Chapter 1 of "An American Civil War Fought On Foriegn Soil"

A Chapter by WRITERSBLOCK

Introduction of characters; Big Byrd falls in love with a Male Man.

AN AMERICAN CIVIL WAR FOUGHT ON FORIEGN SOIL

By Alan Taylor

0600 hours

Sergeant First Class (SFC) Catherine Johnson, of the 571st Military

Police Company, assembles her platoon, for the morning briefing at

the MP station. Squads 2 and 4 finishing up their 3 days of R & R are

fresh and ready for patrol duty. After working four-twelve hour shifts,

squads 1 and 3 are ready for some party time themselves. The female

soldiers had planned their three days of activities in advance.

Three nights of fun and adventure in the beautiful Monterey Bay. Enriched

with culture, sailing, and the wild marine life makes Monterey, one of

California's most exstravicant places for lovers.

For Army personnel, Monterey is the closest thing to heaven.

(Private First Class) PFC Beatrice Byrd, a.k.a. Big Bird, who stands

6'1" tall, with long soft chocolate legs, that funnel up her

disproportioned body, with a beak shape nose, that curls down

toward her thick pertruding pink lips. Byrd isn't a very pretty lady,

as far as looks go. But inwardly, there is none that can compare.

The beauty from within had stolen the hearts of many.

Byrd had made the arrangements for her group to stay at the Presidio

of Monterey. The Presidio is a detachment of Ft. Ord and home of the

Defense Language Institute. Byrd had chosen a small military motel

called "The Hacienda" which is lavished with a unique Spanish history.

"The Hacienda" had been built in the mid 1800's by Spanish settlers.

Overlooking the Monterey Bay, where 100's of sea lions brought the base

to life. Laying across the large boulders in the fine glass waters,

communicate with one another in loud barks. Their voices echo through

the night, like sound of thunder raging to the top of the hill.

Thinking to themselves, "What a memorable moment." Staring out

over the waters, watching the sun slowly dissipate into the bay. The

sun gradually falls into a deep sleep, under the crisp blue waters. A large

crowd on the hill, sitting in their lounge chairs, marvels at the moment, as

they begin to clap and cheer.

Byrd and her six cohorts quickly turn and make a mad dash for their motel

room. Dropping their gear, as they prepare for the night's special event.

Making preparations to invade the "Male Man," an all-male strip revue.

The hottest guys in California will be there tearing off their clothes.

"Hey Byrd. Can I borrow some of your cocoa butter?" Cpl. Charlotte Turner

asks. Turner a four year veteran and Bird's squad leader, is a thick boned

African-American woman, whose skin resembles that of black liquorish.

Turner, is a hard core soldier, off the streets of Atlanta. Being the strong

black woman that she is, she pulled herself out of the ghetto life and made

something of herself. A born motivator and a great leader. Even though she

hides it well, the only thing that has held her back, is her racist mentality.

The Army has only one color... army green.

Byrd tosses the bottle to her. "I want it back."

"Thanks girlfriend. My legs are gett'n so ashy."

Byrd stares down her friend and squad leader, "M-m-hm. You just make sure

I gets my s**t back, gir-r-rl friend."

"Man. Why you sweating me like that. I gots you." Turner replies.

"Scrappy did you see that sunset," PFC Patty Thompson asks her

friend, PFC Lisa Holden. Holden and Thompson were arch rivals from

their home town counties in Georgia. Thompson grew up 30 miles away from

Holden, in a small town called Waynesville, where everyone waves to one

another. Holden, born in Glynn County, which borders Brantley County. The

two counties are separated by economic status. Thompson grew up poor, but

proud. Holden, on the other hand, never went without.

Holden is a wild cat, with a third degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do, has earned

the nick-name "Scrappy." At the age of 17, she was hitting the bars with a fake

I.D. and it never failed, she always ended up in some kind of altercation. Her last

fight cost her a lot more than her father could afford. A brawl, that put an off-duty

police officer in the hospital.

The judge had given her an opportunity to walk away with a clean record. Intrigging

her mind with the opportunity to fight a different type of battle, she thought of war,

but Judge Atworth was thinking more on the lines of discipline. For her, fighting for

her country, rather than spending the next five years in prison, sounded so much better.

"Get paid to fight? Oh hell yeah," she thought to herself. Originally she wanted to become

an infantry soldier, but was shot down, by the government. "No women are allowed on the

front lines." Therefore infantry was out of the question. But her recruiter convinced her to

become a military police woman . MP's provide rear area security. It is a place where a lot

of action is, because that is where all the prisoners of war are held.

