A Warrior's Word

By Ronald Blake

A rigorous past and love/hate feelings towards his old, danger- and fear-filled life make John Boss glad that he’s retired from the military. He spends his days in Crystal Springs, Fla. teaching students how to dive in open water and the dark caves off the Gulf Coast, and all is right with his world ... until the military comes calling again, putting the 50-year-old veteran back in the thick of the battle.

ADULT LANGUAGE AND VIOLENCE

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fideli Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781604146370

Ronald Blake

Ron Blake lives in central Indiana with his beautiful and loving wife of 41 years. Their married son, after one tour in Afghanistan is now part of an elite military unit that must remain unmentioned. Their daughter and her husband have blessed them with 5 of the most wonderful and loving grandchildren on earth. Ron still love the water, and slips under its surface whenever the opportunity allows, and he also loves spending time with his horse April. As the great Winston Churchill once said, "There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of man". He is also blessed with many loving and caring friends. Scuba diving is still a passion for Ron, and he encourages everyone to try it for their own reasons, safely, and only after receiving the proper training. The rewards are wonderful to each of us for our own reasons.

Book preview

Chapter One

August 16, 2010—0900 hours.

Hindu Kush Mountains, East Afghanistan:

36*18’32.97N, 70*57’04.97E

The salty sweat on the back of their gloves and jacket sleeve burned their eyes with every wipe of the brow. Sweat had soaked every stitch of their layered uniforms, but nothing slowed the grueling but steady climbing pace of these two men. They moved more like machines, every step was purposefully placed. The bite valve leading to their 3 liter Camelback hydration bladder was secured in a position that required only a quick turn of the head for liquid relief. Both wore a stripped down twenty pound body armor vest, having removed the side protective plates for this mission. Their weapons were strapped securely to their forty pound assault pack, freeing their hands for the torturous climb. Each boot placement was calculated and tested. A dust signature from even a small rock slide could give away their position in their live-or-die life. Some of that dust was now in places a Marine would rather not have it, and now grinding at their wet flesh with the same intensity as the extreme elements.

The oxygen deprived air at 5,640 meters had already brought the onset of hypoxia, otherwise known as acute mountain sickness. Each breath was labored by every bodily motion.

Stopping short of the summit just long enough to slow their breathing, they began to slowly crawl to avoid showing any silhouette while cresting the mountain. They were just five meters above what they believed to be the perfect counter sniper position, chosen after reviewing aerial drone photographs taken the day before.

Both men were chilled to the marrow of their bones by the crisp 22 degrees Fahrenheit, and the constant 12 mph northeast wind. This was what Marine snipers were trained to do, and they did this almost every day.

Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Erick Milner and Lance Corporal Billy Burris had just finished their excruciating three-plus-hour ascent up the rocky and treacherous mountain face. Their ECWCS uniforms would protect them from the strong winds and below freezing temperatures, but right now, they were bitter cold, yet sweat beneath their clothing.

Their morning had started at 0600 hours with breakfast mess, followed by the standard pre-mission briefing. The two-man sniper team left Camp Leatherneck in the first of two CH46 helicopters, traveling 137 kilometers. Landing four kilometers short of their search quadrant, the two-man sniper team left first, allowing them time to reach their current position. From there they would cover the approach of the twelve-man search team into the valley below, and their hard climb to the targeted cave high on the opposing mountain face.

The primary mission of the 1st Platoon, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marine Brigade was sweeping the caves of the vast Hindu Kush mountain range in Northeast Afghanistan. Their platoon was one of twelve dispatched to capture or kill the enemy found hiding in, and operating from the caves in this region. Each day they would search and implode these caves with shaped and tampered charges. If there was evidence of enemy presence, they would laser mark the targeted cave for precision Blue 82 Daisy-Cutter air strikes, rendering them unusable by the enemy by pulverizing most of the mountain into dust!

This day was different. And it was the first time the entire regiment had been deployed to the same region on the same day. No one at the platoon level knew why on this day their entire Battalion was operating at such a heightened level. A Marine goes where he’s told, and he does what he’s told, PERIOD! Every Marine knew what they were sent here to do. Send all bad HAJJIS to HELL!

CHAPTER TWO

Gunny Milner had earned the trust and respect of everyone in Bravo Company, and was considered the deadliest sniper in the Marine Corps currently serving in Afghanistan with thirty-eight confirmed kills. He was 28, and a nine-year veteran of the Corps. His wedge-shaped, six foot eight inch frame carried the solid two hundred thirty-five pound killing machine.

The Marine Corps has a history of producing the most lethal snipers in the United States Armed Forces. The Gunny was deadly with the modified M40 out to 800 meters, and for more distant targets, he was equally lethal to 1200 meters with the 50 caliber Barrett M107. He preferred the 50 for its flatter trajectory and destructive power.

