A new writing project – a Comic – Novel Crossover

As a guy who enjoys the process of writing books, and telling a story I embarked on a new adventure recently.

My previous books all have co-authors. I really enjoy the act of collaborating on telling a story, and I think extra eyes can help bring depth to any project.

Recently I started working with someone on a different approach to the process. This particular project involves taking a really amazing series of Graphic Novels that are already out there and writing a series of novels that parallels those graphic based books.

It is interesting to tell the story without the advantage of the graphics. The story line is complex, and hilarious in ways. I can’t wait to be able to release more details, but rest assured it is progressing rapidly, and you will enjoy it.

We hope to have it ready for release before the New Year, which means it is coming close. Stay tuned to the blog, you may see a sample chapter soon.


Plots to declare world leaders insane

It seems like every election cycle we see a news story about how this candidate, or that potential challenger is “mentally unfit for office.” This typically means that the opinion writer, or news host making the claim disagrees with that candidate, and nothing more. Everyone once in a while they will even find a psychologist as a guest who agrees with the host, but somehow has never met, nor examined the candidate in question. There have been times in history where it might have been true.

I have been reading this fascinating book by William Breuer about some of the previously Top Secret stories that went on during World War II. There was an instance before the war that several military leaders had an active plot to declare Hitler insane. I think we can all agree that in this case, the leader they worried about actually was completely nuts.

In November of 1937 there was a meeting of top General and Admirals with Hitler. Hitler had summoned them to discuss future plans.

It is an important historical note that Hitler was a corporal in the German Army during World War I. He had been in the trenches in France, which was the worst of the fighting. During his time there he had been gassed with chemical weapons, and earned the Iron Cross, First Class, for Valor. This is unique for an enlisted man.

Before the meeting began Hitler swore everyone in the room to secrecy. This might be a surprise for a group of General Officers who keep military secrets and know how to not disclose things publicly. However, this was not the only surprise of the day.

These men sat and listened as the madman announced his plan to gain more living space for the German people. It appears he was determined to annex or conquer, whatever was necessary, Austria, Czeckoslovakia, and Poland. Then, when Germany was powerful enough, he intended to invade the Soviet Union.

The officers in the room were certain that France and Great Britain would never stand for this. Hitler had an answer ready. These two nations would only launch a war of words, and would never do anything more than talk.

Hitler went on to describe how he would accept nothing less than absolute and total obedience from his officer corps. Then he said the operation was to be launched in 1938, then completed by 1943.

The men were surprised to say the least. Hitler was not even supposed to have much of a standing army as part of the agreement that ended World War I. That didn’t bother Hitler, he was getting ready to fight a war of conquest, and nothing would stop him.

At this point a group of these Generals, Admirals, some civilian leaders, and a few government officials created a conspiratorial group who would declare the man insane.

The leader of this group was General Ludwig Beck (I have written about him before, this isn’t his only disagreement with Hitler, Click here for previous article). Beck was regarded by other German Generals, and many world leaders as a man of honor and integrity.

Their plan was simple. Unfortunately, it was also known as coup d’état.

In their plan, Hitler would be arrested in Berlin, and great care would be taken to ensure he wasn’t killed. They needed him discredited so that none of his closest confidants would take power and make things worse.

He would then be put on trial. The claim that they intended to make was based on his medical history from the Great War. The had obtained former Corporal Hitler’s records which said that he had “gone mad” from being gassed.

Kicking off the plan would be simple.

At the right time, General Fellgiebel, the chief signals officer, would cut all communications throughout Germany. That would isolate Hitler in Berlin. At the same exact time, General Erwin von Witzleben, the commander of the military in Berlin, would rush his men into the capital and arrest Hitler along with his two top aids. These two men you may have heard of before: General Hermann Goering, and Heinrich Himmler.

Once on trial, according to their plan, Hitler was to be exposed as totally nutso. They would tell the world that his madness had caused him to put together a plan for world domination, and the execution of that plan would be the demise of Germany.

Once a judge declared Hitler to be nuts they would put him in an institution under constant armed guard.

The only question was when to strike because they had an issue. Hitler had the absolute love of most of the German military. He also had some of the biggest names in German industry on his side. It appears Hitler rebuilding the military was making them very rich. That, in turn, because of some of the higher salaries being paid made many of the German people really like Hitler, and they didn’t realize that he was crazy. So, these men had an issue.

They determined that they needed to time things just right. They could not launch the plan until Hitler did something to turn the German people against him. Unfortunately, by time that happened it was a little late.

If you enjoy history, like this, you may enjoy a Novel I had the pleasure of working on, which you can find by clicking on the title: China Bones.

China Bones Book 1 – Chapter 1

44People send in requests for sample chapters all the time. Here is Chapter 1, Book one of China Bones, you can get the complete series on Amazon.

Chapter 1

Shanghai, China, March 1937


“There’s nothing like duty, China-side, kid,” Harry Olds said for what seemed like the hundredth time.  He and Zack were leaning on the rail watching Shanghai approach.  “Its great duty and you can get anything you want here, dirt cheap, and I mean anything.”

The Marines had been shipped out on the S.S. Monroe, a civilian ocean liner in the prestigious ‘Presidential’ line.  Despite the fact that he had the lowest class of room, Zack had never been so close to living in luxury.  Even traveling in these cramped quarters was better than the life he had left behind in Chicago.

Whenever he had thought of the Orient, which had not been often, Zack always thought of tropical temperatures.  Now, all he wanted to know was when it would be warm.  It was a clear, sunny day, but the temperature was at best, brisk.  The cold was damp and penetrating.  Despite this Harry was happy to be back here and Zack was so curious about this place that the cold temperature bothered neither of them.

Below them the Wangpoo River rushed by in silence as the ship made its way upstream.  In the three hours since they had come close to the Chinese coast, the smell of dung had permeated Zack’s nostrils.  Now a new odor was in the air.

“What smells like rosewood?” he asked Harry.

Old laughed, “I’ve never heard that one before.  Everyone describes it differently.  That’s Shanghai.  It’ll get stronger as we get closer.”

“Well, at least it covers up the smell of the rest of the country.”

“Don’t worry, city boy.  You get used to it.  We’ll make a China lover out of you in no time.”  Olds was coming in for his second tour in China in the 4th Marines, and was glad to be here.  The closer they got to China, the better his mood had become.  He had repeatedly claimed that he had to “bust ass” to be able to come back here.  Finally, as he said, his goal was in sight.  Olds was only thirty years old, but the lanky, muscular man had been a Marine for twelve years.  He was a self-proclaimed “lifer” and would be happy if he could serve in Shanghai the rest of his career.  “Here,” he explained to Zack, “enlisted men live better than officers at some other posts.”

The façade of the tall buildings along the harbor front were now clearly visible.  They were still not close enough for Zack to see if the streets were really paved with gold as Olds claimed; but there was an extraordinary level of activity on the waterfront.  That much he could clearly see.  Zack was not a stranger to a commercial harbor, but the traffic he saw here was dizzying.

Sampans were moving everywhere amidst the commercial and military shipping.  As Zack watched, an American destroyer turned its fire hose on a group of small boats that happened to be in the way.  “What’s the deal?” he asked shocked at this.

“The big ships can’t change their course while they’re trying to tie up because of the river current.  It’s either hose them or run them down,” Olds explained.

“Why do they crowd around like that, anyway?” he asked.

“That’s where the money is, American dollars, they even use our garbage to make money,” Olds said.