Holden and Thompson went through basic training and advance individual training (A.I.T.)

together. After graduation, they had received their orders. Both were given orders to be

stationed at the Ft. Ord, California and that is where they put aside their differences and

made a bond of friendship.

Holden looks at Thompson and smiles, "That was absolutely beautiful. I have never seen

the sun go down like that before."

Byrd looks into the mirror, while plucking her unibrow, "Girl, you never seen the sun go down?"

"No. Not over the waters. All we see is the sun fall behind the tree lines," Holden replies.

"Where you from?"

"She's from the high and mighties of Glynn County, Georgia," Thompson states.

"You always have to put your two cents in. Don't you," Holden remarks.

"You know how us Brantley County girls are...prim and proper, and walk like a duck,"

Thompson replies, as she walks with an imaginary tea cup in her hand.

Turner shakes her head, "Man, I'd hate to grow up around you two. Ya act like the over grown

kids."

Bird's curiosity about the east coast has captivates her mind. Day

dreaming about an ocean front sun rise that comes out of the water. "So, what's it like?"

Holden stares into the mirror at Bird's face, "What is what like?" "You know. The sun rise in

the morning."

Although Holden was raised in Brunswick, she had never gotten out of bed before 10 a.m. The

late nights of partying and working late, never allowed her body to function without a cigarette

and a cup of coffee before 10 a.m. Holden has no way to describe it. The sun was always awake

before she was. The sun light acted as an alarm clock, that poured its golden rays into her window.

Thompson knows her type. During the summer, she had worked at a local resort on Jeckyll Island,

as a house keeper. Only a few people that had stayed there, would wake up to enjoy the early

morning sunrise. "The sun comes up at about 5a.m., turning the dirty waters of the Atlantic Ocean,

into a golden brown rugged trail as the splashing waves crash down on weathered beach. It is a

beautiful sight. But if you want to enjoy it, you have to force yourself out of bed by 4 a.m."

"Why 4a.m.," Byrd asks.

"Cause, if you don't have your basic essentials with you, you are not going to enjoy it," Thompson

replies.

Holden looks dumb founded. "What are you talking about?"

"Its like sex. You work as hard as hell to enjoy something that will only last for a few minutes. Make

up on, hair done, lounge chair out, cigarette burning, and a strong cup of coffee to wake you up."

The women in the group laugh at the way Thompson motions her body as she describes the trouble

it takes to enjoy a good time.

Byrd, the warrior she is, prepares herself for the hunt. She is

determined to catch herself a two-legged deer tonight, particulary a

well built one point buck, who will send her off into another world.

Tonight has to be the night. The dancers are finishing up their state

wide tour, in her hometown. Tonight's last dance will finish up their

tour for the year. Then they will disappear into their luxary cabin,

that is hidden in the Los Padres National Forest.

At 1830 hours, the ladies meet in the parking lot. "Does everyone

know where we are going," Cpl. Turner asks.

"Yes Corporal Turner," they all reply in a loud strong voice.

"Ya ready to ride the bull!" PFC Cheyenne Taylor shouts out. Taylor

fresh out of high school is a true redneck in every sense of the word.

She graduated from Riverdale High School in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

She had been set back two years in a row. Yet her intellect is very high,

unfortunetly, in school she liked to live that life style...high. A rebellious

attitude and her love for marijuana had gotten her into trouble on more

than a one occasion. She doesn't care for blacks, not because she is racist,

but because of the aggressive behavior that she has observed

while growing up. SFC Johnson, is another woman of color, who

is much harder than Turner, but at least she is fair. She treats everyone

like crap. Taylor respects her. Turner on the other hand... the tension

between the two is beyond thick. Byrd for some reason she adores. Byrd

knows how Taylor thinks. Yet she still accepts her for who she is. "Odd,"

Taylor thinks to herself.

Turner looks at Taylor with distaste. "Aint no damn bull, fool."

Holden knows exactly what Taylor was saying. "Come on Turner,

you never strapped yourself down, to ride the bull?" Catching

the attention of everyone else, the room becomes silent.

"Yeah, Turner. Haven't you ever taken the bul-l-l by his horn and rode him

'til he fell to his knees," Taylor asks.

Finally catching on to what they were talking about, Turner nearly blushes

from embarrassment. "For a couple of rednecks, ya be talkin to much smack."

