Date: Sat, 2 Sep 2023 10:16:01 +0200 (CEST)
From: Boris Chen <borischenaz@mailfence.com>
Subject: Response Team Prequel Chapter 32

Chapter 32. Operation Omaha Beach.

Please remember everything in this story is fictional, none of it happened,
none of it is real.



We received word from the Feds (multiple offices) of an international plot
to attack a large coal mine in Wright, Wyoming, North America's largest
surface strip coal mine. At this mine the coal sits just below the top
soil; nobody there is working underground.

We agreed to take the case before getting all the facts because disrupting
terror was our #1 priority, and David really hates terrorists. According to
the latest intel the threat was not for a specific date, and an attack was
not anticipated this week. An attack was definitely in the planning phase
by military planners from Iran and Pakistan. The USA had multiple agents
reporting in from the Middle East and Africa, and this was a real plan with
significant damage potential to many states in our region. They heard the
planned attack was against nine western states. It was a simple plan, even
smaller than the original February 1993 attack on the World Trade Center
but this one could inflict much greater and widespread effects. Their goal
is to shut off the electricity in nine western states for a year or
two. This was retaliation for on-going CIA operations in Iran.

We had a priority video conference with the Joint Chiefs office in the
Pentagon because of the complexity of the case; the plot might tie us up
for weeks, possibly months. That day, Captain Johnson scheduled a meeting
for all ELP staff and summoned our back-up team from Omaha down to ELP
ASAP. David was given the responsibility of reviewing all the top-secret
intel reports and designing a military style response and then making his
presentation for how we'd foil their attack plans. David was 100% committed
to the mission and eagerly stayed up all night designing and refining his
plan and presentation. This was the first time in the history of the Rapid
Response Service that one of the team leaders was asked to design a
military attack against an attack. David was highly respected in the
Pentagon and this was a tremendous vote of confidence from the highest
office in the U.S. military. He laughed it off but I knew this was a big
deal and his plan had to sound reasonable, be cheap to implement, and above
all, work. The only other military person I knew of in his thirties that
was given this responsibility was Curtis Lemay in the 1940s.

Our team from Omaha arrived by commercial airline at 10am the next day;
David's presentation was scheduled for 1pm in our conference room. He had
maps and photographs of the area ready on his laptop but he never wrote a
script, just a list of points to make. The next morning David spent two
hours in the Captain's office reviewing his plan to mess-up the terror
attack. He whispered to me during their closed-door session that the
Captain had never created military strategy before but he helped David
polish his presentation. I reminded David the Skipper was more of a numbers
geek who well understood percentages and costing but probably never played
with little green plastic soldiers as a child.

We sat down with the Omaha team for lunch at the airport on the main level
at a sandwich shop then used the first stairway to bypass the TSA pat-down
show. We had our Whispernet jammers running otherwise it would have been
really dreadful trying to eat and talk around a small dining table.

After lunch the actual meeting started a couple minutes late because nobody
knew where the remote control for the projector was kept, but we found it
in a desk drawer nearby the OD.

----

At 12:55pm the OD shouted loudly, "Will everyone please take a seat in the
conference room now." I glanced across the room at my husband to see how he
looked. He was up all day yesterday, all night last night, and half the day
today. He was loaded up on sugar and caffeine but he looked okay, I was
watching closely for signs like he was about to faint, or if he started
mis-speaking. I was poised to act to protect him in case something went
wrong.

It was one of our rare `all hands' meetings, I counted 13 people, and three
were in civvies. There were also an untold number of people in Washington
watching his presentation over the DOD intranet.

Our team from Omaha came dressed in business attire, I think it was the
first time I saw Duke in nice clothes. Duke sort of looked like a 1980s
Wrestler wearing a cheap two-piece suit. Luke looked like a wannabe Duke,
or Duke Jr. The captain paid for two large veggie trays and two boxes of
coffee with different creams and flavorings. That stuff disappeared fast. I
was glad to see nobody brought donuts.

For his presentation, David wore his full dress white Navy officer's
uniform. But he looked very handsome and very young for an O6 (called
Captain in the Navy, or Colonel in the Army. Captain Johnson was an Army
officer which is O3). David switched on his Whispernet jammer and cleared
this throat loud enough for everyone to stop talking and listen, but he
also wore a wireless microphone so his voice echoed around the conference
room. People were quietly still hitting the coffee and mountain of veggies
before his presentation started. I grabbed a plate full of cauliflower
before he started. As I turned to walk back to my seat in the back row of
seats I looked up and saw him standing at the podium watching me. I smiled
at him and held up my plate of cauliflower and he smiled back then looked
around the room and up at the projector. There was a video camera on a
tripod to send his presentation to Washington too. I'm sure that made him a
bit anxious.

I noticed how his white dress jacket and shirt made the skin on his face
look brown and it looked like he wasn't old enough to shave yet, but his
voice gave away his age. Regardless, he was gorgeous and I was very proud
of him. He avoided making eye contact with me during his entire
presentation. Whenever he does presentations I usually sit alone in the
back of the room, and he always suspects I'll make faces at him to try to
make him laugh so he never looks at me. That tells me he is also probably
super nervous and trying to hide his anxiety.

On the projection screen behind him David began with satellite photos of
the mine, and where they had marked the outlines of a full scale model of
the mine in the desert in Libya to rehearse the attack; and then he
explained his plan called 'Operation Omaha Beach.'

"Good afternoon. As you may have heard, an international plot to attack the
energy sector of the USA is in the works. Luckily, we were tipped off and
have time to get ready, maybe a week, or two at most. There is a small
military attack planned against the largest coal mining operation in the
USA, called the Black Thunder Mine, which is located in rural northeast
Wyoming about 100 miles south of Devil's Tower. They export coal by rail to
base load power plants in nine western states. A base-load power plant is
one that operates 24/7 to keep the lights on in those states all day and
night but may need additional smaller plants to handle peak electricity
demand in the early morning and late afternoon. Peak demand power plants
usually run on natural gas."

"Down here in El Paso our primary fuel source is natural gas from the old
oil fields of west Texas, but some of our peak energy could come off the
grid from out of state coal plants. So we are still vulnerable but not as
much as Minnesota."

"We received top-secret Keyhole intelligence that a small military squad is
currently being trained to use mortar launchers to attack key machinery at
the coal mine to shut it down and keep it offline for at least a year,
possibly much longer. Imagine what would happen to the US if nine western
states were suddenly back in the late 1800s with regard to technology;
hundreds of people would die during the first few days, and thousands more
when the populations of nine states fled to areas that still had power."

"Based on our brief evaluation of the mine it has many single points of
failure, damaging the single points shuts down the entire operation. They
designed the mine to operate with minimal staff to keep costs down, but
lean companies are usually more vulnerable when things break because they
don't have staff to deal with multiple major system outages, much less
trained staff. A company like this tries to outsource specialists rather
than employ them, and again that's fine until two single point systems
break down at the same time."

"Since it is an engineering term I'll explain that a single point failure
means one thing breaks and the entire system fails. The classic example is
the Silver Bridge in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. In December 1967 a
single eye-bar link cracked, rusted, and failed. The bridge collapsed
sending 46 people into the icy Ohio River. One piece broke and it destroyed
the entire bridge, that is a single point of failure."

"They operate two enormous drag line cranes that scoop coal and drop it in
trucks that transport it to conveyors that transport the coal to a
processing plant on-site. The coal is cleaned and ground to a small size
commonly accepted by electricity plants. They load rail cars, as many as
150 in one train and run non-stop to power plants where they are unloaded
and sent back to the coal mine to be filled once again. The entire process
is highly mechanized and automated."

"Of course when something breaks then the first thing they wish is they had
more staff, but that's their choice. That business plan is probably part of
the reason why this mine became a target. This is not the only large coal
mine in our part of the States, but it might be the most vulnerable. This
is also not the only surface coal mine west of the Mississippi, but it is
the largest in North America."

"Their two drag line cranes are electrically powered, meaning they run high
voltage power lines on the ground connected to their own electricity
plant. Their electricity generating station is powered by methane gas,
which comes from the mine, since coal and methane always go hand in hand."

One of the ODs stood up and asked for clarification about the drag lines,
"How do they power the cranes?"

David stopped and answered his question: "The drag lines which look like
the biggest cranes in the world are powered by electricity. They run thick
cables about the size of fire truck hoses across the ground like a giant
extension cord so when the crane moves someone has to help move the power
cables, which just lay on the ground; three thick wires are run inside a
bright orange plastic conduit."

"Is that dangerous to run high voltage on the ground and have trucks drive
over them? Anyone ever get electrocuted?"

"They run three-phase power to the cranes, which means its three high
voltage wires and a neutral wire. Depending on the type of three phase
power the electrical potential is phase to phase, not phase to ground. So
if someone got shocked it would be safer than household current because the
electricity only has potential to another of the three phases, not to
ground. If you touched certain types of three phase lines to ground nothing
happens, maybe a tiny spark like static electricity." The OD sat back down
and David continued his presentation.

"The drag line cranes each use buckets the size of a two car garage and can
load the enormous dump trucks with two scoops of coal. They deliver the
coal to the nearest loading point on the conveyors, then the coal is moved
to the processing plant where debris is removed and the coal is dried and
ground to the size needed by power plants. After processing, the coal is
poured into rail cars and off they go across the USA to different power
plants west of the Mississippi River. That is a brief summary of the mine
operation, other than to say the prime targets at the mine are the drag
line cranes, the power plant, the coal cleaning, grinding, and the loading
facility, which is mostly one large building. Raw coal goes in one door on
a conveyor belt and 'finished coal' pours into rail cars at the other end."

"Now we switch to the subject of destroying a coal operation with minimal
people and cost. You've probably seen video of World War 2 and have seen
artillery and infantry using portable mortar launchers. Two soldiers
kneeling on the ground drop a hand-held mortar into a launching tube that
shoots the round into the sky. They have aiming controls on the launcher
that gives them accurate and repeatable performance. This attack being
planned uses a common mortar system. The Libyans will park along the
highway, and aim, while their spotter calls firing adjustments with a small
walkie talkie."

"A well rehearsed team could destroy the drag line cranes, the coal
cleaning and loading system, and the power plant in less than 17 minutes,
possibly much less time. All this damage could be done by three soldiers
who drove to the site in a small car. It could take over eighteen months to
repair the damage if the mine company could even afford to do so. And after
the coal stops flowing and coal reserves are depleted the power plants will
shut down and at least nine western states will no longer have
electricity. This would be the most destructive military attack on the USA
since we opened for business in the 1700s. Colonel Malone and I have
designed an equally simple plan to spoil their attack. Hopefully before
then Washington might find a diplomatic solution but it seems for now Iran
and Pakistan are preparing to anonymously attack us."

Now David changed the image on the screen to aerial shots of the primary
targets and also their likely firing position along the highway.

"These are the two drag line cranes; they are enormous and custom built at
the mine so there are very few off-the-shelf repair parts. This is the
power plant and the methane pumping station, and these buildings are where
coal is cleaned and ground to size needed by their customers and loaded
onto rail cars. This is where they are planning on parking their car and
launching the attack using common WW2-style mortar rounds, which are
readily available worldwide, by the case. They're sold at gun shows by the
case for about $20 each shell, and it's perfectly legal too. Each mortar
has a range of over a mile and contains its own propellant motor to launch
it into the sky." Next, David switched to photos of Omaha Beach in France.

Just then the same male OD, a new Army Lieutenant stood and asked why the
mine didn't switch to wind power generation on the lands they already mined
and just halt the operation and make their profits selling electricity
instead.

David paused and sighed then asked the young man to introduce himself,
since he was the latest hire to our office. Then he went on to explain his
answer. "Wind power isn't reliable enough as a base load power source
because in every windy place in the country there are hours and days where
the wind stops dead. Another problem is those wind mills have serious
design problems. You ever drive past a wind mill farm Lieutenant?" The
young man stood again and said he saw two of them along I-40 in New Mexico
and near Amarillo. David continued his answer.

"Did you notice on all those farms there's always one or more that are not
spinning? It's probably because they are broken or haven't been activated
yet. You see those big blades don't start to spin on their own, they have
large electric motors up inside the top that have to get the blades
spinning, then if the wind is high enough they'll continue to spin but they
don't generate enough force to start to spin on their own. This is why each
windmill needs to be connected to commercial power to get the windmill
turning before the wind can keep it turning. The current draw to get such a
large thing turning is large, so there must be enough excess power being
made locally or they cannot activate others. Due to the stresses and design
problems the windmills also have the habit of catching on fire, but they're
too high above the ground for local fire departments to reach so they let
them burn, which runs the risk of starting grass fires or huge crop
fires. And you certainly do not want to live within one mile of one. The
truth is they would not exist without taxpayer subsidy because they never
generate enough income to pay for themselves; it's a similar problem with
photovoltaic solar panels. They are a poor design and prone to needing
constant and very expensive repairs. The summary is without lots of free
taxpayer money wind power would not exist and it can never be used as base
load power, which coal is ideally suited for."

The young Army officer sat down and David continued his presentation.

"Considering the terrain and existing mine security we came up with a plan
compatible with our mission. We'll call this Operation Omaha Beach since
the setting is similar to the D-Day invasion of France. This highway is our
Normandy Beach, but in our situation the good guys hold the high ground."
He pointed to the 2-lane rural road (Highway 450) that ran along the north
entrance to the mine property. "Out here is the English Channel, and this
strip of land between the coal loading facility and the highway are the
bluffs overlooking the beach. We want to construct two small underground
gun placements, underground concrete bunkers that will be built like
miniature residential basements. They need to be designed and built to
provide unobstructed views of the entire beach area. It is from this area
their attack will begin. They do not need to set foot on mine property but
using a simple portable war surplus launcher they can quickly and cheaply
devastate the mine operation and put them out of business for up to two
years. From this location they can destroy all their targets with the aid
of a spotter."

He paused briefly then reiterated that with a mortar system like the M2
60mm high energy mortars the most vital parts of the mine operation could
easily be destroyed in less than fifteen minutes by three men, and for less
than five hundred dollars. The CIA reports the group working on the attack
has a team practicing with the M2 today in southeastern Libya near the city
of Al Jawf. He said, "As of today we only have circumstantial data on the
funding for the operation but their target is the economy of the western
and Midwest USA, parts of the country that use coal as a base-load fuel
source. Coal is still the single biggest energy source in North America."

Captain Johnson stood and interrupted David and asked where their weapons
came from.

"The M2 60mm launcher and high energy mortars are commonly used today, they
are manufactured in sixteen countries and in every continent on the
planet. They sell on the black market by the case; twelve rounds come in a
metal box. There are two companies in the US and one in Canada that crank
them out six days a week, two cases an hour, all year long. The mortar
system is more refined and accurate than in the 1940s and even better than
during the first Gulf War when the allies used them to drive the Iraqi Army
out of Kuwait. If the launcher is installed and aimed properly two people
can drop four M49HE 60mm mortars within a fifteen foot circle, five
thousand feet away, in ten seconds." The entire room broke out into muffled
conversation and David stood there watching his audience. I was extremely
proud of him and tried not to picture him standing at the podium with no
shirt on. I was truly mesmerized by his speech and appearance; I bet I even
had a dumb expression on my face to match my thoughts.

"Captain, to answer your question, the launchers and the M2 mortars are
readily available everywhere on the planet if you have cash and know the
right people to ask." That comment raised the mumbling volume even higher
briefly. Then he said that they are almost as easy to buy as a bag of pot
in the 1990s.

