Ace

By J. Michael Demko

Ace is the fictional story of a criminal enterprise in Columbus, Ohio.
Two scout snipers have joined forces with organized crime. They
contract for the execution of criminals who have stepped outside
the protection of the criminal community. David Chandler again finds
himself in the center of this violent part of criminal activity and his friend
Peter Dye has the back of the sniper team because this was his sniper team
from Vietnam. The story takes you to locations in New York, Pennsylvania,
Newark, New Jersey, Washington D.C. and other cities as Songer and Brant
chose their targets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462873630

J. Michael Demko

Joseph Michael Demko is a former employee of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, former law enforcement officer, former Marine combat veteran and the former President of the Ohio Crime Prevention Association. He lives in central Ohio with his wife Gail. He has a daughter who is a former Marine Corps Officer. A graduate of Ohio Dominican University. He is the retired Director of Public Safety for The Ohio State University at Newark.

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Copyright © 2011 by J. Michael Demko.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4628-7362-3

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4628-7363-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

2660 Feet Per Second

Killer Kane

Settling Old Scores, Establishing New Opportunities

Contact

Orbits

Glass Houses

A Study in Contrast

Good Verses Evil

Second Thoughts

Cherry Blossoms

Rudy, we hardly knew you!

If You Run, You’ll just die Tired

Search and Destroy

Friendships

The Fog of War

Consequences

Curtain Calls

Goodby Columbus

Crisis Management

You can get it right or you can get it first

Epilog

Dedication

To Andrea Huff, Thank you for your

help with the edit of this book.

2660 Feet Per Second

Corporal Songer and Lance Corporal Brant had been training in Project Phoenix for over a month, but this was their first assignment together as a team. They had found the village Honcho in Thong Doc Province with a minimum of difficulty, and from a hillside almost eight hundred yards away they set in to wait for their target of opportunity.

How far do you think it is to the village, Songman? Ace Brant had asked with a smile and a wink. He had already started to sight in the unerthyl range-finding scope. The heavy barrel of the Remington 700 needed a sniper’s sling to keep it steady for the shot, but not for the snapping-in. Both men had been assigned to different Recon units in Vietnam before being teamed up for this special assignment.

Eight hundred, maybe a little less than that. Both Songer and Brant were city boys, the former from New York and the latter from the District of Columbia.

The finder says seven seventy-five, you would have missed on a head shot, man. I love the head shots. You see that last expression on their face before they slump in a heap on the ground.

Ace gingerly laid the weapon down and he dropped his airborne pack and webbed belt at his feet. The webbed belt was held by suspenders so that it was a one-step process to lose both pieces of equipment. The soft cover was tiger striped as were both men’s utilities. Both men’s faces were camouflaged. Dog tags were on their boots. Along with his pack, the Songman also carried a PR-25 radio

Even without the camouflaged faces, both men could have passed for twins. Between six foot to six foot one inch tall and about one hundred and seventy-five pounds, they were in peak shape. Light brown hair with the only difference between the two being eye color. Songer’s was brown and Brant’s was blue.

There he is! Songer was the first to spot the target. He was wearing the traditional black pajamas and bamboo hat the color of sweet corn they both remembered from the World. He was old and you could tell just by looking at him through the scope that there was not much hair under the round pointed hat. A sparse goatee of gray hair fell six inches from his chin. The weight of working in the rice paddies had stooped him over at the shoulders and he did not give the appearance of the North Vietnamese spy that he was. Ace already had the sniper’s sling around his left arm. The counter-clockwise turn in the sling positioned his left hand just under the front sling swivel. With the heel of his right hand he pushed the rifle butt into the well of his right shoulder and he assumed a prone position.

A good shooter does not know when the round will fire. You hold the rifle on target and relax your breathing. At this distance you attempt to fire between your heartbeats because even they can throw your round off enough to miss a head shot. An F-4 Phantom flew low overhead and the old man looked up at the graceful plane. Sunlight flooded the Man’s face and traced each age line as the glow cascaded down the leathery tanned skin. The rifle recoiled from the shot that Ace didn’t even hear. His concentration was total. Even at 2,660 feet per second, the 7.62 millimeter match weight projectile took almost a full second to reach the target. It hit him just under the nose, and because of the angle of the man’s head as he watched the warplane, it came out at the base of the brain. The man was dead as soon as the copper jacketed bullet hit him, but he stood for a full second before he slumped to the ground. He never heard the rifle fire.

I always think you’ve missed. Songer commented, not taking his eyes away from the binoculars he used to spot the shot for Ace. Where will you put the insurance shot?

Right above the ear. The bamboo hat was off the old man’s head and Ace took his time. He held steady This shot was for the blue one dollar Military Payment Certificate. They were not allowed to have green backs in the Nam. The concentration was intense for both men and after about thirty seconds the round was sent on its way. It struck just above the left ear; the old man was through getting older. Only the head moved from the impact of the bullet strike.