Glancing around the room and then back to the two. "When I ride my man, ya

can believe it aint gonna be for no 8 second ride," Turner states, as she pretends

to ride the bull while pulling its tail. The women laugh histarically.

Byrd knows the area well. She had been raised in the nearby town of Seaside. A

small community that borders the south side of the base. Enriched with Spanish

immigrant farmers and small shops. For Bird, being stationed at Fort Ord, or as

the soldiers like to call it, the "Planet Ord," is the greatest place to be stationed.

Her mother and father once lived their, in a two bedroom house, just at the edge

of town.

PFC Byrd's boyfriend, Sgt. Daniel Reed, of the 2/75th Ranger Battalion had been

deployed to regions unknown. Reed's life is a secret and it had already been gone

for over six months, with no way of communicating with her. At least that is what

he told her. She is ready for some Bird time, as she liked to call it. No worries, no

military, no men... well just the hottest men in California.

Inside the club, the bar is rocking. Wall to wall with women,

chanting and screaming for more action, "Take it off! Take it off!"

One couldn't tell that the A/C was blowing at maximum capacity. It

is so hot inside and the drinks start at $7.00 a pop. But at least the smiles are free.

A dancer, dressed as a fireman, with a rock hard body and soft light chocolate skin,

catches Bird's eyes, as he accidently or even possibly on purpose, brushes up against

her, while carrying drinks to the next table. Bird, while gazing into his eyes begins to

melt away like a hot wax candle, as he smiles and says, "excuse me." staring back into

her coffee cream eyes, he lifts a cherry out of one of the drinks and smoothly places it

between her teeth. Bird lightly bites down. With a quick gentle jerk, he retrieves the stem.

Looking around at each of Bird's friends and then back to Bird, he pauses as the music

stops and without hesitation, he turns, like the true king he is and fades away into the

crowd. Bird's friends start jumping up and down like teenage girls at a rock concert. The

fireman had started a fire that is burning inside of them, that no one will be able to put

out, especially Byrd's fire.

Cpl. Turner grabs hold of Bird, "What you doing girl? You alright?" Bird gives no response.

"Snap out of it private."

"Ewe uh, right, yeah," Bird chirps. "What just happened,"

Pvt. Kozac, a fresh 18 year old recruit from Myrtle Beach, S.C., who had graduated from A.I.T.

two months earlier, is now Bird's best friend, and responds to the question while snapping

her fingers as she draws a "Z" in the air, "Girlfriend. You just got the WHAMMY put to you."

Making their way to the stage is a battle that the Army had not prepared them for. With that

much estrogen battling for the dancers... it is war. Pushing and shoving and squeezing

through the over packed bar, they eventually make their way up. But for standing room only.

One stripper after another pours out from behind the curtains, dressed as policemen, taking

separate portions of the stage for crowd control. In the middle of the stage is the chief of

police. Bird's fireman is now the chief of police. A woman in her mid fourties attempts to get

on stage, but is pulled back by her two daughters.

Byrd knows she has to get to her chief. Waiting for the right opportunity, she will dash up on

the stage and get her number to him. As desparate as it seems to make her look, she doesn't

care. He put the fire in her loins and now he's the one who is going to put it out. The poor

soldier doesn't realize that gasoline will make the raging fire from within, burn that much

harder and dangerously longer.

Suddenly the opportunity has arisen and she darts up on stage, but is quickly tackled at the

ankles by both Kozac and Turner. Struggling to break free, the chief is in observance as she

stretches out on the stage, digging her nails into the hard wood dance floor, desparately

trying to crawl her way to the chief. But Kozac and Turner are successful in retrieving their friend.

Chief locks his eyes with Bird once again. Ripping his shirt off as he slowly dances his way toward

her, like a Mexican bull fighter, never missing a beat. Chief makes his way to the edge of the stage,

only inches away from this estrange woman. He rips off his pants, exposing his bounty full of raw

flesh inside of the black bikini, that is shaped like a police baton.

The women all around him, fight to fill the strings of his bikini with large amounts of cash. "Beat me

baby," a woman screams out from behind Bird and her friends. Turner looks back at the woman

with an evil eye.

"What are you looking at," the woman asks.

Turner knows not to engage her. It would only ruin the night.

