War Within

By Dustin K Jessip

"With heightened senses and operating within their homeland, they have the American squad at a disadvantage. Their confidence is high, yet they are humble. They know their rival is well trained and determined to fight to the death."Staff Sergeant Briar is an American soldier in a special operation who faces doubt and manipulation in a part of the world he is not supposed to be in. When he embraces a moment of clarity, his life changes forever. American society latches on to the way the media depicts the idea of treason, while a journalist, William "Bill" Johnson and his editor Carol King take a stand that evokes serious consequences. An influential political figure, Senator Cynthia Delp, plays her hand, raising suspicion over her true intentions. A rescue team is sent to recover their lost comrade but begin to crumble when unsuspected obstacles knock them off track. All the while, prying eyes loom in the shadows, striking at moments of weakness.When Sergeant Briar realizes there is more to live for than not, it leads him to stand up against his own ego. As he detaches from everything that ever weighed him down, the truth sets him free. When adversity seems to be at its peak, resiliency gains traction. An act of heroism protects the lives of others, preserving a legendary model for all to learn from.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662424793

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sweat dripped from his brow as the man interrogating him ran paper between his toes, slicing his skin with a fierce burn every time. Staff Sergeant Briar winced at the pain, then looked at the dwarf of a man compared to himself, with a maniacal stare. Seeing the sergeant was undeterred, the interrogator grabbed a pair of pliers and clamped them onto his toenail.

What are you doing in my country? the man demanded with his Southern European accent.

His uniform is stained with past success with his victims. Old blood, dried sweat, and remnants of meals that were only served to taunt whomever found themselves in the shackles Staff Sergeant Briar was in now.

Why are you here? the man barked.

Staff Sergeant Briar gazed into the man’s eyes. He looked into his wrinkly face and spat at his feet. Disgusted by the way he was being treated, he decided that if he were to break, he would be killed anyway so as to keep all loose ends tied up.

You think you are special? You think someone is coming to save you? the interrogator continued grilling.

The more the man grilled him, the less likely he was to cooperate. Being a prisoner was one thing, but being a prisoner with valuable knowledge is quite another. Staff Sergeant Briar is a member of a task force used to conduct reconnaissance missions, snatch and grabs, exfils and escorts, and many other small-team missions that worked best when they were undetected and unsuspected.

Gaaaaah! Staff Sergeant Briar released an angry snarl as the man ripped half his pinkie nail off his toe.

You want to play games? he asked with an equally maniacal tone. Then we will play games.

A tense pain throbbed through his toe up the side of his right foot. Blood spurted on the floor where the nail root ripped skin. With his arms bonded above his head and his ankles shackled to the floor, Staff Sergeant Briar had little room to flail while adrenaline pumped through his veins. The chains clanked as he rocked back and forth, trying to expunge some of the energy he could not control.

Three loud thuds echoed through the room. The interrogator lost his smile and looked behind him with disinterest. He moved slowly to the door, annoyed that his process was being interrupted. The hinges squeaked as the heavy metal door opens.

A firm voice spoke in the country’s first language, which was unknown to Staff Sergeant Briar. The overall gesture sounded quick and direct. The man responded in the same tongue, but with a poignant feel. The hinges squeaked again as the large door came to a thunderous close. Staff Sergeant Briar felt a slight breeze whip through the room as it nipped the blood and sweat dripping from the tips of his toes.

The man came around to face Staff Sergeant Briar with a look that would suggest he was a putrid corpse already. His slouched body language suggested their session was going to be cut short for some reason or another.

You are to be released from this room and turned over to my superior, the man mumbled with regret. I do not like you. I do not want you here, and you better not see my face again, he said as he wandered over to the winch that would lower the staff sergeant to the ground. An old and whining motor rigged to operate from only a car battery sitting on a chair, the motor hummed as six-foot-two, 205-pound Staff Sergeant Briar was slowly let down to the ground.

