The Quisling Covenant Page 4

  Ball stood quietly under Rourke’s gaze and lighted cigar. “I’m here to help Sir. We’re on the same side.”

  Rourke nodded and looked over at the strange vehicles. “Then call me John and tell me, what the hell are those things?”

  Ball smiled, “It is a new breed of what is an All Terrain Powered Armored Attack Vehicle. This ATPAAV is called the Griffin, after the winged lion of Greek mythology. In addition to negotiating rough terrain, it has limited flight capabilities. It combines an all-terrain dune buggy with a ‘micro-light’ aircraft. It is designed to take off and fly in powered flight or paraglide.”

  “The AATVs you’re familiar with were the last generation and while extremely serviceable had some drawbacks. The main ones being it was only lightly armored and totally terrestrial. These Griffins are intended to deploy on a range of missions from hostage rescue and reconnaissance, to equipment transport and difficult to reach targets that require air drop.”

  Rourke watched as parasails were attached to hook-up points at the top of the roof and stretched out behind the Griffins. “So what can they do?”

  Ball led Rourke to the nearest Griffin, the one that Wes Sanderson was working on. Ball looked skyward as he gathered his thoughts. He began to explain, “It’s a hybrid combining a dune buggy with an ultra-light aircraft with a ceiling of more than 10,000 feet. It has STOL, Short Take Off and Landing capabilities, meaning it requires less than 330 feet to take off and can land in under 33 feet—even on poorly prepared fields. It can carry either one or two people and can stay in the air up to three hours. In the air, it can travel at speeds between 35 to 50 miles per hour.”

  “On the land, depending on the terrain, it can reach up to about 65 miles per hour and manage both dry and wet obstacles. It’s designed to provide access to tough spots—overcoming rivers, dunes, cliffs, damaged roads and more. The vehicle’s silent propellers ensure a stealth approach. In addition to the crew, it can carry up to approximately 550 pounds of cargo to include weapons ranging from machine guns to light multi-role missiles.”

  “These use regular gasoline for fuel, but later evolutions will most likely use the more readily available downrange diesel fuel. The passenger seat can be removed to provide space for combat kits like weapons or equipment. Compact and light, the Griffin is air-transportable and can be deployed from aircraft like these or driven off during flight without the plane having to land. This is a key advantage because it can make rapid access to hard-to-reach places a whole lot easier.”

  “In addition to rapid deployment, it has also been designed to provide a speedy yet quiet approach to support fast intervention on the ground. Beyond combat applications, the vehicle could also be used for civil security as well as non-governmental organizations’ responses to natural disasters and humanitarian crises. Hell, it could even be used for tourism.”

  Rourke walked around and sat down in the driver’s compartment. Turning to Sanderson, he asked, “You familiar with these?”

  “Yes,” Sanderson said. “During the test trials with the military, December of last year, we were trained on them. John, I’ll tell you they are pretty remarkable little toys. And there are different types.”

  “More than one version?” Rourke asked.

  “Yes and no,” Sanderson explained. The same frame is used in all but there are different modules that change from mission to mission. All ATPAAVs are powered by a 125 horsepower one-liter turbocharged three-cylinder engine, but they can be fitted with several module configurations. The Max is the plain Jane ATPAAV, ones that don’t fly. They are very robust and agile all terrain tactical vehicles that reach up to about 60 miles per hour on the highway and can carry a payload of up to 1,500 pounds.”

  “The second is the Viking, that module is a snow mobile conversion kit. The front tires are replaced with steerable skids, while heavy lugged rear tires with ice spikes provide thrust in snow or over ice. There is a conversion for underwater work called Nautilus. It is for SCUBA depths only and within normal SCUBA operational envelopes. The Griffin, the flying model, operates on the same flight characteristics as an ultra-light or powered parasail. The cost is only about 100,000 dollars for a single ATPAAV, with each module costing an additional 10,000 to 30,000 bucks. Good news is we won’t have to walk to the target and they’ll never hear us coming.”

