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Message-ID: <48767asstr$1092042603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} JC:Oscar Meyers I-02 (mf mm)
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Date: Mon,  9 Aug 2004 05:10:03 -0400
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=====
Lazlo Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac


		
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<1st attachment, "Desert 02.txt" begin>

Oscar Meyers 
Part 1: Foo Fighter
By 
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

Chapter 2

Dawn came early for Oscar. He woke stiff and cramped from 
leaning against the rocks while he slept. It wasn't the most 
comfortable position to have slept in, but if he had been woken by 
a noise, he wouldn't have had to move in order to search out the 
source. His robe had kept him warm through the night. It always 
amazed him how cold it could get here at night. He had heard 
stories that they could make ice even in the hottest of deserts. 

He looked around his surroundings to see if there was any source 
of danger to him. A man lost behind enemy lines needed to remain 
aware at all times. He was about to move when a very small cloud 
of dust appeared on the horizon. Dust was caused by movement 
and movement meant danger. He waited to see what form of 
danger was causing the dust cloud. 

He wasn't worried about being spotted. With the cloak and its 
hood, he could look like just another rock by keeping still. The 
height of his location gave him an advantage as far as watching 
what was going on. The distance gave him a disadvantage if he had 
to engage the enemy. Armed only with a knife, he needed to be 
within reach of the enemy. There was no doubt that they would 
have guns.

Twenty minutes later a white truck pulled up to the well. Two men 
got out with cans for water. He couldn't tell if they were terrorists 
or not. Too many people out here carried guns and white trucks 
were very common. The men disappeared from view when they 
approached the well. In the still morning air, their voices carried a 
far distance so that while Oscar could not see who was speaking, 
he could hear every word they said.

"We killed a lot of infidels the other day. That was good."

"Too many of our men became martyrs that day."

"Still it was good to kill the Americans. If we kill enough of them, 
they will leave. They are weak when it comes death."

"They think there are rules to war."

"That is another of their weaknesses."

"Did you see that one run into the dust devil? I had to laugh at the 
dog."

"I wouldn't waste the bottom of my shoe on such a coward."

"He got away."

"Bah! The Djinni got him."

Oscar flushed in anger, despite that his reaction unreasonable. He 
didn't appreciate hearing his escape discussed in that fashion. What 
choices did he have? To stay and die? To run while only risking 
death? The problem was that he didn't know if his flight had been 
cowardliness or if it had been a willingness to die. 

He considered the actions that he could pursue to deal with the two 
terrorists. He felt with some confidence that he could move down 
and take them both out with his knife, particularly if they were 
busy filling the water cans. On the other hand, if he waited then he 
could follow them to their destination. There was no doubt that 
they were part of the terrorist group that had attacked him and they 
would soon be returning to their camp. His thoughts were 
interrupted when the men resumed talking.

"Azim will be happy to martyr himself using the captured 
Hummer."

"It is a good plan. Drive one of their own vehicles into their camp 
and then blow it up. He will kill many of the infidels."

"Azim is very committed to Allah."

"Seventy-two virgins."

On hearing that, Oscar's decision was made for him. He had to 
follow them to their camp and prevent them from using his 
Hummer to kill more men in his unit. The problem was that he had 
no idea how far he would have to walk, but he would follow them 
day and night until he found their camp if that was necessary.

He stayed where he was and listened to the rest of their 
conversation, but there wasn't anything of interest to him. Finished 
with filling the cans, they loaded them into the rear of the truck. 
They started the truck, the engine noise announcing that it wasn't a 
Fusion Motor. He waited until they drove away before climbing 
down from the rocks. The tire tracks were clear and would be easy 
to follow. He took a sip of water and then followed after them.

Eight hours later, he spotted the terrorist camp as he came over a 
hill. He backed down so that only his head was over the horizon. 
With the hood of the cloak, he looked like one rock among many. 
He stayed still watching with eyes that hurt from the glare. As he 
lay there, he realized that he had changed in a significant way, he 
had become deliberate in how he acted.

