Jeff Head - Dragon's Fury 3 - High Tide

Title Page

DRAGON’S FURY

VOLUME III

HIGH TIDE

JEFF

HEAD

www.dragonsfuryseries.com

Coming Soon

BY JEFF HEAD

DRAGON’S FURY - THE LONG MARCH (Vol. IV) - Late 2003

DRAGON’S FURY - EAGLE’S TALONS (Vol. V) - In 2004

Other Novels

BY JEFF HEAD

DRAGON’S FURY– BREATH OF FIRE (Vol. I)

DRAGON’S FURY– TRODDEN UNDER (Vol. II)

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Publisher Page

Alpha Connections

Emmett, Idaho

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary. Any similarities to

actual persons or events are purely a result of the author's imagination.

This work, or any parts thereof, may not be copied, reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any

means; electronic, mechanical or otherwise without prior written permission from the author.

ISBN 0-9715779-3-5

Proudly produced in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Title Page

Publisher Page

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note

Prologue

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Maps and Illustrations

Glossary of Terms and Acronyms

About the Author

Dedication

This book, and the entire series, is dedicated to lovers of liberty everywhere, and to the principles upon

which true liberty rests: faith, morality, virtue, honor, free will, commitment, valor and eternal vigilance.

Most especially, it is dedicated to all of those Americans and their families who have served in defense of

liberty and sacrificed their time, their efforts, their very lives and the lives of their loved ones for that

cause, whether at home or abroad.

In particular the entire Dragon’s Fury series is dedicated to those victims of terror whose lives were so

brutally cut short on September 11, 2001, and to those selfless emergency personnel, firefighters, police,

National Guard and volunteers who worked to help the trapped and injured, and to recover the victims.

It is also dedicated with great respect and humility to the passengers and crew of United Airlines Flight

93. On that ultimate day of infamy, those heroes resisted their enemies and fought back, resulting in the

crash of their aircraft and the death of all involved before it could reach its target, thus saving hundreds if

not thousands of more innocent lives. Their struggle and the defeat of terror and tyranny on that day

foreshadows on a small scale the ultimate defeat of tyranny and terror by free people everywhere, who

when called upon, rise to whatever heights necessary to maintain liberty and virtue, irrespective of

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sacrifice or cost. God rest the souls of those brave passengers on Flight 93.

Finally, this work is dedicated to those committed and professional service men and women who have

been, and will be, called upon to bring about a just and lasting retribution for the attacks of 9-11 that

killed and injured so many. May we honor all of these sacrifices, and may we be prepared to make our

own sacrifices for liberty and for our Republic wherever and whenever necessary.

Acknowledgments

As with all of the volumes in the series, special thanks go to my family for their faith in me. In particular,

thanks to my dear wife of 25 years for her love, patience and help with this work and to my sons, Jeff

and Jared for their reviews, input and suggestions. In addition, thanks to my father, A. L. Head Jr., a

combat veteran of World War II, for all of his feed back and support, and to my mother, whose

Christ-like love and faith have always been an example and inspiration to me.

Once again, I cannot have a section on acknowledgements without personally thanking those who have

collaborated with me.

Thanks to Joanie Fischer of Pennsylvania, for her reviews and encouragement.

Thanks to Chris Durkin of Pennsylvania, for his edits and invaluable technical input. Particularly for his

inspiration in this volume in christening the CVX as the U.S.S. Shanksville, CVN 93.

Thanks to Cory Emberson of Lightspeed Editing for her proofs and extremely positive attitude about this

work.

Thanks to Matt Bracken of California, for his reviews, for his ideas regarding the overall strategic

scenario, and for his input as a former U.S. Navy Seal platoon leader.

Thanks to Arthur Hines of North Carolina for his input on the overall scenario as someone who served

so ably on the point of the sword in the U.S. Special Forces in Vietnam.

Thanks to Matthew Riley of Connecticut, for his reviews, edits and for his input as a former U.S. Navy

Seal regarding military logistics, combat and equipment.