  “And the better news is we can make an aerial pass over on the target without alerting the bad guys and get Intel that will help us when we move out,” Sanderson said. “We have configured five of them to carry our assault troops. One is fitted with twin .30 caliber machine guns and the last has been stripped to the frame to haul wounded out of the area.”

  Rourke nudged Sanderson who called over another trooper to finish modifications on the Griffin. Rourke said, “Let’s talk.” They walked off several yards so they couldn’t be overheard. Rourke finally stopped and pulled another cigar and lit it for Sanderson, “What do you know about Ball?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “He presented his orders to me and they’re legit,” Sanderson said to Rourke. “The new Joint Commando Brigade was created by General Sullivan. It is comprised of Lieutenant Commander Kuriname’s men, my Special Forces Operators, and Marine Air and Naval Transport teams. Colonel Ball is the commander. They will operate directly under Sullivan’s orders and those orders will come directly from the President. His nickname is ‘Mad Jack.’ Frankly John, in the SpecOps community, he’s a bit of a legend.”

  “Tell me about it,” John said.

  “Several years ago,” Sanderson began, “there was an assault against a Neo-Nazi garrison on the coast of South America. The first thing the Nazi garrison heard was the sudden blaring drone of bagpipes. One commando stood at the front of the landing craft, facing the impending battle and playing the peppy martial, ‘March of the Cameron Men.’ The landing craft came to rest on shore and that soldier jumped from the craft and chunked a grenade before drawing a full sword, screaming, running into the fray.”

  “Colonel Ball has gained a reputation for his ‘stunts,’ and this was hardly the first or most bizarre and semi-suicidal of his life. ‘Mad Jack,’ as he is known, is battle hardened. During several ongoing conflicts he has survived multiple explosions, escaped capture several times, and captured more than forty prisoners at sword point—in just one raid. He also scored the last recorded longbow kill in history.”

  “Within the Special Operations community, not to mention arm chair war junkies and badass aficionados, Mad Jack’s exploits have become the epitome of military romanticism. While a professional warrior of the highest degree, he also has swagger. In civilian media accounts, he is known for two of his most publicized comments: ‘Any officer who goes into action without his sword is improperly dressed,’ and ‘I maintain that, as long as you tell a German loudly and clearly what to do, if you are senior to him he will cry ‘Jawohl’ and get on with it enthusiastically and efficiently.’”

  “British by ancestry, he graduated from military academy and, at age twenty, was shipped off to fight; unfortunately at a time where fighting was nonexistent. Bored by a long period of inactivity, Ball left the military and spent some time as a newspaper editor, male model, and as a bagpipe-playing, arrow-shooting extra in several low-budget movies. By the end of the decade, he’d become so obsessed with the pipes that he took second place in a piping competition—causing a mild scandal because he was the first non-Scot to accomplish this feat. The next year, his archery expertise landed him a place as a shooter at the World Archery Championship.”

  “As things began to heat back up and battles with the brigand hoards that still populated parts of North America became imminent, Ball rushed back to the battlefield, along with his longbow. His skills in guerilla tactics and staging raids earned him several commendations for bravery, even surviving a clipping by machine gunfire. Once, while watching a brigand force advance from a tower in a small village, Ball signaled the attack by shooting the leader of the brigand band through t
he chest with a barbed arrow, immediately followed by a hail of bullets from two fellow infantrymen in tow.”

  “The next year, Ball volunteered to join the newly formed Special Operations team. In the next conflict he launched another raid. Surviving the battle unscathed, a demolition ‘expert’ had accidentally detonated a charge next to him, sending shards from the bottle of whiskey he was drinking into his forehead. Following a short rehabilitation, he was back on his feet soon after, joining the next campaign.”

  “On another raid, he and a corporal crept from one enclosure to the next, surprising the guards with his claymore sword. By the end of the night, he’d captured forty-two prisoners with a sword and soon after earned the Distinguished Service Cross.”

  “Once, in a joint operation with Wolfgang Mann’s forces, Ball led a full frontal assault on a well-defended force. Leading a charge through strafing fire and mortars, he was one of only seven men to reach the target; and, after firing off every bullet he had, found himself the last man standing. So he stood playing ‘Will Ye No Come Back Again?’ on his pipes until the advancing Neo Nazis knocked him out with a grenade blast. The Nazis reportedly ignored orders to kill him out of respect.”