The camp, nestled in a small valley cutting into the next hill, was 
covered with camouflage netting to prevent it from being seen 
from the air. From above, it would look like part of the hill. He 
examined the camp from his location looking for strategic 
solutions on how to attack it. Knowing it was guarded; he 
examined the horizon attempting to locate the guards, but he 
couldn't spot them. 

Baking under the hot sun, he realized that he would not be able to 
get into the camp during the day without being spotted. The 
situation demanded that he scout the camp while it was still light 
out so that he could assess the security. Settling in, he watched the 
camp from his position. The heat of the day created mirages and he 
could hardly make out the men due to the distortion. In light of the 
mirages, his chances for moving closer without being spotted were 
good if he were to belly crawl towards camp. There wouldn't be 
much risk of detection since he would look like a minor distortion 
in the mirage. 

Before heading out, he finished the water in his pant-leg canteens. 
They had been slowly leaking water and only a few sips remained 
in each one. He remembered someone saying that the best place for 
water was inside the body, but he didn't remember the context in 
which it had been said. No matter what, it would be best for him if 
he drank all that was left before losing it. Now that he was out of 
water, his next drink would have to come from inside the camp. 
Even as he drank, he knew that the decision to drink his water had 
committed him to attacking the camp.

He tied the remains of the pant-legs around his knees. If he was 
going to crawl close to the camp, then he wanted to protect his 
knees from the rough surface. Adjusting the cloak and taking a 
deep breath to steel his resolve, he started crawling across the 
burning rocks. He took his time, laying down on occasion and 
moving forward at an imperceptible rate. The hot sun beat down on 
him, but the heat coming off the ground was even worse. The 
temperature was well over a hundred and he felt like he was baking 
in an oven. The sweat ran off him, making his clothes damp and 
binding.

Three hours later, the sun was just over the horizon. Oscar was 
much closer to the camp. Lying on the ground covered by his 
cloak, he had arrived at a spot where he could make out the 
locations of the guards set up around the camp. There were two 
men guarding the entrance to the valley and one man up on the hill. 
He watched as the guards were relieved; an event that confirmed 
his observations. 

Oscar waited for nightfall. Lying on the hot ground he began to get 
thirsty beyond belief. He sucked on a pebble, a trick to keep the 
mind off his thirst. There was no water anywhere near him except 
within the camp. His tongue was beginning to swell, but he waited 
using the opportunity to rest, knowing that he wouldn't move for 
another six hours. It was better to be patient than to rush into 
action.

The sun set and the sky darkened as the hours passed. Oscar began 
to move slowly and silently towards the camp, stealth was the key 
to his survival. The only light was from the stars and the small 
sliver of moon near the horizon. He had the locations of the guards 
committed to memory and moved along a route that would allow 
him to approach them from the back. His progress was slow as the 
rocky terrain made his footing unsure. It took a long time, but 
finally the guard was ten feet in front of him, facing away to watch 
the poorly lit desert. Oscar moved closer until he was within two 
feet of the guard. Striking as fast as a snake, he covered the guard's 
mouth with one hand and shoved his knife into guard's kidney. 
Pulling the knife out, he slit the throat fully aware of the awfulness 
of his actions.

He searched the body of the guard finding a canteen, a rifle, knife, 
and pistol. He opened the canteen and took a sip of water. The 
warm tepid water tasted sweet as honey as it flowed down his 
throat. It was tempting to finish it in one long draw, but he 
controlled his desire and replaced the top after a good-sized sip. 
Swallowing too much water too fast would make him sick. He put 
the pistol in a pocket of the cloak, but left the rifle behind. He did 
grab the ammunition and put it in another pocket of the robe. He 
would get the rifle of the other guard. 