"The CIA infiltrated their training camp in southeast Libya near the desert
city of Al Jawf. Based on Google Maps images they measured and marked
targets on the ground, full scale. Then with the aid of a spotter who will
sneak onto mine property to call aiming adjustments they've been practicing
in the Sahara Desert in Libya for two months now. We're told they're ready
to launch the actual attack and will depart at Benghazi soon, for Mexico,
aboard a fuel tanker that sails from Benghazi to Tampico, Mexico, then they
will drive north and cross into Brownsville, Texas. Once safely inside the
US they will be given a car, two cases of mortars, the launch tube, and
cash for food, gas, and hotel rooms. They'll drive to Wyoming and execute
their attack during the day and they anticipate the mine will be
undefended. They expect to drive up, park, shoot their rounds, then get
back in the car and drive back to Brownsville, escape into Mexico, and
catch the next tanker back to Libya where they will be received and
rewarded as heroes."

Next, he showed close-up photos of the launcher and how they're
set-up. "For installation the crew sometimes uses spikes that get hammered
in the ground. The launcher has adjustable bipod legs on the front and a
square metal plate on the base of the launch tube. On some soils it's
necessary to anchor the base plate if they need to put multiple mortars on
the exact same target, because the launcher moves a little each time a
mortar is launched."

"The aiming adjustments are all done by hand-turned knobs marked with
numbers on a scale. We heard they were practicing with an artillery spotter
who told them how to adjust the launcher settings to put the bombs
precisely on target. The spotter was used when the mortar crew couldn't see
their target. All the spotter needed was binoculars and a walkie-talkie."
David concluded that he anticipated them arriving with three people in one
vehicle. "They'll arrive an hour before sunrise and drop-off the
spotter. It would take him thirty to forty five minutes to get into
position where he can see all the targets from one location. They'll return
after sunrise and begin the attack after the spotter radios that he's in
position."

David said some artillery squads use something resembling a small shotgun
to shoot anchor spikes into the ground; they could shoot two long steel
nails into the pavement in less than seven seconds. "After the spikes are
placed they should be ready to assemble the launcher and then fire the
first mortar in less than fifteen seconds. After firing one mortar they'll
wait for feedback from the spotter, `one degrees north, half degree west.'
The lead artilleryman adjusts the settings and another round is dropped
into the tube, then they adjust again if needed. If they are well practiced
it may only take one adjustment to put the next mortar precisely
on-target. Of course wind changes everything which is why they'll attack at
dawn when the winds are usually calm.

Their first targets would likely be the drag line cranes. They are not
designed to withstand artillery and would be easily destroyed with two or
three direct hits each. Since they are custom built they could easily take
over a year to repair. In the coal mine business very little machinery is
made from off the shelf parts. If you've never seen one I suggest you look
at photos online of the cranes they use; they're enormous, which makes them
better targets, harder to miss." He continued his speech showing the power
plant and the coal processing buildings that could easily be attacked and
destroyed from the turnaround beside the highway and that the mine has no
defense for any type of attack. "But the three-man military squad also has
no defenses and would be easily defeated if we're ready for them before
they arrive."

He finished his presentation by showing our planned capability using two
50cal machine guns in two small underground bunkers. That would out-gun
them and they would have no place to hide that the 50cal cannot
destroy. The predicted outcome would be three dead Iranians and Pakistanis
and no damage to the mine. In fact the story of the attack never needs to
hit the media, the three men arrived in America and disappeared. He
concluded by reminding everyone the contents of the meeting were
top-secret.



The JCS office in the Pentagon was also watching David's presentation as
well as the President of the U.S. from their situation room in the White
House. Sixty two minutes later Captain Johnson received notice of an
operating budget and authorization to immediately proceed as planned. They
ordered Captain Johnson to fly (on the HSCT jet) immediately to Gillette,
Wyoming, (then go by helicopter to the mine) to discuss our plan with mine
ownership. At the same time they will have Senator Barrasso call the mine
to advise them the Captain was on the way.

After our meeting ended we invited everyone over to continue the discussion
in our back yard, around the pool over some beers.

Yes, you heard that right! David Larsen actually invited Duke and Luke to
our house for beers. We transported our newest two ODs in our truck but
everyone else found rides. We stopped at a small C-store on Railroad Drive
and got five cases of cold beer (and pounds of munchies, other snacks, and
thirty pounds of ice) and got home moments before the first car arrived. We
grabbed Corona, Coors, Miller, M-Lite, and Old Style cases. I fully
expected David would do his beer trivia quiz since everyone we invited over
was a first-time visitor. I made two tubs of salsa and opened a tub of sour
cream too. We had tortilla chips and potato chips. We had a case of hot
dogs in the freezer but David asked me to stop making snacks. One of the
ODs came in the kitchen and we made two sheet pans of loaded cheesy
tortilla chips with salsa, sour cream, olive slices, onion chunks, and
melted cheddar cheese. While I made salsa David put the beers in our two
ice chests and poured in the bags of ice.

My salsa was popular, I make it whenever we buy tortillas. I use a can of
Rotel canned tomatoes, half an onion, salt, garlic powder, 1 whole
jalapeno, and maybe a little cayenne with crushed red pepper flakes. Put
that in the blender until its smooth and serve. If time permits you can add
my salsa to melted Velveeta to use as a dip or pour over a bowl of tortilla
chips.



Our driveway is big enough to park four cars if we put our truck in the
garage. I checked and made sure we had two rolls of T-paper sitting out on
the bathroom counter and set out a stack of paper towels too. David
intercepted Jeremy at the gate and told him it was a work party, he could
swim tomorrow or after midnight tonight. David enabled the silent alarm on
the combination lock to the Tac-room door. That would be really sad if
someone from work tried to enter that room, which is across the hallway
from the bathroom door. Some people see the combination lock and get
tempted to turn the handle just because it attracts eyeballs. It's sort of
like a 'wet paint - do not touch' sign.

They filled the picnic table benches and all our outdoor chairs. I got two
folding chairs from the basement so everyone had a seat. The only person
that didn't come over was the Captain, he had to pack and leave immediately
for Wyoming; this was only his fifth time in the little jet. While the
captain was packing the OD was working out his emergency meeting with mine
company officers at 8pm tonight. The captain brought with him David's
presentation outline and photos.

Our poolside brainstorm session/beer-bash started and almost everyone liked
the bunker idea and the 50cal machine guns on mounts. The one problem we
discovered was that the spotter might be able to escape on foot. David
asked them, "Escape to where?" But there was no response. Everyone took
turns telling the group about any flaw they saw in our plan. The worst part
we found was one of us needed to be awake 24/7 to watch a lonesome stretch
of rural two-lane pavement for an unknown car. I think they all pictured us
both being asleep when the attackers arrived. Someone else suggested it
might get very smoky inside the bunkers if we got into a firefight.

None of our party guests got in the pool. I think if he successfully pulls
off this Op he's looking at a possible presidential citation and possible
promotion to O7 (Brigadier General). If he made it, he'd be only the second
person that young to achieve that rank at age 30. The next youngest was
Curtis "Bombs Away" Lemay at age 37. And David never attended West Point,
but neither did Lemay. An O7 earned about $10k a month before taxes. That's
a comfortable living but not wealthy.

As if on cue David asked his hardest beer trivia question that nobody knew
the answer to, except me so I was disqualified. "You've all heard during
prohibition most cities had black market beer and booze available. For the
South Side Gang in Chicago, run by Al Capone, they made a bootleg
beer. What was the brand name of the Al Capone beer?" In an instant the
crowd became silent, everyone looked at each other but nobody knew. "Want a
hint?" he asked. And someone said yes. "Where was Al Capone born?" David
asked.

After moments of silence someone said New York. And after almost a minute
of quiet grumbling he said, "The Al Capone beer was called Old
Manhattan. The company finally went out of business in the 1960s after
being sold a couple times due to falling sales." Then I said, "The end of
Prohibition was an interesting time; there's a 1930s comedy movie on the
subject of breweries switching from bootleg back to legal; the movie is
titled A Slight Case of Murder, and it's a comedy about a group of
gangsters struggling to become businessmen and the culture shock that
followed repeal. It also features my favorite young actor, Bobby Jordan."

----

After twenty five beer trivia questions he abruptly switched the subject
back to our plans at Normandy Beach and asked for more comments and
suggestions. He commented that the mine was in a large wilderness area with
practically no trees all the way to the horizon, and it was rolling land
with nothing but rocks and weeds where the vast herds of wild Buffalo once
grazed. David said one police spotter helicopter with IR cameras could
locate the spotter easily and radio his location to deputies on 4-wheel
ATVs. One of the ODs said he was born in Wyoming and if the spotter took
off running he wouldn't get very far with everyone in town chasing
him. Then he said, "When was the last time anyone saw a news headline that
said: `escaped prisoner in Wyoming?'" We all chuckled.

One of our younger ODs was a young man named D'mar, he was an O-1 and a
recent college grad from rural Alabama, he just finished officer school and
was assigned to us temporarily because of his college degree. He was seated
with the ladies at the picnic table and said he'd been hunting in Wyoming
before. He said he has friends not too far from that mine and if the wind,
when they attacked, was out of the southeast they'll hear the blasts up in
Wright and a bunch of locals will run outside with rifles in hand and take
off in their trucks for the mine and those terrorists would never escape
unless they hightailed it over 100mph or figured out a way to become
invisible because there ain't no place to hide.

D'mar said, "It's true. They don't mess around up there. The last time
someone robbed the gas station they didn't get out of town alive. That town
wouldn't exist without the mine. The locals will protect it with all they
got. There's a bank in town with one teller window. On the floor at the
window are two steel plates you gotta stand on. If you pull a gun on the
teller she bumps a button with her knee, the plates drop open and you
disappear down the pit, then the plates close and your ass is gone." I
don't think anyone believed D'mar' story but it was funny and very
visual. I had no idea if it was true but it was funny. Every bank should
have a trap door in front of the teller window, and any other business
prone to being robbed. D'mar was the one who had asked about wind power at
the mine.

So David pulled the new Lieutenant aside and tried to school him on
renewable energy, this time his lecture was on photovoltaic electricity.

"Do you know how solar panels work? Did you ever take college chemistry?"
The young man said no.

They work because of chemistry and I'm going to make a few comparisons
between photovoltaic panels and uranium. As you might know uranium was
discovered to spontaneously fission. The nucleus of the atom of uranium is
really big and unstable. So all of a sudden, without warning, one day they
break in half. When it breaks in half it gives off electrons and energy in
the form of heat. The electrons become known as radiation and the heat we
use to generate electricity. Good so far?" The young man nodded yes.

"When uranium splits it becomes two new atoms but neither of them is
uranium. Those new atoms are called the daughters of uranium. They are also
radioactive, which mean they too are unstable and split eventually. Uranium
has 14 daughters, the last one is lead and it is not radioactive and it is
stable, meaning it does not split and will remain lead forever."

"With the chemicals in photovoltaic panels when photon particles from the
sun strike a PV molecule on the panel an electron is knocked lose, which
generates electromotive force, or electrical power. Over time that same
molecule is hit a few times and all the free electrons are gone and it
becomes a new atom, it is no longer the substance it was originally made
from, that's the same change as uranium. Once it changes it no longer gives
off electricity and it is an electrically dead molecule on that panel,
which is why over time the panels all die. What the molecules turn into is
a toxic substance, so it will someday be illegal to throw away because like
many solvents, they pollute the ground water and make people and animals
sick enough to die. Buying solar panels is also subsidized by the tax
payers but their disposal once they are worn out is not, so people have to
dump them along highways or in rivers just to get rid of them since they
are worn out; they have become new chemicals and those chemicals are
considered dangerous."

"Even when they are new photovoltaics (PV) barely produce any electricity
and you never recover the cost to install them without a subsidy. If you
happen to own them at the wrong time you might find your home declared a
toxic waste site when they wear out and you want to get rid of them but now
it costs thousands of dollars just to have them ground up into a powder and
disposed of in a toxic chemical waste pit. PV panels are a throwaway
solution from the throwaway generation, the same people that let McDonalds
use plastic and styrofoam cups that will sit for decades in landfills not
decaying, instead of rapid decaying paper cups. If you care about the
environment then do not buy more throw away toxic crap. That is what PV
panels are, just more throw away toxic crap." The young man said nobody
ever told him the truth about PV panels or wind power before and he felt
betrayed by people he used to trust. So David had to get in the last word
as they walked together to the ice chest to get more beers; he told him to
stop watching TV since that's where most of the lies came from.

While the boys were discussing renewable energy we had a grown-up
discussion about Operation Omaha Beach; someone asked what happened if they
parked in the wrong spot and set-up their launcher. I told them that one
turn-around was the only one in that area, it was sort of in the middle of
all the targets. If they parked in the wrong place their targets would be
too far away to hit with mortars. The spotter would see it right away.

Then someone else asked how we knew that was the exact spot and I reminded
them that this was top secret. I lowered my voice seated at the picnic
table and said we saw the Keyhole satellite photos, they had parts of the
mine scratched out in the sand in the desert, it included the highway and
the turnaround, and all the targets. They had the mine scratched into the
sand to 100% scale and it exactly matched the google maps photos of the
mine. They drew the mine on the sand then practiced on it for two weeks
with dummy mortar rounds. The training rounds went the same distance but
didn't explode. Over time they were hitting all six targets in under ten
minutes, even while unable to see their targets. The CIA was taking photos
of them every 90 minutes 24 hours a day for the past six weeks. They
practiced six days a week with one day for prayer and fasting. I said
they're like Japanese kamikaze pilots eager to die for their religion that
teaches violent revenge.

Our dozen visitors drank a lot of beer; I had to get an empty trash can
from the garage for people to toss their empty cans. In two hours we
consumed nearly three cases of beer and three bags of chips and
salsa. Slowly the party broke up and we were left with a much better
feeling. The OD called at 10:05pm and said the skipper was in his emergency
meeting in Wyoming but they were waiting for one more board member to
arrive to make it official. At that time all he was seeking was verbal
permission for the immediate construction of two small underground concrete
bunkers on their property overlooking the highway. After the threat was
ended they could do whatever they wanted with the bunkers.

At 11:25 she called back and said everything in Wyoming was done, we got
verbal permission and one of the mine owners handed the captain a business
card and recommended a concrete contractor that could start within 48
hours. They said cell coverage was very spotty near the mine, but she
eventually got a taxi and was going to the only motel in town. She said it
was 16 miles from the mine offices to the center of Wright, Wyoming, but
the nearest airport was 64 miles north in Gillette, Wyoming. They were
trying to hire a pilot and business jet to fly back to El Paso or even to
Denver or Vegas; the HSCT jet was busy.

Duke and Luke were last to leave; they were actually valuable assets for
the mission since they'd cover for us at ELP while we were running the
Op. Duke said he'd fly up to Wyoming to get things started on construction
and David immediately agreed to send him, but he had to fly to Gillette and
rent a car and drive to the mine. There were no airports anywhere near the
mine. While he was enroute we'd contact the builder and get him started,
probably after a survey and placement of the first ground stakes. The
captain generally felt okay with sending Duke because he was a decorated
combat veteran and trusted his judgment, and at age 43 he was older than
all of us working in El Paso.

That night we got them hotel rooms near ELP, within walking distance of the
terminal. The OD would call him once transport was arranged.