To each of these and all others, who have encouraged me and put up with my ramblings,I say again,

heartfelt thanks.

Author’s Note

Every effort has been made to make Volume III of the Dragon’s Fury series, “High Tide”, a standalone

novel that can be purchased and read individually. In order to do this, in the introduction of characters

and the story line, short paraphrasing of past activities have been included in an effort to bridge the

volumes together. Hopefully this will allow first-time readers enough flavor and background to enable

them to enjoy Volume III without having to first read the other two volumes. At the same time, I have

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attempted to do this in such a way as to also allow those who have already read Volumes I and II to pick

up the tale with as much continuity and as little redundancy as possible.

Obviously, such an effort is an attempt to satisfy two conflicting interests. I believe I have struck a good

balance. I suppose that time, the experience of readers and their comments will tell whether my attempts

have been successful or not. In either case, whether you are a new reader of the series, or whether you

are returning for Volume III after having read the others, I hope that the read is an enjoyable, compelling

and thought provoking one for you

I say all of this with one final comment and observation. The books are written as a series. Even though I

am making every effort to allow the various volumes to be read as standalone novels, they really were

meant to be read as a series and I sincerely hope everyone who picks up one volume of the series and

reads it, will be inspired by that reading to read them all.

Prologue

August 23, 2007, 7:15 AM, CDT

Convalescent Care Unit, Private Room1012A

U.S. Military Medical Facilities

San Antonio, Texas

Almost imperceptibly, the all-enveloping light slightly faded. To anyone not accustomed to that bright

and penetrating light, the fading would have gone unnoticed. But to Leon, who had been totally

consumed by the light for what seemed to be many, many hours, the fading was noticeable and dramatic.

The surrounding landscape, which until this time he had only perceived as gently rolling and too wondrous

to adequately describe, came into better focus. The face of the figure that had been sitting with and

speaking to him since he had realized he was in this place also came into view. Funny, although he was

aware the man had been gently and calmly speaking to him and comforting him, he couldn’t remember

exactly what had been said. Now, out of the glare of that comforting, penetrating light, the face became

recognizable. It was the face of his deceased father.

“Dad! Is that really you? Where are we…how can…am I?”

His father’s understanding smile seemed to penetrate his heart and soul. It was a smile that he had not

seen in many, many years…at the same time, it had a quality about it that he had never seen.

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“Yes, son, it is really me…and if you are asking me whether or not you are dead, I can tell you that you

are as close as one can come without it actually being so. But it is not your time to remain here in this

realm–there is much more for you to accomplish before that time comes. The time has come for you to

go back, and when you do, you will forget most of this experience. One thing you will not forget, though,

is something I am grateful for–that you have seen me. Tell your mother and your brother that I am fine,

and that I love them.”

Leon, despite the training and the hardness drilled into him by Marine NCOs, could not hold his tears

back. They streamed down his face as he felt the warmth…the comfort…the love that this place exuded,

and that was conveyed in his father’s voice which penetrated his very soul.

“But where is this place? Why do I have to go back? …Dad, I have so much to ask you and so much to

tell you!”

His father’s eyes bored into Leon’s as he spoke. “It’s okay, son…I already know. One day you will,

too…but not now. Remember, I am so proud of you!”

As his father said this, the light dimmed further, and the very elements in the atmosphere surrounding him

seemed to coalesce and envelope him. Then, those elements appeared to circle around him like some

kind of swirling gray cloud, blocking off the view of the realm he had just been in. A feeling came over

him as if he were falling, and involuntarily his eyes closed and his mind drifted. As it did, he flashed back

and heard the voice of his commanding officer back on the island of Diego Garcia.

“Leon, get the hell out of there!”

Those shouted words again came to him as if from a dream or from another world–a world outside of

the one he had just known andlived so thoroughly. It was almost as if he had never known a world other

than the one he had just visited. But the voice of the officer had cut through all of that. He found himself

slowly turning his head, and looking down the slope that was visible there, to where his commanding

officer was standing at its base. There, with its blades slowly rotating, was an SH-60 helicopter standing

behind his CO where five Marines were providing security. It was the only helicopter in view.