He took his bearings and moved in the direction of the other guard. 
With three hours before the next shift change to execute his plan, 
he moved away from the guard position, balancing the need for 
speed with the demand for silence. When he was three quarters of 
the way to the other guard, he slowed his approach, taking care not 
to make noise by placing each foot with care. He didn't concentrate 
on the guard, feeling that the man would feel such concentration. 
Instead, he focused on a rock next to the guard. 

Just as he reached the guard, the guard's stomach growled. The 
guard turned to pick up a packet on the ground, but Oscar jumped 
him before he had a chance to see him. The knife flashed in the 
dark as it cut the guard's throat. It was over in just a few seconds 
and without enough noise to raise suspicions. The smell of blood 
was thick in his nose.

Oscar searched the guard finding another pistol and rifle. He 
grabbed the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. Remembering the 
growling stomach of the guard, he looked for something to eat. On 
the ground next to the guard was a small package, which when he 
opened it found that it contained some bread and a piece of goat 
cheese. Oscar smiled as he ate it and drank some more water from 
the canteen. Even though he wasn't particularly fond of goat cheese 
and flat bread, the meal tasted great. It was the first thing he had to 
eat since the raw snake the night before. 

He circled around the camp and snuck into it from the rear. His 
Hummer was parked at the rear of the camp, covered by 
camouflage to prevent it from being seen from the sky. The camp 
was not quiet as men snored in their sleep. There were still men 
awake in what appeared to be the command tent so he avoided 
getting too close to it. The last thing that he wanted was to be 
spotted by men that were alert. A sleepy man would be much 
easier for him to overcome. 

Oscar moved slowly and quietly from tent to tent. He stopped 
outside each tent to listen to what was going on inside it. Tents in 
which men were snoring he went past while tents that were quiet 
he entered. One tent was empty and he assumed that it belonged to 
the guards that he had taken out.

He entered another tent and found boxes stacked within it. He 
opened one of the boxes and found several stacks of explosives. 
Other boxes held weapons, ammunition, or food. He collected a 
number of blocks of C-4 and noticed a stack of timers nearby. He 
had never dealt with explosives and it took him some time to figure 
out how to wire them to explode. The detonator caps went into the 
C-4 and connected to the timers.

He crawled out of the tent to place an explosive charge just outside 
each occupied tent. When he was placing the first set of 
explosives, he realized that there would not be any shrapnel. 
Shrapnel would assure that the explosion damaged stuff rather than 
made noise. He went back to the tent and grabbed two boxes of 
ammunition. He sandwiched the explosive between the pair of 
boxes. He checked his watch and seeing that it was a little after 
three, set the timer so that it would explode at the top of the hour. 

He repeated his actions throughout the camp until the only tents 
that did not have explosives next to it were the command tent, the 
empty tent, and the supply tent. He checked his watch. It was 
getting close to four and the time when the explosives would 
detonate. He moved away from the camp, up the wall of the valley, 
searching for a place that would offer some protection. He didn't 
want to be anywhere close when the timers went off, but he did 
want to be close enough to engage anyone that survived.

Private Foo had not had any training with explosives, so he had not 
known what he was doing when he had set up the explosives. That 
didn't prevent them from exploding, but he hadn't realized that the 
explosion would also set off the bullets in the ammunition boxes. 
Five hundred bullets per box and sixteen boxes all exploding at the 
same time meant a very big bang. He realized why the car bombs 
made of various kinds of ammunition were so dangerous and 
destructive. No wonder they could bring down entire buildings.

He had expected to have to have a fire fight with the men inside 
the command tent. Instead, he had spent the next five minutes 
hiding behind a rock for protection from the bullets flying 
throughout the whole area. He made himself as small as possible to 
avoid the bullets and casings that were ricocheting off the rocks 
around him.

