Follow the Vulture

FOLLOW THE VULTURE

by Stephen Francis Montagna

PROLOGUE

JANUARY 29th, 2004. ARMY BASE CAMP SMITH, NEW YORK STATE.
TWENTY-ONE HUNDRED HOURS EST

Captain Robert Walker along with the rest of the elite group of specially trained and cared for troops that made up the soldiers known to the rest of the world as the Multi National Rapid Response Forces. Drove the Humvees to Camp Smith, stationed in Peekskill, New York State, as soon as they successfully attacked and killed the Arab terrorists who attacked the main control center inside the Indian Point nuclear power plant stationed on the shore of the Hudson River, in the sleepy little upstate town of Buchannan, New York. The elite soldiers was operating under the direct orders from their commanding officer, Colonel Bruce Leadbetter not to allow the news reporters who showed up at the nuclear power plant complex after their hard hitting operation was a success against the terrorists, to take pictures of his soldiers.

There were nineteen Arab terrorists who invaded the United States from Afghanistan with orders to attack and destroy the nuclear reactor at the power plant by Usama bin Laden. The cunning and extremely dangerous leader of al-Qa’eda wanted to destroy New York City, and to cause great embarrassment to the current President of the United States. The Afghan terrorists successfully invaded the United States with the help of a young Saudi Arabian female agent named Laaha al-Jabali, and she was assisted by Captain Kenneth Carmichael, an Iranian who helped her get the Afghan fighters into the United States.

So the terrorists could carry out their latest orders for their leader and destroy much of New York State with their attack on the nuclear power plant. Captain Carmichael was identified as a sleeper agent installed by Iran by the FBI quickly after the opening attack on the nuclear powered plant, and he was waiting to be aimed at his own target after the Afghan fighters attacked the Indian Point power plant. But now that he was discovered as a sleeper agent for Iran, he was under arrest and placed in jail in Miami, Florida with Laaha al-Jabali, and they were waiting for trial.

The exhausted and terribly bruised and battered young American soldiers turned their military humvees onto the massive Camp Smith base and they were directed to park their machines by a pair of barracks well separate from the rest of the usual barracks stationed on the expansive military base. Captain Robert Walker jumped out of his humvee first, and ordered the rest of the soldiers out of their machines, and with help coming from a sergeant on loan from the Army base, had his people enter the barrack with orders to shower and rest until the captain found out what was next on the menu for them. Captain Walker knew it wouldn’t be a long time before Colonel Leadbetter left the nuclear power plant complex, and made his way to Camp Smith. Once the Marine colonel was back with his elite group of soldiers, Captain Walker would allow him to take over their control and tell the troopers what and where they were going next.

While Captain Walker was waiting for the rest of the one hundred and fifty-five Special Forces soldiers involved in the latest anti-terrorist operation to get out of the military vehicles, the soldiers the closest to Walker gathered around him. Sergeant Dorothy Ramirez, Walker’s girlfriend and future wife, was the first to get to his side. When she reached him, she gave him a kiss, and a smile that would have melted butter in the middle of a snow storm. Then Lieutenant Frank Hall, better known to the rest of the soldiers from the unit as the Mutt, because he was blessed with a white mother and a black father, was the next specialized soldier who joined Walker and Ramirez, standing before the main doors of the borrowed barracks they were going to use while they were being held over on the new base.

The Mutt started to brag to Captain Walker. “Hey Homes, we really took it to those last bad ass guys man. I wanted to check on their dead leader, I bet he shit himself when we charged through the god damn observation window like we did, and we attacked him and the rest of those lousy scumbags in that damn room, man. I wanted to check it out, but the stinking FBI agents wouldn’t let me see if the Afghan colonel did shit his fucking pants man.”

“That’s disgusting, what am I saying, you’re always disgusting Mutt.” Sergeant Ramirez complained at Walker’s life long friend as she shot him a smile that made her whole face shine.

“What the hell are you getting so pissed off at me for sister? I was only saying it like it was back there girl.” The Mutt replied to Ramirez as he returned her smile with one of his own now.

Captain Walker was about to say something at the Mutt when Buckethead, Sergeant Vincent Lambardo, a tree trunk size of a soldier who received his tag name in the unit because his head was so large his helmet had to be specially made, and it almost resembled a bucket whenever it was resting on his noggin. No Neck, Sergeant Robert Abbott, an equally sized massive soldier who received his name in the unit because his body was so large it looked like his head rested right on top of his shoulders, and the Ghost, Sergeant Walter Casper, who got his tag name with the unit because he was like a Ghost whenever he was in the field hunting the enemy, and The Hunter, Sergeant Frank Whitcomb, who was as dangerous in the field as the Ghost was, and the two were always picked for point duty, the most dangerous position for any military operation for the unit whenever they were on a mission against any enemy of the United States. The four elite soldiers joined up with Walker, the Mutt, and Ramirez, as then watched the other soldiers entering the barracks for showers and some much needed rest for themselves.