Somehow that voice, and the view of his CO and the helicopter, had reawakened in Leon the

knowledge of what he had to do. Turning quickly, he emptied his last magazine into a group of

approaching Indian soldiers who appeared about fifty yards away. Throwing the empty rifle down, he

reached down with one hand and grabbed his wounded NCO’s pants at the waist. With his other hand,

he grabbed the wounded Private Jacobs, and then draggedboth men towards the helicopter.

He had gone no more than ten yards when he felt again that tremendous yank on his right calf, and he

collapsed to one knee on that side. Summoning all his strength and ignoring the pain, he stood erect and

kept going. After a few more yards, another tremendous jolt hit his back and he stumbled forward,

almost falling but somehow retaining his footing. As he continued forward, he watched the Marines below

him, now only thirty yards away, firing past him at figures appearing on the ridgeline behind him. As he

trudged on, he looked down and noticed the crimson on his chest, the ragged hole in the front of his

fatigues, and the ragged flesh–his flesh–surrounding the wound.

Inexplicably he remained standing and kept moving down that small hill, both the NCO and Private

Jacobs still in tow. Three of the five Marines were down now and being loaded into the helicopter. His

CO and the other two Marines kept up a steady covering fire, joined now by a door gunner on the

helicopter using an M-60 machine gun to stitch rows back and forth along the ridge. As he approached

within five yards of the CO, Leon somehow gathered the strength and with an almost superhuman surge,

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he hurled both the NCO and Private Jacobs forward to the waiting arms of two medics who had come

forward from the helicopter. Just as they took the men from him, there was an incredibly bright flash

immediately behind him and Leon’s eyes opened wide as he was violently thrown forward.

August 23, 2007, 7:18 AM, CDT

Convalescent Care Unit, Private Room

1012A

U.S. Military Medical Facilities

San Antonio, Texas

She had been there all night, like every other night for the last several months, keeping her vigil. Alan

would help out in his off-hours during the afternoon and evening, then she would come and sit with Leon

through the night until Alan could return. It was a cycle that she and her youngest son were intent on

maintaining until Leon’s condition resolved itself.

Late last year, when Leon had finally been transferred back to the United States and the hospital near

Washington, D.C., Geneva and Alan had both taken time off to be with him. After the severe injuries he

had sustained on Diego Garcia last August when the U.S. Marines retreated and were evacuated from

the island, the prognosis had not been good. From the time he lost complete consciousness on the flight

deck of the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln, Leon had remained unconscious and in a comatose state. His

injuries had been severe, with a bullet wound to his leg and back, his head and back torn by shrapnel

from a mortar round, the trauma of a severe concussion and significant trauma to his medulla.

But, over time, most of those injuries had healed, though Leon was still unable to breathe on his own,

due to a continued loss of function from the injury to the medulla portion of his brain. The

unconsciousness and comatose state resulting from those head injuries showed no signs of improvement.

He had been in that state for over a year now. Many experts had tried to gently warn Geneva that he

might never regain consciousness…that perhaps she should consider having the life support equipment

turned off. It was something that Geneva would never consider, and Alan supported her 100 percent.

They would stand vigil until Leon either regained consciousness, or until he passed from this world.

And they had the support of the public and the President in this decision. The President had been briefed

on Leon’s heroics soon after the fall of Diego Garcia. In an environment where America desperately

needed every bit of good news it could find, and where the people needed to know of every inspirational

and heroic event, the President had responded positively and quickly to the recommendation that Leon

be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. Moving swiftly, Congress had approved the award. In a

nationally televised event in the middle of May–almost nine months after the action–the President had

presented Leon the Medal of Honor here at his bedside, with a promise to have another event in the

Oval Office as soon as Leon recovered sufficiently to make the journey.

