Killed in Action - A Spy School Story

Chapter 22: Inherent Resolve

Al-Tanf

Homs Governorate, Syria

May 2nd, 2019

0125B

Alexander POV

When Dad and I arrived yesterday, we weren't expecting much. The President of the United States announced his order to withdraw US forces from Syria just one day after I'd discovered that there was a good chance that Ben was still alive. There would still be troops available for tasking, but no more than a few hundred. However, there were still some special operators from the US Army Special Operations Command and Joint Special Operations Command among those troops, so we had some tools to work with when it came to finding our boy.

We had Night Stalkers from the elite 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, assaulters and snipers from the prestigious 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta (also known simply as "Delta"; also known as the Combat Applications Group), intelligence collectors from the mysterious Intelligence Support Activity, Green Berets from the esteemed 1st Special Forces Command, and Army Rangers from the hard-charging 75th Ranger Regiment. Some of the United States Army's finest, supported by the Air Force's hardest-hitting, were ready to bring the hate as we scoured Syria for the presumed dead Benjamin Ripley.

There was only one problem: Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the caliph of the Islamic State, the number one high-value target in the region, and the top of every American troop's targeting list. We already had limited boots and guns, but if al-Baghdadi suddenly showed up on our radar, all of our operators would be yanked.

Doesn't matter, though, I thought to myself. I'll fuckin' search for Ben solo if I need to.

We didn't arrive in Syria alone, however. LTC Hendricks wanted enough personnel from Task Force Brown Fox present so that we could at least be somewhat self-sufficient, in the event that the soldiers already in Syria were too busy to help us. Thus, on the C-17 bound for Al-Tanf—the military base at which US troops and some Syrians were stationed—were several pallets of ammo and MREs, Dad, myself, and two dozen TF Brown Fox personnel, to include CPT O'Connell and MSG Garner from the ISA. Only around a handful of us were qualified to go outside the wire and kick down doors, but it was enough... for the time being.

"Goddamn, Cyrus," MSG Garner grunted, watching as Dad loaded his 1911's mags. We were currently in our hooch (military slang for "living space"), which was inside of the larger JSOC compound. "That's an old motherfucker right there."

"Better n' that Tupperware you've got, boy," Dad grumbled, gesturing towards MSG Garner's Glock pistol. "It's reliable and has been proven to kill cows. It's good."

"'Kill cows?'"

"Yup."

"That's kinda true," CPT O'Connell remarked with a grin. She would be sitting in the joint operations center (JOC), quarterbacking and supporting us over comms, but she still wanted to see us off. "And before you ask: I minored in military history in college."

"Chrissake, ma'am," MSG Garner chuckled as he holstered his Glock and began putting his magazines onto his plate carrier. "You know the most random shit, I swear."

"I'm intel. It's what I do, Sergeant."

"You should be more amazed at the fact that he's rolling with that thing," I said, pointing towards Dad's rifle: a Mark 14 Enhanced Battle Rifle (a modernized M14). "We're doing direct action, y'know. CQB and shit."

"It's called overwatch, Alex," Dad shot back, glaring at me as he put on his helmet. "Learn about it."

"Hey, speaking of... we still got that AC-130 overhead?" I asked CPT O'Connell.