John Ringo - Ghost 03 - Choosers of the Slain

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Choosers of the Slain

Ghost 03

John Ringo

Chapter One

"Colonel Ushakoff," Mike "Jenkins" said as the unwounded Chechen prisoners were being unloaded at a

Georgian military prison.

Mike Harmon had been a college student at theUniversityofGeorgia when he'd witnessed the kidnapping

of a co-ed. Most college students would have picked up their cell phones, or run to someone that had

one, and called 911. But before he was a college student he'd been a SEAL and a SEAL instructor. So

he just jumped on the van and road it to it's destination.

That move, and a series of similar decisions, had led him to an underground bunker nearAleppo where

terrorists backed bySyria had brought American girls to be used as hostages. And their plans didn't just

include holding them, but torturing them for the cameras to force American units to leave theMiddle East .

Mike had lost one before he realized what the plan was, but he'd fought his way through to the rest and

held the position until relieved, along the way wiping out a chemical weapons factory, the Syrian

president and Osama Bin Laden.

This had earned him the grateful thanks of a nation, quite a bit of money and a price on his head from

every Islamic terrorism group on earth. Mike Harmon, Team Name "Ghost", had quietly disappeared,

maybe alive, maybe dead, and Mike Jenkins had reappeared in his place.

After being the wrong place at the wrong time too many times, Mike had settled down in

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theRepublicofGeorgia , using part of his reward money to buy a pleasant little farm with a group of tenant

farmers already in place. However, the security situation in the area being what it was, he'd taken the

opportunity to train the retainers as a local "militia."

The retainers, called the Keldara, had taken to it like so many ducks to water. A little digging turned up

the fact that the Keldara were anything but simple farmers. They were, in fact, the last remnant of the

Varangian Guard, the Viking guards of the Emperors of Byzantium. The group had apparently descended

from a small force of mixed Norse and Scotts-Irish that had drifted down through the Meditteranean until

encountering theByzantine Empire .

They farmed quite well but at heart, like the Kurds and the Ghurkas, they were warriors first and

foremost. A couple of million dollars in equipment and a similar amount in payroll for trainers and training

had turned them into a formidable, if small, fighting force. They had taken on a Chechen "battalion" at

nearly three to one odds and the prisoners and dead in the Georgian military trucks were the result.

Mike suspected it wouldn't be the last such battle for the group called "The Tigers of the Mountains."

"Mr. Jenkins," the Russian attache replied, nodding. "Quite a battle for a little militia."

"Untrained militia," Mike pointed out. "They were only in their third week of training. The teams fought

them straight off of their first days of range training."

"How many did you kill?" Ushakoff asked.

"One hundred and three KIA," Mike replied. "Including some who got froggy when we were in the

capture phase. Forty-two WIA, including some the doctors don't think will survive. And twenty-one

prisoners, unwounded."

"And Breslav?" the Russian asked.

"He, unfortunately, did not survive the encounter," Mike said, slipping a picture out of his jacket pocket

and handing it over. Breslav had, apparently, been directly in the area of effect of a claymore since his

torso and right arm were missing. However, his head was still attached and the expression of surprise

was clear on his face. As was the expression of satisfaction on the face of the Keldara that was holding

his head up by its hair. "I would have liked to capture him for intel purposes, but you can't always get

what you want."

"We are glad enough that he's dead," Ushakoff replied, smiling at the pic. "Can I keep this?"

"Certainly," Mike said. "It's a photo quality printout, anyway. We only use digital cameras."

"Three weeks of training, you said?" Ushakoff asked. "I think that my bosses will be impressed. Very

impressed."

"And, of course, the intel we forwarded you," Mike pointed out. "That stopped his team from

enteringChechnya . Can I take it we might be able to avoid a border war?"

"There is still the matter of the Paniski Gorge," Ushakoff pointed out. "That is where their main bases

are."

"I don't think the Keldara will be up to taking that on any time soon," Mike replied. "But we'll start

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interdicting their movements as soon as our training is complete. The Gorge will be a matter between you

and the government ofGeorgia ."

"I'll pass all of this on," Ushakoff said, pocketing the picture. "And I give you the thanks ofRussia , for

what it's worth."