“What we throw away after a meal is as well as many of them ever eat.  So, the Navy gets free garbage pickup by feeding the locals.  Of course, they could always just dump it in the river.  A million people shit in that river every day, so even the Navy couldn’t hurt that water.  Wait until you see Soochow Creek along the north border of the American compound.  It makes this sewer look like a pure mountain stream,” Harry expounded.

As they spoke, a large sampan cut in front of the Monroe, and Zack sucked in his breath.  It seemed they were sure to collide, but the light boat just skipped across their bow, and went happily on its way.

“That sort of thing used to cause a lot of people trouble until our ships learned to not try to dodge.  I suppose there must be accidents, but I’ve never seen one.  The slopes are pretty good pilots.  Some of them never leave the sampan.  They can spend their entire life without touching dry land.  They are born on the boat, the live on it, they can do their business on it, and often, they die on it,” Olds explained, perhaps embellishing a little…perhaps not.

“Why take the risk?”

“They will do anything to gain any small advantage in life.  You should remember that,” Olds warned.




A small, wooden, motorized whaling boat caught Zack’s attention.  Navy personnel manned it, and it was the first duty he had seen performed by the American military in China.  He leaned forward to get a better look.  The men were hooked up to one of the mooring buoys that ships would use to tie up on the outskirts of the harbor.  They were poking at something to dislodge it from the broken wires hanging from the buoy.  As Zack passed by the object drifted free, and he caught a glimpse.

“What the hell?” he choked.

He grabbed Harry’s arm and pointed at the sailors.  “What in God’s name is going on?”

Harry sighed, “Welcome to China, kid.  I told you everything was cheap here.  Well, life is no exception.  I guess what you have a lot of, you don’t place a lot of value on, and in China they have a shitload of people…lots of them.  So many that sometimes they will just throw a newborn in the river, especially if it is a girl.  There’s so many of them, the Navy has to assign patrols to clear them out.  It would be a real shock to a civilian passenger ship to tie up to a buoy if it were tangled with a group of tiny skeletons.”

For the first time since he had gained his sea legs a few days out of San Diego, Zack thought he was going to completely empty his stomach.  He quickly estimated the number of babies that would have to be thrown into the river to make such a patrol a topic of discussion much less a reality.  The thought made him want to vomit.  He imagined the U.S.S. Monroe was bumping over hundreds of little bodies on its way up the river.  He shook his head and regained control.  He had known poverty.  He was not willing to accept that as an excuse for such behavior.

“Oh, man…” were the only words he could bring himself to say.

“Listen, Zack.  China is a great place for people who can handle it.  The secret is that you have to stay detached.  It’s a harsh country, but there is great opportunity, especially for Westerners.  In Chinese ‘danger’ and ‘opportunity’ are the same word, and there’s more than enough of each to go around.”

Their ship was finally docking.  There was suddenly a flurry of activity at the end of the pier.  The authorities did keep the dock clear, but once the passengers hit the main street that ran along the waterfront, known as the Bund, they were fair game for the rickshaw drivers as well as any number of merchants ready to push the sale of their wares or services.

Olds seemed to drink it all in.  His mood was lightening considerably.  The sober speech from Olds was over, and it was time for him to show his new friend around they city.  “Come on, kid, you’re gonna love it.”

They waited for the first class passengers and most of the other civilians to disembark, and Olds pointed out to Zack all the landmarks on the Bund, the hotels like the famous Cathay, the big banks of the Far East, and the North China Daily News.

“The Tai-Pans, we would call them robber barons, they treat them like gods.  They built these tall buildings along the harbor to hide the poverty and squalor that’s behind them.  Shanghai was, and still is, the hub of commerce for the entire Far East.  The business community did not want visitors’ first impression of the city to be negative,” Olds explained.  “With the big hotels and major places of business on the Bund, many big wigs would never leave the Bund anyway to see what was beyond it.  The only thing they care about, besides business, is the nightlife on the Nanking Road,” Olds grinned.  “The highlight of that is a visit to the Shanghai Club, which behind its spectacular entrance is the world’s longest bar.  It is over a hundred feet long.  Even if it’s not your kind of place, you have to see it, at least once.”

Finally, Zack and Harry hoisted their sea bags onto their shoulders, and headed for the gangplank with the other new Marines.  It took Zack, who had taken a few days to get used to being on a ship, a few minutes to adjust back to walking on solid ground.  Olds, who was an old hand at the transition, just stood back for a second and grinned.

“You don’t have to enjoy it so much,” Zack grumbled.  He knew that the last time Olds had been here he was the rookie, now he seemed to be determined to enjoy someone else going through the initial shocks involved in the experience.

The second they reached the street, the men were mobbed by vendors selling everything from food, to silk shirts, to their “virgin” sisters.  Harry walked right through them, Zack was close behind.

There was an old, battered olive drab military truck with a torn canvas cover parked at the end of the pier.  There was a corporal behind the wheel.  Everyone threw their sea bags in the back, and climbed in.  Zack and Harry got in last, and managed to get a seat near the back end where they could see.

The truck lurched into gear, and took off down the Bund.  The street was crowded with traffic.  There saw a few huge luxury cars, rickshaws were darting everywhere, people bent over from carrying heavy loads on their back, merchants in temporary stands selling everything from trinkets to food, and there were even a few pedestrians milling around in the middle of it all.

The truck turned down a side street, and was finally able to pick up some speed.  Zack could now see what Harry had meant when he talked about the slums behind the Bund.

This place made his last neighborhood in Chicago look like a cheerful Saturday Evening Post cover by Norman Rockwell.  There were beggars all over the street.  Some of them were obviously diseased.  All of them sat on filthy blankets.  Chinese kids ran alongside the truck yelling, “Hi, Marines!” and smiling up.  Several times Zack caught his breath, as it seemed certain one of them would fall under the wheels of the truck.  The kid skipped away every time.

Harry chuckled, “Don’t worry about the kids.  In all my time here I’ve never seen one of ‘em get hurt.  They’re survivors, just like the pilots of those sampans.”

An old man lay in the street, and Zack wondered why he did not move.  Then he saw the cloud of flies swarming over the man’s face, and onto his sightless eyes as they stared blankly into space.  “They have patrols that rove around the city to pick them up,” Harry explained.

The truck stopped, and when it did not move for a minute, Harry muttered, “What the hell’s goin’ on?”  Holding onto the pole supporting the canvas top with his hand, he swung out where he could see.  Then he jumped quickly back into the truck, his face darkened in a scowl.

“What is it?” everyone wanted to see.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

The sound of marching was soon heard over the din of the city, and then drowned out all but the loudest of noises.  The men all started looking out of the holes in the battered canvas, “It’s a shit load of marching Chinese,” one of them said.

“Wrong,” Harry said flatly.  “The Chinese are about the only ones who don’t have a military presence in the city.  It’s the Nips.”

The Japanese troops marched past the transport, casting dark, arrogant looks in the direction of the Marines.  Finally, Olds had had enough.  “Ten hut!” he barked.  The men in the truck snapped to attention.

“Present arms!” Harry barked as he extended the one-fingered salute in the direction of the marching Japanese.  The other men followed suit.  A couple of the men who were on the right side of the transport, stuck their arms through a hole in the side, finger extended.

The marching soldiers noticed, and cast angry looks, but they were too disciplined to break ranks or react in any other way.

“Hey,” the corporal driving protested.  “Regs state not to provoke the Japs in any way.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, without changing position, or salute, “and international law says they are only supposed to drill in their own sector.”

“True, carry on,” the corporal replied, and did nothing else to try to stop them.

“They sure are shorter than us,” one of the men said with contempt in a Texas drawl.  “Most of ‘em wouldn’t meet the Corp’s minimum height requirement.”