You lose. The Songman breathed in an audible whisper.

How do you figure? Ace asked as he looked up from his rifle.

You didn’t say which ear. Songman smiled looking down at the Marine sniper.

There would have been an argument, but six men were coming out of the village. All wore olive drab clothing with sandy pith helmets that each sported a red star on the front. They carried AK-47’s. We’ve got company. Songer almost celebrated.

We have a bonus. Ace observed through his scope. The Remington rifle fired and a red star developed a hole almost in the center. The helmet’s wearer developed a hole in a more critical area. Five men looked to the hill where Ace and Songman had taken up residence. Another shot and a soldier pitched forward, face down in the rice paddy. His arms made no attempt to break the fall and it was clear when the body did not move out of the foot deep water that he was dead. The third shot sent three men stumbling toward the safety of the village. Three were now down around the old man. The third man had a shoulder wound. He was out of the war, but he would survive it. Another shot and a soldier spun to his right, half his face missing. Missed the last two Ace observed. Two more shots rang out and the last two men fell. One man had made it to within ten yards of the village and was clutching his throat. It had taken less that a minute. Eat your heart out, Lee Harvey Oswald. Get us out of here, Songman. It is going to get pretty hot around here very soon.

Tag Team, Tag Team, this is the Songman, over… . Songer was one step ahead of Ace and was already calling for an extraction.

Songman this is Tag Team, Sit. Rep. Over Major Peter Dye was in charge of six teams, but Ace and Songer were his best. They were disciplined, and in most situations they still acted like Marines. Their situations reports, or Sit Rep, always included bonus NVA eliminations. It was almost like they needed the additional head count justification for taking out civilians known to be helping the VC or NVA. They knew Dye did not mind and they always looked for ways to provide that bonus.

Tag Team we have target and six NVA down. We are two and one half clicks L.A. thrust point Truman and will be heading for LZ Dust-off. E.T.A. will be three hours. We request extraction via S.P.I.E. (Special Purpose Insertion Extraction) rig. Ace gave a sick look to Songer. Ace always felt the hook on their pack strap would not hold on that type of extraction and Songer called for it just to stick it to Ace.

Negative, I say Negative. Dust-off is a hot LZ. Suggest LZ Stopwatch. A Marine Recon Unit had been out one day too long and they were engaged in a running firefight with a superior NVA force. Songman and Ace had to be directed away from LZ Dust-off.

LZ Stopwatch, you’re clear Tag Team. Your E.T.A. four hours. We need more time to avoid the village.

Understand, Songman. We’ll be there, call the smoke when you hear the chopper.

You worry too much, Tag Team. When my mom dies. you got the job. We will be off net until we reach Stopwatch, out. Wonder which Recon unit hit the shit? Both knew what unit was out there. It was Brant’s former recon unit, Killer Kane.

Killer Kane

Sanctuary, this is Killer Kane, we need 155’s grid 392514 mark shot out, we’ll adjust. Corporal David Chandler was in control of Killer Kane and had been since Sergeant Espinosa had been hit.

They had been out for five days now and it did not take Mr. Charles long to put two-and-two together. The Phantom strike might have been just a lucky pilot going overhead in time to catch the company of NVA in the open, but when the 16 inch shells of the New Jersey began to rain down, well, let’s just say that a prudent man begins to look for uninvited guests. Killer Kane was that uninvited guest. Espinoza, Corporal Ellis and Chandler had been trying to break in the second new guy in as many months. Lance Corporal Brant had left to join a new project that was pretty exclusive about its company. Not just any recon Marine would do. You had to score high rifle expert. Ace had scored a 242 out of a possible 250 and was known as a Dinger. Pfc. Parker was going to be okay, though. As soon as the NVA had found them, Parker blew the claymores and filtered through the pre-planted booby traps. The team moved away like ghosts. Espinosa had been hit with a lucky stray round from a dying enemy and Parker was carrying him out as Chandler and Ellis provided cover. The LZ was less than a thousand meters or a click away. Parker made a quick bee-line for the LZ with the other two Marines flanking the retreat. A North Vietnamese Regular was just finishing a basic body function and had not yet pulled up his pants when Parker burst onto the well worn path. A three round burst struck the enemy so0ldier between his legs, center chest and chin.

The pace of the retreat slowed as the first 155 artillery round burst three hundred yards behind them. The force of the blast sent them all to the ground.

Sanctuary, this is Killer Kane, you’re right on. Fire three rounds of ‘Willie Peter’. We will be bugging out! Chandler whistled to Ellis and when he had the other Non-Commissioned Officer’s attention he gave a quick head move to the rear. It was the team’s signal to haul ass, and they did.

It took over a half hour to get to the LZ and they went much faster than they should. They ran into no resistance because the white phosphorous 155 rounds had taken the pursuit out of the company of NVA. In one day Killer Kane had recorded forty-two dead NVA regulars. Espinosa had collected his third Purple Heart and was on his way home. Ellis was a short timer and Chandler was on his way to Australia for R&R. Parker would make meritorious Lance Corporal and be awarded the Bronze Star with V device for valor in combat, his first.