"Oh, I'm sure it will have some use in the future," Mike said, smiling faintly. "You scratch my back, I

scratch yours. Take care, colonel."

* * *

"Back into training again," Nielson said in a satisfied tone. "Nothing like a little live fire exercise to get the

blood pumping and the troops motivated, but now they're going to think they know it all."

Colonel Robert Nielson was the senior officer of the group Mike had hired to train the Keldara. The

colonel's field credentials were impeccable but he was, at heart, a trainer. He loved taking soft clay and

molding it into soldiers. As such he'd been a very good choice to lead the training, although some of the

trainers, notably the SEAL and Marine Recon members, had questioned having a regular Army guy in

charge. That was until they started to see the results.

Mike had been flown back to the serai, courtesy of the Georgian government which was being

remarkably friendly at the moment. He'd consistently tried to downplay the Keldara, but having a fraction

of their force wipe out a Chechen "battalion" was, he was told, being discussed at the highest levels. It

had also made the international news, although the story for press consumption was a special Georgian

commando group. Which, in a way, they were.

"Get that out of their system with a good, solid After Action Review," Mike said. "I'll be on the grill,

too."

"Everyone was involved," Nielson pointed out. "Who conducts it?"

Mike started to answer when his sat-phone started to ring.

"Jenkins," he said.

"Pierson, go scramble."

"Scrambled, how's it going, colonel?" Mike replied when the system was in place.

"I thought it was going to be a year before you were fully in the groove?" Pierson said. "What's with

making network news?"

Colonel Robert Pierson had been Mike's "control" ever since his first mission inSyria . The colonel just

happened to be the guy picked to talk on the phone with some madman who had traced the kidnapped

co-eds half way across the world. Since then he'd received similar calls from Mike and made a few in the

other direction. He never ordered Mike, who was after all a free agent, he just suggested or in a few

cases pleaded. He was less a "control" than an information conduit. And in a way a friend.

"We did?" Mike asked, frowning.

"Slow news day," Pierson pointed out. "And the Chechens are still a bug-a-boo after Breslan.

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Apparently the guy you wacked had a small piece of setting that up. At least, according to CNN."

"Nice of them to tell us," Mike said, rolling his eyes at Nielson.

"Seriously, what did you do, use all the trainers?" Pierson asked.

"No, it was mostly Keldara," Mike replied. "Their first FTX. Right off of their first two days on the

range. The mortar girls had had more range time, but not much."

"Jesus Christ," Pierson said, wonderingly. "How far are you into training?"

"Three, four weeks," Mike said. "Depending upon whether you consider that training. Colonel Nielson

doesn't."

"I didn't say that," Nielson said with a sniff. "Just that it's interfered a bit."

"Well, the boss man said 'Good job' followed by 'next time, try to avoid the papers.'"

"Tell him I said thanks," Mike replied. "Anything else?"

"Just that," Pierson said. "I'll add my own 'good job.' Take care."

"Will do," Mike replied. "See ya."

"We were talking about an after action review," he continued, looking at Nielson.

"I was thinking it might make sense to ask DC," Nielson replied, gesturing at the phone with his chin.

"Thought about it," Mike said. "Too many fingers in the pie. You'll work up theAAR . Include me in the

review as well as yourself. Get Adams and a couple of the instructors to do a forensic of the shoot site. I

want a count of every round expended and a probable of who shot who. Work them all down and show

them exactly what they did wrong. And I did wrong. Start with my forgetting to bring the mortars; I'm not

used to having to think about integral heavies. And we had a major problem at one point with commo

control. I want that hit heavy, along with the fact that it slowed down the pursuit, and I want Vanner to

get started on what we can do about team freqs and sub-freqs. When Oleg told them to move by odd

and evens, the security guys wanted to get out and pursue. That has to be covered, too."

"Will do," Nielson said, sighing. "Can I have Kat to assist?"

"Go for it," Mike replied. "Hot wash tomorrow, fullAAR with all teams by the end of the week."

"Got it," Nielson said. "I'll get started."

* * *

"Vanner," Mike said, sticking his head in the radio room. Vanner was pointing to something on one of

the computer screens with his head nearly touching that of the Keldara female working the computer.

Mike wasn't sure who she was, but he was pretty sure she was a Makanee.

"Kildar?" the intel NCO said, spinning around.