The chief falls to his knees and reaches out to Bird. Pulling her into his waist. She drops her head into

his lap, rubbing her face and hair up and around his sleek oily body. Pretending to go for a kiss, he

quickly jumps back onto his tight glutes and slithers off the stage. Taking Bird by the hand, he leads

her to another woman's chair and sits her down. Never once loosing eye contact with her. As she sits

in the chair, Bird falls into a hypnotic state. She can't move. The chief performs a lap dance on her that

nearly causes him to have an misfire. At the brink of an explosion, he quickly pulls himself back and

returns to the stage, holding on to his baton.

note to self: review

Kozac is able to get to him, before he climbs back on stage and

stuffs a piece of paper down the front of his bikini. "Her name is

Private Bird," she whispers in his ear. Looking down at the baton

that she feels on the back of her hand, quickly looking up at him and

asks, "Damn! What are you half bovine and half man? Holy s**t!" She

quickly rushes back to Bird.

Chief smiles as he climbs back on the stage as the music ends and

the lights go out to start a new set of dancers. Bird remained in the

chair for the rest of the night. She, was by far, over heated with

excitement.

The show inside ended at 0200 hours, but the party had filtered into

the parking lot, with a dozen or so women. Adjacent to the nught

club was an 24 hour breakfast club called Danny's. If you were drunk

and hungry... there is no better place to be. Not to mention the local

police seemed to be out and ready for anyone jumping into a car after

coming out the club. Especially drunk, hot, and horny women.

Kozac, who is under age, was trashed off her behind. Tonight was the

most exciting thing that has ever happened to her. Staggering around

in a circle as light drizzles of rain flurried the moon lit sky. "Girl are

you crazy? We need to get you inside before the real police catch you

out here," Turner told Kozac. "Anyone want to go to Danny's," Bird

asked. PFC Charlotte Taylor, was bent over with her hands on her

knees had become ill, but was the first to speak up. "Somebody say

coffee? I'm in," she replied. Turner looks at Taylor, "You gonna

make it that..." Without another word said, Taylor had become very

volital. Each time Turner tried to say something... the results were

not good. Shaking her head Turner stared at Taylor, "Man you white

girls can't hold your liquor for nothing." Then turning to Kozac, who

looked like a 5 year old child catching rain drops with her tongue. "I

thought you were from whiskey state and you can't handle your

liquor either. Must be a white thing." Bird laugh at them all. "I'm

black and I'm feeling pretty damn good. Hey let's get to Danny's.

The walk in the rain was a sobering feeling that Turner didn't enjoy,

She had spent over $200 and 12 hours having her extentions micro-

braided into hair yesterday. And now it rains. Turner made no excuse

as she ran off without them. "Catch you fools there."

Bird wrapped her arm around Kozac, leading her over. "You feeling

alright girl friend," she asked. Kozac looked up with a smile, "I loves

you." "Yeah, I love you too," Bird replies. "You stink we go back

again Birdie?" "Come on girl, I can't walk like this. Pick yourself

up," Bird instructs.

Before Taylor makes it to the door, Turner stops her from coming in.

"Hold up Taylor. You can't go in here." Taylor's eyes were blood red

and glassy. No one sxpected Taylor to be a mean drunk, but when

Turner scolded her like she was a dog in front of her friends, that was

not acceptable. "Who you telling they can't go in there," Taylor asked

clinching her fists and raising her arms up like the fighting Irish she

has in her. "Stand down soldier," Turner ordered, "You don't want to

do this private."

A crowd of on-lookers quickly swarmed in on the altercation. Two

women fighting fighting in the parking lot of Danny's. "Oh this is

going to be a good one," an on looker yelled out. Composing herself,

Turner knew as a non-commissioned officer, she had to be in control

of herself, before the situation got out of control. Looking at Taylor,

"Private Taylor. You are a representative of the United States Army

Military Police Corp. Is this the example you want to show these

people. Do you want them to think that you are out of control? That

the military police are out of control? Do you?" Taylor looks around

at the crowd and slowly lowers her fists of fury. Realizing that this

was a big mistake. "No Corporal Turner." "Then come on girl, let's

get inside before the city cops get here," Turner tells Taylor. Taylor

walks slowly past Turner. Turner turns around and walks inside with

her.

The excitement of the night was over, yet the fire continued to run

through their veins and it showed. Loud talking about what they just

experienced at the club disturbed a few of the costumers. They didn't

care. It was their weekend of freedom and they earned it.

