Afghan Storm (Nick Woods Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to remember anything.”
    “That’s why I carry a
map,” Red replied with a grin.
    Truck stretched his right
leg out and groaned. “All right, but let’s make it quick so that my bum knee
doesn’t get any ideas and drop my ass down the hill,” he said.
    Red reached over and
punched Truck hard in the calf of his straightened leg. Truck’s only response
was a grunt.
    “So,” Red said, “I guess
since we’re down a leg thanks to gimp here, pushing forward and taking on those
Pakistani bastards is out of the question?”
    Nick smiled and looked
over at Marcus, who was shaking his head and chuckling. The team could always
count on Red’s confidence.
    “Marcus?” Nick asked. “Any
other thoughts?”
    “It’s a solid plan,”
Marcus confirmed. “And it’s the best option we have under the circumstances.”
     

 
     
    Chapter 9
     
    The four men of Shield,
Safeguard, and Shelter descended the hill, picking their way around loose
gravel and crumbling dirt that gave way under the weight of their heavy
footsteps and gear. Red led the way, followed by Nick, then Truck with his RPK
machine gun, and finally Marcus, who pulled rear security.
    Each man knew the next
part would prove pivotal. On one hand, they were dressed to fit in. Loose
pants, turbans wrapped around
their heads, Soviet-bloc weapons, and random green and black smocks. On
the other, their packs and assault gear, though of non-American variety, still
gave them away. Rarely would
Afghans or Pakistani be carrying so much gear, and if it were necessary, they’d
use pack mules.
    But this couldn’t be changed, and taking on some villagers certainly
beat duking it out with the heavily-armed Pakistani army.
    The team soundlessly descended further and further, attempting to stay in
dark shadows. It took almost two hours as they were trying to be patient on
Truck and his knee, but they soon neared the road at the bottom of the valley.
    Nick was surprised that they had avoided any mud homes to this point.
Though the border regions were sparsely populated, luck seemed to be on their
side thus far.
    Red halted the team and signaled for them to spread out on line -- or in
a straight line. Each team member found good positions that were either low to
the ground or behind something. They all dropped their packs and aimed in on
the “road,” which could hardly be considered such by Western standards. More
like a gravel driveway barely wide enough for a single truck.
    Nick could feel his heart speed up, as the tension mounted. Now, they
were committed. Any contact and it was on. An attempt to retreat up the hill
with their heavy packs would surely end in failure. And they couldn’t ditch
their packs and try to ascend either, because that meant certain eventual
death, given they’d be without any supplies.
    No, any contact and they’d attack forward, killing whoever was in the
way, as well as those who responded to the gunfire. Nick and Red, the only two
with NVGs, scanned the road ahead, which could just be made out with the
natural light.
    Between the men and the road, Nick estimated about four hundred yards of
field. It was mostly flat and planted with some kind of knee-high crop.
    Nick looked twice over the ground but saw nothing. He looked toward Red,
and the small point man signaled all clear.
    Nick swallowed down some water and reached over to lift his
hundred-pound pack. He whirled it around, swinging it into place -- it was too
heavy to simply lift -- and tightened up the straps. He bounced up and down,
allowed it to shift, and adjusted the straps one last time. Unfortunately, when
you weren’t using up ammo, it made it harder to lighten your load.
    The team was ready. Each man was standing, or truthfully, slightly
leaning forward under their packs. The team would push together across the
road, despite the unconventional nature of such a move.
    Typically, a unit would leave half of its men in place to provide a base
of fire from cover, while the forward