Baptism of Fire III:

The C-130 veered off to the right, throwing us around inside it. My ears began popping, so I knew we were making our descent. We came alive suddenly, grabbing hold of the handrails and making our way towards the Humvee. Gianluca and I got in and sat there, waiting for the attendant to open the bay door so we could drive off without interruption. The rectangular box sat unmoving, still draped with the American Flag. It had to stay that way. That’s how he wanted it.
After a ridiculously long time, the attendant lazily shuffled over to the rear of the bay and jerked down on the release lever. There was a momentary hum as the hydraulics raised the rear door. We still sat there. I sighed “I know this is bad. I didn’t want this to happen either Gianluca. We still have to go.” He looked at me wearily. “I know Frank, I know.” He pushed the start button and the engine roared to life. After this long, it was an almost comforting sound. We drove down the ramp and onto the base. It was just as cold as I remembered it.
After driving for a good twenty minutes, we came to as stop in front of a low, unmarked building in a remote part of the compound. We climbed out and straightened out our dress uniforms. We looked at each other and walked towards the building. The door opened and we were ushered inside. I stowed my cap under my arm, Gianluca did the same. We both offered a short salute, which was returned to us by all four remaining members of Aleksander Romanov’s team.
About a month after the KGB incident, Aleksander returned to the United States. He was assisting in the training of some possible new team members. They all failed with flying colors. Aleksander offered to reassign one of his sharpshooters to our team. We were grateful, but had to turn him down. He planned to travel back to Russia so he could be with his men. He was murdered by a KGB sympathizer on his way to the Russian embassy. Being a man of good intentions as much he was a soldier, he had written a will. His request was that if he were to die in the US, Gianluca and I would personally deliver his body to his men back home. Being a true patriot and a fervent supporter of the US, he asked that his coffin be covered with an American flag. So we did just that. Aleksander’s second in command was the first to speak. “My American friends, we are grateful for all that you have done in service to Russia. Aleksander spoke of you often, and with great respect.” I looked at the floor for a moment, and spoke. “It was a pleasure to help a man as strong and noble as Mr. Romanov. He will be missed. Russia and America have suffered a great loss.” I turned to Gianluca. He nodded slowly. Turning back to Aleksander’s men I prepared to speak one last time. “As the result of Aleksander Romanov’s death, the position of team leader will be filled by his second in command.” I turned to face him directly. “It will be your responsibility to further reassign team positions. Good luck.” Spoken like a true brass; I had to get out of this dress uniform. I saluted once again, made a brief about-face, and walked out the door. Since Gianluca and I would be staying for Aleksander’s funeral services, the Russian general on-base made sure we had accommodations for the night. We would leave tomorrow.
After settling into out tiny four room quarters, we headed into the main room and had some beers. Gianluca looked at me from across the table and spoke. “Have you ever thought about what things would be like if we had never gotten involved in this?” Gianluca’s question hit hard. I had been thinking about that myself lately. “Yeah man, I have.” He looked at me and waited for my answer. “We would probably be living normal lives. Doing what every other kid does.” He looked back at the floor. “I’m not sure anymore Frank. I don’t know if I’m meant to be doing this.” We sat silently for a couple of minutes. I broke the silence. “Listen, Gianluca. We have saved countless lives by doing this. People are depending on us.” He looked at me with an incredulous look on his face. “Yeah Frank, but at what cost?” He shuffled into his room and closed the door. I downed the last swig of lager and headed into my own room for the night. His question got me to thinking about some of the things I’ve been through: killed countless terrorists, dealt with the deaths of two close friends, and seen more action than some Marines. At the same time, it was kind of cool. I was a government sharpshooter before graduating high school, now eighteen years old I am the youngest American military official and I have forty year olds answering to me and calling me “sir”. I closed my eyes and drifted off into a fitful sleep.
I woke up at 5:00 am. Half an hour before the alarm was set to go off. I threw on some BDUs and decided to head down to the mess hall for some breakfast. I wasn’t familiar with Russian cooking, but cereal seemed safe. When I walked inside the soldiers there sprang to their feet and saluted. I returned the salute and called “As you were.” They sat back down and resumed eating. Grabbing a bowl of cereal for myself I headed to the far end of the table and sat complacently, eating something that I couldn’t pronounce. They looked like cheerios, but tasted like cardboard.