Stunned when silence finally descended, he peered around the rock 
to see what had happened inside the camp. It looked like a tornado 
had blown through area destroying everything in its path. Tents 
had been knocked over, the camouflage netting had been shredded, 
and debris was scattered over the entire area. He watched for 
movement within the camp with his gun at the ready. Nothing 
moved until the stunned guard from the hill came down into the 
camp. He followed the man's progress and fired when he had a 
good shot. He took the man down with a single shot.

He waited for sunrise to see what would happen. Nothing stirred in 
camp. He drank some more water from the canteen he had taken 
from the guard. Even as he drank it, he hoped that there was still 
some water left in the camp. As the sky started to lighten, he 
looked over at the Hummer. He could tell from where he sat that it 
was shot up pretty bad from the chase, but had come through the 
explosion well.

He climbed down from his hiding place and headed towards the 
command tent. He entered it with his gun ready, but the men inside 
were dead. Bullets had flown through the tent in every direction. 
He examined the contents of the tent just to identify any possible 
threats. Once he was satisfied that he was safe, he went to the dead 
men on the floor. He bent down and searched the dead men one at 
a time. One of the men had what looked like a map in his pocket. 
There were x's, o's, and t's connected by lines. However, there 
weren't any major landmarks on it that he could tell. He folded it 
and put it into his pocket.

He searched the rest of the tent with the result that the only thing 
he found of interest was a video camera. It was easy to assume 
they used it to record their training activities. Picking it up, he 
filmed the faces of the men in the command tent. At least he would 
leave here with a record of who he had killed. There was no telling 
how important these men were to the terrorist organization. 

The only other item of any significance was a laptop computer, but 
it had several bullet holes in it. He looked for disks or other storage 
media, but there weren't any. He considered what to do about the 
computer and decided to take it with him. He had no idea if the 
techies could get any information off the disk drive, but it was 
better to take it then leave it behind.

He went from there to the remains of a tent that he had blown up 
during the night. He pulled the shredded canvas of the tent away 
and looked at the bodies inside. The bodies were not in good 
shape, but he videotaped them as well. He searched the area, but 
didn't find anything of value. There was a small box of personal 
possessions that contained nothing of military value. He did find 
one small flashlight, which he put in his shirt pocket.

He went from destroyed tent to destroyed tent videotaping the 
bodies. If he was going to get in trouble for being separated from 
his unit, at least he wanted proof that he had accomplished 
something good. He had no idea who was important and who 
wasn't, but there were people that knew that information. They 
would want to know who had been stopped in this raid and the 
video tape would answer that question.

He soon found himself outside the supply tent. He went inside and 
checked out the goods within. It had been dark the night before and 
he was sure that he had missed some items of importance. There 
was a crate of food that had been dropped from the air when the 
troops had first entered Afghanistan. He opened and ate one, 
surprised at how tasty it was. He took another sip from his canteen 
before putting a number of the packages in his pockets. He set the 
crate next to the laptop computer. 

His hunger abated, he went out to examine the Hummer. The 
Hummer had a number of bullet holes, but it looked like it was still 
in workable condition. Opening the door and looking around, he 
smiled when he spotted his roll of toilet paper on the passenger 
side floor. He guessed they weren't worried about someone 
stealing it since the key was still in the switch. The Hummer 
started right up, which let him know that the fusion cell was still 
functioning. He gave a sigh of relief and turned the key off. He 
checked out the back of the Hummer, expecting it to be loaded 
with explosives, but he found that it was empty.

Returning to the supply tent, he carried out boxes of ammunition 
setting them in the back of the Hummer, adding a box of new rifles 
to the back as well. He dug through the supply tent again, locating 
two boxes of RPG launchers and a number of boxes of grenades. 
He carried them out to the Hummer and set them in the back. 
Taking out one of the launchers and a grenade, he assembled it and 
tested it out by firing at one of the white trucks that was sitting off 
to the side of the camp. It exploded in a great fireball. He put 
another grenade in the launcher and set it in the passenger's seat. 

