Dragon Sim-13 by 1959- Bob Mayer Read Free Book Online
Authors: 1959- Bob Mayer
the hell is going on over there. I sure haven't been able to figure out this part of the world, and I've spent quite a few years running around here. China has always been the great enigma." Hooker smiled proudly. "Hey, you like that fancy word I used?"
Mitchell gave the sergeant major his thanks for the ride offer and went outside to wait by the gate of the small compound that housed DET-K. The compound consisted of six buildings, one for the headquarters and one for each of the five A teams that made up the unit. It was located on the south post portion of Yongsan Army Military Base, nestled in the heart of Seoul. On a day when the winds blew away the cloud of pollution that usually covered the city, you could see the Seoul Tower on a hilltop rising above the city to the north, and the tall 63-Building to the south on the other side of the Han-Gang River. Today wasn't one of those days—a foreboding gray cloud hovered above the city.
Mitchell saw a deuce-and-a-half truck swing around the corner, roar past the softball field, and come toward him. He knew that if he didn't go with the truck, there were better than even odds that the driver wouldn't make it out of the city. Seoul had not been designed with cars in mind. In fact, it hadn't even been designed at all; it had just grown. There was a definite shortage of road signs, although a big improvement had been made during the buildup for the Olympics. Mitchell could read
Korean characters and make out most signs, although he was a long way from being fluent in the language.
The driver pulled the truck up and got out. "Sir, I'm supposed to report to a Sergeant Major Hooker."
Mitchell decided to have mercy on the young man. "Private, you don't want to talk to the sergeant major. He hasn't had his breakfast yet and he might make you the first course." He clambered up the passenger side. "Let's roll."
Pickup Point, 42 Kilometers Southeast of Seoul Friday, 2 June, 0012 Zulu Friday, 2 June, 9:12 a.m. Local
It was a long and tiring fifteen-kilometer walk back to the pickup point. Riley enforced strict tactical discipline the entire way. As he continued to control the operation, he could sense the captain getting irritated with him. That was all right with Riley. They could hash things out after they got back to the team room.
Riley drove himself and his team hard, because he'd seen the results of half-assed efforts. In the peacetime army it was hard to keep the motivation level up. Occasionally, Riley just got tired of pushing. His soldiers sometimes resented his pickiness, what he called "attention to detail." But it was attention to detail that determined whether a soldier lived or died. Still, he tried to be fair, and his men respected him for that. Riley had two passions: his team and his martial arts training. Unlike many other soldiers serving a tour in Korea, Riley didn't have a mistress off post. Nor did he frequent the GI bars every evening. Riley dedicated himself to taking care of his team. The ten members of Team 3, Special Forces Detachment-Korea, were his family.
On the way to the pickup point, they reached a bridge spanning a small but deep stream. Riley stopped the team and signaled for Hoffman and Sfc. Lech Olinski, the team's intelligence sergeant, to come forward. Riley instructed them to emplace a one-rope bridge downstream from the road bridge for the team to cross on.
Hoffman stared at Riley for a second, then realized the futility of complaining. It would be much easier to go nontactical at this point and walk across the road bridge. But Riley didn't know the meaning of the word nontactical.
As the two moved off to the riverbank and broke out a 120-foot rope,
Riley heard Hoffman mutter to Olinski. "Guess the man figures we need a bath, hey, Ski?"
Olinski grunted in reply. Riley smiled to himself. Olinski was not exactly verbose. As intelligence sergeant, he was the second-highest-ranking noncommissioned officer on the team, and Riley knew that
Mitchell gave the sergeant major his thanks for the ride offer and went outside to wait by the gate of the small compound that housed DET-K. The compound consisted of six buildings, one for the headquarters and one for each of the five A teams that made up the unit. It was located on the south post portion of Yongsan Army Military Base, nestled in the heart of Seoul. On a day when the winds blew away the cloud of pollution that usually covered the city, you could see the Seoul Tower on a hilltop rising above the city to the north, and the tall 63-Building to the south on the other side of the Han-Gang River. Today wasn't one of those days—a foreboding gray cloud hovered above the city.
Mitchell saw a deuce-and-a-half truck swing around the corner, roar past the softball field, and come toward him. He knew that if he didn't go with the truck, there were better than even odds that the driver wouldn't make it out of the city. Seoul had not been designed with cars in mind. In fact, it hadn't even been designed at all; it had just grown. There was a definite shortage of road signs, although a big improvement had been made during the buildup for the Olympics. Mitchell could read
Korean characters and make out most signs, although he was a long way from being fluent in the language.
The driver pulled the truck up and got out. "Sir, I'm supposed to report to a Sergeant Major Hooker."
Mitchell decided to have mercy on the young man. "Private, you don't want to talk to the sergeant major. He hasn't had his breakfast yet and he might make you the first course." He clambered up the passenger side. "Let's roll."
Pickup Point, 42 Kilometers Southeast of Seoul Friday, 2 June, 0012 Zulu Friday, 2 June, 9:12 a.m. Local
It was a long and tiring fifteen-kilometer walk back to the pickup point. Riley enforced strict tactical discipline the entire way. As he continued to control the operation, he could sense the captain getting irritated with him. That was all right with Riley. They could hash things out after they got back to the team room.
Riley drove himself and his team hard, because he'd seen the results of half-assed efforts. In the peacetime army it was hard to keep the motivation level up. Occasionally, Riley just got tired of pushing. His soldiers sometimes resented his pickiness, what he called "attention to detail." But it was attention to detail that determined whether a soldier lived or died. Still, he tried to be fair, and his men respected him for that. Riley had two passions: his team and his martial arts training. Unlike many other soldiers serving a tour in Korea, Riley didn't have a mistress off post. Nor did he frequent the GI bars every evening. Riley dedicated himself to taking care of his team. The ten members of Team 3, Special Forces Detachment-Korea, were his family.
On the way to the pickup point, they reached a bridge spanning a small but deep stream. Riley stopped the team and signaled for Hoffman and Sfc. Lech Olinski, the team's intelligence sergeant, to come forward. Riley instructed them to emplace a one-rope bridge downstream from the road bridge for the team to cross on.
Hoffman stared at Riley for a second, then realized the futility of complaining. It would be much easier to go nontactical at this point and walk across the road bridge. But Riley didn't know the meaning of the word nontactical.
As the two moved off to the riverbank and broke out a 120-foot rope,
Riley heard Hoffman mutter to Olinski. "Guess the man figures we need a bath, hey, Ski?"
Olinski grunted in reply. Riley smiled to himself. Olinski was not exactly verbose. As intelligence sergeant, he was the second-highest-ranking noncommissioned officer on the team, and Riley knew that
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