The rest of the men laughed.  “Don’t take em lightly,” Harry warned.  “They are tough little bastards, and most of them have seen combat, unlike you virgins.”

Most of the men dismissed the comment, but Zack studied the marching men.  They looked confident and self-assured.  There was a tempered hardness about them.  He decided he would never take them lightly.

When the rest of the column finally passed, the men sat back down, and the truck lurched back into gear, but slower than it had been moving.  Traffic, which had been light before the Japanese march interrupted it, was now backed up and heavy.

At the next corner, a giant uniformed man who sported a full beard and a turban was directing traffic.  His skin was very dark, and he was obviously not Chinese.  “Aren’t there any Chinese in charge of this city?” Zack asked Harry.

“That’s a Sikh.  They are refugees from India, where they were persecuted.  There are a lot of people like that here.  They are all looking for a place to hide.  You got White Russians fleeing the Reds, Sikhs, and Jews.  The White Russian women are really something, by the way.  But anyway, the Chinese don’t exercise a lot of control in the city.  They don’t have to.  Just about anyone who’s anyone has a troop presence here.  They do run the Shanghai police, though, which is probably the roughest bunch in the city.  There’s a lot of Sikhs in the police, and even some retired U.S. Marines.  You don’t want to have a run in with the cops here.  They will usually give the American military the benefit of the doubt, especially the Sikhs.  When they first came here, Marines helped them out.  They remember.  We helped them get into the police force, and even took food from the galley for them.”

The farther they traveled from the Bund, the cleaner the streets got, and the nicer the buildings looked.  Gradually, the slums gave way to shops, nice houses, hotels, and even parks.  Instead of beggars in the streets, there were well-dressed people going about their business, and even children playing.

At last, the truck lurched to the right and through a gate into a walled compound.

“Here we are, home sweet home,” the driver called out.

The garrison was unlike any military compound Zack had ever seen or imagined.  It was just a group of one-story houses surrounding an immaculate grass paradeground.  The headquarters building was a two-story brick affair from which the 4th Marines flag flew.  There were a few Marine uniformed men going about their business.

The truck came to a stop, and the corporal led them into the nearest building.  It was the headquarters for the American military presence.  The officer of the day logged them in, and assigned them billets.  Harry and Zack were billeted together, and Harry knew the way, so Zack followed him into a building that was two down form the central office.

Zack noted that security was light.  In San Diego, no one entered or left the base without going past a sentry and notifying him of their business.  Here, there were even Chinese civilians who seemed to come and go as they pleased.  Zack commented on this to Olds.

“They do odd jobs around here,” Harry explained.  “You want your laundry done, or errands run, they do it.  That’s their rice bowl.”

“Their what?”

“Their job, their security.  Everyone does his own job.  They never encroach on someone else’s rice bowl.  I guess it means they know where their next meal is coming from, their next bowl of rice in other words.”

“How come they have such complete run of the place?” Zack still could not understand how foreigners could have such freedom on an American military base.

“I guess because there has never been any problem.  They desperately need the work, so they will do nothing to risk losing their rice bowl.  They will quickly get after one of their own who they think might rock the boat.  It’s a great setup for everyone.  You can have servants at your beck and call, even on military pay.  It’s like I told you.  Here, we live as well as high ranking officers in other parts of the world,” Harry said, obviously excited about being back.

The barracks were one-story houses that had been gutted of all but the necessary walls.  The large room that was created was divided only by partitions.  The result was small cubicles most of which contained two double bunks.  Harry found their billet quickly.  There were only three bunks in their space, one single, which someone obviously was already using, and one double.  “You get the upper, Private,” Corporal Harry Olds pulled rank.

Zack didn’t care.  His life was already so improved over what he had in Chicago, a little thing like a top bunk was not going to bother him.  He reflected that in the depression of Chicago he could be a dynamite recruiter, that was, if, he could get anyone to believe him about the life they could have.  If he could just work a deal to be paid per recruit, he might even be tempted to give up this terrific China duty he had heard so much about during the trip.

A short, burly man of about forty walked in.  He had a dark crew cut, and thick dark hair covering his arms and neck.  The only place he did not seem to be growing hair was on his head.  There, his hairline was receding dramatically, emphasizing the roundness of his face.

“You the new replacement?” he asked, looking at Zack.

“That’s me,” Zack said.

“Saki!” Olds said happily.  The two men shook hands warmly.  “You old son of a bitch.  I see you’ve been busted down again.  When I left here, you had your stripes.”  Harry turned to Zack, “Meet Vernon Fletcher, known by his favorite beverage, Japanese rice wine.  He is also our resident cake and wine specialist.”

“Cake and wine?” Zack asked as he shook Saki’s powerful hand.

“Bread and water, big time, kid,” Sake explained regretfully.  Then his face lit up, “Usually, whatever I did was worth the punishment.  Who cares about rank, anyhow?  I’m a born PFC.”

Zack immediately liked the carefree old guy.  Before he could reply, however, another man entered the room.  He was tall and good-looking with sandy hair.  He carried his trim body with an air of assurance.  Zack recognized him as a non-com even before he saw the stripes on his sleeve.  The men snapped to attention.

“At ease,” the man said immediately. “Good to see you Harry.”

“Jack,” Harry nodded.

“You must be Private Cameron.  I’m Sergeant Jack Emery, your squad leader.  You’re assigned to my machine gun squad.  Glad to have you aboard.  I think you’ll find I’m a fair man to work for, but don’t fuck up.  If you soldier more like Harry than Vernon, we’ll get along fine.”

“Aw, Sarge,” Saki grinned.  “Don’t give the kid the wrong idea about me.”

“The fact that you are bunking with a fresh recruit, where your bad influence could cause irreparable damage, is proof that the Corps is not infallible,” Emery said with a smile that took most of the sting out of his words.

He continued, “Chow is at oh-six-thirty, muster is at oh-eight-hundred.  You will be given daily duty assignments then.  You are confined to quarters for tonight, though except for duty days, you’ll have liberty every night.  Any questions?”

“Plenty,” Zack said.

“Well, keep your eyes and ears open, Cameron.  Listen to the older China hands, with the exception of Saki, and you’ll be fine.  Remember my door is always open, don’t be afraid to use it, and you’ll do fine,” Emery said with confidence.  He turned to go, and then stopped, “I mean it, if you need anything, or have questions, I’m here to help.”  Then he left.

“All ashore that’s goin’ ashore,” a voice rang down the hall.

“Time to hit the beach,” Saki grinned.  “Your turn tomorrow, Zack, we’ll show ya’ topside,” then he was gone.

Harry wandered off to see if anyone he knew was around.  To Zack the place seemed deserted.  Everyone was out on the town.

Zack jumped up to the top bunk, and stretched out.  His mind was reeling at all the new sights and situations.  Even the smells were new to him.  He wondered how he would spend his first night in China.  He was far too excited to sleep.

When Harry came back ten minutes later, Zack was snoring loudly.

Chapter 1 of my Novel – The Last World War Volume 1

Some people have asked if they could read a sample chapter or two of some of my books. I will start to put some on the website.

This particular book can be purchased in Print, on Kindle, or AudioBook over on Amazon.com:



Chapter One

The Pelindaba Nuclear Research Facility, South Africa


Captain Frank Banner looked around the airplane as they prepared to parachute into a hot landing zone. This was his Special Operations Team, his first command, and as such, it was a team he was very proud of.

He couldn’t believe just how calm the men remained. He was their leader, yet he drew strength from them. Here they were, about to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, parachute in to a foreign country, probably get shot at, and all of that at any moment. It amazed him more and more with every mission just how calm these guys could remain in the pre-insertion moments.

