With Honor in Hand is the tale of two friends battling with a serious moral dilemma- a fight between the code of their profession vs. their code of honor. Mercenaries, the two friends, Douglas "Big Mac" Pollard and Amos Man Killer Stewart, are the truest of professionals and the best at what they do. They have never reneged on a contract, but now find themselves in a position where they wish they could exercise that option. As With Honor in Hand progresses, the coldhearted COL Drasneb unfolds his vengeful plan which strains Mac and Killer's moral fiber: destroying the West Point Corps of Cadets. Through the course of the explosive action, a newly tested hero emerges from amongst the chaos to save his brothers and sisters of the Corps.
With Honor in Hand
By T. Sims, IIiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2010 T. Sims, II
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4502-2312-6Chapter One
26 May 1999, 0400 hrs: Somewhere in Northern Sudan "How many friendlies?"
"Fifteen."
"Enemy?"
"Thirty-six."
"Good. This shouldn't take us any longer than half an hour."
"Good deal. I'll need a cold beer after this. I'm already starting to sweat."
"I'm with you on that, brother."
"Watch for the friendlies. We're not here to kill human shields."
"Roger."
"All right. Let's move."
The two camouflaged men creep stealthily across the harsh, rocky terrain. Their mission is to destroy a secret gold mining outpost that is home to a Sudanese paramilitary group that also serves as a major financial source for Al Qaeda.
It takes seven minutes for Mac to scale the cliff, while Killer slides down, and to the left, of a hill, in three minutes. Taking the rear of the outpost, Killer moves upon a guard like a shadow. From behind, he slits his throat like butter, then gives Mac the "all clear" sign. Seeing Killer's sign, Mac moves into the mining outpost and sets up the C-4 explosives on its three main buildings.
Killer moves one hundred fifty meters to the right of the motorpool, which is to the far, west side of the outpost, and picks off five men with his automatic rifle. The men hit the ground dead without the slightest chance of being able to react. Mac continues his route with barely having to pause. He springs over to a supply shed for cover, then chucks two grenades into the mine.
Unexpected to the paramilitary fighters, the gold mine erupts with a huge explosion. Scattered and running around like chikens, twenty men rush towards the gold mine to investigate the brazenly overt attack on their outpost. Before they can even get to the mine, the fighters discover several of their compatriots lying dead on the ground. Though the fighters are shocked and disturbed by the unwanted surprise of their compatriots' deaths, their main concern is the status of the gold mine: their main revenue source. The chaotic situation causes the fighters to begin yelling and arguing amongst themselves. There is a lot of finger pointing occurring amongst the group.
Seeing the paramilitary fighters amongst themselves causes a small smile to grow across Killer's face. Still in his earlier position, Killer, still smiling, picks off nine of the paramilitary fighters. Mac finishes off the rest, then rolls left and shoots the front passenger-side tire of an old Chevy Tahoe that is parked in the motorpool. Spotting the Tahoe fall over onto its side signals Killer to setup the clamor mine and fire it into the motor pool. After firing the clamor, Mac ignites the C-4. The size and force of the explosion is so intense that is obliterates the outpost.
From the corner of his eye, Mac spies four scraggily men scurry towards the cliffs; he shouts at them, "Hey! Stop!" while firing over their heads.
Mac does not shoot the scraggily looking men because they do not have the same appearance or demeanor as that of the paramilitary fighters. As Mac believes, it is always better to ask questions first, then shoot later.
The four men immediately freeze in their tracks. They are frightened beyond belief. The attack on the mining outpost has their minds racing at a million miles per hour. When the world seemed to be exploding around them and the ominous booming sound crashed the sky, only one thought came to these men: run, and run they did. Now, they find themselves in yet another unwelcomed predicament- a large man with an assault rifle who obviously knows how to use it.
Mac strides towards where the scraggly looking men stand frozen in place, while at the same time, motioning them to slowly move towards him and lay flat on their faces. The men obediently concur and lay with their faces in the dirt in front of Mac. After quickly, yet thoroughly searching the men, Mac comes to an unexpected, though not suprising discovery; The four men are merely slaves attempting to monopolize on he and Killer's attack on the outpost and attempted to use it as a diversion for their escape.
"All right. You men can get up now," Mac says to the four men, in his best Arabic.
As the scraggly looking men pick themselves up from off of the ground, Mac asks them, "How long have you men been here?"
"Nearly five years, sir," one of the enslaved men quickly and politely answers.
Mac continues, saying to the man, "Well, since you spoke up first, I'm placing you in charge of this gaggle. I want you and your friends to round up whoever is left. I then want you to find the keys to that truck over there." Mac points in the direction of the motorcade, where there is a sole truck surrounded by carnage. "Next, get all of the supplies that you may need and whatever gold you want, and leave this place. Do not, I repeat, do not tell anyone what has happened here. You tell whoever asks that the Sudanese army destroyed this outpost and that you narrowly escaped with your lives. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," responds the appointed leader.
"Good, now repeat my orders," Mac commands.
The selected leader repeats Mac's orders, verbatim. Mac is somewhat impressed.