The team had eleven combat decorations. Espinosa had been awarded the Silver Star, for participation in the 1968 Tet Offensive. Five Purple Hearts were spread through the team with only Parker not having been hit. Three Bronze Stars with combat V device and two Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry’s had been added to their decorations. All had long since qualified for the Combat Action Ribbon, (the Marine equivalent of the Army Combat Infantry Badge) Vietnam Service and Campaign Medals and the National Defense Medal, affectionately known as the Fire Watch Ribbon, because you received it just by being in the service during a time of conflict.

This was the last operation for the unit known as Killer Kane and the last time the four would see each other. David Chandler thought he would never see Ace Brant again either, but he was wrong.

Team Killer Kane hooked into the S.P.I.E. rig and the CH-46 Marine chopper lifted them into the air. Espinosa, Ellis and Chandler each dropped an ace of spades to the ground and were given a questioning look by Parker, who was last man on the extraction rig.

Ace and the Songman were being pulled out of LZ Stopwatch at the same time and the sniper team dropped seven aces of spades to the ground. Old habits are hard to break.

Settling Old Scores,

Establishing New Opportunities

The Marine Corps monument in Arlington Cemetery commemorates the raising of the flag of the United States on top of Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima during World War II. Tom Songer and Ken Brant were reunited after ten years for the awarding of the Silver Star to Ace Brant in front of this large memorial. The weather, this September morning, was just about perfect as Ace Brant rose on the platform to accept the decoration.

The Silver Star is one of the highest decorations in the Marine Corps and this one was being awarded in lieu of a Navy Cross. The red, white, and blue ribbon was pinned to the lapel of the dark blue blazer Ace wore. The star is actually bronze with a small silver star in its center and the new metal flashed with the light of the sun. The Silver Star is only given for valor in combat so there was no combat V device on the award. It was an oversight that Brant had not been awarded the medal while he was in the Corps. In 1969 the Commandant of the Marine Corps authorized an early discharge for Marines that had served in Vietnam. With only one hundred and ninety thousand men and women in the Corps, the small branch committed to combat was running out of men it could send to Vietnam. Everyone who had served a tour was given the option of Discharge, in order to bring in fresh recruits who were eligible for service in Vietnam, or staying in the Corps and making a return, all expense paid trip, to WestPac Ground Forces. Brant had left the service one month before his Silver Star was authorized. Colonel Peter Dye, United States Marine Corps Reserve, had spent three years finding Ace to make sure he received his recognition. The two-fold responsibility of a Marine officer is to accomplish the mission and take care of his troops. Project Phoenix had quietly done the former; Peter Dye was determined to do the later. It was Dye himself, wearing his dress blues, who was given the honor of presenting the award to Ace for the United States.

Dye, now fifty-two, had begun to put on a few pounds and his dress blues had become uncomfortable, but both Songer and Brant looked like they could still wear their boot camp issue of uniforms. Recon. Dye said, as he pinned the medal on Brant’s lapel.

A tear formed in Brant’s eye and traced a line down his cheek. Oorah! Ace whispered in a hoarse voice chocked with emotion.

Less than a dozen people attended the ceremony, but they were in for a treat. A Marine CH-46 appeared behind the monument and an S.P.I.E. rig was dropped. Four recon Marines from the Marine Barracks at Eighth and I Streets, who had been hidden on the ground, attached themselves to the rig and were pulled away. All wore the tiger stripe utilities and Marine tiger stripe soft cover that identified them as recon. Each dropped an ace of spades as they rose from the ground and two cards floated over the Marine monument and landed among the spectators.

For both Brant and Songer it had not been a good ten years. After leaving the service, both had drifted from job to job and had not worked for more than two years anywhere. It is improper to show emotion while in uniform but Dye could not help himself. He stretched his arms around Brant’s shoulders and pulled him close. Both men wept. Not for themselves, but more for the ones who had not made it back.

As a member of the staff of the Lieutenant Governor, soon to be Governor, of the State of Ohio, Dye could afford the indulgence of a dinner at the Prime Rib on K street in the District. Brant and Songer had been invited as a celebration of the award. All three were having a great reunion.

You know, I have lived in D.C. all my life and never been in a place like this. Ace looked around the room and took in the plush surroundings.

This was the kind of place where a baked potato could cost you five dollars, a cup of coffee had to be ordered by flavor and a refill of your water glass, well just don’t ask. Limousines dropped patrons off at the front door, the dark red carpet and maple paneling looked like new. The chairs were Louis XIV style with padded arms and delicate looking graceful legs. Individual lights hung over the paintings on the walls giving the paintings the appearance of importance. The low lighting on the linen tablecloths seemed to make the paintings stand out even more. Dinner had been over for almost an hour, but