He couldn’t help but notice that this plane was a little older than their usual transportation. It didn’t matter. While sitting in the back, waiting to jump, all they needed was for there to be a large empty place to wait. This one came with fold down seats along the sides of the aircraft, which was a real plus, so it served their purposes just fine. This was not a plane designed for comfort, it was designed for utility.

They were given this assignment because they were the most geographically logical choice to a totally unexpected hot spot with the necessary skills, and ability to rapidly respond. That alert had come in from Africa Command, or AFRICOM, a mere ninety minutes ago. The only thing the team had been told at the time was to get on board the plane, with full combat gear, and be ready to jump. Once in flight they would receive an additional briefing. Being good soldiers, they followed those orders to the letter.

That briefing had been very brief. The voice on the radio had said that there were at least ten armed men inside the Pelindaba nuclear research facility in South Africa.

The reactor facility, or so the person conducting the briefing had said, was like almost every other nuclear power facility on the planet. Why that was important right now Frank didn’t know, but the briefer felt compelled to throw that fact into the discussion.

Essentially, the facility had a nested series of defenses that were supposed to prevent this sort of thing from happening. It also had a number of different shielding structures that would prevent radiation leaks in case of an accident. Those radiation shields would also stop non-armor piercing rounds. That was a double edge sword for this mission. The team could protect themselves behind those structures, but currently there was an enemy already using them as a protective barrier.

Captain Banner couldn’t help but ask the briefer if they could just surround the facility and wait them out, assuming they could use some of the local friendlies. Apparently, doing so would give the bad guys time to induce a radiation leak that would kill everyone for miles. The only advantage they had was that there was obviously something inside that facility that they wanted to get away from there with still intact. Otherwise they would have already blown the place up. The latest intelligence claimed they had already gotten into the facility far enough to gain access to radiological materials, it was assumed that was their reasoning behind the hostile activity.

In other words, in order to accomplish their mission, they had to come out at some point. That was one bit of good news. That assumed they could get on the ground and in position before the invaders could make their way out with a treasure trove of nuclear or radiological bomb making materials. It would be spectacularly bad news if they couldn’t get down there soon.

Frank couldn’t get the question Sergeant Fisher had asked during the briefing out of his head, “Why did any of this matter to the United States, or are we on this as a ‘help a friend’ mission?” This was not normally the type of question a soldier would ask, but it was not without purpose. It was intended to see if this was a serious response or just a perfunctory “go try but don’t get hurt, or blow too much stuff up.”

This one turned out to be far more important than just a political response.

Way back in 2007 four armed men had entered that same facility and made, what was thought to be at the time, a poor attempt at making off with some nuclear material which they wanted to use to build a nuclear bomb. This research facility had some experimental refining capability to make the high purity materials needed to make some very dangerous devices. It was now the consensus of the intelligence agencies in the loop of the current situation that the incident had been a test run in preparation for a real operation. It may have taken almost a decade to finish planning, but tonight could be that operation. If those materials, or worse, the plans for the refining capabilities ended up on the loose and in the hands of the wrong people, it was very much something that needed to be stopped for the sake of every nation on the planet.

The briefing had referred to the group of approximately ten armed men as “alleged terrorists.” Frank always had to chuckle at that phrase. He never cared about guilt or innocence in the court of law sense. His job was easier than that. Once bullets started to fly it was much easier to see who was a bad guy and who was an “alleged” bad guy. These particular “alleged” terrorist were already firing at the local security team, and therefore had graduated to actual terrorists in the mind of everyone on the airplane.

These allegedly bad guys were especially bad, as well as dangerous ones. They wanted to build a nuclear weapon in the worst way, and they seemed to be happy with just one. A nation that wanted hundreds of these weapons, in Frank’s opinion, wanted them as a deterrent to prevent an attack against their populace. A group that wants just one, that group has a target in mind.

They had to be dealt with before they could escape the facility, and disappear from sight.

Frank suddenly noticed just how rough the plane ride was becoming. No one on his team would ever complain. Special Operations Units dealt with all manner of harsh conditions while doing their jobs. Frank knew, as did everyone on the team, that this could be the most important mission of their careers. In one way, a real global balance of power could shift based on the results of what was happening on the ground at that very moment. If they were only allowed to get on the damn ground and get to work. So far they just kept circling. It was like a giant aerial circle jerk.

If a terrorist group, or terrorist state, it was growing more and more difficult to tell those two apart these days, obtained those types of weapons, or even the material to make them, the result would be that a large number of civilians would die. If they did not die as a direct result of the bombing, then it would be as a result of the ensuing panic. Captain Banner could not figure out a way to understand why there was any sort of hesitation in letting them go in and try to prevent that from happening. Yet the pilot just continued to circle, with no signal for them to prepare to jump.

Somewhere up the chain of command someone was vacillating.

Frank’s headset crackled to life, “Captain Banner, Warrant Officer Choi. We have been on station for thirty minutes, have you received any word on when we will go?”

“Chief, you know as much as I do,” Frank replied. The Warrant Officer was getting anxious.

“Roger that, Sir,” came the terse, yet professional reply.

Frank knew these men were all as professional as they came. For any of them to even ask the question spoke volumes of the pressure being felt by all.

He pushed the button on the intercom, “Major Wilkins, this is Captain Banner, any word from AFRICOM regarding insertion?”

“We have been told to circle and wait for orders from higher authority. We do have a SITREP. What little radio chatter we can manage to pick up from the ground is that there is an unknown sized force putting up some kind of fight larger than what we had originally been told to expect. Apparently, it is hard to tell who is who down there. Also, whoever is in there on the friendly team seems to know what we have in the area because they are asking for air support and troops. We have passed that word up the chain of command, and been told that it is all under consideration,” was the reply from the pilot.

Frank wondered for a moment exactly what “under consideration” meant but decided he would only get pissed if he knew.

“Roger that, Major.  How high up does this go?” he asked.

The airplane shook with turbulence. Frank barely noticed anymore. At that moment, his focus was elsewhere.

There were men on the ground under fire, and his team could help. The men under his command would all want to provide that help, no matter what the personal risk. It seemed like the decision makers were either incapable of taking a risk, or perhaps even worse, incapable of making a decision.

There was a stockpile of material at risk that could cause the death of untold numbers of men, women and children at some unknown spot on the globe. The fear of this type of terrorist attack had been around for years, and it was thought that there were many groups that if they came to possess one of those devices would target the United States Homeland.

He didn’t understand why there was any delay in them getting into this fight. This theft had to be stopped. The world was a dangerous place. It would get a great deal more dangerous if this mission went badly.

“Captain, I think this one is coming straight from the White House,” answered the pilot.

Excellent, a politician is micromanaging the endeavor. To make it worse, a politician who was having multiple political problems and was known to allow politics to drive all of his decision making. Wonderful, just wonderful. He wondered how long until the focus group decided if the jump would be popular or not? That was assuming the night’s activity ever became public knowledge.

“Assuming they let us in there, how hot of a landing will we have?” Frank asked.

“Our equipment can’t get really good visuals, but even from this altitude we can see obvious explosive flashes. We think they have been using RPGs, but which side is using them we can’t be sure. Those ten alleged terrorists appear to be bunkered down pretty well, or there are more than ten of them. We do not know if the nuclear material has been compromised but they appear to be well equipped with enough firepower to either hold that position a very long time while they search for it, or shoot their way out if they already have it. That is assuming the situation on the ground doesn’t change,” the pilot said.

