Guerilla Warfare (2006) Read online

  The unit formed up with Charlie Fire Team acting as rear guard, and headed for the boats.

  .

  "CESEN del fuego!"

  Comandante Javier Toledo's voice boomed so loudly over the garrison area that he was heard above the shooting. The firing immediately ceased, leaving a buzzing silence in the men's battered eardrums. Castillo joined the bandera commander. "Are you going to pursue the enemy?"

  "Only if I am ordered to do so, mi generalisimo."

  "Why is that?" Castillo asked. He was used to the aggressive and risky tactics of the Spanish Foreign Legion.

  "We do not know their numbers," Toledo explained. "The withdrawal could be a trap. An entire brigade of Bolivian infantry could be out there waiting for us to walk into an ambush."

  Castillo was thoughtful for a moment. The comandante could be correct, and, of course, there weren't a lot of men in the bandera. One disaster could set the Falangist movement back as much as a year. "Very well, comandante. I agree with your choice of action."

  Back on the firing line, Sargento Antonio Muller stood up and stretched. It had been one hell of a fight, though none of the Falangist subunits had sustained any casualties. The battle seemed to be more of fire than maneuver, and neither side had worked its way into an advantageous position. They simply exchanged shots.

  Suboficial Adolfo Punzarron walked by, coming back from a front position where he'd been in the thick of the fight. His foreign legion forage cap was pushed forward cockily on his head, and his uniform was stained by mud and grass. He glanced over at Muller. "I'm going to put you in for a commendation, Sargento. Your timely warning of attackers probably saved the garrison."

  Muller nodded. "It was a hell of a fight, eh, Suboficial Punzarron?"

  Punzarron actually grinned. "It was a lot of fun, wasn't it?"

  There would be peace now between the two. They were a couple of old soldiers who had cleared the air between them.

  .

  BIG CREEK

  0500 HOURS

  MILLY Mills brought Charlie Team in from its rear guard duties. He sought out Brannigan to report that there was no pursuit, then asked, "How's Lieutenant Cruiser?"

  "He was hit twice in the right side," Brannigan answered. "Bradley said one of the bullets didn't exit. He's afraid it's in the spine. Cruiser can't feel or move his legs."

  "Shit!" Milly exclaimed. "He ain't paralyzed, is he, sir?"

  "Bradley can't tell," Brannigan said. He turned to Chief Matt Gunnarson. "You're commander of the First Assault Section for now. Take over."

  "Aye, sir."

  Bradley watched as Taylor and Cinzento gently placed Cruiser in one of the piragua boats. After the officer was made comfortable, the rest of the detachment boarded the other craft for the trip back up the Rio Ancho to the base camp.

  Chapter 6

  SEAL BASE CAMP 6 DECEMBER

  1800 HOURS LOCAL

  LI E UTE NANT (J. G.) Jim Cruiser still had no feeling in his legs nor could he move them when he was placed aboard the Petroleo Colmo Company's Aerospatiale Gazelle helicopter for medical evacuation. Hospital Corpsman James Bradley supervised as Bruno Puglisi and Paulo Cinzento slid the stretcher into the aircraft's passenger compartment. Just before the cargo door was closed, Cruiser raised his right hand with the thumb extended to show his brother SEALs he still had a lot of fight left in him, even if it was mostly spiritual. He had taken a brutal physical battering from the almost simultaneous impact of the 9-millimeter slugs.

  Brannigan and the others stood in silence as the chopper lifted into the air, then turned south toward civilization. No one moved for several long moments. The terrible potential consequences of the 2IC's injuries were foremost in their minds, along with that shameful personal thought of I'm glad it wasn't me.

  Brannigan snapped them back to the present. "Listen up! We're going to have to reorganize a bit. Chief Gunnar-son will take over the First Assault Section. Petty Officer Lamar Taylor will move into his place as leader of Alpha Fire Team." He looked around. "Where the hell is the Odd Couple?"

  "Here, sir!" Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz called out simultaneously.

  "I'm going to give you guys a break," Brannigan said. "You've been running your asses off. You'll go to Alpha Fire Team as riflemen. Petty Officers Redhawk and Murchison will take your places as detachment scouts."

  "We ain't tired, sir," Mike protested.

  "I didn't ask if you were," Brannigan said, knowing that stubborn pride was behind the protest. A SEAL just naturally disliked being put in a position where he appeared as if he weren't up to the job. The Skipper soothed the hurt feelings by adding, "When we move back into high gear, I want you jumpy and eager. Now! All the section commanders and team leaders report to me at my CP, which is located at this exact spot where I'm standing. The rest of you get out on the perimeter except for Frank Gomez."

  "You want me to do something, sir?" the commo man asked.

  "Right," Brannigan replied. "Get on the Shadowfire and raise Alfredo. Tell him we need reinforcements yesterday."

  "Aye, sir!" Frank replied. He got his entrenching tool and headed for the cache where the radio was hidden.

  The unit leaders moved closer to the Skipper. He grinned at them. "I swear I'm having more staff meetings than Pentagon lieutenant commanders."