We went to bed and left all the food and beer outside in the back yard
because we had a lot to get done in very little time. I had a hard time
falling asleep with so much on my mind.

That night, while we were in bed but still wide awake, I asked him what
would have happened if the mine owners said no. David paused for a moment
then said we would have somehow staked out the highway from a different
location and killed them without reaching full legal authority. Maybe we
could have built a hunting blind near the highway and used a few spiders
instead.

I asked him if spiders could have been made to work out there and he said
yes, it might have taken three or four of them but even with a 4 mph breeze
they could have hid under their car and gassed them while we watched from a
couple hundred feet away. We came up with a spider-based plan originally
but the 50cal worked better due to the distances involved. Then as a joke
David said if the mine said no we might have let them bomb one of the drag
line cranes before we released the gas. That would put the mine in a lot of
trouble as a business. In court they'd have to explain how they prevented a
defense against the attack that damaged one of their cranes and ran two
power plants out of coal.

I asked David how Duke would do directing construction of the two bunkers
and David half joking said, "Heaven help us all." I mumbled `A-men' over
Whispernet and he reached over and smacked my arm and we both giggled. But
the more I talked to him about it the less scared I felt.

----

The next morning the OD called at 5:59am and said things changed and
Captain Johnson was on his way back to ELP on a private business jet he
hired in Gillette, and Duke was going by HSCT to Gillette because there
were no landing strips in Wright, Wyoming.

We had the OD on speaker phone, she laughed and said she heard in the
Pentagon some people called it Celebrity Airlines instead of (HSCT) High
Speed Civilian Transport. We all chuckled but it didn't surprise me that
some officers in the Pentagon got their panties in a bunch because they
weren't allowed to fly on HSCT, ever. Everyone thinks it would be cool to
fly that fast until they experience it. It's a dreadfully cramped and
uncomfortable ride that often got me close to puking. Holy cow, it's a
combat jet, not a passenger plane! David said, "It's like climbing into an
Indy Car that runs 1700mph and there ain't no bathrooms, and the pilot
hates your guts."

After he got off the phone he told me over Whispernet "The Skipper Returns
to Gilligan's Island." We softly chuckled. David did not like Captain
Johnson; he said he's seen evidence that he is violating federal laws
regarding investing in military equipment manufacturers. The truth is he
could someday end up in Leavenworth if the Pentagon was ever audited. That
was how he got started calling him The Skipper (as in the Gilligan's Island
TV show) instead of Captain Johnson.

----

By the end of day #2 the captain was back at ELP and Duke was in Wright
meeting with a local contractor that did basements for new
construction. Duke got the green light from the contractor in Wright after
they met and drove to the mine and marked two spots with a best view of
Omaha Beach (Highway 450, north of the mine office driveway). The builder
seemed to understand the requirements and called a friend with a backhoe
and agreed to dig both holes tomorrow, ten by ten by ten. They were going
to be made with concrete walls, floor, and roof, with reinforcing steel and
one 4" floor drain in the middle. They agreed how the firing porthole
should be shaped, they sketched it on a notepad while seated on the rocks
where one of the bunkers would go. Duke told him they were for volunteer
employee hunters to keep bison and elk from wandering onto mine property
and endangering employees.

They had to build a plywood form the shape the firing porthole so the guy
on the 50cal had a wide view of the highway. They slipped the box into the
concrete forms to keep that spot open. They made a ring out of a steel drum
for the hatch opening in the roof. During the pour of the walls they'd
drill holes and place steel reinforcing rod (bent into wide U-shapes) into
one wall to serve as a ladder to climb down inside the bunker.

After they were built, a gunsmith from McGregor Range in New Mexico would
install two 50cal machine gun mounts attached to the walls and the
floor. We had the mounts and machine guns flown from McGregor Range to
Gillette and had the city cops pick them up and stash them for us. Duke
would run up to Gillette to pick them up and deliver them to the
bunkers. He'd be making several high speed runs up and down Highway
59. Soon after that the guy from the Range would drive up on his motorcycle
with his wife and install the mounts and weapons. After Operation Omaha
Beach was over it was our job to return both `fifties' and the belt-feed
ammo to McGregor Range.

After the bunkers were done a landscaper that designed golf courses was
going to go there and hide the bunkers and ensure they were invisible from
the highway. Once the hatches were mounted they were going to dump a small
load of soil on top and carefully hand dig an opening for the hatch to
swing fully open but be barely visible from the highway. Lastly, the port
would be closed-off by a small piece of plywood (10"x24") that was wedged
into place to keep critters out of the bunker. The 50cal machine guns were
actual WW2 antiques from the war in Europe, they were very valuable
too. Those 75 year old weapons were fine for training use but too old to be
used in combat. We weren't expecting to actually get into a fire fight with
the three men who had been training in Libya.

At home we started packing for what could be a long underground camping
trip in Wyoming. The ODs had to make sure everything was done on-time and
in the right order and that the two 50cal machine guns didn't get
stolen. Those two machine guns actually flew in B-17 bombers over Germany,
Poland, and France many times in 1944-5. The chief of police in Gillette
was going to sign for the weapons at the airport and take them to his home
to wait for Duke to show up with photo ID to collect them.

Our OD also had to open an account on Amazon in case we needed to order
camping supplies and have them delivered to the mine office. The account
was addressed: `ATTN: bison Abatement' at the mine. At the outset we had no
idea how long we were going to be in Wyoming; we prepared for ordering more
food/water and toilet supplies.

We'd need all sorts of camping gear, neither of us wanted to bring our own
stuff because it could get destroyed or stolen. We needed basic camping
gear for heating food, chemical toilets for inside both bunkers. We also
worked on our own lists for cooking, cleaning, hygiene, water,
communications, and sleep. I was not looking forward to two to six weeks
underground. I wished I could bring Milo with us for some entertainment and
security. And let's not forget that dogs are great at washing dishes!

We were facing life without running hot water or a sink, not even a garden
hose. We'd be cleaning ourselves with baby wipes until the mission was
over.

----

We went nine days without any updates from the CIA on the attack plot, and
then one day they faxed a note: The latest intel report from Libya said the
squad practicing in Libya just left Africa and was on a fuel tanker sailing
to the port in Tampico, Mexico. We calculated it normally took the tanker
about 8-11 days to cross and arrive in Mexico, after that they'd be in
North America and we could assume the attack was less than five days
away. The fax said the tanker was presently near the island of Malta
heading northwest at 14 knots. Our countdown had finally begun.

The worst part was not knowing how long it would take them to get to the
mine. Would they decide to take time off and drive to Disneyland? We had no
intel; neither did the CIA or FBI. We didn't know their names or have any
info on their car. David said it was likely we'd never learn their names or
histories. The good part was we got the bunkers completely finished and
ready to go, all we needed to hear was they were about to land in
Mexico. That would be our signal to head north. The CIA was closely
watching the tanker during their voyage across the Atlantic and promised to
notify us during their final approach to Tampico, Mexico.

Even though we owned lots of great camping gear Uncle Sam was paying for
all new stuff, gear more suited for use underground. We had to be cautious
about carbon monoxide levels created with cooking gear. Even though they're
slow we opted for Sterno cook stoves and basic cooking gear. We'd eat
mostly canned food that only had to be heated. We'd hang out in cheap sweat
shirts and pants since the bunkers should be cool inside all year, all our
clothes had to be long sleeve and made for warmth. Our bodies were
acclimated to a hot desert climate; neither of us tolerated the cold well
after almost ten years in the armpit of Texas.

We ordered sets of cammo sweat pants and jackets with cammo t-shirts and
black leather boots. Plus let's not forget that Wright, Wyoming is pretty
far north, and higher in elevation. It's going to be a lot cooler than in
El Paso, especially at night.

We made one mega shopping trip to Sportsman's Warehouse in Las Cruces for
most of our gear. I got a new camp cot, sleeping bag, and a wind-up
AM-FM-SW radio. Our plan at the mine was to stay underground during the day
and during times when mine employees might be nearby (during shift change).

I had already devised a scheme for how to keep one eye on the highway while
we did adult stuff with each other. I'm sure David did some planning too.

----

Four days after the holes were dug the first bunker concrete-work was
done. The two round steel ship-hatches were on a truck heading to Wyoming
from a west coast shipyard and they would start pouring concrete on the
second bunker tomorrow. The guys building the bunkers were a normal group
of men that made basements and foundations for new construction in the
area. They told Duke the project was unusual because of the small size but
they appreciated the business.

The procedure used for the bunkers was to first form and pour the footer,
which was a concrete frame to support the walls and roof. Next, they set
the forms for the walls but poured the floor. On day #3 they poured the
walls and removed the forms late on the next day. On day #5 they set the
forms for the roof and poured it. Once the forms were removed along with a
steel ring they removed the inside plywood forms for the roof and handed
them up through the round hole. One of the crew took some of the scrap wood
home to make a porthole cover with a handle to keep the critters out. The
estimated cost for the bunkers that did not include the hatches was $3900
each. The hatches cost more than the bunkers but we learned they were not
submarine quality, just marine quality, cast steel with a single rubber
seal.

The day after the second bunker was done the hatches were delivered; both
bunkers had adhesive spread around the round hole and the very heavy steel
hatches were carefully set in place over the holes. Nobody could touch them
for 48 hours to allow the adhesive to harden like rock. That afternoon they
sprayed the outside of both bunkers with a tar sealant but no other
drainage was installed because the soil was just gravel, no water would
ever accumulate outside the bunker walls. An hour after the sealant they
had a backhoe fill in around both bunkers and over their tops.

That weekend the landscaper brought three men with rakes and shovels to
erase tire tracks and scars on the land and hide both bunkers and
transplant weeds to block any view of both firing portholes. The mine
hauled away the fill from digging the holes after they got both bunkers
suitably buried and hidden.

The actual porthole openings were ten inches tall and 24 inches wide but
offered a 161 degree wide view (for shooting) toward Omaha Beach. That
weekend the guy from the Range arrived and installed the mounts. I've fired
a 50cal many times in the past but never saw what a steel mount looked
like, David said it was just a vertical steel pin on some kind of rigid
base that gave the shooter room to move around. He placed the weapons,
covered them with plastic tarps, and closed-up the bunkers. We were relying
on the fact that nobody knew anything about them so the machine guns should
be safe even with the hatches unlocked. There was no way to lock these
round steel marine hatches anyway. Duke described them as thin steel, maybe
one inch thick like hatches for accessing liquid storage tanks on a tanker
ship.

The only things we didn't install were eye-bolts in the roof of the bunkers
to chain the hatches shut to keep uninvited visitors out; we planned on
advising the mine to bury them after Operation Omaha Beach was over. Once
the Op was over those bunkers were theirs to do with as they pleased. We
assumed the mine would bury and forget about 'em.

Several local people (employees) asked about the bunkers and Duke later
told us the story he devised: "They're for hunting elk and bison. As the
locals well knew over the decades the bison herds were slowly recovering
and regularly became a nuisance. The mine needs to be able to operate
without employees being trampled by Bison. Most of the bison on mine land
come in from the wide-open north side. The bunkers are there for hunters to
stop them before they enter mine property. At their size the wire fence
along the highway doesn't stop bison, they gallop right through `em. And
when mine security people try to chase them off their jeeps often get
charged and heavily damaged by angry bison, especially during (bison)
mating season."

But anyone that knows American bison also knows they do not like human
contact, especially if young bison are nearby. You cannot walk up and pet
the pretty buffalo. Remember that if you ever go to Yellowstone Park
because stupid tourists die every year trying to take selfies near the
bison. At first they act like they don't see the stupid tourists then
suddenly lower their horns, turn and charge without warning.

----

The latest update from the CIA said the fuel tanker was nearly to Key Largo
Florida so we still had days to go. David and I left three days after that
report, with our truck loaded with new camping gear and supplies. Since we
got married we've not spent too many nights apart; this mission will be
difficult for us in that way.

The internet said it was 1015 miles from ELP to Wright, Wyoming, so the
drive would be about the same as running up to Omaha. We left before the
sun came up and pushed it hard up I-25; I think we did a steady 90mph all
the way to Denver and never saw any cops, but we got flipped off several
times and honked at by several truckers.

I think we had a New Mexico state cop behind us near Santa Fe; he followed
us in a Camaro for ten minutes then flashed his lights and dropped back and
turned around in the center median. Sometimes the stickers on the bumper
worked well. It's usually small town cops that give us trouble.

We were still trying to come up with a way to use spiders but the distances
in this Op were simply too great for their weak wireless signals. It
appeared the 50cal would be our weapon of choice. The wide open spaces
around the highway were just too large to use spiders with their limited
battery power. Probably the #1 limitation of the spiders was
distance. We're hoping a future model might utilize a more efficient muscle
thread so they might be able to achieve greater range. As their muscle
fibers warm up with use their efficiency drops; they were more suited for
indoor work.

It would have been nice if we could have made some kind of a remote release
spider hole to hide near the highway and release them with gas pellets to
be vented nearby when they started loading to fire at the mine. But using
spider gas outdoors is always problematic because of the wind. And if a
Good Samaritan drove up and tried to rescue them while the gas was present
they could be exposed too. We picked 50cal because of the distances
involved and it wins most fights because they penetrate anything we'd ever
find parked along a highway in Wyoming (including car engines)!

To keep ourselves awake on the long-fast drive to Wyoming we discussed our
favorite moral arguments (like capital punishment, freedom of speech, and
euthanasia) we enjoyed arguing but by the time we got north of Denver we
both had a serious case of the yawns so we stopped at a motel and took
showers then went to bed.

In the shower I swallowed his milk. David stood with his back against the
shower wall, his fingers inserted into my hair, his eyes closed and a look
of relaxed contentment on his face. I think I made him come in less than
three minutes. I fell asleep with his flavor still in my mouth. David was
very salty and had almost no actual flavor. No hint of bitterness. He
tasted like melted butter.

----

In the back of the truck we had enough gear for two campsites for 15 days
without modern conveniences like running water. We had two camping toilets
but we'd have to dump them on the ground late at night, and no toilet paper
could go in the tank, it had to go in the trash. I was not looking forward
to this part of the mission. After we arrived someone from the Army was
coming (from an arsenal in Colorado) to set-up the 50cal machine guns and
bring two cases of belted-ammo each, so on the first night we'd be unarmed
except for the pelican case and our two 9mm automatics.

David said the 50cal weapons were overkill, but the idea was there should
be no place for them to hide. In a motor vehicle, the engine, transmission,
and parts of the drive train offer some protection from bullets, but with
the 50cal those rounds would go right through any gasoline engine, so
they'd have no place to hide once we started shooting. And with rounds
coming from two directions they'd be in the bull's-eye of the kill
zone. David expected lots of stuff would go wrong for us, which was why our
bunkers had such a wide field of view and our weapons could easily reach a
target over a mile away.

We left the motel near Denver after breakfast at Waffle House on I-25 north
of the city. When you leave the Denver metro area you're only about one
hour from the state line and then it's another three hours to the mine, but
most of the drive was on 2-lane paved roads. Supposedly, mine security was
aware we were coming and what was going on. And tomorrow morning the ammo
would be delivered and we'd get a quick review lesson. I imagine he might
fire one round each just to make sure they were functional, but he didn't
want to attract too much attention.