“Thank you, Major,” Frank answered.

The flight continued in relative silence for another twenty-five minutes. The plane would shake, the plane would rattle, but it continued to circle. There was nothing to worry about from an equipment standpoint; everyone had their equipment strapped on tight since before takeoff. Everyone was ready to go, no matter how rough the ride, no matter how long they were in the air, or how hot the landing, they would follow him out the door.

The young Captain couldn’t take it anymore. He unplugged his headset from the intercom system and made his way forward to the cockpit. Once there he heard the pilot arguing with whoever was on the other end of the radio to let the team go in. He heard the Major say that there had been no anti-aircraft fire and they could get the team on the ground without risk to the team while in the air, or to the aircraft and crew.

Finally the pilot noticed Frank, “Well Captain, it looks like someone back in the land believes we should be living a risk free life.  Apparently you Green Berets are no longer allowed to get so much as a skinned knee.”

“I know you said the White House, but seriously, who is calling the shots? What kind of desk riding asshole are we dealing with?” Frank asked.

“Sir, as I have come to understand it, this one is coming straight from either the President or someone in the room with him,” answered the Major calmly.

“Well shit, let me revise my previous statement. I am sure that they know some vital piece of intelligence we don’t. Let’s follow orders gentlemen,” the men in the cockpit kept their bearing but all understood what he meant. They were just as tired of eternal political crap as all soldiers had become. Thiers was a life spent defending something. But, right now, there was someone wishing to do harm unto others, and they were in a position to stop it, yet someone was stopping them.

Without warning the radio came to life, the Major put a finger to his ear and turned to look at the cockpit visitor, “Looks like you and your men are finally going to get to go.  Three minutes, to jump, get in position.”

Frank made his way to the back of the banking aircraft, “All right men. Get up, we have work to do!”

The men stood, their combat gear still strapped to them. They made their way to the back of the aircraft, stacked up in the right order, and silently waited for the door to open.

They waited, ten seconds, then another twenty seconds passed, and finally the door opened. They needed no prompting, no speeches, they poured out of the plane with Frank in the lead. Everyone had their tactical radios on and operating from the moment the order was given to stand.

Frank was glad that he had one of the new helmet visors equipped with a heads up display similar to what fighter pilots used. It showed the exact glide path to take during a jump, and gave some navigational assistance once on the ground. If enough situational awareness was known to the satellite and drone network feeding data to the thing it would even superimpose the locations of the enemy to make the job that much easier.

He watched the altimeter numbers rapidly decrease, 4000 feet; 3000 feet, pull the chord.

Frank felt his entire body jerk as the main chute opened. The decent was still rapid but not nearly as impactful as it would have been without it. With the new parachutes, and that new nav system he could hit the center of a landing zone every time.

The landing point was a short half a mile away from the firefight. Frank could judge from the sounds, someone was definitely shooting at someone else with large caliber weaponry. Soon they would be in a position to tell who was who and what weaponry they were really using. At their current distance it was still impossible to tell.

Two minutes later the entire team was on the ground, silent as ghosts, and the men assembled on Frank’s position.

“I will take point with Sergeant Fisher. We move in at best possible speed, find the internal security force, who should know we are on the way by now, if they are still alive, and move in. Do not wait, if you see a tango, eliminate that tango at best possible speed. If they have managed to get ahold of the material they came here for it will be in a heavily shielded containers. Hand grenades, and rounds from small arms are known to be unable to penetrate those containers. From this point forward unless absolutely necessary we will keep radio silence,” he said. There had been an intelligence leak that showed anyone with access to the Internet how to triangulate the US Military’s position with some simple electronic equipment lashed together in the right order. What they said would be scrambled, but giving away their position was not on Frank’s to do list.

As they approached the nuclear facility they finally got a better look at the firefight in progress. It was impossible to tell who was where at this point. Neither group appeared to have taken notice of them on their decent or approach. Frank quietly hoped the security team would realize they were here to help and not open fire on the team.

The facility was a nested series of buildings, each one increasingly more difficult to destroy than the last. However, the outer layer of defense was a simple chain link fence with a single strand of barbed wire at the top. That was the only bit of good news that could be seen.

From there on in, it was thick reinforced concrete walls and solid steel containment buildings, depending on where in the facility the bad guys were located.

They set about to locate and secure whatever was left of the security office. It should have cameras monitoring every single room in the facility. From there it was possible that they could get lucky and see what parts of the facility were under the control of the tangos. Perhaps Captain Banner and his team could also determine if they were on the way in or out of the area.

When Frank made it to the main entrance of the facility he started to see the signs of what had been an intense firefight. From the amount of damage and spent rifle rounds, there were either more than ten guys inside, or those ten were a hell of a lot better armed than the intelligence briefing had indicated. Frank decided they should slightly slow the pace and exercise a bit more caution.

Everyone stacked up with their backs to the reinforced concrete retaining walls that surrounded the main reactor facility. Frank inched closer to the entrance and quickly took a look around the corner before pulling back behind the wall.

There were no tangos to be seen. He used hand signals to inform the team about the lack of danger from humans at this corner. Booby traps were always a concern. Knowing its better to stay stealthy as long as possible, they slipped silently around the corner, vigilantly scanning for traps, and into the compound sticking to the shadows whenever possible.

The door to the security building was thirty feet past this entrance. They closed the distance in seconds silently, not knowing what to expect inside.

Once inside they found the surveillance room was right where they were told it would be. Unfortunately, there had been a large explosive set off in the room and nothing remained that could be helpful.

Shit, Frank cursed, this whole thing was starting to go sideways. These intruders were covering their own ass. That meant they were not just off the street thugs, they were an enemy to be taken seriously.

An unexpected explosion rattled the building. It was followed by a large burst of automatic weapons fire coming from where the main reactor was, which would also be where the nuclear material could be accessed from storage.

As they made their way toward the firefight they could see what remained of the security team was pinned down behind a large storage container. The storage containers were forty feet tall, cylindrical, and with each passing moment becoming more riddled with bullet impacts. The attacking force was obviously more than the ten men the “intelligence” services had claimed. They had large caliber automatic weapons and rocket propelled grenades at a minimum.

So far neither side seemed to realize that a group of newcomers was about to join in the fight with the violent precision only a team of special operators was capable of delivering.

Frank took up position behind the rusted front end of an old two and a half ton cargo truck that looked like it had been built in the 1940’s. He knew the truck would offer Sergeant Fisher and his own rear-end some reasonable protection. Frank watched and waited as the remainder of the team picked the best available fighting positions and angles to engage the terrorist, he corrected himself, “alleged terrorist” force.

Using a flurry of hand signals, he let the team know the plan. They would start firing as soon as he let the first round go.

Frank took careful aim at what appeared to be the terrorist’s heaviest machine gun position and swiftly pulled the trigger. The team opened up as one. They had joined the battle. It was time to earn their combat pay.

Bullets impacted three of the enemy positions. Concrete chipped away from walls, adding to the deadly projectiles that were flying around. The tangos stopped firing at the security team, obviously surprised by this new development.

The new incoming fire he and his team were putting out was far more accurate and heavy than what the security team had been able to produce. Two of the terrorist positions had stopped moving due to the initial volley. That left six known positions to deal with.

Frank took aim at the closest of those remaining and continued firing. Just as he pulled the trigger an RPG was launched from one of the flanking positions directly at one of the team’s locations.

He watched helplessly as the shot tracked towards two of his men. The position that two Sergeants had taken would not protect them from a direct hit. They were forty feet away and there was not a damn thing Frank could do, and he knew it.

