Wolf sat in silence on the flight, every fifteen seconds he would spit into a small bottle he had.
Copenhagen wintergreen longcut sat in his lower lip. The aircraft was a repurposed KC-130 Hercules, modified to fit passengers comfortably, for the most part. There were two columns of seats three to a row with an aisle cutting down to the middle.
Miller stepped out, and Wolf still somewhat indoctrinated into military protocol stood up at attention, but was quickly called to stand down.
Miller began the briefing, Wolf had already read his warning order and, for the most part, understood the parameters of the mission.
Haolam Hah, the man-made nation of "soldiers for hire" and for all the wrong reason.
Like most well intentioned endeavours, this road to hell was paved with them. Initially started out as a joint venture to house, feed, and otherwise care for displaced local nationals, due to war famine 92nd general human behavior, and it worked out exceedingly well.... At first. Wolf called it back in 2011. He remembered telling friends that it was going to end up de-funded, corrupt and someone was going to get killed, and he was right, he wish he was wrong. Then they took hostages and demanded to be recognized as a sovereign nation, worst part of it all is the UN folded like a wet noodle. After it had been known they were wheeling and dealing in the arms trade and guns for hire business the international community turned a blind eye to the situation, because they kept the refugee crisis under control. Like putting a band aide on an open wound.
Now they were being sent in to secure a CIA dog who had been taken hostage. Wolf knows bullshit when he smells it, there was more than they were being told, which, in the grand scheme of things... Isn't anything Wolf is not accustomed to.
'Just like Afghanistan,' he thought to himself. That last OP was his reason to leave the Marine Corps.
Wolf mentally checked his gear. His M27 and eight magazines, his .38 stubby and two extra cylinders. His plate carrier, two m67 frag grenades. Two smoke grenades, a combat knife, and his PVNS14s that were flip mounted in front of his DSO on his weapon, and more dip, just in case. The only thing he wore on his uniform was a black and tan American flag patch on his chest, upside down.
Their team leader for this operation is former army Sgt1st Class Tyrus Morse. For a soldier doggy he knew his shit, his knowledge of fine tobacco and women.... A bit lacking, but tactically he was just as skilled as Wolf, maybe even more so given his lengthy army stint.
The plan was for a HALO drop to a designated platform. Himself, and doc were to provide overwatch, considering they both had longer ranged weaponry, the other two, Morse and Uhili were main effort. Wolf preferred to be the assault team, but, a mission was a mission.
Miller finished up his brief and headed back into the cabin, The flight officers began to prep for insertion. Wolf took his dip out and placed it into his small bottle, stood up, then dawned his mask.
He stood and buckled his gear, then shuffled to the ramp.
Once his mask was secured Morse came over the net:
"This is a long jump. We are approximately forty...four zero clicks from our drop zone. Elevation is thirty thousand feet. You all know the drill. Early release, I'll take a compass heading, looking at two hundred twelve degrees from current. We'll track the DZ on GPS and fly towards our insertion point at Platform DELTA. Time of flight should be about two mikes. Stack on me during the jump in order, "Wolf", Uhili and "Doc". Watch my course corrections as we go. Report any irregularities along the way."
Wolf got into place behind Morse, checked Morse's chute, gave him a pat on the back of his head.
"Good!" He yelled, the other two followed along.
This time Miller came over the net.
"Gentlemen, this is your stop. Thank you for flying with Cygnus Airlines, we hope you had a pleasant flight. Don't forget to grab your free parachute on the way out. Ramp opening in 3...2...1..."
The ramp dropped, the air pressure changed, the team began to deploy
"Begin Operation Dog Shelter."
"let's get our feet wet, ladies." Morse said before stepping off into the sky. Wolfe stepped up looked to the flight officer to his right, noticed a small USMC insignia tattoo on his neck.
"Land, air, and sea right? Oorah," He said before stepping off.
Wolf angled his body to match Morse's vector, with a quick glance to his six he could see the other two members of the team following. He pulled his chute at the same elevation when the team leader did, and continued to follow. Wolf was scanning the area as well, he spotted a platform northwest of the compound. Judging by their current speed and angle of decent, he was sure that was where Morse intended to land.
Suitable, it was elevated giving the team fire advantage, the only problem was a one hundred meter kill zone between the infrastructure they were landing on, and the nearest cluster of structures for cover, accurate suppression is going to be key there, if they were spotted while dropping in.
As they approached the LZ a detonation occured to their south east. The sky lit up in and orange glow.
'fuck... Hope no one's looking up,' he thought to himself for a second or two all four chutes were completely illuminated.
Wolf hit the deck harder than he intended, he stumble a bit and fell to a knee, but immediately adopted a defensive posture until his bearing was found. He stowed his chute and landing gear with Morse's.Once squared away he took a knee near Morse, leveled his rifle and scanned the area, his set of 14's were mounted in front of his DSO, giving him some eyes out further.
While the team was arriving Wolf spotted a platform that had been partially deconstructed or never finished, either way there were areas that would make a great overwatch point.
"One five zero meters south, by south east, good spot for overwatch, halfway constucted platform, doc and I will post up there and give you guys overwatch, when we change positions we'll notify by radio with one word, Appalachia, and ir flashes."
