the others did much the same, choosing to find ways to walk only making a minimal amount of noise. Their gear was set tight against their bodies so that no noise would come from any loose object, and their weapons were held in place either by their hands or the firmly strapped-on single- and two-point slings.
Mission directives would dictate that they had to be nothing more than the Ghosts of Peshawar. That alone made an unsettling feeling sweep over the sergeant’s body as they closed in on the next intersection where they would rendezvous with Captain Oliver and his fireteam.
As the six approached the intersection, a flashlight beamed and then cut out several times. It was morse code for the word, friend, and it was no doubt that one of the men in Thompson’s fireteam was sending it. Andrew reached for his radio, “3-1, Baker, is that you sending the word friend in morse code?”
“You caught me. Yeah, we’re over here, pardon the light.” A Combat Controller (CCT), Technical Sergeant William Baker, spoke in a pippy voice, “Your captain wanted me to do it to ensure that if you guys were hostile, you’d at least be blinded.”
Devlin let out a light chuckle as he grasped his radio, “Crossing now, cover us. Green, Simon, cover the sides.”
With the two privates stepping forward and shouldering their weapons, Mike led the way as the lieutenant fell behind him with the two other Rangers, Richard, and Cage. On the opposite side, Thompson waited behind a burnt, destroyed car as he stared at a small map displayed on his wrist GPS. He didn’t look up until Devlin knelt beside him and his men had taken up a small security perimeter around the occupied area away from any prying eyes.
“Lot of burnt vehicles out here, captain. Briefing told us there had been fighting in the area, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” The lieutenant commented as he stared at a nearby group of dead Pakistani soldiers next to their charred armored truck.
“No doubt armed enemies are nearby. Patrols could be nearby, but if this is one of the sectors the FMPP has ‘liberated’, I would’ve imagined that there would be some sort of headquarters that one of our drones would’ve been able to spot. A lot of dead Pakistanis are around as well, and I doubt that any mere force could take them out considering they’re fighting within their home country. Probably looking at a fireteam or so that have been running around conducting hit missions against officers and informants.” Thompson withheld his sketchy information regarding the possible sighting of unknown gunships and helicopters within the area of operations airspace.
“We should get moving then, captain. Don’t want to come across one of those groups.”
“Yeah, Malkovich, you got point. Specialist Xavier, fall in behind us. Get me two staggered files.”
“Rog.” The two men said quietly.
In the late hours of the night, the men gathered in their respective formations and stalked throughout the darkened streets. All around they set sights on looted stores, destroyed vehicles, and burnt buildings. The city was filled with death, and here they were carving a path to add yet another body to the mass grave. The Rangers didn’t know it yet, but similar “dark zones” were designated by SOCOM and JSOC, and operators from all branches moved to secure alpha-grade assets that were held within.
Pausing several times amongst their time walking the streets towards their primary objective, helicopters of unknown origin passed by at random intervals. Technical Sergeant Baker had no answer for the men as he explained that any flights being made tonight were not in Peshawar and instead the cities of Lahore, Quetta, and Sibi. During the most recent pass, the men had taken cover within a small garage.
“I wouldn’t stick your head outside. They may not be looking for us, but they will spot us.” Mike raised his head as he listened to the words of Baker. The technical sergeant waved for everyone to move away from the quarter-open garage door. The Rangers followed the man’s directions, but not without some snarky comments that came from Richard and Xavier.
Mike tightened his hand around the M-5’s pistol grip and he traced the trigger guard. The noise from the helicopter echoed in the streets and boldly presented itself through its turboshaft engines. He sat in the pitch-black darkness, waiting. Every fiber of his body fought to raise the carbine towards the metal door and anticipate a team of hunters to breach. His training kicked in and cooled his mind, but not his body, thus, he was stuck in a frozen state where the barrel of his weapon was slightly raised and pointed towards the unseen enemy.
“You son of a bitch, leave,” Mike said under his breath.
“Sergeant?” Andrew arched an eyebrow.