The two men saw the RPG coming their way, turned and started to run, but by then, it was too late. RPGs were too damn fast. It hit and all that could be seen was a violent fiery explosion followed by dust, debris and a fine red mist that had once been men under Frank’s command. His teammates, his friends, now dead.

They continued to return fire. They all knew what could happen. They would mourn the dead later.

Once the dust settled the only evidence that could be seen that there was once a living human in that location was a severed arm about ten feet away from the blast and riddled leg laying in a slowly expanding pool of blood. Small bits of unidentified matter were splattered against the walls. The bloody remains may not have been from the same person. Only time and DNA would be able to determine which body parts belonged to which of his soldiers. It was not the first time he had lost men under his command but it stung just as much each time.

Focusing on the battle, he looked up to make a count of how many terrorist positions were left. They were down to three.

There was no good way to get a clean shot at any of them. They had elevated, shielded positions. They had put themselves in a fantastic defensive spot. It was the position Frank would have chosen if he was trying to perform their mission. He touched Sergeant Fisher on the shoulder and pointed to the door of the building the tangos were holding and signed his intention to take the fight to the terrorist. Sergeant Fisher indicated he was ready with a thumb up and a feral smile. This is what they lived for, doing damage and harm to those who would do harm to the good people of the world.

He sprinted for the door with Sergeant Fisher right behind him. Their hearts beat faster with each step as they ran. They went up two flights of stairs to the level the enemy fire was coming from.

A right down a long hallway, then a left, and they could hear automatic weapons fire coming from at least two of the rooms. The sounds of battle were so loud it was hard to tell if it was two rooms or three. Perhaps the men on the ground had taken one more of their positions out, maybe they just couldn’t hear anything because of the continuous ringing in their ears.

Frank made his way to the first of the doors and braced himself behind the wall for a quick second. He stood, kicked in the door, and burst in the room with Sergeant Fisher right on his tail.

Without a second thought, they quickly dispatched the two men firing out the windows with short bursts to the back of their heads from their M-4s. The bullets entered clean enough, but exited taking the front half of the terrorists’ heads with them. What was left of the tangos fell to the floor with a very disturbingly loud wet sloppy sound. The walls of the room were decorated with blood red mosaics complete with chunks of grey matter that was starting to slowly slide down the walls leaving deep red gelatinous streaks in its wake. These two were down. They did not even have to double-check them. The faceless men were now crumpled on the floor, blood still flowing from the mess that had been their heads. To make matters worse for them, the other body functions relaxed and the smell of feces intermingled with blood and cordite.

In the room was an array of weaponry. There was an older Russian model PKM machine gun with bipod mount, a small stack of RPGs and a launcher. With all the firing still going on, it seemed the short in-room gunfight went unnoticed by the other tangos.

It was obvious they had two more rooms to clear. Frank looked at Sergeant Fisher, “Let’s get the other two rooms clear and end this.”

They could hear another RPG being fired out of one of the two remaining rooms and into the compound below. It was most likely aimed at the other men on their team. This had to stop!

Sgt Fisher yelled over the sounds of battle, “Sir, I can handle one of them alone, if you can handle the second.”

Frank knew it wasn’t the way they were trained to do these kinds of things, but he also didn’t want to lose more men. They had the advantage of coming in behind them so he decided they could afford the risk, “You got it, Sergeant.”

He sprinted down the hall. The sounds of automatic fire could still be heard coming from two different rooms. Frank was behind Sergeant Fisher by a few steps. The Sergeant took the first room and Frank continued down the hall. His target was only two doors down. Once both soldiers were in position they attacked in unison.

Frank burst into the room, and fired at the first of two targets. His shots were well placed and lethal. The second target was in the middle of reloading and had been caught off guard. Frank turned his M-4, pulled the trigger, and nothing happened.

The weapon was jammed.

The tango instantly realized what was going on, and charged.

Frank threw the jammed, useless weapon to the ground. He went for his handgun but the terrorist was moving too damn fast, and had a wicked looking knife in his hand that was at least six inches long.

The terrorist plunged the knife at Frank’s face and he instinctively reached up to grab it. Its razor sharp blade ripped into the flesh of his left hand and cut deep. Frank let out a yell of anger and pain that sounded like it came from something that wasn’t human, but he was sure it came from him.

Frank pushed back on the knife and saw blood pulsating in streams like a water fountain with every beat of his heart. He knew the knife had at least nicked an artery by the way that pulsating fountain kept spraying out onto the floor. If he didn’t end the fight soon he knew he ran the risk of bleeding to death.

He got his legs underneath him and threw the smaller man across the room, where the man hit the wall with a sickening thud. Adrenaline had to be doing most of the work as Frank’s muscles were tired and the blood loss was making its presence known.

As Frank’s world slowly compressed inward, he pulled out his pistol and put ten rounds into the tango’s head ending the confrontation.

Frank sank to the floor and put as much pressure on the wound in his hand as he could. He knew that he had to stop the damn bleeding or he was in deep shit. A few seconds later Sergeant Fisher came in the door. Thank God he was one of the team’s medics, and appeared to be in good health after his own brawl with the terrorist from the room down the hall.

Frank suddenly realized there were no more sounds of a firefight. He looked down and saw that his uniform was soaked with his own blood.

Sergeant Fisher knelt down beside him. “Looks like you have a little boo-boo, Sir” the Sergeant said as he calmly pulled out a medical kit.

“I think he fucked up my hand,” Frank said, indicating the now dead terrorist and knowing that shock would start to set in if he didn’t get the injury dealt with quickly.

“Well, I think I can fix that, just don’t go all crybaby on me,” Sgt Fisher said getting to work.

Five minutes later the bleeding was stopped, the hand was wrapped in bandages, and Frank was holding it close to his chest. Sergeant Fisher retrieved the jammed M-4, cleared and reloaded it for the Captain as they walked out of the building to rejoin what remained of the team.

Once outside they saw that aside from the two dead team members, there were only some minor injuries. At least they hadn’t lost any more soldiers.

The pair went over to where everyone had gathered with what remained of the internal security team.

“Sorry we ran a little late,” Frank said to what appeared to be the local in charge. “To the best of your knowledge do we have any more bad guys running around?” he asked no one in particular.

The tall man of at least six foot four inches answered, “No Sir, we don’t. You have done us a great favor. We were almost out of ammunition. If you guys hadn’t come along when you did more of them would have gotten away.”

“More of them?” Frank asked closing his eyes, wishing he hadn’t just heard that. “You mean some have already left the area?”

“Yes I am afraid they did. Four men with a truck load of nuclear materials.”

“Fuck,” he said thinking fast. “Does the truck have any kind of identifying marks?” Frank asked while trying to maintain his composure.  He was even angrier now about the delay inserting than he was mere moments before. These guys were real pros. They left a team behind to cover their escape.

“Unfortunately we don’t know the answer to that. It was a very generic truck. We have ten that look just like it at this facility alone. We lost track of it less than two minutes outside the gate, without getting a really good look at it. They even took out our cameras so we don’t even have it on video,” the man answered.

“So, let me get this straight, we have four or more unknown guys, on the loose, with no way to track them, and they have a truck load of some really nasty stuff. How much of that material could that truck carry?” he asked, afraid of what the answer might be.

“Hundreds of pounds, easily.”

“Wonderful,” was all Frank could say. Doing the after action report was going to make this a very long night.

“Mr. Choi,” Frank called to the Warrant Officer, “Can you call for our helicopter evac. We need to make a report, and this one needs to be in person.”

The Captain sat down. The stab wound was starting to send throbbing sensations higher up into his arm. This was going to be a very long night.