"Man, that dude was on fire," Kozac blurted out. Turner looks at

Kozac, "Who you talking about Tinker Bell?" Kozac got that s**t

eating grin on her face and turned toward Bird. "The brother that

landed on top of Big Bird,"she smiles, "Waiving that long thick baton

all up under that beak." The girls began laughing histerically. "I

thought for sure she was going to take a peck at it," Turner replies.

Tilting her head and slanting her eyes, with a soft voice, "Who said I

didn't?" Bird turns to the straw in her drink and takes a sip, while

looking at each one of her friends in a devious manner. "You kidding

Bird fell into a trans," Kozac shouted. Bird was gloating and only

replied, "jealous?"

The conversation between them continued on and grew even louder

as they waited for their food. A chirping noise seemed to be coming

out of Bird;s purse. Everyone was so loud that Bird did not notice

her phone ringing. Kozac, who was half passed out and leaning up

against Bird's arm heard the sound of little bird's chirping away.

Tilting her head up toward Bird's head, "You having babies?"

Suddenly, the talking stopped. "Girl you having a baby," Turner

asked. "Hell no," Bird replied. "What the f**k are you talking about

Kozac?" "I hear little birds chirping from your butt," Kozac

explained. "Bird's in my butt? Girl what the hell are you..." Suddenly

Bird's phone began to ring again. "Chirping little birds. See I told

you," she tells the girls as they let out a short burst of laughter."

____________________________________________________

Barbara Cline, a small town hick who stands 5'6" and doesn't weigh

no more than 110 pounds soaking wet. Barbara comes from the

backwoods of Cleveland, Tn,. Sitting in the back row of the club

along with her partner Cindy Self, another hick from a blink of an

eye town, just thirty miles out side of Brunswick, Ga., called

Waynesville. Cindy was a wild cat. The kind you wouldn't want to

cross hairs with. At home her nick name is Scrappy, which had

nothing to do with a animated dog.

Barbara and Cindy are on assignement, under the direction of Special

Randy White, the Drug Suppression Team's senior agent. Randy, a

fourty year old heavy set man with a rugged beard and mustache,

entered his 19th year in the service. Randy is a master of disguises

and a lover of all music. DST has been his life for the past 6 years of

his tour and he loves every minute of it. Pretending to be other

people is his specialty. One day he is a bum in the streets with a bottle

of Mad Dog in his hands, and then the next a play boy on a 22 foot

McGreagor, sailing into lots of money. The greatest job in the world.

Randy sat in the back of U-haul truck equipted with surveillance

recording equiptment, long range military tracking devices and

enough fire power to arm an entire plattoon. "How are things going

on inside," Randy asks Barbara. Cindy quickly interrupted, "things are

looking really good in here." "Yes. I'm sure they are Cindy, but let's

focus on the the mission at hand," he replies. "Don't worry, I got a

handle on it." Barbara cuts in, "She definetly has a hand on the

situation." Barbara laughs and then becomes serious, "Don't worry

Randy. We have it under control." Shaking his head, Randy knew

sending these to country bumpkins in would be trouble. But who else

could handle the mission. This is a "ladies only club. No men

allowed."

***The night club had made arrangements with the HHC-LEC MP

Company to work security that night. Agent Wesley Doolen, an Irish

fitness buff was given a position at the door to check ID's. It was the

perfect position for Randy's mission, to observe any military

personnel involved in any drug related activities. Doolen alerted

Cline anytime a soldier walked in the door with a two way radio-ear

piece that they are wearing in their ears. "Ladies, thank you for

serving your country," is the code phrase, when a military ID is

produced.***

Doolen identified several women coming in the door. Realizing the

quantity of military personnel entering the establishment, Randy was

concerned. "Toni, I need you on the inside." Turning in her swivel

chair, "Randy, I need to run the video." "Spain will cover your

position," he replies."Spain has tactical." Randy didn't like being

questioned, "I need you to get your butt in there," aggressively

speaking. "I want the three of you in separate sections ot the floor."

Toni doesn't like big crowds. What she could do in the van was far

greater than inside with a crowd. She has eagle eyes that can spot a

situation or person from two miles away. But it is Randy's decision

and ultimately she knows that.

After exiting the van, Spc. Brian Spain, a grungy Elvis type of soldier,

who held an awful odor about himself, filled in Toni's position.

Spain had no problem filling in, but he was no Toni. He is the teams

weapons and electronics expert. Spain had recently been reassigned

from the Special Reactions Team, where he was the team leader.

Spain's reassignment came shortly after winning a court martial case

against him for threatening the life of his company commander.