“Sarge, relax.” Jacob said gaining an elbow in his shoulder from Simon.
“Not much you can do out here, I know,” Mike admitted. “We all know it; our resources are stretched thin right now. Not many mechanized units, not artillery batteries, nor any helicopters will be able to provide much support now that were stuck in the middle of the city. I’m just surprised that the FMPP has grown enough and gathered weapons to send the Pakistani’s running and our boys to hell.”
“Our opposition? Something you know, Sarge?” Jacob inquired.
“It’s you couldn’t read in any of the early skirmish reports that were available to us. We’re talking terrorists running around with plate carriers, night vision, anti-air, and heavy weaponry that might even include tanks and armored vehicles.”
“That explains the thermals and smoke grenades, but tanks?”
“Hey that’s enough.” Captain Oliver ordered as he spoke clearly, the claps of the rotor blades were long gone, “We can cut through this building and get to our target destination, Mike, on point.”
Nodding his head and groaning as he stood on his feet, Mike was the first to move through the building with his weapon raised. The men behind him fanned out and searched the relatively small car shop they had just found themselves in, no thanks to the helicopter. It’s too quiet. Mike thought to himself as he reached an external doorway that would lead to the fourteen-story apartment building he and the others were directed to move to. Opening the door with his fellow riflemen on his back, the sergeant stepped into the desolate and silent streets under the cover of night, the moon illuminating the distant burning buildings that still held firefights within between Pakistani troops and FMPP separatists.
Though with the advancements in technology, some of the darker areas throughout Peshawar were hidden by the field of view and light exposure that their goggles provided. Approaching the side entrance to a main foyer at the building, Thompson moved alongside his fireteam as he said a single order, “Clear the main foyer.” He said as he fell behind Specialist Xavier.
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Fanning out and entering the building, the men moved in an orderly fashion as rifles were pointed at every corner, hidden and seen. They had run through simulations built by virtual reality and augmented reality, the Pakistani government was kind enough to provide building plans to many of the major targets throughout the major cities, something that HIGHCOM and other high-end officers appreciated as it made the job of planning missions much more streamlined.
“Clear. Moving to emergency staircase.” Richard spoke softly as he closed in on the door with Mike and Green.
“Check the alarm.” Lieutenant Devlin ordered as Thompson and his men regrouped.
Stepping aside and letting Green reach the alarm just at the top of the doorframe, Richard and the rest waited anxiously as the tech wiz of the squadron did his magic and inspected the wire and motherboard of the security device.
“Fuck. Someone already cut it.” Jacob sharply whispered as he stood aside and allowed Mike to grab a hand on the door.
“That’s worrisome.” Malkovich grumbled as he stood ready.
“Up, go up.” Andrew quipped.
Opening the door, Private Jackson was the first to go up the narrow staircase. In any normal situation this was frowned upon, but the time for dramatic entrances was long off the table and was left to the spirit and ability of the Rangers to undertake their job and complete it without alerting the primary target. All others were fair game; thus, they would blow up the side of the building if a chance presented itself.
The building they were in was nothing more than a mere construction site. Only for the first eight floors did the Rangers have to tiredly clear each room, but beyond that the floors were barren with nothing in the way to stop their search. In a span of forty minutes did they clear each floor and reach the thirteenth floor which was to be used for their reconnaissance and cordoning mission. Entering what was to be a luxury apartment, Mike and the other eleven spread out and began to check every corner looking for places to set their gear. Tools were strung about the construction site, and building supplies were left around due to the project being abandoned during the initial hours of the mass hysteria that broke out thanks to protests and armed conflicts being widespread in Peshawar.
Clearing his designated area, Mike stood alone to the side of the large apartment. He let his rifle hang by it sling as he turned to look out the large window frames that were supposed to hold the glass panes. Behind him, Sergeant Malkovich let Conner set up his equipment as he walked over. “You should get some sleep Randall. Team two will take first watch for the night.”