AP NEWS FLASH:  More trouble for the President today as polling shows him to be at his lowest popularity rating ever. The majority of Americans think the country is headed in the wrong direction.


AP ECONOMIC NEWS:  The markets ended mostly flat today on light trading. Investors appear to be sitting on the sideline not wanting to jump into the market with uncertain economic policy direction coming from Washington. It is thought that the FED meeting tomorrow will answer some questions, which will allow investors to get back into certain, very specific sectors, such as technology and manufacturing.last-world-war-book-cover

Upcoming Novel: The Last World War Volume 2 – Chapter One

Matt pulled up in front of Shelly’s house and couldn’t get over the fact that it had been a year since they had become seriously involved. They had started dating at the end of their junior year, and now, as graduation approached, it was hard to believe all that happened and how it had changed their lives forever.

Watching the latest war unfold on television, was part of the series of events that made them grow emotionally closer very quickly. Luckily it had all taken place far from their front door, making it feel safe, but still so strange to watch. Wars were things that happened elsewhere in the world; they didn’t result in the destruction of American cities. It had been that way for so long that nothing but black and white photos still existed of the last war to happen on American soil. It was considered unthinkable until those attacks, but at least there had been no follow-on invasion.

Everyone could remember the terrorist attacks that marked the start of an active war on terror, but this had been different. Those attacks had tragically destroyed some massive office buildings and killed thousands of people, but that was considered small by comparison to this new madness.

Nukes going off on U.S. soil had always been a threat, but the threat had always seemed empty. It was the kind of thing petty dictators would say they were going to do when trying to get attention, but it never happened, no one even considered it a possibility since the issue with Cuba in the 1960s.

Watching the television news coverage of the affected areas, with all the dead civilians, changed their young world forever. It made it all that much worse considering Matt had lost his brother in one of those hellish fireballs. That had made him angry in ways he had never experienced.

Now they were getting ready to go to college. Matt and Shelly had agreed that because of all they had watched unfold, all that the world had been through; this love they shared was the one and only love they wanted for the rest of their lives. They would use this past year of loss, danger, and recovery, as the basis for a lifetime they would spend together, but that plan was their secret for the moment.

After the loss of Matt’s brother, Chad, in the attack on Detroit, Shelly had helped him as he mourned. That support meant a lot to him. He would miss his brother for the rest of his life, but the thought of Shelly now in his life made it easier to cope with Chad’s loss. Matt had been on the verge of trying some very foolish things to dull the pain.

They were both glad that the United States had fought back and won the War. The other side had suffered staggering military casualties while sparing the civilian populations and had unconditionally surrendered. Matt, like so many Americans, had thrown a party to celebrate. It was like he could finally say his brother had died for a reason. Now perhaps there could be decades of peace in the world, and terrorist attacks could become a problem of the past.

He got out of the car and headed for the door. Shelly came bounding out before he was halfway up the walk, and threw her arms around his neck, “A year, can you believe it?” she asked.

Matt took a step back to look at the young woman he loved. The look of her blonde hair shining in the evening light, her athletic build, and tonight of all nights, wearing her “comfy jeans” as she always called the threadbare cutoffs, accompanied by a bare midriff t-shirt.

“It seems like so much has happened; like I have known you my whole life. You have kept me sane through it all. I have a surprise planned. You ready to go?” he asked with a devilish grin.

“Oh, I like surprises, let’s go,” she said with a flirtatious smile.

While out hiking with some friends Matt found an excellent spot where you could park, take a walk in the woods and watch the airplanes take off out of Bangor airport on their way to someplace better than the middle of nowhere Maine. Seasonal tourists might love this place for the view, and he enjoyed that as much as anyone, but growing up here it didn’t seem that special. However, all of that leaf covered scenery would offer some privacy for a romantic night.

Matt always loved it when his dad let him borrow the convertible. There weren’t a lot of months it was useful in Maine, but he still enjoyed it. He had the top down, and Shelly’s long hair was blowing in the wind. It made her look even sexier than normal. The way she looked was causing a rush of hormones as they parked the car and headed into the woods for their walk.

As they finished their walk, the sun was about to disappear for the day. They had no interest in such things as they sat in the backseat; they consumed one another. It had started side by side talking about graduation while holding hands. Slowly their talking stopped, and the kissing began. Matt didn’t know when and didn’t care how, but Shelly wound up straddling his waist as he felt like he was about to explode. The hormones were now raging, and he wasn’t sure he could control things long enough to get to the finish line they were both hoping to reach.

Shelly stopped abruptly. She eagerly looked down at him and slowly removed her shirt, then her bra, exposing herself. The sight of her is what he had been hoping to see all day.

He had been too distracted by the sight of her bare breasts to notice the man in jeans and a t-shirt with military gear strapped to his body. The man grabbed Shelly by the hair and dragged her from the car as she screamed wildly as much from pain as shock and fear. Matt watched in disbelief as the man threw her to the ground and kicked her in the stomach as he shouted in guttural tones.

The man had two partners who grabbed Matt by the arms and brutally dragged him from the car. He landed hard on his back with a huge rock digging into his spine as three men started to kick him in the face, back, chest, in any exposed area until his head was spinning from pain. He could feel bones crack in his chest; the favorite target of the savage assaults.

Matt was on the ground half naked and bleeding from more places than he could count. Blood had run into his eyes and mouth. Every time he tried to move there was a searing pain in his chest, left arm and right leg.

He made a huge mistake by looking at his arm. It seemed like a white stick was poking out of his forearm. Blood was dripping down his fingertips. It took him a minute to realize that was his bone sticking through the skin. At first, he couldn’t believe it, then he panicked and was certain he was going to die.

He watched helplessly as the largest of them stalked back to Shelly who was trying to crawl away, screaming hysterically. The men laughed as one of them grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her as she kicked and screamed around to the front of the car.

The largest of the assholes threw her onto the hood of the car hard enough to dent the thing into the shape of her body. One man pulled out a huge knife and cut her pants until he could easily rip them from her body. Her screams grew louder and more desperate as the metallic blade slid along her skin. Matt wanted to help, but he couldn’t move. Every time he moved the pain would make his vision go fuzzy.

The largest of them loosened his pants as the other two moved to the sides to hold her down. Knowing what was about to happen Shelly bucked wildly trying to break free. She did not want him to be able to put that thing sticking out towards her from a massive mound of bushy black hair into her, at least not without a fight.

They were too strong for her. She was exhausted from the struggle, but she continued to kick, getting weaker and weaker with each attempted strike. Finally, with a little luck, she managed to connect with some soft part of one of the men, and he let out a surprised scream. She had no idea where she hit him, but it gave her hope. She doubled her efforts, lashing out with renewed energy. The injured man stumbled back and fell to the ground. One of the others laughed and grabbed her by the hair then beat her head against the hood of the car until blood ran into her eyes. Two of the men held her left arm out as the third, who had finally recovered somewhat, kicked it at the elbow shattering it and leaving her arm useless in her fight.

Matt could only watch in horror as blood sprayed from her mouth in all directions while she let out an inhuman scream.

The man who had fallen to the ground after Shelly kicked him, picked up a large rock and returned to the struggling young woman. He bashed her in the leg with a rock making her leg snap as the knee bent backward.

Shelly lay barely conscious across the hood of the car after the beatings and having her arm and leg broken, as the men took turns raping her. With each violent thrust, they would punch her in some new spot; stomach, kidneys, face, chest, it didn’t matter where. They were on a mission to inflict pain and humiliation.

The largest of the men flipped her over, so she was face down. With no consideration, he stuck his dick out and shoved it in a body part that was designed for an entirely different function.