He went over to the white trucks. These were a problem and he 
didn't know what to do with them. All of them were still in 
working condition and he was sure that if he left them there, the 
terrorists would reclaim them. He finally decided that he would 
destroy them where they stood. He set explosives on the engine 
and set the timer for three hours confident that he would be long 
gone by then. These were gas-powered trucks rather than fusion 
powered and would blow up in a spectacular fashion.

He went through the camp again before he found cans of water, 
although only a few had survived without bullet holes. He carried 
them to the Hummer and stepped back satisfied that it was now 
fully loaded with all that was valuable within the camp. He had 
transportation, food, water, and weapons. Laughing as he recalled 
an advertisement for the Army, he said aloud, "I'm an army of 
one."

He sat down in the driver's seat of his Hummer and examined the 
map he had found. It took him a long time before he realized that 
the map was coded with locations. The x's were camps. The o's had 
to represent wells. He tried to figure out the t's represented and 
then decided that they were weapons caches since the t looked like 
a knife. The lines were the caravan trails and not roads. A local 
would know the trails while an outsider wouldn't. 

He tried to figure out which point he was currently at on the map. 
He noticed that there was one well with three trails leading to it. 
One trail led to an x in the direction that he had taken to get here. 
One trail led southward to another x, which was where the white 
truck that had visited the well had come from. There was a trail in 
the other direction that lead to a t. He assumed that was a weapons 
cache.

He started the truck and headed in the direction of the well. 
Looking overhead, he noticed that vultures were already circling 
the area and knew that his raid wouldn't remain a secret for long. 
He wondered how long it would take before people showed up to 
investigate what had attracted the vultures. Then he realized that 
the real question might be which people would show up first, the 
army or the terrorists.

He drove carefully looking out for locals and white trucks. His 
passing through the area in a Hummer wouldn't be a secret for 
long. The trip to the well took much less time than on the previous 
day. He waited at the well for the timer on the trucks to reach the 
desired time. Looking in the direction of the camp, he was pleased 
to see a plume of smoke rising from the area. 

He drove along the trail that lead away from the camp and towards 
what he assumed was a weapons cache. While the trail on the map 
had showed lots of turns, the trail was actually quite straight. He 
was getting worried that he had been incorrect in his assumption 
about where he was on the map. After having driven far enough 
that the trail should have started twisting according to the map, he 
was convinced that he was incorrect in his reading of the map. He 
swore, "Shit. I'm really lost now."

He stopped the Hummer and examined the map for several minutes 
before he realized that it wasn't drawn to scale. Then it dawned on 
him that the length of the line was probably related to how long it 
took to reach the destination. The weapons cache was a long way 
from his current location if all the twists and turns were correct. He 
drove on excited now that he was convinced that he understood the 
map. 

Several hours later, the trail met another trail. One end turned to 
the north and the other turned to the south. He got out the map and 
examined it. There was a southern trail leading away from the 
weapons cache, so he must be in the area. He wondered about the 
northern trail questioning if the map would show trails that didn't 
lead to important places. Uncertain, he hoped that he had been 
lucky in his guess about his initial location. After driving the 
Hummer to a location where it would be hidden from view, he 
parked it and got out to scout out the area. He looked back the way 
he had driven and realized that he had left a dust plume that could 
be seen for miles and pointed directly at him. 

The area where he had parked his truck was the only place where 
one could hide a vehicle around here and that meant that if all of 
his guesses were correct, then the cache must be nearby. He 
scouted small circles expanding outward from where the truck was 
parked. At last he found what looked like the mouth of a cave. The 
entrance was partially closed with mud bricks so that it wouldn't be 
so obvious from a distance. With his gun at the ready, he entered 
the cave by crawling into the small opening, once inside, he could 
stand up without have to bend over. Five steps into the cave, he 
almost tripped over a box. His examination revealed that it was a 
box of grenades. He had found the weapons cache. 