  "Your office ain't quite as elegant as theirs, sir," Senior Chief Buford Dawkins commented, looking around the area next to the feted swamp.

  "You ain't got a good-looking secretary either," Connie Concord added.

  "At any rate, we're going to have to get into an aggressive hit-and-run program," Brannigan said. "The Falangists outnumber us and undoubtedly will be sending out some serious recon and combat patrols to yank our chains. So we want to beat them to the punch. We're going to leave the base camp closed up and get the hell out of here for awhile. All detachmentsize operations will be curtailed for the time being. Sections and teams will operate separately on insurgency missions, but we'll stick as close together as possible to support each other when necessary. Moving around and biting at the enemy will keep him guessing and nervous. We'll also take advantage of the helicopter support we've got from Petroleo Colmo Company for resupply and to set up some scattered caches."

  "Them bright red helicopters are like lit beacons flying through the sky," Gutsy Olson complained.

  "They've been zipping around the area for months," Brannigan reminded him. "The Falangists and everybody else think they're exploring for oil in the Gran Chaco."

  Frank Gomez came back from his commo chore and ripped off a page from his message pad, handing it to Brannigan. "Here's your answer, sir."

  Brannigan read it, then shook his head. "No reinforcements available. It doesn't say if the situation is permanent or temporary. One thing I've learned in all my years of service is that the worst-case scenario is the one that's going to jump out and bite you. We're on our own."

  "It's enough to piss off a saint," Chief Matt Gunnarson said.

  "We're enough to piss off a saint," Milly Mills added.

  .

  HEADQUARTERS, BANDERA 1

  GENERALISIMO Javier de Castillo y Plato had decided to give the headquarters garrison a name. The bucolic post would become larger as soon as Bandera 2 joined them. He had spent most of the previous night trying to decide which Spanish hero or heroic incident was good enough to be commemorated at this first official DFF military garrison.

  Just before dawn, the decision was made. The generalisimo decided the camp would be dubbed Campamento Astray after one of Spain's most colorful military leaders. In fact, much of this inspiration for the twenty-first-century fascist organization came from that man.

  .

  MILLAN Astray, the son of a lawyer, was born in La Coruria, Spain, in 1879. He began his military career at the Infantry Academy in Toledo in 1894 where he earned a commission as a subalterno de infanteria. Two years later he was shipped to the Philippines to fight against the indigenous rebels seeking to overthro
w their Spanish masters. It was in that vicious campaign that Astray earned his first decoration for bravery when he defeated two thousand rebels with only thirty men under his command in a battle at San Rafael.

  He was subsequently transferred back to Spain as a capitan, where he served as a teacher of military science and tactics at his alma mater, the Infantry Academy. By 1912 he had tired of the peaceful existence and volunteered to return to combat. This time they shipped the gung ho officer out to Morocco to fight indigenous African rebels. Five years later, after he was once again posted to Spain, Astray put forth an idea of forming a foreign legion similar to that of France to campaign in the Dark Continent's desert area. After being sent for a close-up study of la Legion Extrangere of France he came back to Spain to form la Legion Extranjera of Spain. This earned him a promotion to the rank of teniente-coronel and command of the new foreign legion he had designed.

  When the first recruits arrived in la Legion, Astray told them to forget their former lives, women and families. Everything they needed would be furnished until they died in battle. And death would be their inevitable fate. They went into combat in a wild, reckless manner, giving no quarter and asking none in a series of bloody campaigns in which the legionarios earned a well-deserved reputation for cruelty and brutality.

  Astray backed up his military philosophy and aims by risking his own life, insisting on personally leading his troops in battle. Consequently, he suffered three serious wounds in the process: the first in the leg; the second in the left arm, which had to be amputated; and the third in the face, which cost him his right eye.

  He eventually was promoted to general de brigades, participating in the Spanish Civil War with his former subordinate Francisco Franco, who would rule Spain from 1939 to 1975. General Milian Astray, an extremist of right-wing causes, supported Nazi Germany during World War II.

  He died of a heart attack in 1954, but his spirit lived on through successive generations of the Legion Extranjero. Now Generalisimo Jose Maria de Castillo y Plato saw to it that same elan had become the driving force in the modern Falange seeking to conquer the Gran Chaco.

  .

  1400 HOURS LOCAL

  IT took the Piaggio turbojet four trips to transport Bandera 2 and all unit gear from their garrison in the north down to Campamento Astray. When the final ammo box and ration carton was off-loaded and carried to the new unit's recently constructed barracks, the commander, Comandante Gustavo Cappuzzo, formerly of the Argentine Marines, formed up his men and marched them to join Bandera 1 in a special formation on the small parade ground.

  The generalisimo marched to the front of the two units and took the salutes of Comandantes Toledo and Cappuzzo. After giving the men permission to assume the more comfortable position of at ease, Castillo spoke to them in a loud voice.

