All things considered, Jerry decided he would pay real money for a hot shower, a hot meal, a warm bed, and never to feel this cold for this long ever again.
Beside him, Waller shifted slightly, his breath controlled to avoid fogging his own optics.“Man, this cold is brutal.Feels like we’re auditioning for a Siberian vacation.”
Jerry tried to keep his teeth from chattering.“T.O.T.?”
Waller checked the time.“Time on target, 72 mikes and counting.”
Several frosty breaths later, Jerry wondered, “Does your place still have that hot tub?”
Waller chuckled.“We moved outta that apartment complex about a year ago, man.Think warm thoughts.”
Jerry wiggled his toes against his two layers of woolen socks.“What do you think I’ve been doing since yesterday?”
Waller said, “Other than leaving Cassie out in the cold?”The weapons had to acclimate.Bringing his rifle into and out of the cold conditions nearly assured the optics would frost over, despite the sophisticated systems built into his Swarovski scope to mitigate just that problem.After Jerry grunted, Waller continued, “Just think, Leanne’s back home, probably sipping some Christmas flavor of hot tea by the fire.Here I am, eating ice and turning into a popsicle.”
Again, Jerry grunted softly, scanning the fortress through his Swarovski ranging reticle scope, its nitrogen-inert-gas purging, keeping the glass crystal clear in the Arctic temperatures.They’d identified 30 out of the 36 souls inside from their intel packet—Kovalenko’s platoon of 24 security goons, plus about a dozen domestics scurrying around like shadows in the lit windows.All but six matched the profiles.Those six troubled him.They looked like ex-military personnel, all wearing matching winter camouflage, armed with whited-out Kalashnikovs and sidearms, patrolling the walls or lounging in the heated barracks.“Yeah, well, at least you’ve got Leanne waiting on you.”
About a minute later, Waller whispered, “She’s pregnant.Leanne’s pregnant.”
“Really?”Jerry felt a rush of welcome warmth flood his body.
“Yeah, man.Three months now.”
“So,” Jerry teased.“Does the father know yet?”
“I’ll let that slide this time.You’re cold and a little whiny like a four-year-old.Even your nose is runny,” Waller teased back.
“You’ll be an incredible dad, Tim,” Jerry said without an ounce of irony.
A few long minutes passed before Waller said, “We lost the first two.The first one—we were stationed in Colorado, married less than a year—she made it to 19 weeks.Lost her.Little girl.I was in Alaska doing stuff like this at NWTC.Wasn’t even there.”
“Seriously?”
“Lost the second one about two years back.We were PCSing to Campbell.I was home on leave then.Really hard on her.”
“Tim, that sucks, man.I’m so sorry.”
“Happens more than you realize,” Waller said.“Harder on Leanne, of course.”
“I’ll definitely keep y’all in my prayers.Baby Waller, too.Especially.”
“This one seems different.We’re praying every day, and Leanne has a good feeling about it.We have a really good OB.”Waller slapped Jerry on the shoulder appreciatively.“Hopefully, I’ll move on up soon.Another mouth to feed and all that.”
“Get in line, bro.That Zulu slot is mine all mine.”
Waller chuckled quietly, though there was an edge of sympathy in it.“Oh, right.You’re promotable.Nail this, and you’ll slide right into that 18Z slot when Commando finally hangs it up.Master Sergeant McBride.Now that kind of has a ring to it.Leaves a certain flavor in the mouth.Kind of like burned beans and turpentine.”
A radio call interrupted their whispered banter.“Silent Peak, this is Cloud Breaker.Authenticate Alpha-Niner-Six Uniform.Over.”The words came through over the thunderous noise of four turboprop engines.
“Focus up,” Jerry muttered, though he appreciated the banter—it kept the mind sharp against the numbing cold.
Beside him, Waller pulled out his mission-specific authentication cards, read the code, and responded.“Cloud Breaker, this is Silent Peak.I authenticate Whiskey-Whiskey-Sierra-Two.Over.”
After a long twelve seconds, Major Norton responded, “Good copy, Silent Peak.Read you five by five.This is Six.Tango Oscar Tango.ETA 67, I say again, six-seven mikes.Bravo Four.Sitrep.Over.”
“Roger,” Jerry whispered into his comms, his voice low and steady despite the chill numbing his fingers inside his gloves.Following Norton’s lead, he transitioned from mission code names to their more familiar call signs and designations.“Bravo Four set.Read you Lima Charlie.We are half a klick from objective on the south-west corner.Break.No defenses observed on rooftop.Break.Obstacles are ramparts all around, one stairwell north side, one flagpole west side, and one dish west side.Break.HVT confirmed in the main keep—pacing near the eastern tower window.I have a clear line of sight.Over.”
“Roger, Bravo Four,” Norton crackled back.“Hold position.Deploy Hornets at one-five mikes.Break.Flare and lasso at 5,000 feet.Will send, ‘lasso.’Break.Remove all OPFOR while we are inbound.Confirm.Over.”
