Left For Dead

By Cliff Calderan

The secret mission of U.S. Marines Clint Johnson and Kaiser Hawkins in the Peruvian jungle to gather intelligence on a revolutionary group aided by a Russian cammando unit is betrayed by someone back in Washington D.C. Communist revolutionary leader, Jorge Guevara is trying to overthrow the Peruvian government, and eventually the whole of South America. He is also believed to have enlisted the secret, non-official support of the Russian government. Due to the looming national security threat posed to the United States, President Fulton has ordered the Joint Chiefs of Staff to organize a top-secret, clandestine operation to combat the posing threat. Johnson and Hawkins have been tasked with leading two reconnaissance teams into the Peruvian rain forest. Their mission: to confirm the location of Guevara's compound, the size of his militia, and the presence of any Russian military personnel. What the men don't know is that prior to dust off, they had already been betrayed. As the Marines close in on their objective, they find a heavily armed and well-prepared force. With the odds of mission compromise having increased, the teams are soon engaged by an enemy patrol probing the jungle. Compromised, and unable to immediately extract themselves from the area, the Marines now have no choice but to stand and fight. Only Clint and Kaiser escape the onslaught. Filled with sorrow and anger at the loss of their men they have a raging desire to locate and punish those who betrayed them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cliff Calderan
• Release date: Feb 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781393386025

Cliff Calderan

Cliff Calderan served four years in the United States Marine Corps and is a decorated combat veteran. He was a reconnaissance team leader, served with 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion, and took part in the second battle of Fallujah. During his time in the Marine Corps, he achieved the titles of both Reconnaissance Marine and Marine Corps Scout Sniper.

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Prologue

February, summertime in Peru.  The weather was warm, yet tolerable.  The humidity, however, thickened the air with moisture, making it difficult to breathe.  The monkeys’ screams echoed throughout the jungle. The insects, which seemed as large as predatory birds, were relentless in their attempts to obtain human blood

Left for dead in the middle of Peru, in the moment that the enemy encircled their position, Clint’s mind raced.  He turned to his comrade, Kaiser. "Those fucking bastards tricked us into doing this mission!  They fucking set us up, man!"

Clint bent over, his hands on his knees gasping for air, as he tried to catch his breath.  Kaiser leaned up against a tree, his arms raised above his head, and his hands grasping the trunk.  Both men were exhausted.  They had been running for hours. 

Kaiser looked at Clint, and saw the frustration on his dirt-stained and sweaty face.  Clint’s once green and black camouflage utilities were now red, stained with the blood of his fallen comrades.  Clint was twenty-eight years old, a Reconnaissance Marine, part of the most elite unite in the United States Military.  He was a stout man, just under six feet, jet-black hair, broad shouldered, muscular and strong. 

Kaiser saw something in Clint that resonated.  That chilled even he, a seasoned warrior, to the bone.  Through all the dirt, sweat and blood, it was Clint’s eyes that haunted him.  His pupils were dark as night, and the whites of his eyes were whiter than the wind-driven snow.  Kaiser could only describe them as that of a shark’s.  Pitch black pupils that portrayed only one intent, death.  Clint was a true predator.  He could swiftly and silently stalk his prey.  He held no regard for the lives of the enemy.  But the predator had now become the prey.  Both men were fleeing from an unrelenting pack of wolves.  Fleeing for their lives.

Kaiser yelled, We can survive this.  We are outmanned, but we sure as hell are not outgunned.  Drop all the unnecessary shit, keep the ammo and guns, and let’s send these bastards straight to hell.

CLINT DROPPED HIS RUCKSACK, radio and nonessential equipment. He loaded his H-harness with extra ammo, 7.62mm, M203HE, and 5.56mm rounds.  Kaiser did the same.

An older warrior, Kaiser was four years Clint’s senior.  He was a tall man, blonde hair and blue eyed.  His face portrayed a kind and gentle soul, but those who had fought next to him knew different.  Kaiser and Clint were both team leaders in an elite unit known as the Army of North Virginia.  They had served together over several years. 

Kaiser was tactically efficient.  When confronted with stressful situations, everything seemed to slow down for him.  His thought process became clear, and he could make quick and effective decisions.

