Trident's First Gleaming: A Special Operations Group Thriller Read Online Free PDF

rappelling gear, stood between Young and the enemy, aimed at the nearest attacker, and squeezed the trigger—two to the chest. The attacker landed on his back with his leg folded underneath him. Chris patted Young on the shoulder. “You’re going home tonight. You’re going to be okay.” It’s what Chris would want to hear, and it’s what Chris intended to deliver.
    “Thank you, thank you. I’m going home, I’m going home.” He kept repeating his thanks and that he was going home.
    Now the whole inland area seemed to move toward them—there must’ve been nearly a hundred tangos out there, outnumbering the SEALs seven-to-one—despite his team’s talent, the odds favored a SEAL slaughter. If they tried to break contact now, the enemy would overrun them. The SEALs would have to put up a ferocious fight in order to give the enemy enough pause to allow the frogmen to flee.
    The enemy raised the volume of their fire to forte fortissimo and advanced on the SEALs. Chris shot a barrel-chested tango, busting his barrel. Another tango stepped in front of Barrel Chest to take his place. There seemed to be no end to them. The air around Chris cracked off like firecrackers, and a round hit him in the gut, punching the air from his lungs. He gasped for air and said a silent prayer of thanks that the bullet-resistant vest had stopped the projectile before it cut into his flesh.
    The enemy advanced. Despite the SEALs’ best efforts, they couldn’t slow the assault.
    So this is how it ends.
    His promise to get Young home had become a lie.
    “Mary Poppins, Sierra One.” LT’s radioman spoke their call sign anxiously over the communications net, trying to get in touch with a plane above for backup. “Identify our position, over.”
    “Sierra One, Mary Poppins, I identify fifteen friendlies, over,” a crew member onboard replied. Flying at an altitude of nearly a mile in the sky, out of enemy small arms and RPG range but within the plane’s own artillery and cannons’ range, Mary Poppins flew in a wide circle around the battlefield.
    “That is correct,” LT’s radioman confirmed. “Kill everything west of us outside danger close!”
    “Roger, Sierra One. Kill everything west of you outside danger close.”
    Over the noise of the ground fighting, a small clap of thunder came from the sky. The first 105 mm, thirty-three-pound projectile popped the sound barrier as it shot to earth. In the middle of the enemies’ position, the earth exploded, flinging body parts and dirt. The closest survivors lay stunned in a column of rising smoke.
    Six seconds later, the smoke cleared, and another 105mm bomb struck the earth, this time on the enemies’ left flank. Most of the insurgents on the right flank figured out it was time to haul booty. Six seconds later, the right flank detonated, obliterating the slow learners.
    Meanwhile, the plane’s cannon opened up. Each second, two explosive pom-poms blasted clusters of bad guys.
    Enemy bullets stopped popping the air around Chris’s head.
    “Pop smoke,” LT commanded over the radio.
    Psycho and the rear security SEAL from LT’s squad popped their smoke grenades. Soon the smoke blocked the line of sight between the insurgents and the SEALs.
    “Leapfrog back to the primary extract,” LT said. “Second squad, to the helos.”
    Chris pulled Young up from the ground. “Run to the chopper!” Chris shouted.
    Young didn’t have to be told twice. He ran with Chris’s squad to the Black Hawk and didn’t stop until they arrived safely inside. Doc attended to Beanpole, who was still alive.
    Two or three AKs broke out on full auto behind them, but LT’s squad silenced them.
    “First squad, back,” called LT. LT and his teammates rose and dashed to the helo. The AC-130 overhead continued to pound the terrorists with 40 mike-mikes.
    Immediately after the rest of the men loaded onto the helos, they lifted off the ground. They flew with the doors open because that was the quickest way