A small smile crossed Mike’s lips as he turned off his goggles and turned towards the clean-shaven African American that had just spoke to him. “You sure?” He asked making sure he didn’t need to oversee Specialist Xavier and Green as they got to work deploying the drones that they were to work with alongside other observation devices.
A shallow thunder came from the other side of the city making the men look at the smoke pillar emerging from a high-rise building.
“I said what I said.” Malkovich coughed as he patted Mike on the shoulder, “I know more about the techno-lingo than you do anyways. Captain said you look like shit too.”
Watching Malkovich wander off, Mike let out a sigh as he moved away from the windows and walked towards the staircase where no one was. He removed his assault pack and placed it on the ground next to him as he took a seat against the hard wall. He opted to sleep here as his mind drifted off to God knows where. As he thought of the last of his family, he embraced the darkness as he fell into sleep within seven seconds.
0657 HOURS.
WEDNESDAY, 15 AUGUST 2112.
“That’s to the southwest, correct?”
Awakening to an echoey voice, Mike awakened in the same stairwell he had fallen asleep in three times over the past seven hours. He had been on watch two times. As he stood up and shouldered his assault pack, he walked into the main lounge room with the morning sun shining upon the burnt city of Peshawar. Smoke in the distance billowed from several buildings, and the morning air strikes on hard targets were soon to be carried out by the air force.
“Yeah. Five of them approaching the coffee shop.”
Hearing Lieutenant Devlin’s voice, Mike slowly stepped towards the group of four men overlooking the target building. Captain Oliver looked behind him nodded and mouthed the words, “You awake?”, in which he gained a subtle nod from the sergeant who removed his pair of binoculars and removed his goggles. The men on observation, Thompson, Devlin, Green, and Xavier, had the previous hours of the night finally catch up to them as the sowed minor symptoms of fatigue. Corporal Ramirez no doubt reminded them of their health, but his words would only go so far as long as the mission was still in motion.
“Someone want to tell me why we are watching these five? I swear we’ve seen other insurgents in the area.” Xavier voice his complaint as he did another sweep with his drone high in the sky.
“From what I understand these five were responsible for the weapons that were used in the Los Angeles attack,” Oliver began, “DIA and FBI had their eyes on these guys while they were in Mexico and Cuba, but beyond that I can’t say anything more as I don’t know the specifics.”
“So, smugglers?” Mike chuckled, “I guess dealing with them now would be more convenient than getting involved with Mexico and Cuba. Wouldn’t want to get caught in that mess.”
The captain smirked, “You might be right.”
“Cap got eyes on the strike team. Two little-birds and a Blackhawk.”
Oliver activated his radio as he responded to Conner, “Rog. Malkovich, Richard, get into position on the stairwell. Baker, get set over here in case we need to lay down some support fire. I want all guns pointed in every direction.”
Stepping from where they were along the edge of the windows, the men swiftly moved into their positions, with the remaining Rangers packing their observation gear that had been in use for the last seven hours. Mike remained in place and in silence. He had packed away his binoculars and placed down his ballistic goggles. With a push of a button the augmented reality HUD was displayed before him as gunshots erupted close by.
Masking the sound of the gunshots, the “claps” of three helicopter rotors closed in rapidly alerting the men that the strike team was closing in on the target building. Turning his head, the sergeant watched as two MH-6LS insertion aircrafts and a single UH-60S medium lift stealth helicopter fly past the apartment building and towards the streets below. The two MH-6LS helicopters landed on the street just outside of the target building, and the Blackhawk hovered nearby as a Pakistani SSG squadron dismounted and pooled out to secure an inner cordon.
In total, sixteen Delta Force operators, including Chief Warrant Officer Eric Briner, moved up and spilt into two groups as one took the second floor and the other took the first floor. One of the men stepped in front of a doorway and placed a plastic C2 charge and the rest prepared to breach the building.
Within seconds a dust cloud emerged from where the explosives were laid, and the thunderous boom followed immediately. The operators stormed into the building and an erratic tempo of gunfire emerged. “Eyes on Brutus! I say again, eyes on Brutus!” The radio chatter of the operators played over the gunfire as HIGHCOM pushed the situation and a video feed straight to the Rangers.