Leaving the shackles on, the man grabbed his police looking cap, turned toward Staff Sergeant Briar but did not look at him, and said something in a murmured voice, but in his native tongue. It was almost as if the man damned his soul, foreshadowing better circumstances to come. The man made his way to the large metal door and slipped out.

Another slight breeze swept across the floor, nipping the sweat on Staff Sergeant Briar’s brow. Pain throbbed through his foot from his missing toenail. His body ached from dehydration, malnutrition, and several body shots. Blood and sweat began to dry as a salty iron scent became more evident in the room. A glimmer of light creaked through a narrow window wider than it was tall at the top of the back wall. Despite his loss of time from so much time in captivity, Staff Sergeant Briar figured it was midafternoon. He had been analyzing patterns since he woke up in detainment. He noticed the aggression in the man interrogating him would grow with his hunger. He could smell fish on his breath after he would be left alone for about forty-five minutes each day around the same time. He was unsure of how long he had been held, having woken up there after an attack on his squad.

The metal door squeaked open again as two men armed with AKS-74Us came into the room. Their clean-pressed uniforms suggested they worked in an office building with higher-ups. Their black berets were formed closely to each of their heads. Their swift and direct movement suggested they were fairly well trained in hand-to-hand combat. Their black combat boots shined even in the poorly lit interrogation room.

One man moved to Staff Sergeant Briar with two new pairs of shackles. The other man pointed his muzzle at Staff Sergeant Briar, with every intention of shooting him should he attempt anything unruly. The man with the shackles unlocked one ankle and replaced it with the new shackle. He repeated this process until the old bonds were undone and the new shackles were secure.

They placed a black bag over Staff Sergeant Briar’s face before they left the room. They moved toward the door and the familiar creaking echoed through the room they were about to exit. A subtle breeze whipped through the hall as the exited the makeshift interrogation room. The building they were in must have been an old apartment complex of sorts, gutted and repurposed after civil abandonment years ago. The government seems to have seized the property and use it however they see fit, away from prying eyes.

The black hood smelled foul, like it had been laying in a pool of urine at one point. Light still came through though, and Staff Sergeant Briar could detect light from either end of the hallway they were now exiting. His shackles clanked against concrete and rubble. Dust and dirt now filled in where blood and sweat had not, where his toenail once was. The bottoms of his feet were caked with a blackened mixture of bodily fluids and ground particles, almost thick enough to form a protective layer against the broken ground they were now treading on.

As the group came to the end of the hallway, light grew with substantially. The gentle breeze also seemed to pick up as they crossed into an open space. The sound of light traffic could be heard in the distance. The group stopped, and an old familiar sound of a car door perked the sergeant’s ears.

A light click suggested the car was a newer model. One of the guards (Staff Sergeant Briar internally designated them as Charlie and Tango) put his hands on top of Staff Sergeant Briar’s head, easing him into the back of the car. The gesture triggered an image from an episode of Cops.

Leather interior let the sergeant slide in across a blanket that had been set across the back seat. He could feel a wool blanket strewn across the floorboard as well, which let the sergeant gain a clearer picture of how high up the people that had spared him really are.

The door closed with a gentle thud. Each of the guards got in the car, and the engine started with ease. A quiet purr came to life as the car shifted into gear. The car went into motion, and Staff Sergeant Briar began wondering to himself, Who wants what with me? The possibilities are theoretically endless, considering I have no idea who exactly is holding me captive—as much as I have to offer anyway, they probably have to be someone tied to the government… This fucking op went sideways when the bird took out that damn power line. We’re not even supposed to be here. I feel like it was a setup. The fucking target wasn’t where we were told he would be. The team left me unconscious with the wreckage. I could have burned up with everything else. Damn it. We’re not even supposed to be here.