Using the flashlight that he had taken from the terrorist camp, the 
small circle of light allowed him to avoid the obstacles on the 
ground. He went further into the cave finding an incredible amount 
of weapons and ammunition. There were also several boxes with 
Russian writing on them. He grabbed a box and opened it, finding 
that it contained twenty Russian field rations. He opened one of the 
rations and started to eat, grimacing at the taste. The American fare 
was much better, but he finished it anyway. He didn't have much 
food and this stuff was better than nothing.

He searched around trying to locate anything that might be useful. 
He found several seventy five liter cans of gasoline. He laughed as 
he realized what that meant; the terrorists were still using gasoline-
powered cars. Hummers used fusion-powered engines and could 
last for two years without need to refuel. 

Now that he had found the weapons cache, he was at a loss what to 
do about it. He could easily explode the weapons inside. The 
problem that he was fighting wasn't one of weapons, but men that 
did not hold life sacred. These were men that would strap a few 
explosives to their body and then blow themselves up when they 
reached a crowd. Blowing up weapons wouldn't stop the terrorists, 
he had to stop the terrorists themselves. Clearly, he would have to 
booby trap the cache as a way to make sure that when it exploded 
that it took several of the terrorists with it. 

He wanted to set up several different kinds of traps as he didn't 
want to take a chance that they found the only one and disarmed it. 
After looking around to see how he could set the booby traps, he 
went to work. Tripwires were run in places where individuals were 
expected to walk. A box was set up to explode if it were moved. 
He took his time as he didn't want his efforts discovered.

Satisfied with his work, he left the cave believing that it would be a 
death trap to the next visitor. With all of the explosives in the cave, 
he didn't doubt that it would take out anyone standing outside as 
well. He started to walk back to the Hummer, stopping to look 
back at the entrance to remember it. To his dismay, the entrance of 
the cave was filled with footprints that gave away the fact that he 
had been there. He went back and eliminated anything that might 
indicate that he had been there.

Returning to the Hummer to examine the map, he studied it 
carefully trying to decide what would be an appropriate 
destination. As far as he could tell, there was no way to locate his 
unit based on the map. He stopped and thought about that for a 
minute. His unit was headed to where they thought an enemy 
encampment was located. He had a map of their camps. If he could 
figure out which one his unit was headed towards, then he could go 
to the location and meet up with them.

The map led him to conclude that his unit was headed to one of the 
northern most locations. From where he was on the map, he would 
have to go south to one of the other camps, head west to another 
weapons cache, and then head north. Alone behind enemy lines, it 
would not be wise to take the direct route. If the terrorists figured 
out where he was going, then they could ambush him. 

He searched through the Hummer for a pencil. Several minutes 
passed before he found one on the floor. It took him some time to 
work out a less direct route that would take him past more wells 
and weapons caches than camps. It would look like random actions 
to someone receiving intelligence about camps getting destroyed. 
He added a camp that was out of the way just to confuse the issue 
even more. He smiled as he realized that the southernmost camp 
would now be on his route. 

It was getting late and he was tired. Needing a place to rest for the 
night, he decided that this would be a good place. There was cover 
and he could see a long distance. With the food and water that he 
had acquired, he could take his time returning to his unit. More 
important, he had transportation that would allow him to cover 
long distances across the desert. He got out of the Hummer and 
walked around scouting the area for a place to sleep. He didn't 
want to spend the night in the Hummer since if it were discovered, 
it would be the first target they would fire upon. 

He sat down on the ground a fifteen-minute hike from the Hummer 
and took stock of his situation. He was covered in dust and filthy; 
his sweat had combined with the dust to form mud that had dried 
and cracked in the creases of his skin. He was hungry and tired, 
having eaten an average of one meal a day and getting less than 
four hours of sleep in the last two days. His pants were cut off 
above the knees, the bare legs were red from exposure to the sun.

Of all the negatives about the experience, he had acquired one 
thing that was precious to him. He had not tripped or dropped 
anything in three days. He had moved with grace and acted with 
determination. Satisfied, he fell asleep on that thought despite the 
fact that it was still daylight and slept through the night. 