  "You have been brought together to meet a challenge thrown at us by an unidentified enemy who is skulking throughout the Gran Chaco. Their origins, numbers and exact weaponry are unknown, but that does not make them phantoms. They are foreigners, perhaps wretched mercenaries, sent in a desperate attempt to stop the Falangist Revolution. Thus, the Dictadura Fascista de Falangia faces its first serious threat from persons who wish to crush this new world order. Many officers and noncommissioned officers of the armed forces of Argentina, Bolivia and Chile have grown disgusted with the leftist softness of their countries. Consequently, these professional commanders and their subordinates stand with us, giving us support in personnel and materiel that allows us to grow stronger almost daily. There will also be volunteers from the civilian populations of South America as well as Spain, France, Portugal and Germany joining us soon. All these are good men who have recognized the growing threat within the insidious incursions of socialism and other fanatical philosophies of radical left politics."

  Castillo began pacing back and forth, gazing at the banderas. They were not as large a force as an infantry company--totaling only ninety-two troops--but they were dedicated, professional soldiers ready to fight for the Falangist cause. He liked what he saw. This collective ferocity made up for the lack of numbers.

  "You are being formed into a Grupo de Batalla--a battle group--of almost a hundred men," the generalisimo continued. "This grupo will be organized as current missions dictate. You will be broken down into rifle squads and machine gun crews along with special commando raiding teams. Additionally, a pair of Spanish Model L 60-millimeter mortars have been added to our arsenal."

  A murmur of approval rumbled through the ranks.

  Castillo smiled. "And, for the icing on the ca also receiving an EC-635 light utility helicopter that has been lately liberated from the Argentine Army. It will be invaluable for reconnaissance and the transport of troops and equipment. We expect much more growth in our capabilities of transport and support fire for infantry units." He turned, looking out at the side of the formation. "TenienteComnel Busch! Front and center, marche!"

  Jeronimo Busch paraded onto the scene,going to the direct front of the generalisimo. After performing a faultless, snappy salute, he barked, "I report for duty, mi generalisimo." Busch made an about-face movement to face the two banderas.

  "Teniente-Coronel Busch is hereby promoted to the rank of coronel," Castillo announced. "He will assume the direct field command of the Grupo de Batalla."

  Busch marched two steps forward, as Castillo moved back to give him center stage. The Chilean paratrooper's voice boomed even louder than that of the supreme leader's.

  "Buenas tardes, soldados de fascismo! I am honored to have been chosen to serve as your commanding officer during active campaigning. We shall fight together to firmly establish the nation of Falangia in a great first step toward establishing the global dominance of fascism. The glory will be great and the fight difficult. I do not promise you an easy time. What I do promise you is sweat, tears, blood and unending combat. You will know hunger and exhaustion as demands are placed upon you that will stretch your spiritual and physical strengths to the ultimate limits of human endurance. I expect each and every one of you to live by the creed of the soldado Falangista! You must be brave! You must have the spirit of camaraderie! You must always go toward the sound of firing and seek out combat! You must make instant obedience a religion as you use the archangel Michael as your spiritual guide and mentor! Be brave and ferocious; fast and nimble; as tough as steel; and as alert as a hunting eagle! Our common destiny will be to have the generalisimo lead us to the magnificence and splendor of vanquishing the enemies of the way of life to which we are all dedicated."

  Even as Busch made another about-face to turn toward Castillo, the two banderas broke into spontaneous cheers, ready for a fight.

  .

  THE CENTRAL PORTION OF THE OA

  8 DECEMBER

  0945 HOURS LOCAL

  THE SEAL detachment moved twenty kilometers to the east along the Rio Ancho before coming to a halt. It had taken almost twenty-four hours of slow travel while they poled the piraguas as silently as possible with the raider craft tied on the sterns. Two men per boat labored at the task, changing off every . Hour on the hour. The new scout team of Garth Redhawk and Chad Murchison each took a side of the river, moving a kilometer ahead of the main group in the dual role of security and reconnaissance.

  Now the detachment was set up on both banks of the waterway while Frank Gomez monitored the Shadowfire radio. As soon as the transmission they waited for came over the headphones, he called over to Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan.

  "Sir! The chopper is on the way in."

  "All right," Brannigan said. He took up his binoculars and scanned the western horizon. Within minutes the bright red of the Petroleo Colmo Dauphin helicopter came into view, flying directly toward the site. It approached rapidly, then slowed as it began to descend. When it was directly over the detachment, Senior Chief Buford Dawkins signaled it in for a landing. It came down to gentle contact with the grass.

  The cargo door slid open, and Alfredo jumped out. "Goodies!"

&nb
sp; The SEALS went to the aircraft, and Paul Cinzento and Wes Ferguson jumped in and immediately began passing out the bundles of supplies to the others. Ammunition and rations made up the bulk of the cargo, but one unidentified bundle tightly wrapped was also included. Alfredo noticed everyone looking at it. "Camouflage coverings," he said, identifying it. "I figured you guys would need extra if you were going to be hiding stuff all over the OA. There're also some individual capes you can throw over yourselves to hide in the grass. They're just the right motley color to allow you to blend in with your surroundings. I brought enough for everyone:'

  Brannigan unbuckled the straps and opened it up. He pulled one of the coverings out and checked it over. "Lightweight and compact," he remarked approvingly as he rolled it into a tight bundle to see how it would fit into a rucksack.