“On the left Wilson!”
“Fuck! He’s down!”
“Stay on him!”
Beside him, Specialist Xavier shared the feed of his drone. The five men spotted earlier were hurriedly walking down a street close to the apartment building the Rangers were in. Mike tensed at the video feed as he turned to look at the two Rangers assigned to secure the stairwell and elevator deck. “Captain, the five we spotted just blew past the target building and are heading our way.”
“Direction?”
“Heading south.”
“Are we compromised?” Mike inquired looking towards the specialist’s tablet.
“Overlord, Bravo two-six. We have eyes on five hostiles heading south towards our position, relay to SSG, over.”
A crackle came from the radio, “Acknowledged, relaying to Pakistani forces.”
As the gunfire continued to be exchanged below, Technical Sergeant Baker moved to the side as he surveyed the surrounding area. The helicopters that would be on standby were hovering ten kilometers outside of city limits due to active bombing missions in the area of operations. Along with the missions to level parts of the city, the enemy had been confirmed to be in possession of anti-air weaponry.
“Shit man, how many people are packed inside of that building?” Devlin asked to no one.
“If it’s the big bad honcho, perhaps up to fifteen. All trained guns.” Mike responded gaining a hum in return.
“Jet, move it up! We have wounded!”
“Aye!”
“Bomber! Suicide bomber!”
“What—”
Sending a plume of dust out all the windows and creating a crater in the center of the building below, the explosion tore a hole and sent heavy debris and shrapnel onto the SSG operators below crushing and cutting some to pieces. Gunfire was now exchanged in the street as the remnants of the inner-cordon team found themselves under attack by insurgents that flooded the streets.
“Holy shit.” Simon whispered.
“Everyone, pack your gear! Get prepped to move!” Thompson bellowed as he stood up and turned towards the stairwell. As his squadron moved to pack the rest of their gear, he grasped his radio, “Grimm one-two, Bravo two-six. What’s your status?” He received no response. “All Grimm units give me a sitrep, over!”
Cussing to himself, Thompson moved to his next option, “Overlord, Bravo two-six. Grimm is out of action and we’re moving down to assist friendlies!”
His frustration grew as he kicked the ground realizing that both Grimm platoon and HIGHCOM had not answered him. He repeated his messages over-and-over trying to get someone to answer, and eventually his attention as drawn to Technical Sergeant Baker who was frantically swiping and typing on his tablet that was supposed to be connected to the entire Air Operations Command (AIROPCOM).
“Technical Sergeant!” He barked.
“Fuck! Fuck! I can’t get a line to any aircraft!” Baker cussed as he put away his tablet.
“They just fry our communications?” Sergeant Malkovich asked making everyone in the room freeze.
“An EMP?” Devlin followed up with a pale look on his face.
“Fuck! Get down the stairs, check your gear on the decent!”
Mike led the decent down the staircase, the rest of the men flooded the staircase behind him. He narrowed his eyes as he looked through his working holographic display in the medium-ranged scope sitting atop his M-5.
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Publicly Available Information: Intelligence Brief 3 — Combat Controllers, the all-seeing eye:
The United States Air Force is the largest air force in the world, and when a combat zone is thick with air traffic, someone has to coordinate it all. Air force combat controllers (CCT) operate in hostile territory as air traffic controllers, and that means they need to insert unnoticed, coordinate local aerial forces and be ready for potential contact with enemy combatants.
According to the Air Force Special Operations Command website, "Combat Controllers are trained special operations forces and certified FAA air traffic controllers. Their mission is to deploy, undetected, into combat and hostile environments to establish assault zones or airfields, while simultaneously conducting air traffic control, fire support, command and control, direct action, counterterrorism, foreign internal defense, humanitarian assistance and special reconnaissance."
Military.com. (n.d.). Special Operations: Air Force Combat Controllers.Military.com. https://www.military.com/special-operations/air-force-combatcontrollers.html