Corporal Burris, his spotter, helped to identify the target and setup the shot. Ranging distance, wind velocity, and direction were just part of his duties. Billy carried the rifle-length version of the M16 to defend their position from counter attacks, and while not as efficient, had no problem behind the bigger weapons if necessary. They both carried the M9 Beretta sidearm with 6 extra magazines. Billy was a younger man having just turned 21, and he gave up fifty pounds to Erick, with a lean but mean five feet ten inch frame.

They had already covered their position with camouflage netting, and both visually swept the area for enemy activity. Both felt confident of the security afforded them by their current position. After their long climb and initial scan, each took a long-awaited heavy drink of water from their hydration camel pack. Their breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, and after a wipe of their brow with a shared towel, they felt almost human again. They would now wait and watch for their team’s vulnerable approach into the deep valley below and their exposed climb to the cave opening nine hundred plus meters to their west.

Gunny Milner was from Mobile, Alabama, with a wife and twin six year old daughters. He carried a battle-worn laminated photo of his three beautiful girls in his right breast pocket.

Billy was a first tour twenty-one year old single man, with a girlfriend and a factory machinist job waiting for him back home in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He was not as career-minded as the gunny, but was a proud third generation Marine. They had both been in-country more than eleven months, and they were now counting their IN-COUNTRY time left by days, not months.

Corporal Burris pulled out his range finder and wind meter. Ranging the distance to the cave entrance, he whispered, Nine hundred twenty three meters. He checked the wind and again whispered, Wind 12 north, northwest. The Gunny pulled out his killing bible, checked those numbers, and set his scope dope.

They both watched their team cautiously entering the winding valley 5,800 meters below, their weapons at the ready. It was just another fun-filled fucking day in Asscrackistan.

CHAPTER THREE

With the Barrett in position, and using Billy’s information, the Gunny set the scope on the Night Force mounted atop the 33 pound rifle. All seemed quiet as they watched their team slowly and quietly ascend the opposing mountain toward a large ledge where the cave entrance was deeply inset from the mountain face.

After their laborious climb, the team assembled outside the large cave mouth, and the team leader, First Lieutenant, Don Jansen, called the sniper team for a radio check. Topic Two, this is Red Dog One, radio check, over.

Milner responded, Red Dog One, I have you Lima Charley, over.

The Lieutenant spoke again, Topic Two, be advised, we have evidence of heavy foot traffic here and are proceeding with caution, out.

Milner answered, Red Dog One, I copy you proceeding with caution, and have you visual, Topic Two out.

The team leader responded with a simple arm wave, and the twelve men slowly disappeared one by one into the cave.

Milner and Burris both heard the distinct sound of a faint and distant weapon report. Looking to their left they saw the rocket fired from an RPG heading straight and fast at their position. Erick jumped from his prone position as far and fast as he could. His effort fell short, but the rocket didn’t.

The dust and gravel hung in a cloud over both men for seconds that seemed like minutes. Gunny Milner opened his eyes, trying to flutter the dirt from his eyelids. He was flat on his back and unable to move. He knew he was alive because he felt pain, the only time that pain was good. It was hard and sharp, starting at his left shoulder, and continued down his left side, stopping just above his left knee.

He shouted repeatedly for Billy, but there was no response. He tried his headset radio to warn the rest of the team, but the radio had been torn from his helmet and destroyed by the blast.

He was still struggling, trying desperately to move, but could only manage to roll his head. When he rolled his head toward Billy, he sadly learned why the Corporal didn’t answer. The blast from the grenade ripped away a large part of the Corporal’s left torso the size of a football, and his left arm was severed from the shoulder and missing. Covered in dirt, gravel and blood, the Corporal lay dead on his back. Both eyes and mouth opened wide, his facial expression was peaceful, as if looking at God.

Perhaps he was.

Within minutes, Gunny Milner thought he could hear the faint sound of running footsteps over the loud ringing in his ears, and it was coming from a position behind him, but still out of his view. As the footsteps grew louder, he thought it must be members of his platoon coming to his aid—not knowing if he’d been unconscious since the blast and having no concept of time. He remained still, closed his eyes, and tried to compose himself.

He started thinking about his girls, and in his mind he could see his wife and daughters in his arms, all with huge smiles and eyes full of joyful tears at the terminal gate of the Mobile Airport.

His eyes snapped open and his heart began to race when he heard distant words shouted in Dari. His mind went wild with panic. The only word that came to the Gunny’s clouded mind and out of his dust filled mouth was FUCK. He rolled his head back to his right, and then left. His only thought now was for his weapons. When he spotted them they were both too far to reach and almost completely covered with gravel from the blast. He struggled to roll over and crawl toward them, but he could only move his right arm. It was his instincts that made him reach for his M9 pistol. The Beretta was still in the leg holster strapped to his right thigh. He pulled on the handle while rolling his head toward the sounds closing in on him fast. Before he could raise and aim it, his head painfully jerked at the sight of the butt end of an AK47 moving fast at his face. The Gunny’s mind went blank as his eyes slowly closed to darkness.

* * *

Nine hundred meters across the deep valley, the twelve-man search team had unknowingly walked into an ambush. Once the marines were all inside and had reached the enemy’s kill zone, a