  “After proving he had no valuable Intel and causing panic by lighting a trash fire during one of his moves, he escaped the camp, shimmying under a wire fence, and attempted to walk back to his own team. Captured just miles from the friendly forces, he was transferred to another camp. He escaped, sneaking away during a power outage and walking for three days, using a stolen rusted can to cook what he considered ‘liberated’ chickens and vegetables until he found the Allied regiment and convinced them he was a ‘friendly.’”

  “While his equipment might have seemed outdated, it did serve its purpose on the battlefield. ‘Both the longbow and the claymore were extremely effective in the right circumstances,’ one weapons historian said. ‘Both are capable of maiming and killing.’ Based on images of Ball, the historian suspected he used a lightweight bow with a draw weight under 40 pounds, versus the 100-pound medieval bows and 180-pound modern war bows. It seemed that unarmored troops presented a softer target than men in armor during the middle ages. Consequently, a really heavy bow would not be necessary.”

  “Modern bow hunters say a 40-pound draw bow can drop a deer easily at 20 yards, and a 70-pound bow would have a greater range, with lesser impact, so its killing potential in early modern times was still notable. Plus the bow had the benefit of silent firing.”

  “Ball didn’t use his bow for stealth warfare, though. This was a man known to charge enemies waving a sword and screaming ‘Take ’em Boys!’ at the top of his lungs. This sort of bravado might have been a tactic used to intimidate the enemy into fearing the charge of an unexpected madman. But that tactical pomp and ceremony had limited utility, and wearing a sword could bog one down in landings and hamper movement through tight presses of men.”

  “Infantry warfare entails a lot of crawling on your belly and maneuvering into ambush positions. The clatter and clutter of a sword would not be helpful in such situations. That is why the historian referred to Ball’s advocacy of the sword in modern battle as ‘Romantic affectation. ’”

  “Recognizing Ball’s bravery,” Sanderson continued, “his survival may have had just as much to do with his assumed insanity as it did with his skill and true grit. A Scottish piper had played the pipes on the beaches of Normandy. German soldiers had seen him on the beaches but didn’t fire because they thought he was obviously crazy. Similarly, there may be as much pity and confusion as intimidation and fear on the other side of the stories of Mad Jack.”

  “A glimpse into Ball’s psyche suggests his madness wasn’t all fun story fodder worthy of lionization. Shooting someone with a longbow as the overture to opening up with rifles doesn’t suggest a specific advantage for using the longbow in that situation. Personally, I think it was of a macabre curiosity he had about killing someone with a longbow. If there was a glint of psychopathy in Ball, he kept a tight lid on it.”

  Sanderson walked off leaving Rourke thoroughly fascinated and a little apprehensive.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gunnery Sergeant Ferguson could walk, though not well or for any distance. He had made it perfectly clear, “I’m not going to be left behind.” Barely ambulatory, he could drive, shoot and work communications which would be essential if they had a chance to save Natalia. Once in position Rourke and Sanderson would take the remaining force, a total of 16 men, and move on the encampment. Gunny Ferguson had experience as a FAC, Forward Air Controller, and could communicate with the jets above for close air support during the raid. With hostile targets that close to Sanderson and Rourke’s teams, the fighter jets would have to “thread the needle” with GPS guided ordnance to keep from killing the “friendlies.” The Gunny could only use one hand and his right leg.

  The Griffins had silently landed on the opposite side of the nearest hill; once their parasails had been dropped they were ready for the assault. Colonel Ball had made a high level pass to survey the campsite and radioed, “Looks like they’re still asleep. Several tents but only one seems to be guarded. Ready when you are.”

  Rourke and his seven men approached the encampment from the west and Sanderson with his seven were driving hard from the west/northwest. The plan was to drive the Mongols southwestward down toward the steppe away from the camp. If successful, they would flee downhill away from the threat of attack. That attack had to be swift and decisive enough to either drive them off or kill them all, almost immediately.