Although he had won, it was more important to battalion to move

him into a more productive unit, especially since his commander

would of still been over him.

"Randy, why did you send Toni inside? We both know she is a hell of

alot better to us on the cameras." "I know. These dancers are only

here once a year." Before Randy could finsih, Spain caught on to

what Randy was saying. "So you sent her in for pleasure." Randy,

while staring at the monitors says, "Toni is one of the most hard

working agents I have ever worked with. We are here just to collect

intel. If Toni stayed on the cameras, she would miss all the action.

Look at her now." Spain zooms in on her position. "Yeah, I see what

you mean. She's actually got some spunk in her."

Over the speaker, in the van, Doolen alerts Randy, "Look up team,

Betty Harris, General Harris' wife and his daughters, have just

entered the establishment." The world stood still for a moment, as all

three ladies took notice of their entrance. Betty's guest appearance

changed the role of the team. Gen. Harris' family without their

bodyguards quickly became an issue for Randy. "Okay team. I want

Self, Cline and Thompson in a triangle position around the family."

The three inside swiftly moved into position to protect the family, if

anything occurs. Looking up at Spain, "I want you on the roof top of

that restaraunt. If at anytime they become in danger, your orders are

to shoot to kill." "ten-four," Spain replies as he jumps out of

Thompson's seat, grabbing a sniper rifle off of the weapons shelf.

Spain made his way out of the van with his rifle broken down in a

mid-size black duffle bag, as he quickly moves to the rear of Danny's

All Night Breakfast Club. Spain quickly climbs up the outside fire

escape, that is locked into position and covered with a steel cage. A

problem that Spain has no problem scaling the cage itself.

Randy contacts the Army Criminal Investigation Division, which he

is attached to. "C.I.D., Spc. Kathrine Walker speaking," the voice of a

young woman answers. "This is Special Agent Randy White of the

Drug Suppression Team. I need to speak to the duty officer right

away." "One moment," she responds. Within seconds another

woman's mature voice speaks, "Agent White, this is Chief Warrant

Officer Adrian Lemieux. How can I help you?" "Chief Lemieux, I am

working a case at the "Male Man" in Monterey. I have General

Harris' family inside without protection." Lemieux was quick snap

orders superceding their investigation. "I want your team to take up

protective positions until I can gather up her a security detail." "Once

we identified her, I had my team move into position to protect the

family." "Very good," she replies. "Give me 30 minutes and I'll have a

team there to relieve your team." "Thank you, Chief Lemieux," Randy

replies. "Do we need to contact the general," Randy asks. "Let me talk

to his wife first. This might be something they wanted to do without

his knowledge," she states.

Hanging up the phone, she quickly called the SRT team to assemble.

Lt. Ron Gumolough, answered his private phone, "Gumolough."

"Ron, its Adrian, over at C.I.D. I need you to assemble your men and

be at my office in ten minutes. I have a code "blue bayonet." No other

words were spoken as they each hung up the phone. Code "blue

bayonet" is the distress call for the post commander and his family.

As the SRT team gathered, Agent Lemieux, pulls in her team of

agents. Agents in their POV's, their personal own vehicles, raced

through the quiet streets, as the heavy fog rolled in. An MP sitting in

his patrol car, watching traffic as he ran radar on Artillery Drive. The

speed limit is only 25mph and Special Agent's vehicle is clocked at

72mph. The pursuit was on, as the young MP's adrinaline is beating

quicker than the speed of sound. "2-3 to Ord 1, do you copy?" The

other end of his radio quickly responded, as she heard unit 2-3's

breath pounding into the microphone. "Ord 1. Go ahead 2-3." "I am

in pursuit of a red Ford Ranger; California tags 'one-xray-gulf-india-

tree-niner-six. I repeat, 1XGI396. Do you copy?" The young girl

repeated back the license plate number. "One-xray-gulf-india-tree-

niner-six. What is your 10-20?" Responding as if he were gasping for

air, "We are now nirth bound on Bayonet Blvd, passing the PX (post

exchange)." "Roger 2-3. Stand by for back up. Break. Unit 2-1 and

unit 2-4, I need you to proceed to Bayonet Blvd to assist 2-1. Do you

copy?" Sgt. Melissa Ryan, the field supervisor, answered first, "2-1,

Ord 1 copy, Bayonet Blvd. PFC Felicia Federico followed in suit,

"2-4 to Ord 1. I copy as well." 2-1 and 2-4, you are authorized to go

code 2." After given their authorization, they quickly lit up their

flashing red and blue lights as they went to assist unit 2-3. Another

agent in a midnight blue Mustang flew into the intersection of Light

Fighter Drive and Bayonet Blvd, nearly clipping the back of Sgt.