Surrounded by the enemy, under the cover of a triple canopy rainforest, and nowhere to run, the two men had no choice but to stand their ground.  Clint placed a round in the top left pocket of his blouse.  Make sure you keep one for yourself.  If these fuckers get us, they’ll skin us alive.

Kaiser directed Clint to a thick patch of vegetation where they could temporarily conceal themselves from the rebels.  "The vegetation will conceal us for the time being.

We’ll set claymore mines on trip wires around our position.  That should hopefully slow them down and give us a chance to chink a hole in their armor."

Clint moved to the location and begin setting up claymore mines on the east and north sides of their position.  Kaiser took care of the west and south.  Both men moved into the center of the ferns, concealed themselves as well as possible, and waited.

A short while after settling into their position, they could hear the communist rebels coming from all directions.  At that moment, all Clint could think about was who had set them up.  Who made the decision to blow their cover?  No one even knew they were in Peru.  No one knew that they were there to undermine the communist uprising.  No one that is, in the operational area.

The men heard one of the rebels fall to the ground.  He yelled something, but it was too late, the claymore detonated with a brilliant flash killing several rebels.  From his concealed position, Clint searched through loopholes in the vegetation in order to locate the rebels.  Men in faded green and black uniforms slowly emerged from the lingering cloud of dust caused by the explosion.  Faces covered in dirt and sweat accentuated the whites of the men’s eyes, as they nervously scanned the area for the two marines.  Clint found the cluster of men coming from the east, trying to regroup themselves after having been blasted with seven hundred steel pellets. 

Clint observed that some were dead, and many were injured.  A morale buster he thought.  Then he opened fire on the commies.  Before the rebels could identify where the barrage of bullets and grenades came from, they were dead. 

The claymores to the west and south detonated.  More communist rebels moved closer to their position.  Kaiser focused his attention to the west, Clint to the south.  They opened fire.  Making sure each round counted.  They couldn’t afford to lay a barrage of indiscriminant fire; there just wasn’t enough ammunition. 

Kaiser quickly dispatched the rebels to the west.  A majority of the rebels had moved to the south and were quickly advancing upon their position.  Kaiser adjusted his fire, and began sending grenades to the southern flank.  The grenades exploded upon impact, and dismembered the rebels.  The air was filled with gunfire, smoke, explosions and screams.  Clint opened fire with his M40 Gulf machine gun, and between the grenades and unrelenting fire, the southern flank was soon clear.

The two men could hear yelling coming from the north.  It seemed that the rebels who had broken off in that direction had fallen behind.  With ammo running low, Clint suggested to Kaiser that this was their only chance to escape. 

Prior to boots on the ground, the reconnaissance teams had developed an extraction plan. They were to move west towards the Llescas Reservation, where a six-man team with the Marine Corps Special Operations Battalion would insert via helicopter into the Pacific Ocean, just off the coast of the reserve.  The Marines were to cache two zodiac boats in the reserve, and remain in the area and await the two reconnaissance teams to link up with them. However, those plans had quickly changed.

We’re going to have to move east or south!  Clint yelled.  If we move east, we can make it to Brazil.  If we move south, we can eventually go west and link up at the reserve.  But I think they’re going to have a close eye on that area.

I agree.  Kaiser responded, as he eyed the surrounding terrain.  Seems like our option is east.

Clint reloaded his M40 Gulf machine gun.  Well then, Brazil it is.  Now let’s get the hell out of here.

As they moved from their position, Clint looked to the north and observed the rebels approaching the location where he had placed the trip wire.  A loud explosion erupted.  Horrific screams filled the air as the first wave of rebels fell to the ground. 

Kaiser growled at Clint, "Stop watching your handiwork, and move your fucking ass!"

Both men ran from the area, bullets flying past their heads.  "They aren’t going to stop following us! yelled Kaiser.  We’ll have to stop and fight again at some point in time."

There should be a river close to here, said Clint.  We can cache our heaviest gear and use the river to hide in.  We’ll construct some breathing apparatuses, remain as close to the shore as we can and hope they don’t spot us.

