Afghan Storm (Nick Woods Book 3) by Stan R. Mitchell Read Free Book Online

against Iraq in the ’90s, which had
greatly reduced imports and exports, leaving thousands of men, women, and
children starving and malnourished.
    It was the same
America that later invaded Iraq, unprovoked, and it was this same irreverent
country that had stationed troops near the two holy cities of Mecca and Medina. Some Muslims
hated Americans simply because they believed that they were a godless, greedy
people, but Tariq saw them as being much worse. In Tariq’s mind, America was a
meddlesome, power-hungry country bent on the annihilation of Islam and its
people.
    Claims of
freedom and democracy were mere excuses to bomb and slaughter other Muslim
countries, whether they be Afghanistan, Libya, Syria, or perhaps Iran next.
    And for
Tariq, the government of Pakistan was as guilty as America. It practically did
America’s bidding, and for all Tariq knew, he was currently tracking some
American advisors (or CIA troops) embedded alongside the Pakistani army.
    But whoever
it was, Tariq planned to show them exactly why not even the Pakistani army
dared to mess with the tribes of the Federally Administered Tribal Areas.
    Tariq’s
younger brother passed him a handful of magazines.
    “What do you
think?” he asked Tariq.
    Tariq had
been studying the netting and had come to his conclusion.
    “I think
it’s Americans,” Tariq answered. “They are certainly not Pakistani army. No
uniforms and they are dressed like us. No tribesman would be hiding out here or
under something like that.”
    “Agreed,” his
brother said, nodding slowly, “Only foreigners who didn’t know the language or
our ways would be forced to hide near of the top of these hills like wild
goats.”
    “Precisely,”
Tariq responded.
    None of
Tariq’s tribe had fought the Americans before, but all of his men had seen
combat. They had battled the tribe of ul-Chuk three different times in the past
ten years, and many of their fighters had spent several seasons sparring
alongside the Taliban operating within Afghanistan.
    His men had
also fought the Pakistani army. It was just last year when the Pakistani army
had stupidly decided it would push in the tribal areas and attempt to assert
control.
    What a
ridiculous idea. No army or country had been able to control the tribal areas
of Pakistan -- not even an army of battle-tested, British-led troops in the
World War II era. Tariq’s great-grandfather had fought in that campaign, and
his family shared a proud history of fighting skill.
    These Americans,
without their air support or tanks, would be no match for Tariq and his men.
    A confident
smirk spread across the man’s face. Tariq was certainly glad his men had
brought along their RPGs and medium machine guns. They were going to come in
handy.
    And so he
and the men of his tribe spread out, ready to attack.
     
     
    Nick and the
S3 team waited. The villagers were still out of range, so Nick moved his head
from the scope and looked over the ground the enemy had left to cover.
    As he
studied the terrain up and down, Nick realized they would need to do more than just
survive or simply stop the attackers. The steep hills lying between S3 and the
pursuing villagers would make it all too easy for a stray target to slip out of
view and make a run for help.
    Nick and his shooters were
going to have to be sure and drop every single one of them .
    “Listen up,
men,” Nick said, no longer bothering to lower his voice. “We can’t let any of
these guys get away, so we’re going to avoid engaging them at max effective
range. Let’s allow them in closer before we open fire.”
    The finger
across from them sloped approximately forty percent and Nick scanned it to
determine where the correct engagement range should begin. The team’s longest
range weapon was his Dragunov, and under combat conditions, he felt comfortable
dropping foes at eight hundred yards. But he wanted to wait until they were at
six hundred yards.
    And he felt
like their next longest range