“Gigger, please be careful. One of the other cells is coming in the front door. They are clearing the building from the other end, simultaneously.” Master Sergeant Morse spoke in whispered tones to Ben Giguere, covering the hall for Danny and Park as they cleared each room. He didn’t want the former Railroad maintenance of way worker to shoot the wrong people.

Ben nodded his head in comprehension to the Special Forces soldier. Ben took a knee in the hall, aiming his Mark 14 down the hallway, running the length of the building. As soon as Danny and Park entered the communications room, he watched as two men entered the door closest to St. George Road; one dressed similar to himself and the other wearing the current US Army ACU or Army Combat Uniform.

Preston stood at the back door watching the activity outside. By stepping outside and looking around the corner of the building, he could see the fires burning the Walmart and Home Depot. He believed not everyone got out of the doomed transport aircraft, but not how many. There was no saving them now. The fires lit up the sky. He could hear machine gun fire and explosions coming from the Northwest. He also noted, someone set fire to the VSP police cruiser out on Route 2A near exit 12. It was an overwhelming feeling for the 31-year old Vermont native. He was excited, frightened and almost in a daze watching the scene unfold around him.

The machinegun fire at the airport sounded distant. It had that sound he was all too familiar with from hunting in the Vermont mountains for most of his life. The difference between this fire and a hunting sound was the intensity. A few minutes into the clearing operation, he heard a closer machine gun open up. It sounded like it was less than the length of a football field away. One of the other cells had an ambush set up at the corner of St. George Road and Marshal Ave. A pair of 10-ton, 10-wheeled cargo trucks lumbered down St. George Road carrying heavy boxes in one and twelve Russian soldiers armed with [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AK-12]AK-12s[/url] in the second. 

The ill-fated vehicles manufactured in the Minsk Automobile Plant (MAZ) stumbled into an ambush. The American built M240B, 7.62mm machine gun opened up on the lead vehicle sending it careening into the trailing corner of the Staples store, adjacent to the Williston barracks, erupting in a ball of fire less than a eighty feet from where Preston stood. The second truck stopped to allow its passengers to disembark. More than a few survived.

Preston ran toward the truck to see what was going on. He peeked around the burning wreck in time to see eight or nine Soviet soldiers kneeling or laying prone in the road shooting back in the direction of the Marshal’s parking lot. Preston considered shooting at the soldiers but thought it was better to run back and let his people know. He did notice a member of the other team clearing the building with him did indeed start shooting at the Russians in the road.

He sprinted back to the door and ripped it open yelling, “Russians! There are Fucking Russians! In the road! We need to move fast!”

“What the blazes is going on Preston?” Ben yelled at his brother.

“Those other guys,” Preston panted trying to catch his breath. “You know… those other guys? They were setting up in a hide spot by Marshal’s? Well, they shot up a truck carrying some boxes and then a second truck came down the road carrying about a dozen Russian soldiers. They are out in the road shooting at them less than a hundred yards from here!”

Master Sergeant Morse listened to the conversation between the Giguere brothers. “Get a hustle on Danny, Park! We need to blow these antennas and radio equipment PDQ and unass this AO!” The term [i]unass the AO[/i] technically means to get away from someplace quickly. The acronym AO refers to Area of Operations. For this Guerrilla cell, that would be the Williston Barracks. PDQ means Pretty Damn Quick.

The team at the northwest end of the building began taking fire. Apparently, the Russians turned their attention on them. Ben saw one of the Vermont men slump to the ground and lay, just outside the door, motionless. “They got a bead on us! They might be coming in here to investigate! Hurry up!” Ben laid on the ground, tucking his body into a doorway and pointing his rifle down the hall towards the other team’s entry point.

Preston checked to the west and noticed Pete Gagne’s team at Exit 12 was now out near St. George Road engaging the Russians along Route 2A. Men were taking hits and explosions were going off all around them. The situation at Williston Barracks was becoming desperate.

The sun was on the horizon…It was daytime.