Ryan's patrol car. Keying up the microphone, Sgt Ryan asks, "Ord 1.

What they hell is going on? Is the base on alert?" "Ord 1 to 2-1. That

is a negative." Then why is everyone driving like a nut?"

Inside of the dispatcher's square, the phone rings. "Miltary police

station. PFC Bryant speaking. May I help you?" "Private Bryant. This

is Special Agent In Charge Lemieux, with C.I.D." Bryant answers,

"Yes ma'am?" "I have my agents and the SRT team coming in on

alert." "Yes ma'am," Bryant replies. "Two of my men have notified

me, that they are being pursued. I need you to have your patrol units

to break off pursuit and stand down for 30 minutes. My team is

headed in. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill." "Yes

ma'am," she quickly responds as Lemieux hangs up the phone. "Ord 1

to all units. Ord ! to all units. Stand down. I repeat, stand down until

further notice.

Sgt. Ryan was the only had that had the authority to stand down her

shift. "2-1 to Ord 1, Who gave the order for us to stand down?"

"C.I.D. has given the order. Special Agent Lemieux stated, 'that they

and the SRT team is on alert in headed to CID headquarters.'" "Copy

that Ord 1. 2-3 and 2-4 break off pursuit," Sgt. Ryan tells the other

two units. 2-1 to Ord 1. I'll be 10-49 to C.I.D. headquarters." "10-4,

unit 2-1, I show you enroute to C.I.D." "Bryant, I want you to contact

Captain Finkleberry at the 7th MP Company and advise him of the

situation. He's filling in for Capt. Jackson, while she's on leave."

"Roger,2-1."

A chain call went into affect. Following the chain of command,

Bryant initially notified the XO, Lt. Mary Myers; who in turn called

Capt. Finkleberry. Within a matter of minutes, the entire 7th Light

MP Company is put on alert. Those who were enjoying their night

off, were suddenly pulled away from their friends and families, even

those who happened to of been drinking at the time.

Capt. Finkleberry, a gun-ho soldier, had recently came back from

Ranger School. With a big heart, he was always ready for action. But

he knows planning in is the most crucial part of any operation and he

had to have the facts first. After getting his platoon leaders lined up

to prepare his company, he immediately called C.I.D. The young

voice of "Spc. Walker answers. C.I.D., Spc Walker speaking." "This is

Capt. Finkleberry at the 7th MP company. I need to speak to the duty

officer." "One moment, please," she replied. "Mike, its Adrian. I don't

have time to explain. We have a situation amd I need your patrols to

stand down, as we assemble our team." "Do you need anything else

from us?" "Not right now, Mike," she responds as she hangs up the

phone. Capt. Finkleberry didn't like the brief answers. Not knowing

what is going on, pissed him off. His compnay's motto is "Always

Prepared." He decided to keep the company on alert, until he received

more information.

Simutanously, Sgt. Ryan arrived as two Black Hawk helicopters

landed in the parking lot. Leaving his team behind, Sgt. Gumolough

jumped out of the helicopter and ran over to Agent Lemieux. "What

is the situation ma'am?" Trailed by six men in civilian business attire

Lemieux ran to the second helicopter, with Gumo;ough by her side.

Agent Lemieux yells to Gumolough, "Get in the helicopter! I'll

explain it to you, once we are in the air!" Ryan makes a mad dash

toward the helicopters, but is stopped by the SRT team, with weapons

drawn. Ryan looks over at the SRT team and then back at Agent

Lemieux's helicopter. "What the hell is going on?" Never before has

anyone ever pulled a weapon on her, especially her own people. She

starts to hyperventalate, as the two Black Hawks dissappear into the

darkness.

Ryan falls to her knees, trying to catch her breath. Reaching for her

radio, she calls out "10-33! 10-33! Officer down!" Hearing the call,

Bryant runs out of the bathroom holding onto her belt loops. "Sgt.

Ryan! I got you! Where are you?" Ryan's breathing pattern modelled

that of a train barrlelling down the tracks. "C.I.D.," she heaves out.