The mission Staff Sergeant Briar and his team was tasked with was to kidnap the country’s top rival presidential candidate. His disappearance was intended to raise questions within the government as well with the public. Allied forces would demand an investigation, causing unrest for a lot of people. The chaos would create two theoretical scenarios: first, the country would use backchannels to find out what really happened but would offer a payoff so as to continue with their elections as they had planned, or second, the current president would deny any wrongdoing and retaliate, which could spark outside intervention. That scenario would give certain other nations the opportunity to seize temporary control of the governmental alignment and allow them to put whoever they wanted in with all the perceivable support they would need to make it a reality. In this case, they would already have their candidate safely in their custody and would fabricate his disappearance as an intercepted message decoded to say that he was to be assassinated. Only good guys would prevail in the public’s view.

A payoff would only buy the current regime another few years but would seal deals until that point. Trade, goods, and other interests would be satisfied for a time, but the end is inevitable. Attempting to cover up the rival candidate’s sudden disappearance would give plenty of leverage to the right people involved, with pressure already high with elections just a few weeks away.

The car ride went on for about ten minutes, taking easy turns and completing a few stops. The entire ride went with silence, building some anticipation for whatever was to come. No one so much as turned on the radio or cleared their throat. The car parked in a heavily shaded area. One guard exited the car while the other stayed in, presumably casting his gaze on Staff Sergeant Briar.

Another minute passed in silence before the back door opened and someone grabbed the sergeant by the back of his left arm, almost kindly assisting him out of the car. Light crept through the hood, but it was a distance behind where they had parked, suggesting they were in a garage. The same breeze swept across the floor again, but this time it carried with it the smell of fish, motor oil, and the Mediterranean Sea.

The sergeant got out of the car with a little help, stepping onto cool concrete. The light dissipated as he was escorted further into darkness. Only the echoing of his clanking shackles could be heard.

The door halted briefly then passed through a doorway in a single file line. Staff Sergeant Briar was tugged off to the right through another doorway he bumped against in pure darkness. A glaring light powered on at the flick of a switch behind him. Humming buzzed from the lights overhead. The floor texture changed from smooth concrete to small square tile. Tango removed the hood from the sergeant’s head. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he could see that they were in a community shower.

Still shackled at the wrists and ankles, Staff Sergeant Briar’s heart jumped when he watched Charlie reach for a knife from the harness on his chest. Combat instincts kicked in immediately, forcing the sergeant to lower into a fighting stance while putting his hands at chest level, open and facing out. He was ready to fight to the death, even with Tango pointing his AK at his backside.

Relax, Charlie said with a plain voice. If we wanted you dead, we would have killed you long ago…or just let you burn.

Staff Sergeant Briar could sense a genuine tone, and he felt more at ease. With Tango holding him a gunpoint at a safe distance, there would not have been much the sergeant could have done anyway. It was evident that the guards were well trained. Their movements were synchronized, effectively complementing each other. Their discipline was quite admirable. The sergeant knew these guys could handle themselves, especially with the customized chest harness that housed the Bursa now in Charlie’s right hand. He knew damn well that neither one of them would allow much of an opportunity to gain leverage in any situation.

All in all, Staff Sergeant Briar respected Charlie and Tango, despite his circumstances. He understood his compliance was in his best interest for the time being. Charlie approached slowly, extending his left hand toward the sergeant’s neckline. The blade was facing Charlie, so an attack is not assumed to be as likely. Charlie grabbed Staff Sergeant Briar’s raggedy shirt with his left hand as he raised the serrated blade higher until he finally broke the tension and cut the shirt away from his body. He repeated the action on the trousers as well, exposing Staff Sergeant Briar in his entirety.

Charlie tossed the rags at the doorway, sheathed his Bursa, then grabbed a bar of soap off a shelf on the wall. He handed the soap to the sergeant, then turned one of the shower heads onto a lukewarm setting. Water flowed smoothly from the showerhead.

Get yourself cleaned up, Charlie said with a coarse voice.

Staff Sergeant Briar dragged his shackles into the running water and let the water shower over his head, trickling down his face as he looked up to let water run on his neck. Dirty water cascaded down his chiseled figure. His spirit lifted as his body was being absolved of both debris and chaos. Soap suds and grime serenaded on their way to the floor drain, foreshadowing the duality of the debates to come.

