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Drugs, Guns & Gold

 

“Freeze, Freeze Everybody Move!” 

I have a plaque on the wall in Valhalla with that quote from me. The occasion was a demonstration of the incredible skill and precision of the four man assault team I led. We were at Ft. Bragg finishing a train up session before we departed to teach hostage rescue to the special ops units of a Pacific ally. 

We were demonstrating the art of multiple dynamic entry of windows from an outside rappel. To translate, myself and three compatriots are dangling on the outside of a four story live fire training building which had a gallery where you could observe the training from a protected catwalk above the shooting room. There were a number of semi-mucky mucks observing to ensure we would properly represent the finest of our military to our ally. This was the scenario, two windows, two teams of two to enter after blowing the windows. Ideally it goes something like this.

“I have control.  I have control. Stand By. 5,4,3,2,1 (Blow windows) Execute Execute Execute!” 

Two swing out on rappel and brake precisely to swing through the empty windows clearing the sill. At the apex of the arc of the first pair, the second pair swings out, brakes and clears the window. It is gymnastic quality maneuvering while wearing body armor and carrying guns and somehow we all stuck the landings, and began dominating the room ventilating the targets with H&K MP5s. We successfully dispatched the bad guys and I took the next step which was to say,

 “Freeze! Freeze! Nobody Move! Nobody Talk! Status?” At which point I would hear, 

“Number 1 Clear” “Number 2 Clear” “Number 4 Clear” 

Except what I actually said was “Freeze! Freeze! Everybody Move!” at which point instead of status I got dumbfounded looks from my team mates and then laughter from everyone in the building as they figured out just what I had said. It’s a beautiful plaque though, hand-carved in the Philippines with my infamous quote and a replica of the “nous de'fions” “We Defy” Special Ops shooting logo with the skull trisected by two arrows and a knife. 

Much earlier when my team was selected for Close Quarter Battle training all 12 of us went to Ft. Bragg for the initial Special Operations Training and a follow on course in advance demo and instruction techniques. There was one member of our team that worried us in a situation that involves shooting very near each other in “Close Quarters” He was a nice enough guy just a little out there mentally. The term we used was ODF   Out ‘Dere Flappin’ and Cult was definitely different. In an earlier incarnation he was a scientist and we used to win bar bets because he could tell you the atomic number of any element. Once we knew we were going myself and Doug, the human silverback gorilla, the other weapons guy on the team decided to ensure we were not on a four man assault team with Cult. We picked up Sweet Lou and Steely and insulated ourselves from perceived danger. Since the Det. Commander an-ex Ranger Captain couldn’t be that morbid Cult ended up on a team with the Cpt, the team sergeant and our ancient Warrant Officer. 

We had been at Bragg for close to a month and had run some live fire exercises in kill houses out at Mott Lake when we came to “The Café” which was designed to resemble a small café prevalent in most places. Narrow front and booths on both sides of a deep room. The assault should go like this. Tactical approach to the building with double silhouette and det cord breaching charge. Open the double sided tape and stick charge on door bracing with prop stick. Retire 8-10 feet back, crouch behind blast shield then. 

“I have control. I have control. 5,4,3,2,1 (Boom door blows) Execute! Execute! Execute!” 

Number one man clears door and heads to point of domination at the deepest reachable point of the first room. Number two man goes the opposite way from number one and clears the first corner breaking down his sector until his barrel reaches number one. Three enters and follows number one breaking down from 11 O’clock back toward number one. Four follows number two and breaks down from 1 O’clock back toward number two. This ensures that every part of the room receives at least two sets of eyes looking for targets and that there are no cross fires. 

We did walk throughs, then dry fires, and my team and one other had conducted live fire runs when Cult and his team came up for their turn. We were sitting under the trees outside “The Café as they prepared and began their assault. The Cpt was number one and Cult was number three, for some reason they made him team leader, and would follow the Cpt into the building. This happens in a very tight stack with weapons extended right beside the person in front’s ear. In between their dry fire and live fire runs the instructors had placed an immediate threat target (Cartoon silhouette bad guy) right inside the door which the Cpt would have to engage before proceeding to his point of domination all the way down the right hand wall. This meant he double tapped the immediate threat and then moved beyond it toward the corner, this also obscured him behind the silhouette right as Cult followed him in. Cult perceived the immediate threat and fired two rounds one of which blew a big chunk of the Cpt’s right forearm on the ground. 

We heard an “Aw shit” from inside and then “Cease Fire! Cease Fire” and our Team Sergeant came out yelling for our medic saying “Cult shot the Cpt” Our intrepid medic went to see and began fixing the Cpt up putting a pressure dressing on and then began taking vital signs. The Cpt’s pulse rate was only 65 even after taking a shot that sent about half his forearm flying. Jerry took his own pulse and it was 110. The strange thing was that none of the minions myself included liked the Cpt much as he was an anal-retentive ex-Ranger Batt guy and he actually expected us to wear the correct uniforms and act disciplined. It required a little work but we found our compassion and sent him a stripper and beer to his hospital room while he recuperated. When he got out and showed back up at Okinawa a month or so later had a Frankenstein style brace with fishing line to tension his fingers and stop them from curling in because of the muscle he lost. Since he was a Cpt and he therefore merited a salute, we made a point of overlooking our usual policy of not saluting our own officers. We began tossin’ him a salute just to watch him try to avoid whacking himself in the eye with his brace.