Shelly could no longer offer resistance. She could barely manage painful groans as she tried to cling to consciousness. It seemed as though every inch of her body was throbbing in pain. Blood seeped out of cuts as she sobbed uncontrollably. She finally managed a look at Matt and could see that even with his leg was bent the wrong way and, his arm evidently broken, he was trying to make his way to her.

She saw him vomit blood then collapse to the ground. She wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead.

It was at that moment she knew she was going to die. She also knew she didn’t want to go down without a fight.

The largest man picked her up and threw her back down on her back on the hood of the car. She let out a primal scream. With the little strength she had in her left she spat blood into his eye and yelled, “Fuck you pig!”

In a fit of violent lust, he stuck his dick into her then bashed her face with the rock. All three men laugh as her skull was crushed and dark, spilling out thick fluid in every direction. Strange pieces of tissue littered the area as her body went into death spasms. Matt had to watch in horror as this unfolded, unable to move. He saw what he thought was rice on the ground, but then realized they were her teeth.

He vomited more blood. Matt could still not move. He was in too much pain. He had to lay there and watch as all three raped her lifeless body. She was dead and would feel no pain, but Matt’s rage boiled. He was 20 feet away and could do nothing. His ribs felt like they were going to break through his chest.

He could only watch as they violated her dead body over and over.

The men, having finished with the girl, walked back towards Matt’s prone body. They decided one last blow to the head was in order and Matt lost consciousness.




Matt faded in and out. He was only half aware he was being sodomized. His mind had shut down after what happened to Shelly.

The men were finally finished and dumped Matt to the ground like a bag of trash. It was only then that Matt became aware of the sounds of large truck engines starting. Then he noticed the noise of scads of people moving around somewhere down below. Apparently, this was not a couple of random guys out for kicks. He guessed that the war wasn’t as over as people thought.




Matt wasn’t sure of the exact time he passed out, or what time it was when he woke up, but he knew that he had to stand up. As he looked around the area, he saw his dad’s car was gone. He was on his own, with a broken body and no transportation. Slowly the memory of what happened came back, scene by scene. He searched the area for Shelly, hoping it had all been a dream. He found where her body had been. There were some large paw prints and a blood trail. Some animal must of have taken her body off as a meal.

Matt couldn’t believe any of this.

Was he dreaming?

No, this was real.

He got to his feet, slowly. He had to get out of the area. He had to let someone know what happened.

Who would believe him?

This sort of thing just didn’t happen here, not in the United States, and certainly not in Maine.

Three guys come out of nowhere and brutally attack two teenagers, killing one of them and leaving the other for dead?

How could this happen?

Why would this happen?

Matt started moving as fast as he could. By remote control, he slowly pulled up his jeans from where they landed during the attack. His shoes were missing. He was still bleeding from multiple wounds but had to find someone and tell them what happened. No matter how much as he wanted to lay down on the ground and sleep, he knew he could not. His injuries could wait; someone had to know what was going on out here before someone else suffered like Shelly did.

Barefoot and bleeding, with stunted unsteady steps, he started off down the dirt road. He took no notice of the sharp pricks of rocks and broken glass cutting into his already abused feet.

An hour later Matt was slowly walking up a country road. He was near exhaustion. He hoped someone would stop, and then he hoped it was the right person.




Sgt. Greg Spoker and Specialist Aaron Little had received their calls to mount up into an armored Hummer and head off to a remote part of the country to report anything unusual happening. As they drove along the country road, they talked about how they were at least glad it was not another trip to Afghanistan or Iraq. Both had done several tours over there and did not relish the idea of going back.

Little had just popped open a soda can and lit up smoke when something caught his attention.

“Hey, Sgt Spoker,” Little said, “slow down and load up. I see something about 500 meters up on the right.”

The Sgt. slowed the vehicle to a crawl 250 meters out from what looked like a “zombie” slowly shuffling along the road. Both men raised their weapons to the ready, with their fingers off the trigger, but not far away, and scanned for threats, sarcastically hoping to each other that the “zombie” wasn’t a real one.

As they neared the person one arm began to wave them down, “Stop where you are,” Little yelled wondering the hell was going on.

Sgt. Spokers got on the radio to call in the “unusual activity.”

Specialist Little looked through his rifle scope to see the frightening image of Matt, “GET THE MED KIT AND CALL A DAMN AMBULANCE!” he screamed.

“Aaron,” Greg said, “What the fuck is it?”

“It’s some kid. He is seriously messed up; someone worked him over just like the Iraqis used to do to uncooperative local prisoners.”

Little grabbed the medical kit and ran to Matt. Sgt. Spoker was frantically talking on the radio looking for help, “Headhunter Base, this is Ghostrider 3 Alpha Over.”

“Ghostrider 3 Alpha, this is Headhunter Base, go ahead, over.”

“Base, 3 Alpha, we need casualty evac at,” looking over at the GPS on the dash he read the coordinates.

“Casualty is a teenage male, severe blunt trauma. First Aid initiated, but we will need higher care before we can move him back, over.”

“3 Alpha, this is Headhunter 6, say again your last. Do I understand you have a casualty, over?”

“6, this is 3 Alpha. Roger on last. One civilian casualty, priority evacuation is needed. First Aid started, but the kid has blunt force trauma, open fractures, and looks like he may lose a leg if you don’t get that evac here now, over.”

“Evac being called. Secure the area, treat casualty to the best of your ability. Keep whoever it is alive, we need to know what the hell is going on. Intelligence coming our way is confused, at best, and contradictory at worst, over.”

“6, 3, roger, out.”

Specialist Little slid to a stop as he ripped open a medical kit. Sgt. Spoker was moving the truck forward to shine more light on so they could work on the injuries.

“Shit, where is Doc when you need him? 0This kid is messed up. I can stop most of the bleeding, but he has so many broken bones I don’t know where to start,” Little said to no one in particular. He had already bandaged some of the head wounds and was working his way down the body trying to prioritize the worst injuries first. Looking at the open fracture, he just immobilized the arm and moved on.

Sgt. Spoker was moving around with his weapon at the ready, looking for trouble when he saw footprints along the road. Kneeling down, he flipped on his tactical light and noticed the bloody prints.

“Aaron,” he called out, “check the kid’s feet and tell me if he is bleeding.”

Little moved to the feet and recoiled in horror. He had seen people, friends as well as enemies, blown up; but never in his life had he seen as much damage done to a human body part as there was on the kid’s feet. At least not while the person was still alive. The only thing his mind could see was ground up beef, ready to be made into burgers on the weekend.

There were bits of twigs sticking out of Matt’s feet. His heels were down to the bone in multiple places. There was torn flesh just dangling off in multiple directions. One toe was missing from what appeared to be the result of Matt dragging that foot behind him.

He put tight bandages over both feet as fast as he could and said, “Just save your energy man, stop trying to talk. We have an ambulance on the way. You are massively dehydrated on top of everything else. I am going to start an IV and start getting your blood levels back up.”

Sgt. Spoker kept patrolling the area while Specialist Little worked on Matt as fast as he could. They could hear sirens in the distance and a large helicopter thumping its way towards their position.

They both knew this was not the training exercise they initially thought.

What the hell had happened?

The War was supposed to be over, but something about the situation said it had come home…again.



AP NEWS FLASH: There are unconfirmed reports of a foreign military invasion in the state of Maine. These reports are scattered and varied. There is no video, photographic, or audio evidence of these claims. The Governor has activated the National Guard, who is currently patrolling the regions of these reports. <STORY DEVELOPING>