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The term "Kildar" was what Mike was called by the Keldara but it had caught on with others. It was a

unique name for the local warlord, translating as something like "baron." What it meant, simply, was

leader of the Keldara and that was enough for those who had come to know them.

Patrick Vanner was a former Marine, but Mike tried not to hold it against him. The guy was plentiful

hardcore, but he was, nonetheless, the designated team geek. He'd been an intercept specialist in the

Marines then worked for the NSA for a while. After getting out he picked up a degree in computer

science which was almost superfluous to his actual knowledge, which when it came to electronics and

electronic intel was enormous. Short, stocky and crew-cut, he was proof positive that you could take the

boy out of the Marines but not the Marines out of the boy.

"Got a couple of questions," Mike said, gesturing for him to follow him out of the room. Mike led the

way to the war room and grabbed a seat.

"You look like you're getting pretty friendly with some of the Keldara girls," Mike said, raising an

eyebrow.

"Is that why you wanted to see me?" Vanner asked, frowning.

"No, but I figure I should ask about it," Mike replied.

"Galina and I are just friends," Vanner said, shaking his head. "She's really good at picking out freqs. I'm

being very proper in all my dealings with her. Speaking of which, I know these girls are being paid for

this, but is there some way we can get them rank? They're doing the job of commo and intel techs, which

in the military would make them privates or specialists."

"I'll think about it," Mike said. "But watch yourself. I don't want some Keldara Father on my case over a

pregnant daughter. Or even one that could be pregnant, if you get my drift."

"Got it," Vanner said.

"On the real reason I wanted to talk to you," Mike continued. "We had a real breakdown in commo on

the op. Not a breakdown, exactly, but..."

"The team net got filled with chatter," Vanner said, nodding. "That's partially a matter of training so they

don't just jump on the radio."

"I'd like more," Mike said. "Sub freqs for the sub-teams, a general freq for the whole team, then on up.

Something where the commander doesn't have to think about it to pass stuff down, though, and can listen

in on the chatter. Also, I want to start working on a battle net. Something where call-for-fire, at least by

those with the right equipment, is point and click. Probably with a voice back-up and confirm, but I want

to be able to point to a spot on a map and say: 'Send fire there.' I'd also like to be able to sketch out

movements for the teams."

"I can get all that," Vanner said. "Some of it's off-the-shelf and unclass but some of it's classified US and

European systems, mostly US."

"I think we can swing that," Mike said. "You find the system and I'll get permission for us to get it. Keep

an eye on whether it can be integrated into US battlefield systems. If we end up in a situation where we

can call for fire from God, I'd like to be able to do it. Look around at some of the firms that do C2 and

offer free field trials," he added, grinning. "Try to get a deal; it's not going to be cheap gear."

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"Will do," Vanner said. "Anything else?"

"If you and Galina get to be more than friends, tell me first," Mike said, seriously. "I'll see what I can do

with the Keldara. Unless it's a lot more than friendship, in which case you'll be going home with a

mother-in-law."

"Wasn't planning on it," Vanner said, frowning. "But it's a thought. She sure as hell is gorgeous."

"And she can cook," Mike said, nodding. "But she'd have to adapt to an entire new culture. A very, very

different one. Think about it carefully."

"I will," Vanner said.

"Now we're done," Mike replied, grinning. "Take care."

* * *

"What we're going to do here, is go over the action you just engaged in just like any other test," Nielson

said to the gathered Keldara. The hot-wash on the action was being conducted team by team, taking the

whole day to go over known faults. They'd started with Team Oleg as the one that had been involved in

the most combat. They were using one of the basement rooms in the serai for the review and it was

packed with the Keldara sitting on folding chair and looking nervous. "We will do one of these after

every action, so get used to them.

"The first thing to say, and I'll say it again and again, is that you did very well," Nielson continued,

looking around at the group. "Especially since you are in the middle of training. But there's no such thing

as perfect. This is a method to get closer and closer, though, if you pay attention. Right now, Chief

Adams and Sergeants Fletcher, Graff and McKenzie are walking over the skirmish area and working up

the full review. What we're doing today is called the hot-wash. We'll be going over individual and unit

actions as they are known and determining what we can do better the next time. I'll start with ammunition

expenditure."