Once the appointed leader finishes repeating the order, Mac commands, "All right then. Go out and make it happen."
The four newly freed men race back to the outpost to follow through with Mac's orders, which they follow to the letter. Once the men are out of view, Killer walks over to Mac's position.
"Mac," Killer states, "I've got everything we need, plus a couple of personal souvenirs."
Killer opens a small sack full of gold nuggets and shows them to Mac.
"Good," Mac coolly responds. "Let's get out of here before someone comes checking this place out."
Mac and Killer silently exit the scene as unnoticed as they had arrived, while leaving behind no trace that they were ever in the area.
0700 hrs: Eleven miles from the Serbian-Croatian border
"Sir, I have just received the mission statement from higher," COL Drasneb's executive officer informs.
"Hand it here." COL Drasneb glances over the document. Increasingly, his smile grows as he continues reading the mission statement. "Good, good. I have been waiting for such an order since this war started!" COL Drasneb shouts as he leaps from his chair and slams the mission statement on the table. "Tell the battalion commanders that I will brief them here in one hour."
"Yes, sir," the executive officer responds, who then quickly exits COL Drasneb's tent to execute his commander's orders.
While waiting for his battalion commanders and his executive officer to report, COL Drasneb writes his OPORD (Operations Order). Writing out the battle plan, COL Drasneb delights in the opportunity that has just presented itself. He has waited for so many years for the green light to spearhead the second assault into Croatia and restart the unification of a divided Yugoslavia. Serbia and Croatia have been at war for just over three years. The Serbs have been unsuccessful in penetrating the Croatian front lines, due most in part, to the aide of NATO, and most notably, the United States.
COL Drasneb is the commander of the Serbian 35th mechanized infantry brigade. His orders state that his brigade, along with a combat engineer platoon attachment, is to breach the Croatian border, a width of 600 to 800 meters.
While pondering upon the mission, COL Drasneb rises from his chair and paces the small area within his tent. He smiles like the Cheshire cat, because now he has been given the opportunity to prove to his country that he is a great soldier and leader and prove to the world that the Serbian army is a force to be seriously dealt with.
COL Drasneb has proudly served his country for nearly thirty years, since the days of Tito when Yugoslavia was the envy of all of communist Europe. The years have been kind to COL Drasneb. Though he is in his late fiftees, other than a few wrinkles and his grey haired crew cut, COL Drasneb looks rather good for his age. He stands five and a half feet tall, yet his hands appear to belong to a man much larger than his size. Because of his short stature, COL Drasneb built up a "Napolean complex" over the years: his way of ensuring that people know that he is not to be missed with.
Enthralled in joyful thought, COL Drasneb's three battalion commanders enter his tent. The highest alphabetically ranking battalion commander walks two paces in front of COL Drasneb, comes to the position of attention, salutes, and reports. "Sir, LTCs Androff, Krien, and Spachev report as ordered."
"Pull up a chair," COL Drasneb responds. "I have something here that will make you men very happy. We have finally received the mission that we have waited for since we deployed last year. Before I begin, though, let me say that if executed properly, our success will come from our momentum, the driving force that our great country needs to finally regain our rightful lands." Saying thus, COL Drasneb fully briefs his battalion commanders on their upcoming mission. Little does COL Drasneb realize the extent to which his mission is going to effect and refocus his outlook on life and the world around him.
1000 hrs: The United States Military Academy (USMA) at West Point, NY
There is one thing that all Cadets live for, and that is sleep. After a long night of heavy drinking with friends the previous night, Cadet Johnson only wishes for one thing, and that is endless, undisturbed sleep. He does not want to be bothered. All he wants is to sleep until dinner, or at least until he can no longer feel his head. Much to his dismay, he hears two soft knocks from the other side of his bedroom door.
Knowing that two knocks means that either an officer or a noncommissioned officer is at the door, CDT Johnson quickly gets out of bed and replies, "Enter sir or ma'am."
The door opens and his Company Tactical Officer (TAC), CPT Christopher Weiss, enters the room.
"Major, can you come down to my office for a bit?" he asks. "I need to discuss something with you"
"Sir," Major responds, "is it all right if I wear gym-A?"
"Sure. No problem."
"Roger, sir. I'll be down in a minute."
CDT Johnson, already wearing a pair of gym-A shorts and a white T-shirt, removes the T-shirt and replaces it with a gym-A shirt that he has hanging on the back of his chair. He then puts on his white athletic socks and slips into his running shoes.
Hearing the commotion of Major getting dressed, his roommate, Calvin, rolls over and asks, "What's going on, man?"
"I'm not sure, dawg." CDT Johnson responds. "I'll let you know what's up when I get back. Thank GOD I don't get into any trouble, or I'd really be sweating right now. Go back to sleep, man."
Saying that, Calvin rolls over, throws the covers back over his head, and continues sleeping as though the conversation with his roommate had just been a dream.
CDT Johnson lives on the fourth floor of the thirty-seventh division of Grant Barracks. Originally known as Old South Barracks, Grant Barracks was constructed in 1931. It has battlements and rough-cut stone to blend the structure with those adjoining it. Grant Barracks' east wing contains Grant Hall - the Cadet Reception Hall, and a Cadet Restaurant.
