Chapter 5 / Page 7
“Rifled slug—seven of them.” A rifled slug is a chunk of lead weighing one and a half ounces. It has the diameter of a penny and it is a little more than an inch long with a muzzle velocity of 2700 feet per second. A Mossberg 590 is capable of bulls-eye shooting these slugs out to one hundred yards. The close quarter combat situations that Jim found himself in made these things one-shot showstoppers.
The door leading into the bunker began to open out. Both men twisted towards the unexpected intrusion. Jim grabbed the Mossberg off the floor. He pushed the safety forward with his thumb revealing the red fire dot, and fired before the door was half way open. The first shot deflected along the angle of the door crunching into and through someone standing to side of the door. It also forced the door open faster than expected for the second man up there.
Pump. Eject. Fire!
The second round caught the next Iraqi full in the chest. He disappeared from the frame of the doorway. The slug pancaked on the trauma plate of his flak jacket and hurtled him backward six yards. The door banged closed followed by a whump! The doorframe seemed to buckle inward.
“Sounds like a grenade, Jimmy.”
Harper nodded. “I think we need to leave.”
They scrambled to their feet and hobbled up the steps. Jim kicked open the door and they emerged into a rock strewn quarry. Saddam had hidden his most sensitive sites either in the open, behind the façade of palaces, or under the plentiful amounts of sand. Stealth was used to secure locations rather than high security, high profile installations. While this prevented frequent visits from the United States Air Force, it did raise certain security problems when ground teams penetrated installations.
The Republic Guard survived due to resource dispersal. Small four-man fire teams protected these installations. In the case of Saddam’s Data Center, they were committed piece meal. Unfortunately, they were still arriving.
They hobbled past two very dead soldiers and two others who looked close to death. Jim folded Jerry into the passenger seat of the Jeep before clambering in himself.
“Don’t you think I should drive—in case you need to shoot?”
Jim shook his head. He could see his friend was losing consciousness. The best hope he had was to exit them from the battlefield. He pumped another shell into the Mossberg, and flipped the safety back on. “I think you should try to sleep.” He gunned the Jeep and sped into the desert night.
Jerry died two days later in the desert between Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Iraq. Jim buried him in a small grave under a cairn of stones. He said a prayer and marked the grave with a cross. It took another seven days on foot before Jim found a village in Jordan with a phone.
The door leading into the bunker began to open out. Both men twisted towards the unexpected intrusion. Jim grabbed the Mossberg off the floor. He pushed the safety forward with his thumb revealing the red fire dot, and fired before the door was half way open. The first shot deflected along the angle of the door crunching into and through someone standing to side of the door. It also forced the door open faster than expected for the second man up there.
Pump. Eject. Fire!
The second round caught the next Iraqi full in the chest. He disappeared from the frame of the doorway. The slug pancaked on the trauma plate of his flak jacket and hurtled him backward six yards. The door banged closed followed by a whump! The doorframe seemed to buckle inward.
“Sounds like a grenade, Jimmy.”
Harper nodded. “I think we need to leave.”
They scrambled to their feet and hobbled up the steps. Jim kicked open the door and they emerged into a rock strewn quarry. Saddam had hidden his most sensitive sites either in the open, behind the façade of palaces, or under the plentiful amounts of sand. Stealth was used to secure locations rather than high security, high profile installations. While this prevented frequent visits from the United States Air Force, it did raise certain security problems when ground teams penetrated installations.
The Republic Guard survived due to resource dispersal. Small four-man fire teams protected these installations. In the case of Saddam’s Data Center, they were committed piece meal. Unfortunately, they were still arriving.
They hobbled past two very dead soldiers and two others who looked close to death. Jim folded Jerry into the passenger seat of the Jeep before clambering in himself.
“Don’t you think I should drive—in case you need to shoot?”
Jim shook his head. He could see his friend was losing consciousness. The best hope he had was to exit them from the battlefield. He pumped another shell into the Mossberg, and flipped the safety back on. “I think you should try to sleep.” He gunned the Jeep and sped into the desert night.
Jerry died two days later in the desert between Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Iraq. Jim buried him in a small grave under a cairn of stones. He said a prayer and marked the grave with a cross. It took another seven days on foot before Jim found a village in Jordan with a phone.
posted by American Novelist | 8:36 AM
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