----

At 1:45pm we turned off Highway 450 at the mine's sign and drove uphill
toward their office building and then turned left and followed the signs to
their power plant. I was surprised considering how much coal this place
produced daily how many people didn't work there. Their entire office
building was half the size of an average grocery store. And the employee
parking lot was rather small too. Employees parked near the office to
clock-in then took a mine bus to their work sites.

After a few turns on a well packed dirt road a black jeep drove up close
behind us, it had red flags on the front bumper (like a general's car) and
a blue revolving light on the roof so we stopped and David hopped out and
walked back to greet them. I turned in my seat and watched them shake hands
and after a brief chat David came back to the truck and the Jeep drove
around us and stopped. He got back inside and cranked the motor, now we
followed them to the spot where they thought we should park to not get run
over by their 40 foot tall dump trucks.

We backed up to one of the bunkers and unloaded my stuff. I went inside and
lit a lantern then David dropped boxes down to me. He dropped all the water
jugs one at a time, some were two gallons and I thought they might rupture
but they did fine. It took fifteen minutes to get my stuff unloaded then we
moved the truck and unloaded his gear, then I parked the truck about 400
feet away where security said we'd be out of the way.

The mine used enormous Caterpillar dump trucks that were about 40 feet
tall. Security said they had limited visibility and they always had the
right-of-way on mine property. Near our bunkers was a place where the mine
dumped raw coal if the processing plant was off-line, and that was near
where we hid our truck. You can see that area on google maps too.

The bunkers sat about three hundred feet apart. They had short piles of
rock and weeds around them so they couldn't be seen unless you got very
close. It was amazing how well disguised they were. Despite four cement
trucks and a dozen workers, one backhoe for four days of work it looked
like the ground hadn't been disturbed in the last 150 years over the
bunkers. The landscaper did an amazing job hiding them!

I went back to my bunker after parking the truck. I wanted to set up my
underground campsite. With the hatch standing upright I walked around
inside the bunker and looked at the firing porthole, which was plugged by a
small sheet of plywood with two plain steel handles glued to it. When I
pulled it inward I saw someone cut and mounted a sheet of glass in the
opening too, which was unexpected. The sheet of glass had one small handle
glued to the center and black foam rubber tape around the edges for a bit
of a seal. Neither of them would keep ants out, but they might keep snakes
and mice out.

First, I set up my little camp table and chair and un-wrapped and set-up
the cot and then the new sleeping bag and pillow. I set-up the Sterno stove
and unwrapped the small cooking gear. We had no way to wash dishes; all
we'd be doing was heating canned food. We'd be heating and eating from
stainless steel mess pans. Back home I filled both camp toilets and added
fluids so they were ready. With all the new stuff I was building a trash
pile already. When I had everything ready to go I wondered what David was
up to so I carefully climbed up the steel wall ladder and poked my head out
above the ground so I could see his hatch.

When they installed the hatches they raised-up toward the north. Standing
on the ladder I couldn't see the highway, but I could see the mine. I think
they planned it that with the soil dumped on the bunkers if the hatch was
wide open all you could see was a tiny sliver of the very edge of the hatch
from the highway, but they were fully visible from the mine side. I think
they were counting on that most mine employees were totally disinterested
in what was built on the outskirts of the mine, especially if it created no
additional work or lowered their paychecks.

I looked all around to learn the surroundings. Near us to the south was an
area they dumped coal if the processing plant was backlogged or
offline. All the buildings near us were for coal cleaning and
processing. They had big conveyors running all over the area because they
had to be prepared for if any of the steps in coal handling went down so
they could still process and load trains. This mine had vast mountains of
coal sitting all over the place, it looked like the production choke point
here was coal processing. It was obvious they could dig it out of the
ground lots faster than it could be processed and loaded on trains. It
looked like they kept nearly one week of coal on hand in case the cranes
went down or they had bad flooding.

The coal was first cleaned; that means rock was removed in a wash
tank. Coal floats but rock sinks so water is used to remove rocks and
sand. Next, the coal is dried and ground to the size of a golf ball, which
is still much larger than power plants used but it was closer to what was
needed and made it easier to handle. After sizing it's loaded into
something like a grain elevator for semi-automated loading into coal train
cars, hundreds of them every day. The trains slowly drive beneath the
elevator and each car is loaded exactly the same, with almost no humans
involved (until something breaks).

So their big coal processing plant was behind our bunkers, the train tracks
made a big loop as trains came in, loaded, and left for distant
states. From the highway the coal processing was all you could see of the
mine, the actual pits were nearly half a mile away. Today it's hard to
picture this area with vast herds of bison and horse riding Indians, as
recently as 100 years ago. David said if he was a mine executive he'd erect
some kind of viewing platform and allow school kids to come watch the mine
to learn about where their electricity originates.

Something else we learned during this mission is coal power plants today
ground coal to about the size of grains of sand to burn. I had a mental
image of them using machines to feed large chunks into boilers, but it's
actually sprayed into special ovens like a gas and burnt instantly. And
with the new carbon and metal scrubbers coal really isn't the polluter it
used to be.

As I looked around at the mine buildings I saw the top of David's head pop
up, but we were too far apart for Whispernet so we used the walkie-talkies
and left our hatches open for fresh air and sunlight. I checked for cell
signal but my cell said `no signal.' David had the pelican case in his
bunker. I asked him if he had signal and he said yes, so I got out my
glasses to see if they would connect to the pelican case while both were
eight feet underground and they worked fine so we could talk over those (if
needed), and he enabled comms with ELP and Washington. I had no idea how we
were going to charge the pelican case and assumed he'd turn it off after
testing coverage.

Next, I examined the machine gun and mount, but it was nothing more than a
square steel tube with plates at three ends bolted into the concrete floor
with two arms into the concrete walls. I think the gun spoecialist shot the
bolts into the concrete, and then he injected a thick white adhesive then
threaded in the bolts and tightened them to the specific torque. A hard
white substance in each hole had started to dribble down the wall then
hardened like rock. The mount didn't shake or move at all, but it could be
unbolted with a 25mm socket and ratchet. The inside of the bunker smelled
like curing concrete. It looked like the builders even swept the floor
clean too, although they hand't polished it to a totally smooth finish. I
neglected to bring some incense this trip.

I turned on my radio and played music soft ally on battery power, but our
walkie talkies were the primary means of comms. The Pentagon and ELP
couldn't hear the walkie talkies since they were civilian toy-grade
radios. Even without any comms all I have to do is think about something
for a while and then those thoughts will pop-up in David's brain too since
he's a mind reader. I noticed it here already, when I got the urge to look
outside he usually felt it too. But for some reason at home I still have to
ask him to take his shirt off.

Around 3pm we checked-in again with the OD and got the latest info on the
military squad headed our way. I told ELP we should be ready to act anytime
after lunch tomorrow; she said the freighter hadn't landed in Mexico yet
but it was close. We estimated it would take them three to five days after
leaving the ship to arrive in Wyoming. Everything takes longer when you're
on the run and trying not to be noticed.

They would be driven from Tampico to Matamoros where they would sneak
across the border and meet someone to give them a car and the weapons. Many
people cross the border into the States about five miles in-land from where
the Rio Grande flows into the Gulf of Mexico. There is a sharp turn in the
river called Tarpon Bend. The bend often causes the formation of sand bars
and most of the year the water flows over the sand bar about knee
deep. They meet a driver on the US side on Quicksilver Avenue and they are
driven to a safe house in Brownsville. This is the usual route used by
governments around the world to sneak intelligence agents into the USA. In
Brownsville the Border Patrol simply does not have enough people to stop
the flow of people across the border and in some circumstances they're paid
to look the other way at pre-arranged times. The feds heard this was the
arrangement made for the three men coming from Libya.

The banks of the river there were shallow, they walk up to the river at
night and hold their hands on top of their heads to avoid the thorns on
some of the weeds that grow thick along the banks. Then you step down onto
the soft sand and walk toward the center of the river with your hands
up. It's about 300 feet across. Sometimes their guides use night-vision
binoculars to shout steering instructions to people walking across when the
water is low. Slowly, your feet start to get wet as you wade into the warm
river water and it's very dark, but no flashlights are allowed in case the
feds are watching from a drone. The water might reach halfway up your
thighs but they keep following commands shouted from the Mexican side by
strangers they had to trust. They might see the same people again on way
back.

When they get to the far side, if they are lucky they'll be near one of the
boat ramps and they simply walk up the ramp to dry land and as easy as
walking they're suddenly in the States. They are then told what direction
to walk to meet their ride. It might be a quarter mile hike to meet the
driver. In the dark they get in the back of a truck and lie down flat and
watch the sky as they are driven into town to the safe-house where they are
welcomed with a cold beer and a few tacos. But they won't be in Brownsville
very long; departure time is early the very next morning unless they're
very sick from their trip.

In this particular instance their welcome at the safe house in Brownsville
started in the front yard as their ally welcomed them in the dark front
yard lit only by the stars, as he shouted 'Orale Vatos!' before he
remembered the visitors were Middle Eastern and didn't speak Spanish. Using
hand gestures he welcomed them inside and offered food and water, showed
them a small bedroom with bunk beds and where the bathroom was
located. Their car was already in the driveway with the license plates
blocked from view from the street.

That night they got a few hours of sleep; they were trained to leave early
in the morning. The maps, mortars, and launcher were already in the
car. The Libyan squad was given one cell phone and $500 in US cash. They
were expected to drive to Wyoming in two days, perform the attack, and
drive back to the safe house and return to Matamoros three to five days
after the attack, to wait for a return tanker ride to Libya. According to
the CIA that was their entire plan.

----

I spent the rest of the first day making myself comfortable in the little
bunker. After sun-down and it got dark outside I went over to David's and
climbed down inside and saw his p,lace was very different from mine; he
even had magazine photos taped to the walls, I think they were from
National Geographic. We decided I should bring my Sterno stove over so we
could cook and eat in his bunker, so I got my stuff and heated a can of
Chef Boyardee spaghetti and a can of peas, all of that in a metal camp dish
over the Sterno cooker. After dinner I walked to the truck to get four cans
of beer out of the cooler for us. While we sipped beers we summarized the
mission so far:

According to intel the perps were not anticipating any meaningful defense
at the mine. They would drive up and park, and then set-up the launcher and
use pre-tested settings and begin firing mortars after they received
confirmation from the spotter. The entire attack, two cases of mortars,
would take them less than fifteen minutes to complete and get back in the
car. They'd have to park and wait nearby for the spotter to call them using
the walkie talkies. After the spotter called to say he was ready they'd
drive back by the mine, park and prepare to launch mortars. They'd
rehearsed this simple attack over and over in Libya until they could do it
blindfolded.

The advantage of using the turnaround as a location to launch the attack
was the firm roadway would improve the accuracy of the M2 mortar launcher,
which would shorten the amount of time the squad would be on site, thereby
increasing their get-away success. They were expected to arrive with two
metal containers with 12 mortars in each.

It appeared the plan of attack did not include protection for the mortar
crew, so it was possibly a suicide mission. If they were able to run their
mission and drive off they were still in a very large barren part of the US
with almost no trees or other forms of cover for long distances in every
direction. Being so far from towns meant there would likely be no local
police response and mine security people were not equipped or trained to
repel an artillery attack. Since we knew they were coming we had the
Wyoming State Police pre-position a helicopter and pilot with IR sighting
gear in town to catch the spotter after he fled the mine on foot. Their
plan was to drive back to the spot where they dropped him off and wait for
his return. It was also possible one or more of them obtained pistols along
the way.

As far as their getaway route: it was 16 miles away from the mine to the
town of Wright, to the northwest. To the east on Highway 450 the next town
was 70 miles away, the town of Newcastle was almost on the state line with
South Dakota. Between the mine and either town was nothing but rocks and
weeds. And when they drove away from the mine they'd likely be the only car
on the highway no matter which direction they went. That made them easier
to spot from a helicopter. It would be very difficult for them to hide in
any town. Three men from Libya in small town Wyoming would be easy to
spot. Their best bet would be to make it back to I-25 as quickly as
possible. Our best bet would be to make sure they died near the mine before
launching a single mortar.

----

That evening we sat in David's bunker and talked about non-work stuff for
hours. I offered to service him but he said we shouldn't since these
bunkers were federal property. So I told him we could go sit in his truck
like we used to back in college. David got a big smile on his face and
stood up and started climbing up the steel rungs on the wall and out the
hatch; I followed. We casually walked to his truck (in the dark) and got in
the front seats and slid them back as far as they'd go. I turned to face
him and we hugged for a while. I pressed my face into his shoulder/neck and
inhaled and held him while I tried not to get emotional. I do get emotional
easily; one thing I hate about my brain.

While we were holding each other a diesel engine on a coal train revved up
and started pulling a long coal train through the loading process, it was
an unmistakable sound as the coal poured rapidly into the empty steel coal
cars. He opened his window and we listened; we could barely see the actual
train because there were all kinds of buildings blocking our view.

While he was looking at the tall buildings with their red aircraft lights
on top I reached over and rubbed his stomach, inserted a finger in his
belly button then moved up across his chest. I pushed up his shirt and slid
my tongue across his velvety wide nips while he leaned back into the
reclined seat and got totally relaxed and enjoyed my efforts. While I
worked his tits he reached down his pants and started to work his rod. It
didn't take long for me to get his shorts to his knees and took him in my
mouth and made him come while he listened to the sound of the train cars
loading and a million crickets in the distance.

I think I spent almost half an hour with his rod in my mouth, but he soon
closed the window because it got really cold out here at night. We kissed
and went to our bunkers and went to sleep. We had visitors coming in the
morning for the 50cals.

David checked-in with the OD before he went to sleep. The latest update was
the ship had not arrived yet in Mexico but should tomorrow. She said the
Coast Guard was on patrol in the Gulf to make sure our guys didn't head on
a smaller boat for Yucatan; they didn't want to lose track of them. For us
it was like a night off while on duty.

Underground it was super quiet and the temps dropped to the low 60s, I'm
sure that made David happy. I shut my hatch but didn't latch it down but I
set an empty can under the hatch to hold it open slightly, so it was open
about an inch on one side. My alarm was set for 5am.

Trying to fall asleep on the strange new bed I had time to think. I
considered the risk these people took coming across the ocean to attack the
mine. I wondered if they might decide not to show-up as planned and simply
become North American citizens and look for jobs and a place to work
instead. David said back at home they had probably had relatives taken
hostage to prevent any chance of them abandoning the mission after wading
across the Rio Grande.

----

The third day the guy from a military arsenal arrived and unwrapped and
loaded the 50cal and checked that it moved side to side freely and never
hit the edges of the porthole. He showed me how to release the mount and
aim it up and down too. He showed me how it was possible to shoot the wall
inside the bunker so I had to be super careful that it was aimed downrange
before I squeezed the trigger.

He loaded the end of the 50cal ammo belt into the weapon and reviewed it
with me, but we've done that annually at McGregor Range for quals every
year. He fired one round off into the distance. It was very loud inside the
bunker and smoke filled the air. I saw the smoke slowly start to escape out
of the wide-open hatch in the ceiling.

The 50cal weapons on the range sat on tripods, we've never seen them on a
rigid steel mount before, and they were similar to the mount on the deck of
a battleship. I've never used a mount like that before, but now I know how
they work. It turned one way fully to the side to side but you had to turn
a handle to move up and down. Or, you could leave both loose and let it
move in all directions. With both unlocked when you let go of the 50cal it
dropped down with the barrel aiming straight up.

