Holding Their Own IV: The Ascent Read Free Page B

retired Army Ranger whose daughter died of a heroin overdose. He volunteered for payback—out of frustration that the government couldn’t and wouldn’t do much about the opium growing right under the boots of the US Army.
    Another gentleman was a retired US Marine whose son, also a Marine, had been captured by the Taliban some months before. The devastated father had been in Afghanistan causing trouble at the US Embassy and gallivanting all over the country raising hell and looking for evidence of his son. For all his trouble, there was little he could do to accelerate the process, and he was looking for a way to gain a little control in his life.
    One guy was like Bishop, it seemed. His boss had arranged his adventure based upon work-related issues. The man was a narcotics detective in Washington, DC. Reading between the lines, Bishop guessed he had been instructed to go let off some pressure, or he would be kicked off the force. Maybe he didn’t like head doctors either.
    Some of the men didn’t disclose their background or reasoning, and Bishop decided to join that club. 
    The following morning was spent on weapons familiarization. The teams were driven to an even more remote area and issued ammunition to zero the Russian firearms. Bishop had fired an AK several times, but that had been some years ago. He didn’t care for the weapon for several reasons, but it was an effective battle rifle. His displeasure was mainly due to not having enough time to become “intimate” with a tool he was getting ready to fight with.
    The rest of the first full da y was spent adjusting load gear and clothing, as well as exchanging boots. A couple of the men needed different sizes in order for the disguises to be complete. Rotten-puss disappeared for a while and then returned with substitutes. That evening, Wagner wheeled in a dilapidated, old blackboard, complete with a single piece of chalk and a rag for an eraser. He began briefing the team on how the ambushes would be conducted.
    Wagner claimed that the drug caravans moved in a single file formation due to the narrow mountain trails. He distributed pictures of a few examples, and the team members passed them around. The plan was simple. The team would arrive ah ead of time and deploy in an L-shaped ambush, with explosives at the front. When the caravan reached the tripwire, the explosions would kill the personnel. The team would mop up, gather the contraband, and destroy it at another location. The drug lords would think that their convoy had been attacked by rival gangs or pirates.
    Bishop sat on the ground, taking it all in. He watched without comment while Wagner drew little diagrams on the chalkboard and explained it all. Again, the man finished without taking questions. Bishop couldn’t let it go by a second time.
    “Excuse me, Mike, but I have a few questions.”
    Wagner looked up and seemed a bit annoyed, but nodded his head.
    Bishop looked around at the team and then asked, “What kind of detonators do you have for the explosives?”
    Wagner curtly responded, “We’ll deploy tripwires across the trail.”
    Bishop was growing very weary of Mike. The man hadn’t answered his question. “You don’t have any sort of remote detonation? What if the lead elements o f the caravan discover the tripwires? What if they have scouts ahead of the main body, and those guys set off the ambush?”
    Out of the corner of his eye, Bishop could see several heads nodding in support of his inquiries. Wagner noticed it as well, and changed his tone. “We have to use what I’ve been issued. I’ll try and get some remote units, but this is all surplus Russian stuff, and there are limits as to what is available.”
    Bishop was at his limit of patience and began rapid firing at the team leader. “How much of the explosive do you have? How much is it going to take to establish a kill zone the length of the convoys? How old is the explosive? Does it deteriorate over time like our C4? How