The two men turned north and continued running.  Kaiser became skeptical, but his hopes were lifted as he heard the sound of flowing water.  But his optimism soon passed.  In place of the river was a small creek; a tertiary inlet that was a part of the much larger Amazonian River system.  The water, which couldn’t have been more than three feet deep, slowly made its way down the small draw, flowing over small rocks, and twisting its way around the larger ones.  The two men stopped along the water’s edge. 

A river huh? Kaiser asked Clint.  Looks like a fucking creek to me.  There’s no way either of us are laying low in the goddamn water.

Clint scanned the area quickly, hoping he could find a place to conceal he and his partner.  However, nothing presented itself as a viable place to hide from the rebels.  Well the fucking trees won’t work.  They’ll find us there for sure.

Kaiser grabbed Clint by his right arm.  Over there!  Kaiser pointed to an area five hundred yards north of their location.  Fallen trees, rotting wood, thorn bushes and standing water-a haven for mosquitos and malaria.  When you want to hide from someone, you want to go to a place where even God himself couldn’t find you.  And that place, my friend, is that shithole over there.

Well, it’s sure better than being skinned alive, replied Clint.  So let’s get in there and make ourselves disappear. 

Clint followed Kaiser as he ran towards the bog.  The pungent smell from the standing water burned their nostrils.  The thorns on the tropical fauna were at least two inches long, and to top it off, the entrance was guarded by a swarm of mosquitos.

They waded into the standing water, and disappeared into the shadows created by the brush and fallen trees.  Immediately the mosquitos found their mark and began obtaining their fill of human blood.  The farther they encased themselves into the bog, the worse the smell became. 

Kaiser said to Clint.  Well, I think that this will work just fine.  Those bastards sure won’t think that we’re crazy enough to hide in this shit. 

When we get to Brazil, I want an ice cold beer and a steak.  And guess what?  You’re buying.  Both men laughed. They immediately fell into silence as they heard the rebels coming into the area.

Through the thick veil of mosquitoes, Clint counted approximately thirty Peruvian rebels.  As they walked into the clearing, the patrol spread out, and began their methodical search of the area.  A lone rebel walked towards the murky pit where Clint and Kaiser were hiding.

Kaiser, who was standing behind Clint, grabbed him by his blouse collar and slowly pulled him farther into the hide.  They each took a deep breath and lowered themselves until only their eyes and the top of their heads protruded from the black water.

The rebel stopped at the water’s edge.  He quickly placed his hand over his nose, trying to escape the overwhelming stench emanating from the muck.  Using his free hand, he began pulling aside the thick branches protruding from the large fauna and fallen trees.  Sunlight slowly made its way into the leach-infested hell, stealing the cover of darkness.

Clint slowly removed his knife from the sheath that was secured to his right leg.  He brought the knife’s blade to the water’s surface.  His heart raced.  His mind became solely focused on one thing; sending the Peruvian to his leach infested grave.

Sunlight illuminated their position as more foliage was moved aside.  Shock and horror filled the Peruvian’s expression when he saw black, lifeless eyes staring at him.  His mouth agape, he tried to scream.  But in a moment’s flash, his head had been submerged into the black abyss. His lungs filled with water.

Kaiser watched as Clint breached the water’s surface and grabbed the Peruvian.  Kaiser was amazed at the violence of action displayed by his comrade.  It was like watching a great white shark breach the ocean’s surface in an attempt to fill its large belly with the flesh of a fur seal.

Clint grabbed the rebel’s hair with his left hand, and pulled the Peruvian’s head below the water’s surface.  The large K-bar knife, serving as an extension of his right hand, was thrust into the Peruvian’s neck.  With water quickly filling his lungs, and his blood flowing from his body, the rebel violently thrashed about in an attempt to free himself from death’s grasp.

The sound of the splashing water grew louder as the rebel desperately tried to save himself.  Clint pulled the rebel deeper into the pit.  The foliage snapped back into place, blocking the sunlight. Darkness, once again surrounded them.  Clint forced his knife across the Peruvian’s neck until the blade was below the rebel’s right ear.  The thrashing ceased, and the Peruvian’s body lay still.  His blood flowed from his body, warming the area immediately surrounding the marines, and forever becoming one with the murky deep.

Kaiser grabbed Clint by his left shoulder.  Did you manage to attract the attention of every damn person searching for us?