He set the first can of belt feed ammo on a small shelf welded to the side
of the mount so it was ready to fire the entire box if I held the trigger
in. I assumed if I did that I'd probably choke to death from all the smoke
inside the bunker. This situation would be ideal for shooting a few rounds,
maybe ten at most then letting the air clear. I'll tell David we should
alternate firing for that reason and never do more than five rounds at a
time. That thing fired about five rounds per second. It spits the belt
metal and the casings out the right side and those were usually super hot
when first ejected. They could bounce off the wall and stick to your skin
too, which is a guaranteed burn.

After my weapon was finished he did the same thing in David's bunker and
fired one shot in the distance at the vast rocky wasteland that covered
this part of Wyoming. Looking out the porthole into the distance I noticed
the ground here was a grayish-brown, nearly the same color as the fur on
the bison and elk.

While they were busy next door I made myself breakfast on the Sterno
stove. I had re-hydrated scrambled eggs with bits of ham and bacon. It
tasted like crap so I dumped half of it in the trash bag and opened a can
of bacon flavored Spam, sliced it and cooked it over the stove but it took
a while because the Sterno isn't a big flame. I also made some instant
coffee and David came over and had half the Spam and coffee with me. We
agreed the camping meal dehydrated eggs sucked and we'd never buy them
again, but their spaghetti was fine. I think canned was easier and
faster. Boiling a pot of water on the Sterno stove was time consuming, you
sit there and watch it slowly get warmer. Staring at it seemed to slow it
down even more.

David checked in with the office at 11:45am; they were advised the tanker
arrived in Mexico and a couple dozen people got off the ship... we had to
assume our targets had landed in the Americas and would be headed this way
tomorrow after crossing the Rio Grande.

We estimated they'd spend one night in Brownsville and leave early the next
morning for a 30 hour drive to Wyoming, probably like us they'd stop
between Santa Fe and Denver. These three guys were Arabic and might not
speak English but could read our highway signs since many foreigh countries
have English on their road signs for tourists.

According to the mole at the training camp in Libya they were trained to
get to the mine and back to Matamoros as quickly as possible; they could
catch up on sleep on the long voyage back to Benghazi. They were probably
driving a car with fake or stolen license plates so they couldn't push the
speed limit like us. It could take them one more day to get here than it
took us.

We discussed things and decided to be on alert now since they were likely
already in the USA. We'd go on full alert tomorrow morning and keep the
portholes open but covered by glass all the time. It also meant light
discipline all night so we didn't reveal our presence after sundown. We
knew they practiced during the day so we fully expected the attack to come
in the morning, probably before 9am but they'd have to drop off the spotter
about one hour before the mortar attack. This time of year here, sunrise
was 6:45am. We expected they would drop off the spotter one hour before
sunrise so he had the cover of darkness to sneak into the mine without
being seen and reported.

All around the mine were long man-made mountains of top soil piled up over
100 feet high. We assumed the spotter would climb the highest peak near the
train tracks and lie down and hold his binoculars and walkie talkie close
to update the mortar crew how to adjust their launcher settings.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid. The night before they left
Brownsville I moved my sleeping gear into David's bunker and we slept
together but never did anything. I wanted to be against his body to feel
less freaked out. When I'm with him I feel safer and able to sleep just
before missions.

----

The next morning we were officially in a combat situation, like we were on
guard duty on the front lines of an actual war. We ate breakfast in his
bunker then I went to mine and, using walkie talkies, we alternated turns
watching the highway. Only one of us needed to stand and watch the highway
at one time. So far this morning we had received no intel from our office;
nobody knew where they were or who they were. We had no license plates, no
cell numbers, no photographs, no nothing. All we could do was sit and watch
and wait for a small car to stop and park along the highway at that
turnaround place. We didn't expect them to arrive here today, but it was
still slightly possible. David felt they'll arrive early tomorrow morning
in the dark.

We took turns, six hours at a time, standing beside the 50cal mount
watching vehicles go by on the highway. We never saw any animals grazing on
the weeds, just an occasional large bird, and trucks drive past. Hour after
hour we watched but nobody stopped.

I gotta explain this so you know how bad this was. The inside of the bunker
is nothing more than a large concrete box. At one end there was a small
horizontal opening. Inches in from the wall was a large steel machinegun
mount. It was made of unpainted tubular steel with large square plates on
each end, so it was shaped like a plus sign. The bottom and sides had the
steel plates bolted into the concrete floor and walls. On the top, the tube
was welded shut and it had a three quarter inch round steel pin sticking
up; that is what the 50cal sat on so it would swing side to side and up and
down. The 50cal was not balanced so if you loosened the hand bolts on the
hinge plate the gun simply dropped so the barrel was pointing up, the stock
aimed at the floor.

But the mount was directly in front of the hole so it was difficult to lean
against the wall and watch out the porthole. We should have had them weld
some kind of steel seat to the mount, but without one it meant we had to
stand and lean against the wall to watch the highway. It was impossible to
get comfortable. Six hours on watch duty was miserable and you had to keep
the glass over the hole or these tiny biting flies got in and attacked your
face. David called them buffalo flies. I should have packed a can of bug
spray.

It was a long fucking day staring at the highway; I think I made a gallon
of coffee and finished off an entire Sterno can and opened #2. I used the
toilet but peed in an empty 2L bottle. I leaned against the wall below the
window and sideways into the steel mount but it was awful and I hated every
minute of it.

I think we spent an hour making up knock-knock jokes and passing them back
and forth over the walkie talkies. After lunch time we felt the risk of an
attack dropped off but there was a chance if they got up here early they
might drive by to look at the place first. And when the sun went down we
mostly stopped watching. I had to dump my camp toilet so I carried it
downhill near the fence and unscrewed the big cap and let the stuff slide
out. After dumping it a car actually slowed and used the turn around to
turn around but he kept going and nobody got out, but it sure made my heart
pound because I wasn't in my bunker when they pulled over. Luckily, I had
rocks to hide behind so they didn't see me.

I barely slept that night and felt full of anxiety; I had that sense of
dread and impending disaster all the time now. Even my mouth hurt from
clenching and grinding my teeth all the time. I forgot to pack some
Xanax. I kept waking up and raced to the window to see if anyone was parked
along the highway, but every time I looked nobody was there.

----

My alarm went off at 5am while it was still dark outside. I started a pot
of water for coffee and through the glass I saw a small car pull over and
turn around but they didn't really stop. They drove back west near the mine
driveway and stopped along the highway and a door opened and closed. It was
too far away (and dark) to see if someone ran across the pavement but I
think I saw something pass behind the car because the back lights blinked
one at a time. David watched it too and got the same impression. That must
have been them dropping off the spotter; they'd be back when the mine was
visible enough to begin their Op. I slid my hands all over the 50cal but I
never fired it after the arsenal guy fired one shot.

We spoke briefly over the walkie talkies and then he turned on the pelican
case and we started using the glasses. My heart was pounding all the time
and sweat was running down my sides, I felt nauseated and I had a headache
but I stayed near the porthole watching the highway continously
now. Slowly, the sky to the east got brighter and finally the sun peaked
over the horizon and shone all over the mine. I left my walkie talkie on
just in case the Libyans were using the same walkie talkies we had;
wouldn't that be funny, we could call in fake fire adjustment commands!

Forty minutes later an older Nissan 4-door car drove to the turnaround,
slowed and pulled off near the widest part and stopped. It looked like they
shut off the engine and just sat there. Normal traffic roared past like it
wasn't there and wasn't suspicious. I silently reached up and removed the
glass plate from the porthole. When locals made the plates they glued a
small metal handle to the glass, and ran foam tape around the edges to keep
it from splintering when pulled over the rough concrete wall.

I checked the 50cal; it had no safety lever. It was always ready to party
if it had ammo loaded, and one round was chambered. I stood behind the
machine gun roughly aimed at what looked like an older dark blue Nissan
four door sedan. After it had been parked there for a while the sun got
higher and now the ground was fully lit by direct sunlight. I saw the
driver get out and open the trunk, and then the passenger got out with
something in his hands that sort of looked like some kind of tool. From
where they parked it was about 500 feet from their car to my porthole. I
never saw them look around at the terrain. The driver handed the passenger
some kind of metal plate with something that stuck out of the center on one
side. The passenger looked around and stepped back and picked a spot near
the car and set it on the pavement then pressed one end of the tool against
it. I heard it pop, even at this distance, and then he moved it to another
corner and did that again. I guess he anchored it to the pavement, just
like we anticipated. Mortar launchers were designed to operate on soft
dirt, not asphalt pavement.

Next he set the tool on the floor of the Nissan and kicked the plate with
his shoe and it didn't move. The other guy walked over with this weird
looking mechanical thing and pressed one end against the metal plate, like
he was pressing a ball into a socket, then he unfolded two legs. Now it
looked exactly like a mortar launcher. I was truly scared and wished I was
over in David's bunker. I spoke softly and asked him if he was seeing
everything and he told me to hold my fire until they met our criteria for
lethal force. I was so scared I couldn't even talk, my mouth was as dry as
the ground outside the bunker. I understood that David meant he would fire
when they met our criteria, so I could fire after him.

The driver leaned over the trunk and lifted out a metal can and carried it
over by the launcher. It was about the size of a large toaster oven and
painted olive green. He set down the box near the launcher and removed the
lid and set it on the ground. They stood there and talked briefly, then the
passenger reached in and got out a small walkie talkie. He pressed it
against his mouth and turned around to face the mine buildings while he
spoke, then held it to his ear to hear the reply. Once he got a reply they
both got down on their knees and turned knobs on the launcher and looked
closely at the adjustments. David softly said it was seconds away, watch
closely for the appearance of a mortar coming out of the box. Drops of
sweat ran down my ribs and I needed to piss really bad.

They fiddled with the adjustments to fine-tune the aim, which took them
another minute. They'd been there about three minutes now, maybe five. I
felt nauseated and ran to the camp toilet, bent over and dry heaved. Then I
raced back to my machine gun while I slid my hand across my mouth and chin
several times: raised the back end of the 50cal and pointed it at the
car. When I saw the driver reach into the can and carefully lift out a
mortar, I heard one gunshot, then two more but nothing was being hit. The
guys by the car froze trying to see where the noise came from, but judging
how they looked all around they could not place the source. I guessed that
the gunshot sound echoed off all the nearby hills and confused the
source. I think they weren't sure someone was actually shooting at them, it
could be a hunter nearby. Who knows what they were told about Wyoming
during training in Libya.

Then I heard another few shots and finally one shattered the back window of
their car and both guys ducked but kept looking around, they clearly did
not expect to have shots fired at them during their mission. When the first
50cal round hit the back window of their car they turned to talk, suddenly
another shot hit the passenger side rear door window and shattered it too
which sprayed them with chunks of glass, the driver quickly set the mortar
back in the can and both of them got down flat on their stomachs on the
pavement to lie perfectly still. I had a great shot of the passenger seat
guy so I carefully aimed and fired but hit nothing. I thought I saw a puff
of dust on the ground on the far side of the highway.

I aimed lower and fired again but hit nothing. So I carefully aimed at a
spot about 20 feet in front of and below the car and hit the windshield and
shattered part of it. So I aimed lower and to the right more and fired, it
made a huge oval gash in the hood, but the guys stayed flat on the
pavement. Now I had some idea of roughly how to aim and the sights on my
50cal were way off!

Since David had started shooting it meant they met the criteria for lethal
force so I aimed for the passenger seat guy, then moved it to the right and
much lower trying to hit his upper body. I tried to relax and pulled the
trigger and fired one round. I saw their ammo can moved a couple inches but
the guys remained perfectly still. I knew just a small adjustment to the
right and up and I'd hit the passenger in the chest. Believe me, a 50cal
round in the chest would be instantly lethal.

Looking through the sights on the 50cal aiming carefully at the passenger I
noticed faint white smoke rise out of the ammo can and as I watched for a
few seconds it suddenly exploded in a huge bright white flash and ball of
yellow fire. I barely saw the passenger side of the car rise way up like it
was going to roll over. The entire scene looked like it was in slow
motion. Less than one second later another explosion came from the trunk as
their second can of mortars exploded and the two combined made a huge
bright white flash and a ball of fire and black smoke like a mushroom cloud
leapt toward the sky.

By then my bunker was full of gun powder smoke and it was hard to get any
air. In slow motion I saw a blast wave from the explosion race up the
slope, I had a fraction of a second to duck as the blast flew in the
porthole and I was instantly covered by dust, sand, and hundreds of tiny
rocks and debris. I choked but kept my eyes closed. I felt grit and sand in
my mouth and dust in my eyes.

When I raised my head and looked around and saw a black mushroom cloud
rising in the air, car parts and body parts were flying in the air. I
grabbed my water bottle off the floor, took off the cap, faced toward the
ceiling and slowly poured water across my face to clear the crud from my
eyes. When I looked down I saw my body was coated with dust and sand like
I'd been sweeping out a crematorium oven.

I glanced again at the highway and saw everything was gone! The wildest
thing I saw was two legs with jeans and shoes arc across the sky, the guy I
aimed at must have been blown in half and just his legs flew over the
highway and landed in the weeds on the other side, still smoldering. I've
seen a lot of explosions but never saw one that powerful (except our nukes)
before, I was stunned by the force of the blast and that the spot where the
two guys had parked was completely empty.

Sounding distant I heard a voice screaming with joy, he sounded like a
drunk Hillbilly at a sports bar when his favorite NASCAR driver got the
checkered flag. He was whooping and hollering in the distance.

I turned around and saw all the gun powder smoke in the bunker was gone but
replaced by a cloud of dust. I ran to the ladder and climbed up and looked
all around very carefully. I remembered shutting the hatch and realized the
blast had blown open my hatch. I looked carefully in all directions even
though I honestly believed the spotter was far away, near the middle of the
mine property and not anywhere near us. I climbed out and stood up and
looked again and saw the only thing on the highway was that square metal
base plate for the launcher they nailed to the pavement. I turned to look
at the other bunker and saw David's head peak out his hatch and he also
looked all around then started to climb out. He stood up like he was
struggling a little from the shockwave too.

It was a tremendously strong blast that blew in our portholes; I'm sure he
got it exactly like me. He also looked like someone dumped a 50 pound sack
of baking flour on top of him. He ran his hands down his arms and fluffed
his hair as white powder went everywhere; I did the same thing. We both
kept glancing at each other and down at the roadside turnaround as if
expecting to see two men suddenly stand up.

I ran my fingers through my hair and made another cloud of powder and sand
and saw David had a huge smile on his face so I started walking toward him,
about 400 feet away.

We both locked eyes on each other and the magnitude of what just happened
hit me and I felt an overwhelming rush of emotions. David was laughing
hysterically and shouting with joy like he was totally drunk. He slapped
his thighs and jumped up and thrust his fist in the air and applauded
loudly.

I put my hands over my mouth and nose as tears came from my eyes and I
started to weep and walked quickly towards him, he started walking toward
me too. I'd just witnessed two men blown to dust and it really upset me; I
needed some comfort and time to adjust to what just happened. Both of us
just survived a tremendous explosion and it took several seconds for it to
affect our emotions.

The closer we got the harder I cried and gasped for air. It was the longest
short-walk I ever took; I just needed David to hold me. In the last 100
feet I started to run and he stopped and held open his arms and I ran into
him and wept into his shoulder, he held me tightly and lifted me so my feet
came off the ground and swung my body side to side then set me down but
never let go. I wept and trembled and felt like I needed to puke again.