Geneva would never forget the pride she felt as the news media focused on Leon’s life, and how he had

improved himself and lifted himself out of the gangland environment of Chicago to make something of

himself. Leon’s story of study at night in the city library, passing his proficiency and GED tests on his

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own, his acceptance to Boise State University, his study there, and finally his enlistment in the United

States Marine Corps and subsequent actions were an inspiration to all Americans. They were particularly

an inspiration to those still involved with the gangs Leon had forsaken. The talk on the street from the

young men now was a desire to become like, or be compared to, “L.C.”, and many were taking the

initiative to do just that.

The feelings that filled Geneva’s heart when the President had referred to all of this during his

presentation, and when he had turned to her and thanked her and her deceased husband for instilling in

Leon the values that made all of it possible, were something she could never put into words. Her respect

for the President for recognizing Leon’s upbringing, and making note of it to the nation, was something

that magnified her respect for her President tenfold over the already immense respect she had held for

him. As she thought about all of this, a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision drew her attention to

Leon’s face.

“Did his eyelid just move?” she asked herself as she intently stared at her son’s face.

He seemed to be peacefully lying there in his comatose state, when she witnessed his left eye move

under his eyelid, and then both of his eyelashes began to flutter. She put her hand to her mouth and stifled

a gasp as both of Leon’s eyelids raised and he suddenly opened his eyes in an intelligent and surprised

stare.

“Captain!…Captain?” he muttered through his breathing apparatus as his eyes focused and he became

aware of his immediate surroundings.

“Leon! Son, it’s okay. Don’t try to talk. I’ll get a nurse,” Geneva said to him as she leaned over him,

held him by the shoulders, and looked into his clearing and more comprehending eyes.

She pressed the call button for the nurse, who arrived within a few seconds and began examining Leon,

checking his pulse and looking into his eyes, checking the irises that now showed the abrupt and

pronounced change of her patient’s condition. The first nurse immediately called other nurses, who made

calls to the staff physicians on duty. In the meantime, Geneva, according to long-held agreements

between herself and Alan, called him on her cell phone and announced the good news, never taking her

eyes off her son, who stared back at her just as intently.

“Alan! Oh, Alan! He’s awake. Praise the good Lord, he is awake! Come quickly!”

August 23, 2007, 12:30 PM, CDT

Convalescent Care Unit

U.S. Military Medical Facilities

San Antonio, Texas

“Leon appears to be remarkably alert, Mrs. Campbell. We were able to take him off the assisted

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breathing almost immediately, and he is anxious for you and Alan to come back into the room so he can

share some things with you. His ability to converse is nothing short of astounding, and while I want to

stress that my current impressions are nothing more than preliminary, he’s a tough young man and I’m

hopeful about the possibilities for his improvement.

“Now, there is no reason for me to keep you from going back in there and picking up where you left off.

We performed a thorough exam and disconnected some of the life support and assistance equipment he

had required up until this point. Don’t be put off by the fact that the equipment is still in the room. We will

keep it there for a while, purely as a precautionary measure in case there is a relapse. I personally believe

that the chances for such a relapse at this point are remote, but we want to be safe.”

As the doctor finished speaking, both Geneva and Alan thanked him, and entered Leon’s room. As they

did so, Geneva turned to the doctor. “Doctor, could you work with the folks here and the military, and

make sure the reporters are held off for at least the rest of the day? I know they’ll be wanting to get the

story out, and I know it will be important and positive news for so many folks around the country who

have taken a liking to Leon…but I would like him to not have to put up with all of that for a little while

yet.”

The doctor smiled knowingly and nodded. “Mrs. Campbell, don’t you worry. The Colonel has already

taken care of it. The news will be announced late tonight, and there will be no press allowed in Leon’s

presence for at least another forty-eight hours. Doctor’s orders. The military public relations people will

handle things during that period, although you and your son will most certainly be asked for interviews by

the networks. How you respond to that is entirely up to you.”

Geneva again thanked the doctor and entered Leon’s room.