Dirt and dried blood had formed a putty where his toenail used to be. An increasing pain in his foot progressed as the cruddy mixture washed away. Dull pain throbbed up his leg, accompanied by stinging from in between his toes from all the paper cuts. His muscles were sore from all the bruises he had acquired from multiple body shots, all of which served as very real reminders of how he had been treated initially. He knew he needed to maintain his bearing and remember he was still being held captive. Despite the shackles, he could not help but feel like a guest.

Feeling somewhat rejuvenated, Staff Sergeant Briar allowed himself to feel optimistic about the situation he was being chauffeured into. He knew to expect some level of deception, as he had no doubt that someone in power was attempting to gain his favor for some reason or another. He figured if they tried to swindle him with a beef dinner and a nice lager, then they really mean business.

Charlie left Tango to keep eyes on the sergeant as he continued scrubbing his body free of everything that had been consuming him since their bird went down. Charlie came back in with a fresh set of clothes and a towel. The garb was organic to the region, but nothing fancy. A long sleeve shirt, pants, and a pair of sandals were still a tremendous upgrade from the rags he was changed into while he was unconscious.

Thinking of the attire made him wonder what happened to his gear. Nothing on his person would directly identify who he was or where he was from, though the loadout was arguably a telltale sign that would narrow the options down significantly. He knows psychological warfare had been initiated, going from a malnourished and torturous environment to a substantial quality of life upgrade in a matter of hours.

Staff Sergeant Briar was no fool. He was very much aware of the possible manipulation he was likely to face. He was disconnected from his team. He was perceivably unrelated to his country, and he was losing his grip on reality. Plausible deniability may be a card Staff Sergeant Briar could play for survivability, but sustaining the course might cost him more than he would normally be willing to pay.

Charlie turned the shower off and threw a large towel to Staff Sergeant Briar. Water dripped from the shower head steadily for a few more seconds, and the drain gurgled as the flow came to an end. The towel felt warm against his freshly cleaned skin.

Hold still, and do not make us hurt you. Cooperate, follow our directions, and you will make it through this, Charlie said with a stern voice as he approached with a key. Shackles fell to the shower floor after Charlie unlocked each wrist, the weight more realized now that they were gone. Staff Sergeant Briar showed consideration and wrapped the towel around his waist so Charlie could unlock his ankles next.

Finally freed of his irons, Staff Sergeant Briar thought to himself, What comes next? Straight to the point or more attempts to sway psychology?

The shackles now sat on the floor near the drain, creating a dam for the few soap suds leftover. The bubbles popped and made their escape, a metaphor as well as a physical reality. Staff Sergeant Briar donned his new attire, and the men left the room quietly. The humming of the lights came to a halt as the shower went dark. On to the next step.

The group took a right, proceeding down the hallway they entered from the garage earlier. Lights on either side reminded Staff Sergeant Briar of an old hotel he had stayed at in Wisconsin several years ago. A royal-red carpet with a gold-and-green motif lined the long hallway and several closed doors. No sound but the men’s soft footsteps and rustling of their clothes could be heard.

A brightly lit foyer came into view. A large stone chimney stood free in the middle of the room, housing an open flame in the middle. Couches, chairs, and small tables surrounded the enormous focal point. A large desk was not too distant, again causing Staff Sergeant Briar to believe they were in a hotel-like building, but vacant. Staff Sergeant Briar could smell…bacon?

Charlie and Tango led the sergeant into a dining area, still within view of the fireplace. Tango pulled a chair out and motioned his hand, inviting Staff Sergeant Briar to have a seat at the large round table. The place he sat at had rolled silverware, an empty glass, salt, pepper, and a nice bouquet for a centerpiece.

This is it. Staff Sergeant Briar smiled to himself. These bastards are going to try to get me with an American dinner and a cold beer!