CDT Johnson runs down the four flights of stairs and out onto the stoops. He then leaps onto the asphalt, that is Grant Area, runs across it, jumps back onto the other side of the stoops, then strides into the twenty-sixth division. Walking inside, CDT Johnson faces the first door to his right, which is his TAC's office.
After knocking on the door three times, CPT Weiss responds with, "Enter."
CDT Johnson enters the room and proceeds to report. "Sir, Cad..."
CPT Weiss stops Major in mid sentence. "Take a seat, Major. Relax." He motions CDT Johnson to sit on the couch across from him.
After taking a seat, Major's tactical non-commissioned officer, SFC Handson bursts into the room and bellows, "How're you doing, Major?"
"Not bad, sergeant. A little tired, though. I had a long night," CDT Johnson replies.
CPT Weiss and SFC Handson look at one another, and laugh. While laughing, SFC Handson says, "I hear yuh. I've been there myself a few times. How about you, sir?" He then takes a seat next to CDT Johnson on the couch.
CPT Weiss slaps CDT Johnson on the shoulder and replies, "More times than I can count."
With a spark of seriousness, CPT Weiss states, "Now, let's get down to why we called you down here. Major, we want you to be the Duck commander next semester. Between me, you, and SFC Handson, you're the only guy we seriously considered for the job."
"Is that why you asked me what semester I wanted last week?" CDT Johnson asks.
"Roger," CPT Weiss responds. "Just so you know, this is not official yet. Higher still has to bless it, but we figured that we would let you know first."
"Thank you, sir. In all honesty, CO was the only job I really wanted next year. Everything else is a far second."
"Well, it's good to see that we both are getting what we want. I know you're going to do a great job. We have every confidence in you. You're very motivated and you stick to your guns," CPT Weiss tells CDT Johnson. "I'm going to let you choose your lower level chain-of-command: all, except for your XO (executive officer) and your TO (training officer)."
"Roger, sir."
"Sara's going to be your XO and Joe's going to be your TO," CPT Weiss explains.
"That's great, sir," CDT Johnson exclaims. "Sara and I work well together. She's one of my squad leaders, right now. I would have made Joe the TO, even if you would have allowed me to fill that slot."
"Well, good," replies CPT Weiss. "I'm glad to see that we're already starting next semester off in the right direction. That's all I have for you. Do you have any questions for us?"
"No, sir," CDT Johnson answers.
"All right then. I guess I'll see you around later on in the day."
"Roger, sir," CDT Johnson replies as he rises from the couch. He shakes CPT Weiss and SFC Handson's hands, then leaves CPT Weiss' office. "I cannot believe this," CDT Johnson thinks to himself. "I knew that I was up for the job, and GOD knows that I've earned it, but I didn't think that I'd actually get it. GOD! West Point has finally come through!"
CDT Johnson jubilantly runs back to his room, but is careful not to awaken Calvin. He sits down at his desk and picks up his telephone receiver to call his little brother, Will. While the telephone rings, CDT Johnson kicks his shoes off and leaves them under his desk. After ringing three times, someone on the other end answers.
"Hello?"
"'Sup, Will?" CDT Johnson replies. "I'm going to be company commander next semester."
"That's cool," Will dryly responds
"Yeah, it is. You know what that means, right?"
"Naw. What's it mean?"
"It means that no one would dare mess with you when you get up here next year. Even if I weren't a CO, they still wouldn't mess with you, being that you're my little brother and all and that you're going to be on the football team, but now that I am a CO, you're safer than a dude in the witness protection program,"
"Word?" Will exuberantly responds. "That's money, dawg."
"Sure is. Well, I've got to go. I just figured I'd give you a call and let you know what the word is. I'm tired as hell, so I'm going back to bed. Tell mom and dad what's up. Peace."
"Peace," Will echoes as he hangs up the telephone. His big brother does the same, then immediately jumps back into bed. Fortunately, his headache is gone, making it easier for him to fall back to sleep.
2210 hrs: The Serbian-Croatian border
Though it is early summer, the Balkans provide little warmth for those who must stay outdoors for an extended period of time. The high elevation gives the impression of a late autumn night, instead of a nice summer day, as it ought to be. Aside from the weather, the terrain does not do well for one's legs and lower back. Having been raised in and knowing only this terrain, the men of the Serbian 35th (Mechanized) Infantry Brigade are not uncomfortable in any way. They are a bit cold, but the hopes of success in their upcoming mission keeps them warm. Their thoughts are not on their discomforts. Instead, they stay focused on the mission at hand.
COL Drasneb rides in his BMP, with 1st battalion to his front and 3rd and 4th battalions to his rear, which enables him to move efficiently throughout his brigade. Each of the battalions is in a wedge formation: down to and including the platoons. As the 35th moves within ten miles of the Croatian border, COL Drasneb receives a message over the radio. "Sir, this is LTC Krien. 1st battalion has reached checkpoint Alpha. We are all up and are now ready to initialize the next phase of the operation."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from With Honor in Handby T. Sims, II Copyright © 2010 by T. Sims, II. Excerpted by permission.
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