August 23, 2007, 12:32 PM, CDT

Convalescent Care Unit, Private Room

1012A

U.S. Military Medical Facilities

San Antonio, Texas

Upon entering the room, she found Alan already sitting on the side of Leon’s bed. Leon was propped up

on the bed with pillows, and the two of them were just completing a brotherly embrace. Both had tears

streaming down their faces. As she walked over to the chair next to the bed where she had spent so

many nights, her cheeks glistened as well.

When she sat down, she was surprised to see Leon reach out his own hand, which had laid still for so

many months, and weakly seek the touch of hers. Looking at her, with tears running down his face, he

said, “Mom…I…I saw Dad! I don’t know how…I can’t explain it…but I saw him. He talked to me for

the longest time, but I can’t remember much of it…but he wanted you and Alan to know how much he

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loved you and how proud he was…how proud …”

At this point Leon broke down and sobbed openly. His memory of that experience and the feelings it

stirred were simply overwhelming. Both his mother and his brother embraced him as they cried too.

Geneva was amazed at Leon’s declaration and wanted to ask him about it. But she knew that such

questions could wait.

After a few minutes, Leon regained his composure and continued in his hoarse and tentative voice. “It

seemed like only a few hours since I blacked out. The last thing I remember from the battle was landing

on that aircraft carrier, and being taken off the helicopter…then nothing…except for the warm light and

then Dad. It only seemed like hours…but it’s been over a year? Where is everyone? How are the guys

from my unit? What’s happening with the war?”

So began a five-hour conversation where Geneva Campbell and her son Alan brought Leon up to date

as best they could on events that had transpired in the world over the past year since he had been

wounded.

They informed him of all they knew of his unit. The senior NCO who had been with Leon on that hillock,

and who was one of the two wounded men Leon had carried down the hill, had not made it, dying the

very afternoon that they landed on the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln. Although Leon was disheartened and

saddened by that news, he was elated to hear that Private (now Corporal) Jacobs, his security man, had

survived, and had visited him often until he completely recovered from his own wounds and was shipped

back to their unit. He had earned a Silver Star as a result of the action.

The CO whose voice had pulled Leon away from the combat had been wounded by the same explosion

that had thrown Leon forward. It was the CO, wounded as he was, who had ultimately carried Leon to

the helicopter as they made good their escape. The CO had recovered quickly, and was himself back

with their unit in the field. He, too, had earned a Silver Star for his efforts that day on Diego Garcia. Both

the CO and Corporal Jacobs wrote often and called on occasion to check up on Leon. They would be

elated to hear of his regaining consciousness. They were both stationed somewhere in the Mediterranean,

but their exact location or disposition was of course a matter to which neither Geneva nor Alan were

privy.

With respect to the overall war effort, there had not been much good news in the last several months.

The GIR had gathered a massive and still-growing army of over five million men around Israel. The

United States, the United Kingdom, and the Canadians had valiantly kept the Mediterranean sea lanes

open to assist Israel. Together they had all built up significant defenses in depth, even expanding the

Israeli perimeter to include the southern valleys and coast of Lebanon and half of Jordan. Those two lines

of defense were anchored in the center by the Golan Heights facing Syria. To the south, the Sinai

Peninsula between the two arms of the Red Sea provided sound defenses that were anchored to the west

along the Suez Canal. The canal itself was long since closed to all shipping due to the intense fighting that

flared up around it very regularly.

In all, the Allies had 2.5 million regular troops and two million more citizens organized into citizen

defense forces arrayed against the growing GIR force. Geneva and Alan were convinced that ultimately,

a pivotal battle of gargantuan proportions was going to take place in that confined area. Leon knew they

were right and that the GIR would carefully choose the time and place for it to begin…though he hoped

Allied forces could build up enough men and materiel to pre-empt the GIR attack and counter their aims.

All of Northern Africa from Morocco to the Nile was under the control of the GIR. Italy and Spain had

made valiant, combined force efforts to establish footholds along the coast in order to open up a second

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Jeff Head - Dragon's Fury 3 - High Tide

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