He pulled up a list with a graph on the computer screen on the wall and pointed to a couple of high

points.

"There were over sixty rounds of 7.62 expended per casualty that was found to have been shot,"

Nielson said, pointing at the two graphs. "Not a total of sixty rounds, but sixty rounds per casualty. The

low round count was Oleg, which, given that he shouldn't have been firing at all, was pretty good at only

fifteen rounds. Oleg, why did you fire?"

"I...wasn't doing anything else, Colonel," the team leader said, uncomfortably.

"You were supposed to be paying attention to everyone else's actions," Nielson said, shaking his head.

"Chief Adams is, trust me, much more accurate than you are in a fight like that. But he expended no

rounds because he knew he wasn't there to fight. He was there to observe and control. You are given a

weapon for one purpose only; self defense or something that you have to shoot at because you can't get

one of the shooters to do it in time. That is it. Period. I can't imagine a reason for you to have expended

even one round in this engagement. Did any of the enemy get close to your bunker?"

"No, sir," Oleg admitted, dropping his head.

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"Keep your head next time," Nielson said. "You're there to control the flow of the battle. If you have to,

lead from the front if you're directly attacked; if you have to engage due to time constraints, you can

engage. Otherwise, keep your finger off the trigger! Beso!"

"Sir!" the Keldara said, sitting bolt upright. He'd been bent over talking to the Keldara next to him.

"Three hundred and eighty-six rounds?" Nielson said, clearly amazed. "How in the hell did you expend

three hundred and eight-six rounds?"

* * *

The day after the hot wash they took all six teams out and walked the ground, looking over what they

could have done better. Mike determined that Nielson was just better at picking out details on stuff like

this than he was. Everything from the timing on when he'd pulled in Vil to when he'd sent Killjoy and

Vanim down the hill was reviewed and critiqued.

The third day was a final review held in the main dining room of the serai. Mike had had more tables and

chairs brought in and there was just room for all the militia and the trainers. They'd even brought in the

females from the mortar section who were sitting at a separate table with their trainers. The girls were

looking smug as cats at being included in "guy talk."

"Kildar," Nielson said. "Could you stand up?"

"Here it comes," Mike noted toAdams , standing up at the head of the table.

"The recon movement to the observation point was good," Nielson said. "No major flaws there except a

lack of putting your point out far enough during the movement. No trash found at your bivouac of the first

night although there was debris at the main OP on the hilltop. I won't get into your choice of targets for

the sniper operations; that is idiosyncratic and depends upon human factors I won't argue. However,

your timing on withdrawal was quite bad. You very nearly got flanked by the pursuit party, you're aware

of that?"

"Yes, I am," Mike said, nodding. "I took a few more shots than I should have."

"Arguably, you should not have been shooting," Nielson pointed out. "You should have been spotting

and controlling and let Lasko shoot."

"I wasn't sure that would work," Mike said. "The ranges were longer than he'd trained on. I wanted to

make sure the sniper fire was good enough to really sting them. But I did pull out too late."

"Your movement, given the closeness of the pursuit, was about par," Nielson said, pointing to the map.

"Why did you choose to be the bait and send Praz and Lasko directly up the mountain?"

"I was in better shape to run," Mike said, shrugging. "Praz and Lasko weren't up to my level of

condition. As it turned out, they probably could have made it just as well, but it was a tough hump. In the

situation, I took the danger point."

"On reaching the ambush point you took one of the security bunkers for your position," Nielson said.

"Why? You couldn't maintain view of the battle from there."

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"I was following Chief Adams' direction," Mike said. "I assume that the pursuit party was close enough

thatAdams just wanted me to get to ground and that was the nearest bunker."

"In the planning stage you failed to consider the mortars for support," Nielson said, checking off an item

on the list.

"Agreed," Mike said. "I'd thought of them solely in terms of fixed position use. I'm glad you remembered

them," he added to chuckles through the room.

"Which brings us to the most critical danger point in this action: command and control," Nielson said.

"The true commander of the mission was the Kildar. But he was forward deployed and in action for the

majority of the mission. I was managing the battle, but I wasn't in command. The Kildar should have

either relinquished command of the battle or moved to a position that he could manage all the pieces. It

worked, because the Kildar and I could work together very well. But one or the other of us should have

been designated for command and that person should have been in a position to control the flow of the

battle."