After finishing I decided to head back to my quarters. I found Gianluca sitting there shining the brass on his dress uniform. “Hey, you feeling better?” He nodded. “I was just worked up because of all the shit that’s been going on lately. Plus, the beer didn’t help any.” We both laughed. “Well Gianluca, I’m just glad you’re back on-board.” He grinned. “Me too.” I gave him a quick slap on the back and went to ready my own uniform.
We stood on the cold, frozen ground where the casket was being lowered. In honor of his service, Aleksander received a twenty-one gun salute courtesy of a USMC funeral detail that had arrived earlier in the day. The service ended eventually, we shook hands with his friends and family, and we left.
When we returned to the Russian base, we found a chopper waiting for us. The Humvee would be shipped back to the states later on. We changed into the slightly more comfortable BDUs and boarded the chopper for the long ride home. The chopper was about to leave when the pilot received a radio transmission from Nilson back in the US. We were to meet him in London as quickly as possible.
In London, Nilson had some news about our next mission. “Frank, Gianluca, good to see you guys. Our next mission is a little unusual.” I nodded, wondering what it was. He grimaced and hesitated to speak. “Come on Nilson, what is it?” “We’re going to California.”
Nilson joined us on the ride to California, but insisted on stopping off in New York. He said he had a surprise. We arrived at JFK around midnight. A lone figure ran towards the chopper out of the darkness.
“Rob? Is that you?” I asked. He gave a sly grin. “No, it’s the pope.” Gianluca was as surprised as I was. Rob explained that after hearing what happened to Aleksander, it was the least he could do. Seemed reasonable to me. “All right then, let’s get moving.”
California was hot and humid. The polar opposite of Russia in every way. We hated it. Nilson came in over the radio. “Frank, our target is an American arms dealer providing weapons to the insurgents. High value, do not keep target alive. Infiltrate his mansion and finish the job.” “Copy that Mike, Gianluca and I will eliminate target. You and Rob have us covered from the chopper?” “Yeah, no worries.” I signal Gianluca to move in on the mansion’s side entrance while I went in the front.
I placed my ear to the door and heard a voice nearby. I was going to go in big. Taking a breaching charge out of the pack, I primed it and set it. After several seconds I ducked back and detonated it. Gianluca heard it and signaled he was going in too. I brought up my gun and entered the hall. The blast had killed two guards. “Gianluca, everything going smoothly?” “Copy that Frank, three guards eliminated. First three rooms swept and cleared.” This wasn’t going so badly. THUCK! A bullet embedded itself in the wall near my head. The bastards were shooting through the doors. “Gianluca, stay low. Tangos firing through doors and walls, head level.” “Got it Frank, good to know.”
After killing three more guards on the ground floor, we began our sweep of the upper level. The entire floor seemed empty except for the core of the building. A solid steel bunker that seemed impenetrable. Gianluca and I couldn’t find a way in. I radioed Nilson. “Any chance of taking this out with heavy weapons?” “Sorry Frank, there’s too great a chance of collateral damage. Find another way in.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Copy Nilson, we’ll try again.” It seemed solid all around, but I had an idea. “We drop it.” “What do you mean Frank?” “In a fight, if your opponent is bigger and stronger than you, you take out his legs. It leaves him incapacitated, vulnerable. How much C4 do you have?” “Three bricks.” “Good, I have five.”
We headed downstairs and went around looking for load-bearing walls and columns. They would be identifiable because of stress fractures. “Frank, it’s Mike. Tangos inbound from all sides, be ready for possible breach.” “Mike, don’t fire on them. Let them get inside.” The C4 was primed and placed. They would get a nasty surprise.
We waited until Nilson confirmed that all enemy forces were inside the house. Gianluca and I snuck out through the cellar and ran like hell. At safe distance, we pressed the detonator. The explosion was contained, but could be seen for miles. “Frank, Rob here. The house is leveled. Go in and confirm target. If there’s anything left.”
I walked back towards the house and saw what was left of the steel bunker. The wreckage was hot and there was smoke everywhere. Peering into the twisted metal cube, we saw the dealer burned but alive. He shrank back and pleaded with me. I almost let him live. One thing changed my mind. “For Aleksander.” I pulled the trigger, once. He slumped to the ground.
“Rob, Nilson, kill is verified. Lets go home.”