his perch on Kilo Three Sergeant Harris heard the whine of the ancient Russian-built four-wheeled BRDM armored reconnaissance car but was unable to figure out which direction the noise was coming from. Assuming it was somewhere in or near the village, and knowing Aveno and Amer were out there, the weapons expert frantically began to sweep the area while calling out a warning to the others. "Wegot company!"
This announcement sent a shock through Kannen seated on the hood of Kilo Two. "Where? What is it?"
"I don't know, but it sounds like an armored car. A BRDM or something." After making another sweep of the village and the horizon on both sides, Harris quickly added, "I don't see it. Does anyone else?"
Kannen was still straining his eyes in an effort to catch sight of the menace when he felt a hand grab his right boot. Looking down he saw Davis standing next to the rear of the humvee.
"Back there!" Davis screeched. "Back there!"
Jumping to his feet Kannen stood on the hood and turned, looking out over the roof of Kilo Two. Even without his night vision goggles he could make out the form of a BRDM barreling down on their position. That the Syrian recon vehicle could also see them was confirmed a second later when its 20-mm cannon cut loose.
Syria
20:43 LOCAL (16:43 ZULU)
The eruption of gunfire in the distance found Erik Burman and Sergeant Yousaf Hashmi on foot and not far from the center of the village. Instinctively the Special Forces officer threw himself on the ground and rolled up against' a building, which was, at the moment, the only thing that afforded him anything resembling hard cover. Once he came to a stop against the wall he brought his weapon up to the ready, flipped its safety off, and began to frantically scan the area around him for danger. Even in the midst of making himself as small a target as possible, it was clear to Bur man that the fire was not directed at them or anywhere near. Still, he responded as if it were. Hashmi didn't wait to be told what to do either. As professional as anyone else assigned to Kilo, the New York-born Syrian followed suit, twisting himself about as soon as he was on the ground, to check their rear and make stire they were not surprised from that quarter.
Having tended to his first order of business, that of providing for his personal sectirity, Burman now needed to find out what was going on. Fumbling until his left hand found the hand mike of the small radio that linked him to the other members of his command, Burman depressed the push to talk button. "Kilo, Kilo, this is Kilo Six. Sitrep, over."
While waiting for the scattered elements of his team to report their situation, Burman continued to look around in order to assess his own. Already he could hear the sound of the village coming to life. On the other side of the wall he was pressed up against he could hear feet hit the floor and begin to scurry about, 52
HAROLDCOYLE
accompanied by a flurry of excited voices. Deep down in the pit of his stomach, Burman felt a growing fear begin to well up, a fear that if left unchecked would turn into panic. He had to contain it, to keep it in check if they were to have any hope of surviving the next few minutes. Both he and Hashmi couldn't stay where they were for very long. That much was obvious. Soon, someone would come tearing around the corner and trip over them. It didn't matter whether they were civilian or military. Everyone in this village, with the exception of Hashmi, was a hostile, a person who would just as soon see him dead. They had to move. The sooner they did, the better their chances of getting away.
Only the failure to get any sort of response to his call for a situation report and a fresh burst of gunfire in the distance kept Burman in place. For all he knew there could be Syrian soldiers lying in ambush, waiting for them to make a run back to their humvee.
As dangerous as it was to stay where he was, it was even more hazardous to jump up and charge
This announcement sent a shock through Kannen seated on the hood of Kilo Two. "Where? What is it?"
"I don't know, but it sounds like an armored car. A BRDM or something." After making another sweep of the village and the horizon on both sides, Harris quickly added, "I don't see it. Does anyone else?"
Kannen was still straining his eyes in an effort to catch sight of the menace when he felt a hand grab his right boot. Looking down he saw Davis standing next to the rear of the humvee.
"Back there!" Davis screeched. "Back there!"
Jumping to his feet Kannen stood on the hood and turned, looking out over the roof of Kilo Two. Even without his night vision goggles he could make out the form of a BRDM barreling down on their position. That the Syrian recon vehicle could also see them was confirmed a second later when its 20-mm cannon cut loose.
Syria
20:43 LOCAL (16:43 ZULU)
The eruption of gunfire in the distance found Erik Burman and Sergeant Yousaf Hashmi on foot and not far from the center of the village. Instinctively the Special Forces officer threw himself on the ground and rolled up against' a building, which was, at the moment, the only thing that afforded him anything resembling hard cover. Once he came to a stop against the wall he brought his weapon up to the ready, flipped its safety off, and began to frantically scan the area around him for danger. Even in the midst of making himself as small a target as possible, it was clear to Bur man that the fire was not directed at them or anywhere near. Still, he responded as if it were. Hashmi didn't wait to be told what to do either. As professional as anyone else assigned to Kilo, the New York-born Syrian followed suit, twisting himself about as soon as he was on the ground, to check their rear and make stire they were not surprised from that quarter.
Having tended to his first order of business, that of providing for his personal sectirity, Burman now needed to find out what was going on. Fumbling until his left hand found the hand mike of the small radio that linked him to the other members of his command, Burman depressed the push to talk button. "Kilo, Kilo, this is Kilo Six. Sitrep, over."
While waiting for the scattered elements of his team to report their situation, Burman continued to look around in order to assess his own. Already he could hear the sound of the village coming to life. On the other side of the wall he was pressed up against he could hear feet hit the floor and begin to scurry about, 52
HAROLDCOYLE
accompanied by a flurry of excited voices. Deep down in the pit of his stomach, Burman felt a growing fear begin to well up, a fear that if left unchecked would turn into panic. He had to contain it, to keep it in check if they were to have any hope of surviving the next few minutes. Both he and Hashmi couldn't stay where they were for very long. That much was obvious. Soon, someone would come tearing around the corner and trip over them. It didn't matter whether they were civilian or military. Everyone in this village, with the exception of Hashmi, was a hostile, a person who would just as soon see him dead. They had to move. The sooner they did, the better their chances of getting away.
Only the failure to get any sort of response to his call for a situation report and a fresh burst of gunfire in the distance kept Burman in place. For all he knew there could be Syrian soldiers lying in ambush, waiting for them to make a run back to their humvee.
As dangerous as it was to stay where he was, it was even more hazardous to jump up and charge
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