  Rourke knew that would be the easy part. The hard part would be trying to find Natalia... or what was left of her. Rourke shook his head to drive out the thoughts. Paul grasped Rourke’s shoulder, “She’ll be fine, John. You know how tough she is.” Rourke just nodded as he parked the ATPAAV below the crest of a hill and formed up his team. Rourke checked his Rolex Submariner and nodded to Rubenstein who keyed his radio, sending out a single short transmission that “squawked” the airways. He listened and received two short squawks back. He nodded to Rourke; Sanderson was in place and starting his attack. Rourke moved his people out.

  Gunfire erupted as Sanderson’s team blasted down the hill. High above, Mad Jack Ball dove his Griffin and approached the camp from behind a hill. He would make the first pass with the twin machine guns mounted on the Griffin’s front fenders. That would be followed by one of the three jets that had pulled out of formation with the Combat Air Patrol and was diving. Screaming down out of the clear blue sky, Ferguson directed the pilot to send two smart rockets down just short of the camp, between it and the attacking force under Sanderson, with less than 200 yards to spare. Mad Jack strafed the area closest to the tents.

  The plan worked like a charm, scattering most of the enemy away from the camp. There was no way to know if any of the hostages were still alive. The plan was to confuse the enemy and drive them away, hoping in the process they wouldn’t stand and fight; or even worse, take the time to kill any of the hostages—if there were any left.

  Mad Jack pushed the throttle forward and accelerated, climbing for another run at the camp as the missiles from the jet destroyed Mongols. Suddenly, his motor sputtered and vibrations began to violently shake the Griffin. Glancing behind him, he noticed that one of the rotor blades were missing. “Shit,” he shouted to the sky and pulled on the toggle handle and swung the Griffin into a dive. He had to land before he crashed.

  The smart rockets, guided by GPS coordinates, impacted perfectly in the “eye of the needle.” The encampment was below the crest of the hill on which Gunny Ferguson sat. Slinging his useless left leg out of the way, he stood and grasped the machine gun mounted on the crash bar above the passenger seat as he pulled himself erect. He flipped the safety off, jerked the charging handle, and directed his fire just to the north of the encampment.

  Some of the Mongols burst from the tents, while others having passed out on the ground sprang into action and started returning fire.
Ferguson swung the heavy machine gun to the right and sprayed those farthest from the tents. Rourke, Rubenstein and the rest of his team drove hard from the left flank. One Mongol hollered something and stood, spraying rounds at Rourke’s team. He was cut down immediately. Several others broke out running toward their horses; about twenty of the bandits made it, galloping off down the hill leaving their companions to face death.

  The pilot had pulled a lot of Gs pulling up his jet and banking hard over. On his second pass, an additional rocket and a spray of 20mm cannon reduced more of the Mongols to bits and pieces of horse and human body parts, exploding under the barrage. Sanderson and his six-man team made the encampment first and the battle quickly degenerated into hand-to-hand combat with knives and side-arms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ball’s Griffin slammed into the ground harder than he wanted, the impact temporarily stunning him. Slowly he hit the release on his harness and fell out of the Griffin. He stumbled to the rear and saw the stub of the missed blade—there was half a bullet hole. A slug had pierced the blade and the stress of the climb had broken off the rest of it. He heard hoofbeats behind him and turned to see a lone Mongol galloping toward him.

  Jerking his mount to a halt, the Mongol sat in the saddle with his rifle trained on Ball. He pointed at the rifle then pointed to the sky and smiled. He had scored the hit on Mad Jack’s Griffin. Mad Jack bowed from the waist and smiled back; one warrior acknowledging the accomplishment of a worthy enemy. The Mongol nodded, dropped the sling of the rifle over the saddle horn, and dismounted.

  He pulled the wicked curved bladed sword and smiled again; Mad Jack recognized a challenge when he saw one and grinned. He slowly drew his side-arm and held it high as he moved back to the wounded Griffin; he made a show of placing it on the seat. Then he reached to the back of the seat, pulled his sword out and smiled at the Mongol. The Mongol gave a little bow and started walking toward Ball; the battle below them had slowed and the gunfire had almost ceased.