Finally I put both hands on his chest and pushed myself back, turned, ran
several feet, bent over and barfed drops of saliva on the ground, then I
dry heaved a couple more times. David walked over and stood by me until I
stood upright again. He grabbed me from behind and hugged me tightly while
I wiped my mouth and chin. He coughed a few times, just like me.

I finally calmed down a little and turned around and looked at him; I saw
he'd been crying too, as his cheeks were wet and his nose was running like
mine. He turned his head and honked his snot out on the ground, then turned
his head and blew the other nose.

Soon we both calmed down. He asked me what happened with my shots. "I aimed
at the passenger but my sights were so far off I barely hit their car! I
aimed low and almost twenty feet in front of their car before I hit the
fuckin windshield!"

"Yeah same with mine. I fired six shots before the first one hit, then I
got the door. Boy, that got their attention!"

"Yeah, so I tried aiming about 20 feet below and to the right of the guy
and I guess it hit the box of mortars instead. I saw a little smoke then it
exploded. I never expected that would happen. It was an accident! I was
aiming at the guy, not the ammo can. But I guess it turned out okay, didn't
it?"

David stepped back, reached for my face and lifted my jaw so I looked in
his eyes, "Did you see that explosion? Then the other can went off. THAT
WAS THE BIGGEST FUCKING EXPLOSION I'VE EVER SEEN. IT WAS AWESOME!" He put
his hands on my shoulders and shook me as he shouted at my face.

I laughed at first then said, "Yeah, aside from our nukes it's the biggest
one I ever saw, then the blast wave hit the bunker and luckily I ducked and
only a little got my face."

"So that was an accident but we still won the war, right? But HOE-LEE FUCK
WAS THAT LOUD OR WHAT?' he shouted. I chuckled again and nodded yes in
agreement, but I told him, "Look David, I was aiming at the guy's chest,
not the ammo can. It was an accident and I'm sorry for fuckin it up!"

David leaned in and kissed my mouth and stepped toward the highway a little
and stared in disbelief at the turnaround. Then he gestured at the highway
but looked at me and shouted, "NO! THAT WAS TOTALLY AWESOME! ONE FUCKING
BULLET AND YOU DESTROYED THEIR SHIT!" He gestured with his arm down the
hill at the highway. "LOOK AT IT! THERE AIN'T NOTHING LEFT BUT A BLACK
SPOT. YOU BLASTED 'EM TO DUST, FUCK! EVEN THEIR GOD DAMN CAR'S GONE! He
moved closer and patted my shoulder and told me, "Look over there," so I
turned my head and stared at the site; sure enough all I saw down there was
a small black steel plate and a charred spot on the pavement. The rest of
it was totally gone. Some of the weeds along the highway were smoldering
but there was nothing left. I saw some black smoke on the far side of the
highway about 200-400 feet away but the turnaround was blasted clean. He
squeezed my shoulder and said, "Hell, you even cut the weeds for the
highway department!" and then he broke out laughing hysterically and
covered his mouth with his hand.

David stood there looking at the highway and said, "Ry, look at it this
way. You killed both terrorists, demolished their car, destroyed their
weapons and the launcher, all the evidence was destroyed and you even
cleaned-up the crime scene, all with one lucky god damn shot, that's
amazing! It's like God himself struck them down to Hell." He stepped back
and held out his hand to shake mine with congratulations! I tried not to
smile and shook his hand but I really wanted to barf again. He was
obviously trying to cheer me up. I knew this entire thing was his plan, he
deserved the credit, not me. My shot was totally an accident. I never even
considered shooting the ammo can, or that it might explode and do all that
other crap!

While we stared at the scene I heard the mine security jeep in the
distance. He set his hand on my shoulder and we started walking down the
slope toward the highway. I noticed there was a small dark spot on the
pavement where the first box of mortars detonated. I told him again while
we walked down to the fence along the highway, "It was an accident. I know
you were all ready for a shootin match with the fifties. Hell, I wanted to
see rounds go right through a car engine."

Across the highway we saw several small smoky fires about 300 feet away, I
saw two car tires on fire and smoldering chunks of car wreckage. I saw the
engine and transmission smoldering and I saw a car seat smoking thick black
smoke. I saw a car door all by itself with the glass and paint still
intact. It looked like that one door must have flown hundreds of feet. I
never saw any body parts but the coyotes surely would.

Way down the highway we saw a police car approaching and barely heard a
siren. Then the mine security jeep parked near our truck and an older guy
in uniform got out and walked downhill toward us, he had a big smile too.

He shouted, "What the fuck was that?"

David turned toward him and laughed and yelled back, "It was an
accident. We didn't want to shoot the cans with the bombs but the 50cals
sights were way off and we accidentally shot their ammo can and set `em all
off at once.

"Where are the terrorists?"

I loudly answered, "They're around here somewhere. They were only a foot
from the ammo can when it went off. I saw the one guy's legs fly over the
highway, but his shoe laces got untied, his ass is somewhere over there
now!" I said pointing across the highway.

"HOE-LEE COW THAT WAS LOUD! They heard it all over the mine and everyone
thought their equipment exploded!" We all laughed. When the security guy
saw the cop stop at the turnaround he got back in his Jeep and drove down
there; we finished walking down to the fence and climbed over; we walked
together across the highway and watched the burning tires and the
smoldering wreckage. The cop grabbed his extinguisher and walked down
across the ditch and over to the burning tires and put out the flames.

The cop walked back up to his car and made some police radio calls. I heard
him tell his dispatcher everything on the highway was 10-4. He told her,
"The terrorists' bombs malfunctioned and exploded early, the dumb shits
killed themselves." We couldn't hear who he was talking to but then he
laughed and said, "Yes, Laurel and Hardy School of Terror! I'm back in
service and on my way to lunch, I'll be back in town in twenty minutes,
unit three out."

We stood there talking briefly then I faintly heard the distant thumping of
a helicopter approaching. About twenty seconds later a classic Huey flew
toward us and directly overhead, maybe 700 feet up, he banked sharply to
the right to fly over the mine property. The guard said they were searching
for the third man and activated the sheriff's posse; there were five guys
out on 4-wheel ATVs already searching for him right now. The security guy
raised his walkie talkie to his ear and listened closely to the voices,
then smiled and said "Sounds like they just found him and now he's tied to
a fence post." He turned around and pointed at the horizon toward the
northwest. "He made it almost half a mile from the mine; they caught him
over there, hiding by the old cattle watering hole."

David whispered to me that it looked like our work here was done. When we
walked back up by the bunkers and were connected to the pelican case he
told the OD our status was: mission accomplished, the attack was thwarted,
two of the three were dead, and police were hunting the third man.

A couple minutes later we heard three distant shotgun blasts then
silence. I heard David tell the OD, "Check, make that three out of three
dead, we just heard the local firing squad." We went into our bunkers and
started packing our valuables. But we were leaving most of our new camping
gear behind. I decided to bring my camp toilet home. I was leaving 12
gallons of water, the Sterno stove with a case of Sterno cans, the sleeping
gear, radio, and the lantern behind.

David told the OD to call the range and tell them we were bringing home the
50cals and the ammo but leaving the mounts so they needed to send someone
to remove them, the mounts were nearly as valuable as the weapons and the
ammo. We did not have tools to remove the mounts even though I think all
they needed was a 25mm wrench and some Allen head wrenches.

----

After thirty minutes of packing and cleaning up his bunker David moved his
truck over. I went to help him lift stuff out of his bunker. I got flat on
the ground and reached down inside, he handed me stuff and in fifteen
minutes we loaded his stuff into the truck bed; the last things to come up
the hatch were the 50cal and his two ammo cans. By 11:30am we were
done. The security Jeep returned, and we told him there would be an army
officer here to remove the big steel mounts; then the best thing to do was
to use one of the mine backhoes and dump a load of larger rocks on top of
both bunkers, the hatches don't lock but the best thing is to make them
invisible with piles of rock. He said he understood and would get that
done.



The guard asked about the status of the bunkers and we told them they now
belonged to the mine, they could do whatever they wanted with them,
including removing anything we left behind, but the piles of rock were our
suggestions. The old security guard said he thought the land where the
bunkers were built was actually state property since it was along a state
highway, both of us were speechless since the mine company officers never
mentioned it might not be their property. Either way it wasn't our issue
any more. The contractors all got paid, end of story. He shook our hands
and thanked us for stopping the attack and saving lives. We stretched the
leather truck bed cover over our stuff and latched it tight, and then we
got in and left for town.

Forty five minutes later we opened the door to a clean room at the same
hotel as before and took showers and went to bed at 12:10pm. He plugged-in
the pelican case and made sure our glasses were charging then he got in bed
and never moved again. It felt very nice to press my face into that large
pillow. I grabbed the second pillow and hugged it against my chest and fell
asleep in minutes; I think David was already Gonesville. I usually slept
against something to keep my body on my side so I didn't snore. The pillow
I hugged usually pressed against my chin and held my mouth shut and
prevented snoring.

----

The next morning we showered and drove to a diner in town for an early
breakfast before the sun came up. The sky was starting to turn deep blue to
the east when we left Wright for El Paso. I think we had no intention of
pushing it home, maybe driving the same speed as the truckers down to
Albuquerque and stopping for the day so we could hit Sparky's in Hatch
tomorrow just before they unlocked the doors. We got that routine well
rehearsed. Remember, for the longest time El Paso was not known as a
tourist destination or a foodie destination but that is slowly
improving. If you want a famous burger you still gotta leave El Paso.

We drove down to Albuquerque and stopped at a hotel that was actually west
of town on I-40 and had an indoor pool. The lady at the check-in desk
recognized us, this was our fifth visit.

This town had several tourist attractions, like the tramway ride up into
the mountains, but we've done that before. We hung out by the pool until a
large family with four kids arrived and the screaming started so we left
and went to our room and drank two bottles of Merlot and watched two movies
on TCM. We fell asleep watching TV, as I rested my head on his lower tummy
with his limp dick inches from my face.

----

The next morning we left at 8:55am after a nice relaxed breakfast so we'd
arrive at Sparky's at 10:55am. We saw another New Mexico state cop in an
unmarked car but we were going 69mph, slightly slower than the truckers. He
must have seen our sticker because he got beside us in the other lane,
honked and waved; we returned the gestures and smiled back too.

After two fantastic burgers we stopped at the McGregor Range arsenal on the
way home and surrendered the two 50cals then drove home. We made it home at
4:55pm but had already submitted our report, which I recorded on the drive
home for both of us. The OD knew we dropped off the 50s and were going home
and the office didn't need us for anything special. At home I uncovered and
unpacked the truck bed but some of the camping gear could go in the
trash. We hadn't wanted to leave the bunkers looking like teenagers
broke-in and had a party.

I had to pour the trash can with all the empty aluminum beer cans into a
trash bag, neither of us had the time or desire to sell them for scrap to
earn a few bucks. David suggested we offer them to the next polite homeless
person we met outside the grocery store. I told him we should flatten them
and take them ten at a time to the parking lot and leave them, homeless
people would scavenge them.

His truck was filthy from all the mine dust and dirt. The entire truck
needed a bath inside and out. The floor mats were full of dried mud, and
the windows all had coal mine dust crud. He said he'd do that this weekend
if he could find someone with the time to clean it inside and out. I looked
at my spotless little sports car under its protective blanket beside his
truck in the garage. Because my car was so short we parked the motorcycle
(and ATV) in front of my car but we had to move one of them to drive them
outside. It really bugged David when his truck got dirty.

After a couple hours I had all the Wyoming mission stuff removed, so it was
empty inside. Our pelican case was in the Tac-room and plugged in, and
briefly it felt like we were actually caught up. I stood in the doorway
between the garage and the living room looking at the motorcycle and heard
bare feet run across the dining room floor, across the deck, and then a
splash outside as he dove into the pool and started doing his laps, so I
stripped naked and joined him. Jeremy never came over that evening. Soon
after we hit the pool the sun went behind the mountains and our speed
slowed but it felt great to be swimming laps in our own pool and it felt
nice to be able to do it naked too. It felt great to be home again with my
husband, especially as he was super happy and horny.

After we stopped he got out and went just inside the back door and turned
the knob to half-close the blinds so we couldn't be photographed from the
sky. To go from fully open to halfway shut it takes the motor about ten
seconds to slowly move all those blinds above our entire back yard.

I asked him, "What you want for dinner, hon?"

"Honestly, I got no appetite. Maybe I caught something? But I feel funny
like I'm coming down with something."

It always worries me when he says something's wrong because it usually
happens soon after he feels weird in his guts.

After an hour sitting on the pool steps talking about Wyoming we went
inside and showered together but it was non-sexual, then we shut everything
down, locked the Tac-room door and went to bed. I double checked that the
alert box was on the right status. We often took time off after a big
mission; we both needed time to sleep and gather our thoughts. Often after
a mission we learned stuff about it that we didn't know at the time.

David was starting to say the bunkers were a waste, we could have done that
entire mission for a fraction of the price using spiders instead of
borrowed 1940s machine guns. I usually supported our actual plan, which was
actually his design. David usually had some regrets after missions as he
pondered what we could have done better, faster, cheaper. He was too
mentally distracted to get a boner that evening, which surprised me. When
Mister Sperm Shooter says he's not in the mood he really means it. I was in
the mood but that didn't matter to him. If he was in the mood and I wasn't
I'd still make him come with my mouth and swallow his load but that's been
a one-way street since college. It always made me wonder when he said "not
tonight" if I was hearing his mother's voice.

----

The next day we drove to work to discuss the mission but that seemed to be
a waste of time. The captain was pleased and wanted to make sure David was
recognized as a hero to the country for what he did. David seemed ready to
move on (mentally) to our next adventure.

It surprised me the things he said to Captain Johnson about how the bunkers
really weren't necessary after all. He said we could have build something
like a duck hunting blind out of dead weeds near the highway and used
spiders instead. We showed the captain a group of boulders near the ditch
along the highway and said we could have hidden behind them in regular
hunting gear and the spiders would have been within range and gassed them
for a fraction of the cost. Of course the captain told him to keep those
comments to himself because he was looking at a possible promotion.

We left work at 3:45am and drove home; I worked on a grocery list and told
him we needed to get there soon because the refrigerator was bare. We
needed a couple hundred bucks worth of stuff so we both looked in cabinets
and made a list on a post-it note on the counter.

While we were working on the list the OD called David and mentioned she
heard rumors he might get a promotion because of Wyoming, which really made
David happy. The OD said in Washington he was being called the One Shot
Wonder. With one bullet he took out two bad guys, all their shit, and their
car! They said his plan was brilliant and he was a military genius!

Currently, both of us are O-6 pay grade as Army officers. If David got a
promotion it would be to the Army pay grade of O-7 which is a one-star
general, also known as a Brigadier General. At age 30 (almost 31) he'd be
the youngest General in US Army history (not counting the Civil War). The
next closest young general after 1938 was when Army Colonel Curtis Lemay
was promoted to O7 because of his work designing and leading the bombing
attacks on Japan in 1944-45. And like David, Lemay also never attended West
Point but like David he was a natural born military designer. Lemay was
known as nearly psychopathic about the human cost of his attack plans, with
total disregard for human deaths on both sides of the war. But Lemay was
damn good at what he did and we won the war probably because of his
work. He's also part of the reason why the entire Tokyo metro area has very
few old buildings standing today.