Charlie and Tango took positions at two separate points of the room, essentially leaving Staff Sergeant Briar secluded in a corner with his privately set table. A waiter emerged with a pitcher of water and approached the table with poise.

Good evening, sir. May I offer you something other than water to drink? The man spoke in English, but with a German accent.

Staff Sergeant Briar used the opportunity to reply in German. Nein, wasser ist gut. Danke.

Shocked by the response, the waiter’s face almost looked delighted and replied with an upbeat Jawohl!

He poured his water, regaining some of his composure in the process. A neatly folded towel hung from his arm, swaying slightly as he bent to pour with better accuracy. He returned to his upright position with the pitcher slightly depleted of water and looked into Staff Sergeant Briar’s eyes.

Dinner will be served shortly, sir. Please enjoy, and let me know if there is anything I can do for you during you stay with us, the waiter said kindly, reverting to English.

Staff Sergeant Briar was unsure of what to think but figured the game might as well continue accordingly. As far as he was aware, he had yet to speak aloud to anybody, and the quick shouts from body shots and paper cuts would have hardly been enough for someone as low as the interrogator to gather a nationality designation on him. Either way, the mind games could continue as long as he felt like he was being played. The way he saw it, it bought time, and it deliberately raised questions they might not have thought about asking before.

Chapter 2

Breaking news tickers and obnoxious headlines run across every major network channel, claiming an American soldier had betrayed the country. A peace-keeping mission gone awry, the soldier seemed to have had an insidious agenda from the moment he gained citizenship in America. His motives were being questioned, along with how he could have gone from being such a good soldier while harboring such a strong resentment for the very country he swore to protect.

National security was perceivably in legitimate danger, given the fact that a foreign nation was now accusing the United States of a failed assassination attempt on one of their presidential candidates. To make matters worse, their elections were just weeks away. The perception damaged relations between the countries as well as associated allies and trade partners.

The guessing game was all anybody can spin from a journalism point of view. They were selling doubt, fear, and speculation. The country was facing potential treason of someone the public had grown to trust and respect over the years as the military stepped in hard post 9/11. It was hard for anyone to believe that an American soldier working for a task force could betray his oath and creeds.

Questions about who the unidentified soldier was, where he was from, how extensive his military career had been, and what his motives to do what he did could possibly be were all in rotation as the story unfolded. The media was also spiraling out of control on the threat to national security. Toxicity was taking hold of public opinion, warping reality into a slew of mysticism revolving around worst case scenarios.

All anyone knew was the soldier was not an original citizen of the country, intentionally leaked to preserve some dignity on a narrow-minded level. Should the soldier be recognized as an American, he would have been vilified on a whole other level, as if his background could somehow tarnish the vanity of his fellow members of society. An act of treason was still an awful thing for people to accept, but at least he was not organic to their roots, making it easier to bear.

The public was only being told a few select things of real value. Extreme basics boiled down to an American soldier of foreign descent was a part of a peace-keeping mission and had reportedly agreed to cooperate with the government, who was supposed to have been none the wiser about a mission with the true intention of nabbing a rival presidential candidate without anyone knowing.

Why Staff Sergeant Briar would presumably betray his country was largely in question. William (Bill) Johnson, a journalist for the Capital City Times (CTT), was tasked with investigating the unknown soldier who had allegedly committed such a horrible act. His executive editor, Carol King, ordered him to dive into the story. His task was to investigate as much as he could about the mission, the people involved, and most importantly, find out who the unknown soldier is. The burning question everyone around the world wanted to know right now: Who is the man that put national security in jeopardy?

Bill started the morning off the way he usually did during the workweek, grabbing his cup of dark roast from the local coffee shop before walking into the CCT main building. His office cubicle suggested he had an adventurous side, covering stories linked to danger: arson, murders, vandalism, and if all goes according to plan, his biggest story yet, treason.

As Bill settled in for the morning, Carol walked over to him.