"Sergeant, I got help on the way! Break! Attention all units, Code 3 to

C.I.D., unit 2-1 is 10-33!" All five patrol units heard the call for help

by their supervisor. Every unit dropped what they were doing to help.

Capt. Finkleberry, who keeps a radio with him at all times, heard the

call as well. "Sgt. Ryan, this is Light Fighter One. What is going

on?" There was no response on the other end of the radio. "Sgt. Ryan,

this is Capt. Finkleberry! Are you alright?" Still there was no

response. Ryan laid in front of her patrol car, with her feet propped

up over the hood, trying to get some circulation before she passed

out. "Ord 1, this is Light Fighter 1, I want you to get a medivac

chopter enroute to her location now!" Without hesitation, she was on

the phone with the hospital.

"2-2 to Ord 1, I have Sgt. Ryan, She is unconscious in front of her

car." "Is she hurt in any physical way," Capt. Finkleberry asks.

"Negative sir. Her feet were propt up on the hood of her car, when I

arrived. One moment sir. I'm going to try to wake her." "Negative 2-

2, wait for madivac to arrive," Finkleberry orders him. "I want you to

secure the crime scene." All the base patrols quickly arrived, as did

several off duty MP's from the 571st MP Co. come running from

their barracks across the street. "Secure the area! I need everyone that

is not on duty to remain across the street, Corporal Holly Knight

yelled. "Federico! I want you to seal off the crime scene!" Pointing at

the four light poles, at each corner of the parking lot. Without saying

a word, PFC Federico went to her car and pulled out a large pack of

"DO NOT CROSS" tape, She runs to the first light pole to tie off an

end.

In the air, Agent Lemieux explains the situation and gives

instructions of what she needs to have happen. "This is the deal. I

have the general's wife and daughters unguarded at a strip club for

women. I have the Drug Suppression Team there, who were on

another mission, but is filling in, unbeknownst to his wife. There is 3

agents inside, one at the door, one sniper on a nearby roof top and a

set of eyes inside of a Uhaul van monitoring the cameras.

Gumolough. I want you and your men set up on the outside, covering

both front and rear." Looking at the men in suits. "I want Chris and

Mike to stand at the back entrance. James and Sid cover the front

door. The door greeter is one of ours. And I want Carl and Robert

with me. Gumolough instructs his team to his team over the radio.

Chief Warrant Officer 4 Larry Cummings alerts Lemieux that they

are approaching their target sight. "Where do you want it Ma'am?"

"Just huvver for a moment," she replies." "Gumolough, that building

right there is our target. Where do you want your men?" Looking

down at the buildings through his infered night vision googles, he

radios his team, "Team 1! Take position on top of that restaraunt." He

notices a man already on the roof. "Is that your man, ma'am?" "I don't

know," she replies. The man on the roof is Agent Spain. Barely

hearing the helicopters huvvering over, Spain lays down his weapons

and gives a hand signal, that only the SRT team knows to identify

theirselves. Gumolough quickly speaks over the radio, "Team one.

The roof top is a friendly. I repeat a friendly. Team two, take the roof

top to the building in the rear of our target. Team three, take the

target's roof top. C.I.D. has lead. We are only providing a safe

extraction for Eagle One's family." Team 2's Spc. Estabon Lorenzo

speaks out, "Eagle One's family is at a t***y bar?" "No stupid! This is

a bat swinging club for women," Spc. June Hennessey said out loud.

Lorenzo looked puzzled. "So tell me, why are we picking them up

again." "Enough of the chatter. Prepare to extract," Gumolough tells

his team.

The first helicopter moves into position, "On belay," yells Lorenzo,

as he repels out of the helicopter. Once everyone had been extracted

from the first helicopter, Agent Lemieux's helicopter lands in the

parking lot of Danny's All Day and Night Breakfast Club. The C.I.D.

team quickly moved into position before Lemieux made her

entramce. At the door, Doolen is greeted by Agents

Unfortunetly, while PFC Byrd was in her last week of A.I.T.

(Advanced Individual Training), Bird's parents were killed during an

early morning burglary that had went south. Bird's father, a retired

first sergeant, who began his service to his country, right their at Ft.

Ord, at which time he finished the true definition of boot camp.

PFC Bird had the opportunity to receive a hardship discharge, but it

wasn't in her blood. The best way to honor her father, was to pick up

where he had left off. If First Sergeant Bird were alive, he would of

been at her graduation and been there to welcome her to her first duty

station. But as it is, He had raised a strong and independent woman,

who would trail in his foot steps.

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