If David was promoted he'd surely be summoned to Washington for a couple
days of ceremonies. I might have to stay in El Paso while he partied in
Washington because one of us still had to work!

"Ry you look like your mind has checked out." David said after watching me
sitting on a bar stool with the daydream expression on my face. I snapped
out of it and asked if the list was done and he peeled it off the counter
and handed it to me. The post-it note was nearly full, I knew we'd miss
stuff because it was nearly impossible to read. He got dressed in shopping
clothes and carried the Pelican case to the truck (we're required by law to
bring it along, but it can wait in the truck since we're only a couple
hundred feet away and there are lots of people walking around) and backed
it out on the driveway and shut the garage door, he was ready to go and
came back inside to get me in gear.

We got in his truck, I moved the pelican case to the floor behind my seat
like always. Most of the time lately we left it under a back seat when we
went in the store, the back windows were tinted dark so it's impossible to
see from the outside. He'd already turned on the comms gear, which was the
rule. Leaving it in the truck while we went inside a store was authorized
by the Pentagon.

We drove down to Dyer and turned left and drove south to Food King and
parked straight out from the front door and went inside. I grabbed a cart
and he grabbed items on the list.

About twenty five minutes later we were standing in the check-out line then
went out the doors and headed into the parking lot but our truck was gone!
Our parking spot was empty. He immediately turned on his cell and called
the OD and shouted, "OUR TRUCK IS GONE, the pelican case is active in the
back seat, call Nevada and the Pentagon immediately and activate tracking!"

His truck was a Toyota Tundra, a V-6; I think it was a 2014 model and just
got new tires. Then he shouted in his cell to "Call 911 and get a city cop
here ASAP and give them a heads-up too. This is probably a Broken Arrow
alert!" He shouted in the cell.

David lowered the phone and looked at me and mumbled "Holy shit this is
bad!" I mumbled, "At least it was filthy." He chuckled like that was a
totally stupid thing for me to say. We stood there by the empty parking
spot looking around for anyone in the parking lot to shout at; then I
spotted a homeless person by the front of the store so I ran over and asked
him if he saw what happened to our truck and the guy said in Spanish that
it was pulled onto a roll-back tow truck, chained, and they drove
south. Then he asked me for five bucks.

Moments later a cop car drove in the lot, we showed our ID cards and asked
him to drive us south, we said we'd cover any trouble he might get in so he
agreed. We got in the caged back seat and he drove south on Dyer to the
highway and raced toward the border. David smacked the cage and told the
cop he needed to drive a lot faster, but I don't think he sped up
much. Most people in El Paso knew that stolen vehicles ended up as car
parts in various chop shops in the city, once they get stolen they're never
seen again and were reincarnated as car parts in dealerships across Mexico
and the Southwest.

We really couldn't tell the cop about the nukes but we had to say something
to increase his energy, so David told him our truck had two secret military
weapons in the back seat, it's like a rolling bomb, and we really needed to
stop it from crossing the border, like lives depended on it. The cop drove
a little faster as we headed toward the border on Patriot Freeway, US-54.

The cop said he'd heard during precinct role call that the latest big chop
shop was around 7200 Alameda Avenue, that's where we should go. Since we
left the store we had no visual contact with the truck and we hadn't
received any tracking from our office yet but it was due any second.

Then the OD called David's cell and activated a tracking map app and we saw
a dot on his screen. I told the cop what we were watching and he was
probably right, head toward 7200 Alameda. She said our truck was currently
on I-10 eastbound and soon to exit at Paisano Drive then eastbound on
Alameda. So he hit his lights and sped up to 80mph as we closed the
distance. Luckily where our truck was located was heavy with traffic and
stoplights so it wouldn't get anywhere quickly now. I updated the cop while
he was weaving in traffic. I asked the officer his name and badge number
and told the OD to make sure he was cleared by his Chief's office right
away. What we were doing with him was sort of like a legal hijacking. I
kept reminding the cop to focus on driving; we were in touch with his
dispatcher. He was up to 85mph on the final mile of US 54 and merged onto
I-10. Now we were only two miles behind our truck and closing fast.

He exited the highway at East Paisano Drive and headed south to Alameda and
headed east but in traffic he had to use his siren. David reminded him this
was public safety since our truck carried secret military weapons. We could
see sweat on the cop's forehead as he managed to drive 50mph on surface
streets without wrecking.

Alameda was where all the car lots that took in wrecks and fixed them up
and sold them as buy-here pay-here cars to immigrants with no credit
history and no US citizenship were, its one used car lot after another and
behind each one was a yard full of half wrecked cars and trucks, that's
where our truck was heading. Up ahead I caught a glimpse of our truck on
top of a roll-back wrecker. We were in the black and white El Paso city cop
car going 55 in a 40mph zone with no lights or siren on trying to catch
up. It didn't take very far and on the long straight stretch of street he
got behind it and the tow truck driver panicked and swerved.

We watched as the back end of our truck slid sideways on the flatbed truck
and two of the chains that held it down to the flatbed snapped and one rear
tire slid sideways off the bed of the tow truck. He hit his turn signal at
Rio Monte Street but turned too sharply and a rear wheel of the flatbed
truck lifted off the pavement, the last chains snapped and our truck rolled
off the tow truck and tumbled onto the street and rolled over and over, I
counted four times until it came to a stop in the middle of Alameda Avenue
(upside down) and the tow truck driver raced down a side street. The cop
jammed the brakes and we got out of his car, then he sped off after the tow
truck we stayed with our truck which was on its roof with clouds of black
smoke coming out of the engine compartment. David ran up to it and tried to
open the doors but all of them were stuck shut with a partially collapsed
roof, smoke was coming from the rear end too.

He talked to the OD and he told them to notify Nevada and the Pentagon that
our truck was upside down in a heavily populated area in southeast El Paso,
about 7211 Alameda Avenue and possibly going to catch fire with the pelican
case inside, and we are unable to open the doors.

I watched David reach down for his back-up revolver but for some reason it
was missing, he glanced at me like this was a really bad situation if the
truck caught fire with two nukes and a surface to air missile inside, they
were coupled with explosives but wouldn't detonate, but they might explode
and spread Daltonium around the area, so I told the OD to activate a
nuclear hazmat alarm, no drill. She was super busy and she was alone since
everyone else already left since it was after office hours.

The smoke from the truck got worse but now we saw small flames in the
engine compartment and somewhere in back too. I asked David if he saw the
pelican case, was there any chance the driver already removed the
valuables, so he got on his knees and looked inside but the windows were
too dark to see anything in back, we were forced to prepare for the worst
and activated the MP squads at Ft Bliss for a Broken Arrow alert, a lost
nuclear weapon. All we could do was stand and wait and wish the truck never
caught fire. My heart was pounding and I wanted to barf but there were now
people were standing around looking at the truck blocking traffic. Luckily
some were able to drive around it and we started directing traffic to get
as many people as far away as possible. When people from the area stood
nearby and watched I shouted in Spanish the truck might explode better
stand back but nobody moved back.

After several long minutes we heard sirens approaching, one of them sounded
like a fire truck. Moments later the engine compartment burst into flames
on our truck but there was nothing we could do so we stayed nearby watching
the cab inside the truck for signs of fire. Once the interior caught fire
we were all at risk from explosions and the release of nuclear materials
onto the street. One of the three weapons in the pelican case carried lots
of explosives, but like I said the big risk was the release of Daltonium.

When the fire truck arrived I ran up to it and identified the captain and
told him we were military and we had nuclear materials with explosives in
the truck, if they exploded it was a worst-case contamination situation; so
he used his walkie talkie to notify fire dispatch, while the rest of the
crew pulled out hoses and got ready to put out the fires. I was nearly
ready to freak out by how slowly they were moving because none of them knew
what was at stake and we couldn't shout it out loud.

I repeated to the captain this was a very dangerous situation but they
still seemed to take chill pills and gradually drag hoses to the truck. I
saw flames inside the cab and David stepped further away from it fearing
the gas tank might explode, and then flames appeared from the back end of
the truck too. One of them pulled a hose closer and opened-up at the truck
and put out the engine fire in four seconds then aimed it at the back end
and in two seconds those flames were gone too. Someone else walked up with
an axe and started smashing all the windows and they put out the flames
inside the cab. His truck used to be black, now it was bare steel!

David asked the OD about the status of the police car and she said he
stopped the tow truck but the driver had run inside a car repair shop. The
car repair shop was actually a chop shop where our truck was headed. He was
only two blocks away so I ran that way and saw he was in a stand-off
situation with several armed men inside a large garage chop shop, so I
alerted Ft Bliss. Since they stole nuclear weapons (even without knowing
it) they all qualified for immediate execution.

David stayed with our truck and had them pry open the door and hose down
the cab again and he crawled part way inside and backed out with the
pelican case in hand, luckily it was somewhat melted but not open, but it
came close. He opened the case and saw the weapons inside were blackened
and partially melted but intact, so he notified the OD to call Nevada, our
pelican case and everything inside was destroyed in the fire but it
appeared that no nuclear materials leaked out.

I stayed with the cop as we took cover on one side of his car and
occasionally exchanged gun fire with people inside the garage. I tried to
explain that the Army would be here soon, but he must have thought I was
kidding.

While we were sitting on the ground behind his squad car David had our
charred pelican case open on the street with light from the fire truck he
used his zombie knife to sever the battery wires to deaden the two nukes
and also the helicopter missile. He also cut the wires to the comms gear
and the combat tactics computer. He tried to remove the battery but it was
glued inside the case.

Soon the sound of large military helicopters in the distance became
audible, and moments later the first one landed in the vacant lot across
from the chop shop and out came ten MPS in combat gear with automatic
weapons, immediately they launched three flash-bang rounds inside the
garage. The second helicopter hovered briefly above us watching for people
trying to escape out the back windows, but soon after the MPs ran inside
the second one flew over by the truck fire on Alameda and landed.

I saw flashes of light when they opened fire inside; there were too many
shots to count but it was over in a few seconds. Within a few seconds they
quickly returned to their helicopter, its blades were still rotating and
aircraft lights still blinking. They obviously planned on not being on the
ground here more than 60 seconds. During the invasion at the chop shop the
2nd helicopter left from the truck scene with David on board. I assumed he
was being flown immediately to WSMR to surrender the pelican case so they
could make the warheads safe.

When they safely lifted off the street the broken-arrow alert was cancelled
by the OD but I had no idea who she called to activate it or cancel it. The
second Huey flew to WSMR and landed on the only helipad near the weapons
lab, there were military vehicles waiting for him, but the chopper took off
right away for Ft Bliss as David got in the Jeep and rode to the weapons
lab and surrendered the case, which also put us off-duty with a special
circumstance.

After David was done at WSMR they told him to call a taxi for a ride home;
I had no idea how long I was going to be tied up with the cops at the chop
shop. Again, they got all pissy when I refused to write a report but said I
would submit one to our office, and they could request a copy. When I
reached in my shirt pocket I realized my business cards must have fallen
out in all the excitement so I had to call the OD and get the phone number
for the cops to call.

Fifty five minutes later the charred remains of our truck was rolled back
over onto its burnt tires and dragged up on the back of another flatbed tow
truck and headed for the impound lot as evidence, but it was effectively
destroyed. I was released before they had the six dead bodies in the chop
shop tagged and bagged for the coroner's office. I heard someone say all
six died of bullet wounds to the center chest. While I waited for the taxi
on Alameda Avenue I called our insurance agent and reported the truck
stolen and burned and gave then the police file number. I called David
twice but his cell said it was out of service (still in the desert and out
of range of the cell network).

It turned out that part of town was one where taxis seldom picked up fares
so I started walking toward the highway; we were about 2-3 miles from
Paisano Blvd, an hour later I arrived in a nicer area and called another
cab company and was told 30 minutes, so I told him to forget it. I kept
walking north toward Cielo Vista Mall, another hour and I could see the
lights from their parking lot and I walked up on a McDonald's with a taxi
in the lot and asked if he was available, he gestured to get in back and he
drove me home.

I got home fifty five minutes before David; he said he waited 95 minutes
for a taxi to arrive on the Range. So he was cranky and seemed like he was
full of pent-up anger. I tried to comfort him by talking softly and smiling
but he was clearly still pissed about the loss of his truck and our pelican
case, not to mention not getting a ride home.

I tried getting him in the shower and pressed him against the wall and
massaged his entire back side but he couldn't get hard so I got into my
secret stash of .25mg Xanax pills and gave him two with a glass of wine. He
fell asleep before me and I heard him grinding his teeth all night, so I
was sure he was dreaming about the truck fire all night. At least he got
some sleep. After taking two pills he usually had a Xanax hangover the next
day which made him sort of mentally slower but less aggressive.

----

The next day also sucked! We were on the phone and had several things going
on, the least of which was the truck theft and our insurance. At first they
said there was no coverage for the fire because of the weapons so David
called our lawyer, then we were called by the captain, he said Duke and
Luke were re-activated and coming back down from Omaha on commercial
flight, we were on paid vacation TFN. Paid leave meant he already decided
our incident was 'in the line of duty' and would be fully covered by Uncle
Sam.

Then the captain called back and said we were just summoned to report to
the Pentagon on Friday at 8am for mandatory meetings with the JCS in full
dress uniforms. So we couldn't refuse; it was our boss's boss calling.

Our back-up team doesn't have nukes but they do have a pelican case with
two 9mm submachine guns like ours, and ammo and comms gear. They also do
not have spiders or gas pellets. But like us, they also have immunity from
prosecution in the line of duty.

David was still obviously pissed and not thinking clearly. Then we were
called by the OD that the coal mine issued two reward checks to us for
stopping the destruction of their mine; they were being overnighted to
Washington for us to pick up at the Pentagon.

That afternoon our insurance called and told him to go to a car rental
place to get a car for him to drive, and David responded with "A two-door
Kia Forte? I barely fit in one of those pieces of shit!" It was obvious
they'd had a not-nice conversation with our lawyer and our truck theft and
fire was covered.

I thought he'd look funny in a tiny Korean car driving down Dyer Street!
Beep-Beep! He told me 'Indians do not drive Korean cars! We drive trucks
with empty beer cans and fishing poles in back!'

We spent the rest of the day on the phone with police, Ft Bliss MPs, our
office, our insurance agent, our lawyer, WSMR, and while he was busy on the
phone I secretly called every Toyota dealer within 150 miles looking for a
new Tundra with a V6 and all the options he demanded. I also notified our
mechanic that we'd have a vehicle for him to modify soon. Working for the
Pentagon we were not allowed to drive a vehicle with tracking like all of
them had now; when we got a new truck the first stop would be the shop to
have all the slave-tracking electronics destroyed.

That evening we ordered delivery pizza and beer and hung out in the pool
but his mind was elsewhere. I knew the little rental car in the driveway
really upset him. The Toyota Tundra was a large truck with a big powerful
engine, and that was what he grew up wanting and now he won't compromise on
owning what he wanted, especially knowing we had millions in cash in our
house and could afford any vehicle we wanted.

Like last night, again today, he was incapable of getting a boner, so I
left him alone to simmer in his anger. Everything I tried to help him
failed; he was going to be pissed off until things got back to normal.