He peered around the edge of a boulder on the hill cautiously. It 
was still dark, but it would be getting light soon. He had taken to 
driving just after sunset and just before sunrise to avoid having 
easy to spot dust trails. The Hummer still created dust plumes, but 
the lack of light made them difficult to spot. It also meant that his 
progress was a lot slower than it had been since driving at night 
required that he drive with much greater care. He couldn't use his 
headlights as those could be spotted from miles away.

He was just outside the southernmost camp that he was going to 
visit on the way to meet up with his unit. His last two raids had 
been spectacular successes. He had killed over a hundred of the 
terrorists in the two attacks by following the same pattern of 
setting explosives outside of tents and then standing well away 
from the explosion. 

This camp, more of a small town than a camp, was too big for that 
tactic to work. There were too many men moving around during 
the night, a fact that meant he would never be able to sneak in. 
This time he was going to try a different approach. He had spotted 
the building in which the command was located and the supply 
building easily from his current position. He was going to shoot 
both with an RPG and see the effect of that action. Once the anthill 
was stirred up, he planned slip off and hide to return later. 

He readied four of the launchers with grenades. He would fire one 
and then drop it to pick up another. He figured that would allow 
him to get off several shots fairly quickly. Two rifles, set on 
automatic fire, sat at his other side. He would use them on whoever 
survived. 

He took a deep breath and readied the launcher by aiming at the 
command building. Holding his breath, he fired. As soon as he had 
fired, he tossed the launcher aside and picked up another. The 
explosion in the building sounded, but he didn't bother to look at 
the results. He aimed the second launcher at the supply building 
and fired. The rocket flew straight at it. Throwing the launcher to 
the side, he picked up the third launcher when the explosion as the 
supply building rocked the ground. Secondary explosions started 
as the ammunition inside the building cooked off. 

A number of men had gathered in one location, so he aimed and 
fired at them. He picked up a rifle and started firing at everything 
that moved. He would fire three quick shots and then pick another 
target. When the gun ran out of ammunition, he dropped it and 
picked up the second one. It was faster than reloading. He 
continued to fire at anything that moved.

A group started running for the trucks. He noticed a stack of 
barrels near the trucks. Picking up the RPG, he fired at the barrels. 
They went up in a cloud of flames burning most of the men 
running towards the trucks. Dropping the RPB, he picked up the 
rifle to fire at the few men that remained moving. Men were now 
returning fire at his location, hidden behind walls of buildings.

He crawled to another spot where he had stashed additional 
weapons. Using an RPG, he fired it at a clump of men. He tossed it 
aside and picked up one of the rifles. Again, he fired at anything 
that moved, but most of the men had taken cover. He noticed 
another building that had no traffic coming out of it. He picked up 
an RPG and fired at it thinking it was another supply depot. This 
one didn't explode like the first although a huge cloud of white 
smoke flew out of it. The cloud slowly drifted across the camp 
towards him. 

He stared in amazement as men started dropping and thrashing 
about in spasms. The tent had contained a chemical weapon and 
the cloud was approaching his location. He knew he had to get out 
of the way. Knowing that staying meant certain death, he fled as 
fast as he could without taking any care about whether he was seen 
or not. It is his goal not to get exposed to the material and his hope 
to avoid getting shot in the back. In his desire to leave as fast as 
possible, he left his equipment behind, preferring to lose it rather 
than be slowed down. 

He reached the Hummer and drove away in a direction that would 
return him to his planned route. Driving without regard for pursuit, 
he felt that anyone down there that had the nerve and fortitude to 
follow him deserved to pursue him. He didn't stop until he reached 
the water hole, realizing that it had taken him only three hours of 
reckless driving to cover a distance that had taken him almost two 
nights. 