"I'll comment on that," Mike said, stepping to the front. "I intend to always command from near the front

if at all possible. My intention is to make that possible through better technology. But, yes, in this instance

I was without effective maps and didn't really know where the pieces were. Colonel Nielson ran this

battle and did so quite well."

"Damned straight," Chief Adams said, loudly, starting the applause.

Mike waited for the applause of the grinning Keldara to die and then waved at the group.

"You've completed your first action and your first after action review," Mike said, grinning. "And I'm

sure you'd rather be back in combat than having it nit-picked." He waited again for the chuckles to die

down then nodded. "Again, you did well. And if we keep this up, each time you'll do better. But, for

tonight, you have met the enemy and survived. There is a custom among the military that from time they

have a dinner for only their unit, called a dining-in. There are various customs, which we'll work on as

time passes. But for tonight, you are the guests of the Kildar. Tomorrow, of course, you're back in

training. So . . . watch the beer."

"Kildar," one of the men said, glancing over at the two tables of women. "What about the women? Are

they to be serving?"

"Not if you want fire support next time, Viktor Shaynav!" one of the women yelled back. Which elicited

a room full of belly laughs at Viktor's expense.

"No," Mike said, as the doors opened and his various "girls" came in bearing trays. "Tonight you will be

served by the women of the Kildar in thanks for being loyal retainers and some of the finest soldiers it has

been my pleasure to serve with."

* * *

"Christ, I can't believe you got it finished so fast," Mike said, standing on the top of the dam. The outer

slope and top had even been seeded and covered in straw to prevent erosion while the inner slope was

covered in clay. The weir hadn't been closed, yet, so the stream at the base still flowed freely. But all that

took was turning wheel. It was barely four weeks after the battle and the whole thing was in place.

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"I've even got most of the houses wired with some fumble fingered help from the Keldara," Meller said,

proudly. "The big difference was getting the additional equipment."

"What about the channel to bring the other stream over?" Mike said. It was clear the streams hadn't

been joined up, yet.

"I used the spare Keldara to put a temporary dam in up there," Meller said. "Then I blasted the channel.

It created an embayment so the hydrostatic force wouldn't be so bad. We'll partially fill this with the

current stream then open that up, slowly, to add that stream in. That dam will probably wash away in the

spring, but by then you won't need it. You want to do the honors?" the engineer concluded, waving at the

wheel that controlled the weir. The controls were propped out over the water on a pier and had an

automatic lifting device for when the water rose too high.

"No," Mike said, shaking his head. "You built it. You close it."

"Okay," Meller said, happily. He stepped out onto the pier and calmly spun the wheel, dropping the

metal plate into its slot and stopping the water from the stream which immediately started to back up.

"We'll open up the other one in a few days when this gets about six feet deep."

"How long to fill it?" Mike asked.

"About two weeks," Meller said. "At which point you and the Keldara will have your power. And we

can start running water lines to the houses as soon as we get material."

"Start on that next," Mike said, nodding. "We'll have to figure out something for treatment; this stuff isn't

drinkable as is."

"Chlorine's cheap," Meller said, shrugging. "I'll look into it."

Chapter Two

"It's nice to mostly have the house back," Mike said, walking into the dining room. Nielson was drinking

tea and looking over some paper whileAdams was finishing off a plate of ham and eggs.

"Fewer fights over the girls,"Adams said.

The Keldara were well into their patrolling phase of training and that required fewer instructors. With

"basic" over, most of the trainers had left. A few were still around for patrolling and advanced training

and some, like Adams, Nielson and Vanner, looked to be permanent additions. But the house was

definitely less full than it had been. Especially with most of the trainers out running the Keldara around the

mountains.

"The girls" were local hookers that Mike had hired for the aid and comfort of poor trainers far from the

joys of home. The owner of the local brothel had given Mike a good deal on long term rental eventually

giving up the business entirely.

Four of the five girls were completely standardThird World working girls. Three of them were from the

local area farms, girls with no better prospect than being working girls for the rest of their lives, while the

other two were Russians. One of those, Katya, was somewhat different. Poisonously mean when she

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John Ringo - Ghost 03 - Choosers of the Slain

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