Quietly, Clint moved aside a small portion of the foliage, and as best he could, he surveyed the area beyond the pit through the thick cloud of mosquitoes.  He took a deep breath and slowly released the air from his lungs before speaking. It seems they are going right past our position.  If we give it some time, we may be able to move from here without anymore engagements. 

That’s wishful thinking, my friend.  I say we give it until nightfall then move from the area.  We’ll move slowly, and silently take out any rebels we encounter.

The old snatch and grab, then slit their fucking throats, replied Clint.  I like it! 

They remained in the mosquito infested stink hole until the sky turned dark.  Clint slowly moved to the front edge of the vegetation.  Well, there’s very little illumination tonight.  Look’s like God is on our side, for now.

Kaiser placed his hand on Clint’s left shoulder, Okay.  Let’s get out of this shithole and continue moving east.  They may be watching the border, so we’ll have to move slowly and conceal ourselves using the vegetation.   If we take the shoreline, we’re dead for sure.

Under the cover of darkness, the two men moved from their position.  They acquired their cached weapons, and using both the lack of illumination and vegetation to conceal themselves, began heading towards the border. 

When we get to Brazil, I’m going to find out who left us out here to die, Clint said to Kaiser.

When you figure it out, let me know.  Then we’ll hunt them down and kill the bastard.

CHAPTER 1

Eight months ago.

In northwestern Peru, forty miles north of the small village of Pueblo Libre, a small wooden house lay concealed under the triple canopy forest.  Directly to its west was a dirt airstrip.

A tall Peruvian man stood on the front porch of the house.  He was attired in a black beret displaying a red star to the front, silver mirrored sunglasses and camouflage utilities.  A half-smoked cigar protruded from his mouth.

Jorge Guevara, leader of the communist revolutionaries stood awaiting the arrival of two delegates from America.  Guevara had long dreamed of overthrowing the Peruvian government.  He longed for the power and wealth held by so many dictators throughout the world.  Coupled by the unstoppable supremacy that came with controlling those who he deemed beneath him. 

AS A YOUNG MAN, GUEVARA had studied the teachings of Marx and Lenin.  He revered the Bolshevik Revolution as one of the greatest movements in the world’s history, and believed not only in the communist principles, but also in the brute nature of the Soviet Union and its leaders. 

He would begin with Peru and slowly take over the rest of South America and establish a new Soviet Union.  In order to accomplish this task, he had sought the assistance of a world super power that had experience in establishing satellite nations.  Russia. 

Two years prior to the communist uprising, he had flown to Russia and met with President Vladimir Trotsky.  In that meeting, Guevara had sought the support from Russia with his idea to over throw the Peruvian government, establish himself as dictator, and install a communist system.  He told Trotsky that after taking Peru, he would assail the remaining nations of South America, establish a new Soviet Union, and open its natural resources to Russia; at a nominal price of course.  Trotsky agreed, but stated he would never admit Russia’s backing in such a task.  But assured Guevara he would have all the resources and weaponry needed for such an undertaking.

Guevara considered the natural resources of the continent a small price to pay.  He knew that the biggest money producer in South America was the drug trade.  In his quest to overthrow the Peruvian government and those of the remaining countries, he would destroy the drug cartels and centralize the narcotics production.  With control of the drug trade, and the money he would get from the Russian government, he would potentially take in tens of billions of dollars each year, making him a rich and powerful man; and a force to be reckoned with.

After returning from Russia, he watched with great anticipation, and could not believe the course of events he was witnessing. Running for President of the United States was a man who, through demagoguery and manipulation, gained the overwhelming support of the American people.  Guevara was no stranger to these tactics, and being that he used them on a regular basis, understood just exactly what the candidate was saying.

Guevara watched as the Democratic candidate, Donald Fulton, became the newly elected American President.  He listened as Fulton stated in his inaugural address that he wanted to fundamentally transform America.  The American populace did not fully understand Fulton’s intentions but believed they were genuine and that he cared for America and her people.  But Guevara knew better.  Fulton wanted to tear down the system of American government and institute a socialist system.  Guevara believed he had found an ally in the most unlikely of locales. 

Guevara knew however, that unlike Russia, he could not just fly to America, meet with the newly elected president, explain his plan and ask for American support.  With a largely patriotic citizenship, one that