Climbing out of the parked Hummer, he dropped to the ground 
shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. He had no idea what 
he had done, but it had been big. The thought of chemical weapons 
concerned him. There was no need to wonder why they had a store 
of weapons of that type; they were the perfect weapons of terror.

Finally collecting himself, he stood up and walked around the 
Hummer. His bladder was about to burst, another consequence of 
his fear, so he stopped at the rear tire to piss on it. It seemed like 
most of the tension left his body as he played the stream of urine 
across the tire. There wasn't any real reason for him to piss on the 
tire, it was just that he felt better pissing against something than 
just leaving a wet patch on the ground. He said aloud, "I wish there 
was a tree around here."

He stood on the hood of the Hummer and looked around checking 
his surroundings before getting back in the driver's seat. Now that 
he was oriented, he drove off in the direction that he needed to go. 
He drove for about an hour until he found a spot where he could 
park the Hummer without it being too visible. After parking it out 
of sight, he reached over the front seat to get another rifle and 
ammunition from the backseat of the Hummer. He also took the 
time to grab two packages of food.

He left the Hummer and hiked a short distance away. Selecting a 
spot with good cover, he sat down to watch for anyone that might 
have been following him. He opened a package of food and slowly 
ate it savoring the flavor. The next day he would have to start 
eating the Russian food and he wasn't looking forward to that at 
all. He would have to eat that stuff until he found another supply of 
food.

 He nodded off after three hours of watching for a telltale plume of 
dust. He woke near sunset and looked around at his situation. 
There were no dust plumes and no sign of vehicles in his area. He 
ate his other meal watching the sunset. It was quiet there and he 
enjoyed the peaceful environment. 

This was a desolate region, but if it wasn't the site of a war it might 
almost be attractive. The landscape was rugged and barren with 
mountains cut by rugged ravines. The ground was covered with a 
fine dust that could hang in the air for hours. The number of plants 
covering the ground was pitiful and the land seemed dead.

He watched a desert hawk fly over; as high as it was in the food 
chain, it suggested that the environment held much more life than 
the surface suggested. It took five minutes, but the hawk slowly 
dwindled into a small speck as it disappeared over the horizon. 
There was life here and a good potential existed for improving the 
area. It was a shame that people were so busy trying to bring the 
rest of the world down to this primitive level that they didn't try to 
improve what they already had. 

He waited until dark and then returned to the Hummer. It was time 
for him to move to the next position that he had selected for his 
route. He drove slowly with his headlights off, keeping to rocky 
terrain to minimize his tracks. Stopping frequently to scout the area 
in the dark, he searched for a place to spend the day. In was nearly 
three in the morning when he found a suitable spot. He hid the 
Hummer in a location where it would not be visible and then 
moved a good distance away from it. 

He slept until the sun rose and then checked his position as seen in 
the light of day. It was much better than he had realized. The 
Hummer was exceptionally well hidden and his location had lots of 
cover. He sat back and watched the desert around him. 

It was around noon that he noticed a major change around him. 
There were dust plumes rising from many different areas of the 
desert. It didn't look like they were searching for him. Most of the 
plumes were all headed in the same direction, towards the camp he 
had destroyed the other night. He looked up in the sky. Far to the 
north and west, jets left contrails in the sky. He could see 
helicopters moving on the horizon. It appeared that news had 
leaked about the camp that had been destroyed.

He watched the activities and wondered if he should stay where he 
was for a few days. He didn't want his own side taking him out 
because they thought he was a terrorist moving alone through the 
region. However, it bothered him that they were staying so far to 
the west. 

He opened up a can of the Russian rations and groaned when huge 
gobs of fat floated on the surface. He sniffed it and almost 
wretched at the rancid smell that came off it. He stood up and 
walked a hundred yards away. He set the opened can amongst 
some rocks and returned to his previous location. There was no 
way that he was going to have that garbage near him. First, it 
would make him sick. Second, he had no idea what the smell 
would attract. 
<1st attachment end>


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