A man in a ghillie suit is almost impossible to see, even if you know what to look for and you're looking right at him. Military snipers trained for years to perfect their technique, moving in geologic time to advance slowly into position. And once there, they were trained to stay there for as long as necessary before making their move. It was no time for extraneous thought. These men carried no armor, no protection at all. They had their weapons, but they were right out in the open, where anyone could pick them off. It was a very exposed feeling, and these men had to have full confidence in their concealment for their survival.
The terrain on the bottom of the slot canyon was surprisingly lush. The small stream gurgling through the center provided life-giving water to an otherwise extremely arid environment. The marksmen had no difficulty blending in to their surroundings. They had moved rapidly into position outside of what they knew to be the range of the security cameras, but now they moved only ever so slightly, maintaining a position for hours. They could move up to a mile each day. Fortunately, they didn't have that far to go.
Sam Donaldson had requested the aerial imagery. The first plane that overflew the area did so at a dizzying elevation, providing an overview of the terrain. They compared it with previous imagery and noted several changes in the terrain. Of particular interest to the general were some slight depressions in the tops of the surrounding mesas, depressions that were too regular and too quick in appearing to be natural. They were anti-aircraft emplacements, the general deduced. And they were well located, both away from the main objective and spaced far enough that one shot could not knock out more than one target.
So air support would have to be a risky, second tier approach, and only if things went south quickly.
Next, they used an incredible piece of relatively new technology. Essentially a flying wing that was no bigger than a dinner plate, and incorporated nothing but a motor, propeller, battery, and a camera, the remote controlled robotic aircraft was launched from the back of a pick up parked half a mile away from the canyon. Operated by an enlisted man from a secret location in the Mojave Desert, some 500 miles away, this tiny plane received it's signals from a transmitter in the back of the pick up. It had auxiliary photo voltaic cells that would allow it to fly indefinitely in good sunlight. In the low-light environment of the canyon, it would last for three hours. At night, it could run for up to an hour before needing to return and recharge.
The images that were returned by this low-flying, slow-moving, and nearly silent infiltrator were amazing. Using a real-time link, they could watch as the aircraft moved up the canyon. The general, with a practiced eye, noted surveillance camera locations and could even see they power and communications lines leading to them - something that Sam would have missed entirely. Switching over to the infrared spectrum, they were able to observe several locations where manned guard stations were entrenched. All of these were designed to withstand a powerful, frontal assault on the location. Everything about this place said - go away. While they had no idea yet what the objective was, any attempt at taking this place was going to be very difficult and costly.
The tiny aircraft finally made its way to the end of the canyon, where the road disappeared. Here they saw their first visible human beings, men in bright yellow jumpsuits who were standing to one side of a small grotto. The remote control pilot of the aircraft did not move in any closer, hiding himself in a tree canopy located 100 yards away. While the sound would not give the aircraft away, the motion might, so he turned the aircraft to hover mode and used the tree branches as cover. The camera was equipped with a digital zoom, which was all that could be fitted on such a small machine. With the zoom at full intensity, they were able to see into the grotto. There they saw what could only be a series of loading docks. The doors were closed, however, and nothing further could be discerned from what was inside.
With time running out on the airplane's battery, and with the sun going down, the general was about to order the plane to return to the pick up when a semi truck arrived. It backed into the loading dock. The men in the yellow jumpsuits had obviously been waiting for its arrival, because one of them stood next to the door and punched in an activation sequence to open the doors. Sam noted that these were extremely thick, looking capable of withstanding significant punishment. With the door open, a glimpse inside was afforded. Sam Donaldson got a clear view of a black Tahoe.
His blood went cold. While he couldn't see the plates, he knew that this was the place. The connection was clear, and there was now cause to go into the compound.
"General," he said. "Please make the necessary preparations to get us in there. We need to know what's going on."
The general had made some phone calls. Again, Sam felt the reins of control slipping from his hands. But this was above his pay grade, and he knew it.
The terrain on the bottom of the slot canyon was surprisingly lush. The small stream gurgling through the center provided life-giving water to an otherwise extremely arid environment. The marksmen had no difficulty blending in to their surroundings. They had moved rapidly into position outside of what they knew to be the range of the security cameras, but now they moved only ever so slightly, maintaining a position for hours. They could move up to a mile each day. Fortunately, they didn't have that far to go.
Sam Donaldson had requested the aerial imagery. The first plane that overflew the area did so at a dizzying elevation, providing an overview of the terrain. They compared it with previous imagery and noted several changes in the terrain. Of particular interest to the general were some slight depressions in the tops of the surrounding mesas, depressions that were too regular and too quick in appearing to be natural. They were anti-aircraft emplacements, the general deduced. And they were well located, both away from the main objective and spaced far enough that one shot could not knock out more than one target.
So air support would have to be a risky, second tier approach, and only if things went south quickly.
Next, they used an incredible piece of relatively new technology. Essentially a flying wing that was no bigger than a dinner plate, and incorporated nothing but a motor, propeller, battery, and a camera, the remote controlled robotic aircraft was launched from the back of a pick up parked half a mile away from the canyon. Operated by an enlisted man from a secret location in the Mojave Desert, some 500 miles away, this tiny plane received it's signals from a transmitter in the back of the pick up. It had auxiliary photo voltaic cells that would allow it to fly indefinitely in good sunlight. In the low-light environment of the canyon, it would last for three hours. At night, it could run for up to an hour before needing to return and recharge.
The images that were returned by this low-flying, slow-moving, and nearly silent infiltrator were amazing. Using a real-time link, they could watch as the aircraft moved up the canyon. The general, with a practiced eye, noted surveillance camera locations and could even see they power and communications lines leading to them - something that Sam would have missed entirely. Switching over to the infrared spectrum, they were able to observe several locations where manned guard stations were entrenched. All of these were designed to withstand a powerful, frontal assault on the location. Everything about this place said - go away. While they had no idea yet what the objective was, any attempt at taking this place was going to be very difficult and costly.
The tiny aircraft finally made its way to the end of the canyon, where the road disappeared. Here they saw their first visible human beings, men in bright yellow jumpsuits who were standing to one side of a small grotto. The remote control pilot of the aircraft did not move in any closer, hiding himself in a tree canopy located 100 yards away. While the sound would not give the aircraft away, the motion might, so he turned the aircraft to hover mode and used the tree branches as cover. The camera was equipped with a digital zoom, which was all that could be fitted on such a small machine. With the zoom at full intensity, they were able to see into the grotto. There they saw what could only be a series of loading docks. The doors were closed, however, and nothing further could be discerned from what was inside.
With time running out on the airplane's battery, and with the sun going down, the general was about to order the plane to return to the pick up when a semi truck arrived. It backed into the loading dock. The men in the yellow jumpsuits had obviously been waiting for its arrival, because one of them stood next to the door and punched in an activation sequence to open the doors. Sam noted that these were extremely thick, looking capable of withstanding significant punishment. With the door open, a glimpse inside was afforded. Sam Donaldson got a clear view of a black Tahoe.
His blood went cold. While he couldn't see the plates, he knew that this was the place. The connection was clear, and there was now cause to go into the compound.
"General," he said. "Please make the necessary preparations to get us in there. We need to know what's going on."
The general had made some phone calls. Again, Sam felt the reins of control slipping from his hands. But this was above his pay grade, and he knew it.
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