The specialized soldiers did what they commonly referred to as banging sticks (Forearms) together as they greeted and congratulated each other on another job well done for the United States. The soldiers were settling down when Blind Date, Sergeant Regina Raphael, on loan to the Rapid Response Force from France, and Ice, Sergeant Diane Morrison, who received her unit tag name because she was as cold as ice when she was on a mission with the unit, joined the other proud, young soldiers standing in front of their borrowed barracks.

Walker acknowledged the two pretty female fighters with a nod of his head. But the Mutt started to paw Blind Date’s breasts through her shirt. She was his main squeeze ever since the Mutt lost his long time girlfriend, Sergeant Barbara Meyerhoff, when the soldiers were involved in Operation Sandstorm when they had to enter Iran, and they destroyed the nuclear warheads and missiles the Iranian government brought secretly from a rebel Russian admiral. Ramirez got Walker’s attention and once she had it, she shook her head over the way the Mutt was bothering the pretty and young French warrior in front of the others.

Walker smiled at his lover, and then he tried to ignore what the Mutt was doing to the French warrior, but as hard as he tried not to pay attention to them, the Mutt made it impossible as he offered Walker and pulled one of Blind Date’s breasts out of the front of her shirt. “Hey man will you look at the nipples pal. They’re the kind you can dial a stinking phone with man, they’re so large and sticking right out old buddy.”

That was all Ice was able to take of this spectacle, and she walked up behind the Mutt and slapped him on his head as she complained at the ruff and tumble soldier.

“Hey dog man, will you leave that poor girl alone and put her breast back in her shirt, stupid. Since when do you display someone who you’re supposed to be in love with like this to the rest of the unit, you asshole you.” The angry Ice again slapped the Mutt on the back of his noggin, forcing him to say to her as he glared back hotly at her.

“Hey girl, if you keep swatting me in the bone dome like that, you’re labile to scramble my brains, sister. Whatsumatter with you all of a sudden, you don’t like seeing another girl’s tits being played with like this, little sister? Here, watch this and see if you like it any betta baby. The Mutt griped as he leaned his head over and he drew Blind Date’s nipple in his mouth, and then he started to suck on it and making god awful noises while he was at it.

“Ohhhh baby, you do that so good to me.” Blind Date purred back to her lover and soldier.

“Oh give me a break will you please girl. Blind Date, you’re no better than the Mutt is lately. Don’t encourage him, or he’ll try to do more to your body than he’s doing now, baby girl.” Ice snapped hotly at the pretty French fighter and she again for the third time, slapped the Mutt on the back of his head. Showing him she was still angry at him, and she wanted him to stop playing around with his girlfriend like he was doing.

“Owe dammit, there you go again hitting me in the noggin girl! If you keep it up, I’ll bite you on the stinking tit little sister.” The Mutt mumbled at Ice, allowing himself to get a little angry.

None of the other soldiers noticed the lone humvee pull up to the barracks and Colonel Bruce Leadbetter jumped out and he stomped his way over to the soldiers gathered in the front of the building. When the colonel saw what the Mutt was doing to Blind Date, he growled at him.

“Hey stupid, if you don’t leave that woman’s tits alone, I’m going to stitch your god damn tongue to the end of her nipple, then she can lead you around with her breast for the rest of the night, mister. Walker, how the hell come you’re standing here with that dumb ass look plastered on your puss, and you’re allowing this sex show to be displayed to the rest of these soldiers, buster? How come you’re not handling this crap, and how come you don’t have the fricking Mutt on a damn leash before he gets his fool ass in further trouble, mister? And how come you don’t have these other flaming assholes who we call fucking elite soldiers inside their god damn barracks, and have them settling in so they can rest up after this outstanding mission, mister?

“How come you’re still a Captain in my beloved Marine Corps, Mister Walker? Anyway, yes people, we did real well on this last operation. But we’re still soldiers, and we cannot allow one of us to make a damn fool out of himself like the Mutt is doing before the rest of the soldiers stationed on Camp Smith, people. Once we’re back on our own base, I don’t give a flying rat’s fuck what the rest of you slobs do with yourselves and your stinking bodies, mister.” The extremely angry Marine colonel snarled at his second in command.

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