----

Two days later, wearing rented black suits with our dress Navy whites in
the Batsuit case, we flew to Washington. I was caught off guard by what
happened. We reported first to the Rapid Response Team office on the fourth
floor, E-wing. We sat in the lobby for fifteen minutes, then were called
into the office of one of the Joint Chiefs, the five generals that manage
the military. I was expecting to be scolded for losing the pelican case,
but David was advised he was being promoted to O-7 because of his actions
defending the United States during the attempted attack on Thunder Basin
Coal Mine. I could see residual anger on his face but he was elated and
very excited that he was being promoted to a one-star general. Actually, I
knew it meant little to him, except maybe another $600 a month before taxes
on his pay check. We didn't need the raise but it would be nice to have. I
told him we should use the pay hike to rent a small apartment in Hatch, New
Mexico, within staggering distance of Sparky's!

It was a big ceremony and the most surprising thing was the Secretary of
Defense arrived to shake his hand and give him the papers that officially
authorized his raise. We all stood and applauded, photos were taken of him
with the Secretary of Defense and the Vice President of the USA then it was
over and we were released. In the JCS office both of us were handed
envelopes with checks from the mine company, our rewards for saving their
company from destruction. I never opened mine there because David opened
his; he showed me the amount.

In our dress whites we walked downstairs and outside to wait for a taxi,
then rode to Reagan Airport to fly back home. We made it as far as DFW that
night and stayed at a hotel at the airport. We ordered room service of
pizza and beer in our hotel room but David was still way to distracted to
get hard. I saw he still had an angry expression on his eyebrows so I
remained somewhat distant to avoid conflict.

When he got this mad he sometimes said hurtful stuff to anyone who crossed
his path.

----

We made it back home on Saturday morning at 11:20am on an early flight from
DFW, still wearing the same dress Navy uniforms. We stopped in the office
and visited briefly with Duke and Luke then drove home in my little car. He
did nothing but bitch about the lack of leg room and how the inside of my
car was no bigger than a Cessna 150. On the highway around the old part of
Fort Bliss I punched the gas pedal and in a few hundred feet went from
45mph to 119mph and that shut him up briefly, but our exit was next so I
was on the brakes trying to keep from flying off the side of exit ramp down
onto Railroad Avenue; moments later we got home and I parked in the garage
and covered my car with her blanket and hugged the roof.

David went to change and I got my cell out in the back yard and talked to
the one Toyota dealer in El Paso

who said he had a new Tundra with a V6, the towing package, and the luxury
interior package, which included the better speakers and DVD player in the
dash.

The dealer was on Montana Avenue near Yarbrough Drive; we drove past it on
the way to Snake Bite State Park, and I got the dealer to negotiate over
the phone and explained I needed it today if possible. When David came out
to swim I went inside to the Tac-room and continued the negotiation with
the dealer and finally got all my answers; the out-the-door price was
$60,999 with tax, plates, and dealer prep, no trade-in, cash discount. They
said they had two on the lot one was black and the other was navy blue so I
took the black one and said I'd be over soon; get it ready to go. I told
them I was serious, if it wasn't ready I'd get back in the taxi and leave.

I left home with David in the back yard quietly reading a book by the pool
while munching on tortilla chips and my home made salsa. When he asked
where I was going I told him I was going to the sex shop to buy a rubber
boner since his dick was out of service. He quietly told me to fuck-off and
I left on foot and called a taxi and met him down the block. We drove to
the bank and I deposited my reward check then withdrew $61,000 in
cash. Next he drove me to the Toyota dealer where I paid and half an hour
later I left in the truck and drove it home and quietly parked on the far
side of our driveway.

I walked around the side of the house, through the back gate, and David was
still on his favorite chair reading, with a beer nearby on the picnic
table. He asked me if I found a new boy friend and I laughed, told him no
but I bought him something. He never looked up from his book and ignored me
so I went inside.

I got a beer out of the cooler near the back door and went to my room and
stripped to take a shower. Dealing with bankers and car dealers always left
me with a dirty feeling and I wanted to brush my teeth and take a long
soaking hot shower.

An hour later he was done reading and I was on the sofa reading through our
endless pile of junk mail. He asked again if I brought a sex toy and I told
him no; I bought him something better than a rubber boner. He laughed
thinking I was kidding.

So I asked him how his rental car was, a 2017 Kia Forte with 35,000 miles,
he said it was a compact piece of shit and he'd never buy that brand. It
sounded like it could die any second and he missed his truck. I asked if he
heard how long it would take to replace our pelican case; David said
Thursday we had to go to WSMR to pick up the new one. Actually, the
shortage was in plastic cases not nuclear weapons or helicopter
missiles. We laughed at that.

I told him again (third time) I bought him something but like the others he
ignored my statement but I knew he heard me. We were sitting side by side
on the sofa with the TV on TCM with the sound muted. I reached over and
grabbed his hand and held it gently, and then I reached for the remote and
shut off the TV and slowly told him, I bought you something.

He sighed loudly like he was being forced to have a conversation he didn't
want. So in a highly sarcastic voice he said, "Gee Ry, that was sweet of
you."

Knowing he was deliberately being an ass I asked if he wanted to see it, so
he laughed and said, 'Sure, why not.' I was certain he thought I was about
to present him with a foot long silicone dick. By then it was dark
outside. He stood up and I offered my hand and walked him to the front door
and opened it.

I walked him outside and the first thing he saw was the stupid little
Korean made rental car, on the nearest side of the driveway. In the
darkness it wasn't easy to see but there was clearly a second vehicle in
the driveway on the far side of the rental car.

We walked down the sidewalk past the living room windows and around the
small car and he put his hands on his hips and declared, "Who the hell
parked in our driveway?"

"You did."

"My truck is gone, it's someone else's, probably one of Jeremy's mutant
friends."

We slowly walked closer and in the dark he said, "Oh, it's like mine, a
Tundra, but it's new." He saw the new vehicle sticker in the back window.

I raised my hand beside his arm and he looked down and saw I was holding a
dealer key ring, he moved his arm, opened his palm and I dropped the keys
in his hand but remained silent.

He took the keys and unlocked the door. "What year is it?

"I think it's this year's Tundra, with a V6 and the luxury package. You
know how much these are now, out the door?"

He said 'No.'

I said, "it was 99 cents less than my reward check from the coal mine.'

Suddenly David froze and shut the door, we were standing facing each other
beside the driver's side front door.

"Did you buy this?"

"Yes, but its registered to my husband."

He swallowed and I saw his mouth and chin get all wonky then he had tears
in his eyes, very softly he asked,"You spent you entire reward check on
this truck today?"

I nodded yes and then I saw tears into both his eyes as he stood about
three feet from me staring in my eyes, then he reached over and slid his
palm across the hood and looked across the front of the truck and said
"They got great lines, I love this model." Then I told him he still needed
to program the radio presets and the seat heater this winter.

David raised his hands to his mouth and then he turned and looked in the
window and walked all the way around it and kicked the tires and remained
silent and returned to me. He put one hand on my shoulder and very softly
said "Thank you, Ryan."

I nodded yes and told him I loved him. David was visibly fighting back
tears and told me "I love you too Ryan, sorry I don't have the words to say
what I feel right now, and it makes me feel dumb. It's actually rather
humiliating."

He stepped in close and kissed me briefly on the mouth then stepped back
and got in the truck and asked me to open the garage door. I ran in the
front door, across the living room and into the garage and pushed the
button and watched him drive it inside. He got out of the truck and told me
it had 26 miles on it. I told him it only had about six on it when I signed
papers at the dealer, the rest was the drive home.

I hit the garage door button and he stepped closer to me and pulled off his
shirt and tossed it on the motorcycle and hugged me tightly and pressed his
face into the side of my head and sniffled. I held him tightly and we stood
in our garage beside the motorcycle while he got quietly emotional.

"You really spent all but 99 cents of your reward check on a new truck for
me?" but I just nodded yes. That made him even more emotional. He raised
his hands to cover his mouth and nose and his upper body twitched as he
began to silently cry, and then he turned and went down the hallway toward
our bedroom, probably to cry into his pillow. He really didn't like for
anyone to see him cry.

We eventually got undressed and ready for bed. Something he never did
before, he stripped and got on his knees on the floor on my side of the bed
and held me and rubbed his face side to side across my chest and stomach,
then he got in bed and moved the sheets down and blew me and swallowed and
kept my shrinking dick in his mouth for about another 15 minutes. It felt
wonderful.

But David was still incapable of getting hard so we went to bed spooning;
one of the first times he slept in front.

The next day was Sunday and we drove it to the car wash and paid some kid
to wax it while we hung out on a picnic table and drank cokes. Then we
drove home and took pictures and video of his new truck. He also called the
OD and reminded them to get new bumper stickers for his truck. During the
day on Sunday he read the new vehicle break-in rules in the owner's manual
and called a few tire shops about new wide knobby tires and found one place
on Dyer with a set in stock so we drove over and spent $1100 on four new
tires to replace his brand new tires. But he got a trade-in allowance for
the original tires that had less than 100 miles.

Jeremy spent all afternoon in our pool too and we spent the day doing stuff
on his truck in the driveway! To Jeremy it looked nearly identical to the
old one, he never knew our old truck was stolen a couple days ago and
caught fire upside down on its roof in the middle of Alameda Avenue with
two nuclear weapons inside.

Sunday evening we watched gay porn on TV and he finally got a hard-on and
came for me; then I nursed on his tits. My gift really altered his behavior
but I wasn't sure how long the new David would last but this one was much
nicer to me and much more sensitive to my feelings than the old David. Just
before bed on Sunday he actually handed me my toothbrush and the tube of
paste! Sunday night in bed he blew me again exactly how I taught him to
work my dick. His effort was so perfect I actually had to moan loudly just
before I came, which was rare. I spunked so hard it went all over the bed.

----

On Tuesday the police repellant bumper stickers arrived and we drove the
truck to the mechanic to have the Pentagon Mod done. The guy went in and
cut the wire that ran to the satellite antenna on the roof, and then he
found the large chip on the instrument cluster and zapped it with
electricity to destroy the GPS capability, and modified the one for the
built-in cellular so it couldn't estimate its location based on what WI-FI
and cell towers were nearby. He put an antenna switch in the dashboard,
switch-up if we wanted to use the built-in cellular or switch down to
disconnect the antenna rendering it deaf. Back at home that evening I
carefully cleaned spots on the license plate and near it, same as the old
truck and carefully applied one federal agent sticker. They sort of
resembled the old brand logo for a type of airline luggage.

David also ordered used CDs to replace the ones he lost when the truck
burned, he found them used online and saved a lot of money buying them from
Goodwill. He said he didn't need the album art, just the CD. We weren't
supposed to use our cell phones for music since they were government
property. That weekend we loaded the ATV in the back and drove to near the
Ghost Town and rode around but there were too many others out there for us
to fuck and we didn't bring our camping gear but we still had a good
time. We neglected to bring water so we made two trips into Oro Grande for
water and something to munch on. David said two guys riding around for
hours on an ATV together was kind of obvious. The good part was nobody out
there cared, which is how it should be for gays everywhere.

----

On Thursday we got the call from WSMR to come get our new pelican case, it
was tested and ready, so we drove up early and were there for two hours
looking at and testing equipment. It was nearly identical to the old
one. While we were up there one of the head guys in the weapons lab
mentioned he heard David was newly promoted and he admitted it was true,
then immediately changed the subject. Everyone congratulated him on the
work he's done to earn the promotion. We never really expected we'd ever be
promoted; we already outranked our boss and his boss in the Pentagon. The
step from O-6 to O-7 was huge and worthy of mention. David always played it
down.

When we left WSMR we saw someone had made a small gold star sticker out of
a gold post-it note and stuck it on his rear bumper. David smiled and we
turned around to look in the 2nd story windows of the weapons lab, several
of them were laughing and waving. His promotion was a big deal to them but
not to us. David has done nothing to advance awareness of his promotion and
his uniforms still had eagles on the collars, not a single star. He never
once mentioned it to me after we got back from Washington.

That weekend his new license plates arrived in the mail. I was surprised
that he actually paid extra for vanity plates. We sat in one of the booths
with alcohol preps cleaning the plate to apply the agent sticker and I saw
his new truck plate said: SPIDERZ.

As a joke I asked him why not STAR or GENERAL and he snorted and smiled and
shook no. That was one of the first signs I saw from him that he was slowly
returning to his old self. I asked him if the vanity plate General was
already taken. He looked at me, smiled and flipped me off, and then we both
laughed loudly! He really thought that was funny and slapped his hands on
the table and got tears he laughed so hard. But he never really answered my
question.

On Friday we had a small party for Duke and Luke in the office. We got
pizza and made an actual punch bowl with sliced fruit and lots of ice. They
actually used canned Hawaiian Punch but someone accidentally added shots of
some kind of booze. The boss left early that day and we kept up the
festivities until their flight. They walked out the tarmac door and
followed the luggage cart pathways and walked up the outside steps to the
jet-way and boarded their flight the illegal way without even checking in
at the gate counter. But it only delayed their departure a couple minutes
by creating a mismatch between tickets collected at the gate and people on
board. The airline counted two no-shows yet there they were already on the
plane in the correct seats in coach. Their pelican case (with two loaded
9mm machine guns) was safely stowed in the overhead compartment.

After work we tried to estimate the cost of the new case and the stuff
inside. David estimated it was worth about 7-8 million bucks. We used a new
razor blade to make little cuts in the foam rubber inside so we could add a
tiny bottle of gas pellets and three extra spider boxes.

----

At home (and at work) things slowly got back to normal. David eventually
got over the death of his old truck and slowly fell in love with the new
one. I think he went out in the garage a few times when he was home alone
and slid the seat back and wanked in it to complete the bonding process
between a boy and his truck. Good grief!

Five weeks after his promotion David still didn't have stars on his
uniforms, he said the eagles looked nicer. I know eventually he'll get
called back to Washington and they'll force him to wear his legal rank
insignia.

The weekend Duke and Luke left for Omaha we drove out to Cattleman's for
steak dinner. We both got 24 ounce medium rare ribeyes and had lots
leftover to take home. Our meal was traditional: salad bar, rolls, baked
potato and the steak, wine, and ice cream afterward. We splurged on the
wine, he picked a sixty buck a bottle French Merlot that was dated
1999. Our dinner bill came to $275 with tip and tax. Our waiter sounded
like a hissy gay guy. Every time he tried to engage David in small talk we
shut it down. We didn't drive all the way out to Cattleman's to make
friends with the waiter, sorry dude! The guy looked like he was in his
fifties and he was obviously flirting with David, right in front of
me. Guys like that don't stay there long. They usually have middle aged
women waiting tables and working the bar. It seemed like any reasonably
good waitress with big tits always made great money waiting tables there.

That evening with lots of steak in the truck in doggie bags we stopped at
one of the few tourist attractions in El Paso; it's a mountain road
(winding 2-lanes) called Scenic Drive. There is a similar looking road near
Hollywood called Mulholland Drive.

There's a small parking area near the top that sort of overlooks downtown
El Paso and further south all of Juarez. We got a spot and sat there making
out like we did in college, except we didn't hide. It reminded me how much
I like kissing and how good David was at it. When he really loves you and
he's in the mood he really shows his love by kissing super passionately. It
surprised me, but at dinner I noticed he seemed to be in a good mood.

I remembered in the restaurant when we walked over to the salad bar his
butt cheeks caught my eye and I bumped into someone else because I wasn't
watching where I was going. That was embarrassing, as I made him spill some
of his drink on the carpet! I offered to replace it but he said it was just
a few drops across his hand, no harm done. You meet the nicest people in
Texas.



Contact the author by email: Borischenaz mailfence or on twitter:
@borischenaz.