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OPERATION CLYDESDALE--PEDOPHILE ERADICATION
Posted By: Rayelan
Date: Saturday, 11 December 1999, 2:45 a.m.
?Message from Rayelan Allan:
My husband, Gunther Russbacher wrote the following dedication to the men who
accompanied him on the covert mission Operation Clydesdale and who never
returned.
This story describes a covert mission, in which Americans died in service of
their country. The men named in this story are some of the nameless stars
that are on the marble wall at CIA headquarters at Langley , Virginia.
I would like to dedicate this story to all the men, living, wounded and dead,
who have risked their lives in defense of American ideas, on missions so
secret that they can never be revealed to anyone.
Many of these men... (and women too), are your fathers, your brothers, your
husbands, your neighbors. They live double and triple lives. They live on the
edge, always ready to spring into action in the need arises. They have no
real lives of their own. They live in a constant �on call� state. When the
call comes, they never know if they will come home dead or alive. They never
know if they will see their wives and children again.
These men (and women) are the unsung heros of America�s secret wars. When
Gunther wrote this, he took the time to add the family side of his life. The
way in which he wrote this article allows people to finally get a glimpse of
the lives covert operatives lead. With this understanding, I rededicate this
article to all the men and women who have led or still lead the life of a
covert operative.
Operation Clydesdale
BY: GUNTHER KARL RUSSBACHER
THIS IS A STORY OF THE PERVERSION OF MAN, AND HIS INTENT TO IMPOSE HIS WAY
UPON AN UNSUSPECTING POPULACE. IT IS A STORY ABOUT A GROUP OF RUTHLESS MEN,
WHO HAD CHOSEN TO VIOLATE THE VERY SANCTITY OF HUMAN LIFE AS WE HAVE COME TO
KNOW IT.
IT IS ALSO A STORY ABOUT THE MEN, WHO, AGAINST ALL ODDS, POSSESSING EXTREME
PERSONAL DEDICATION, WERE WILLING TO SACRIFICE THEIR LIVES IN THE ATTEMPT TO
RESCUE A YOUTH FROM SURE AND CERTAIN DEATH, AT THE HANDS OF AN INTERNATIONAL
WHITE SLAVERY RING.
THE YOUTH WAS STOLEN AND FORCED TO COMMIT THE MOST VILE AND VULGAR ACTS FOR
THE PERVERSE ENJOYMENT OF OTHERS, WHILE CAMERAS RECORDED EACH EXPLICIT SEXUAL
ACT FOR ALL POSTERITY. WHEN THEY WERE THROUGH WITH HIM, THEY NOT ONLY TOOK
HIS SANITY, BUT EVERYTHING HE HAD EVER CHERISHED AND HELD DEAR. THEY LEFT HIM
WITH NOTHING HE COULD TRULY CALL HIS OWN.
THIS YOUTHFUL LAD IS REMEMBERED HERE, ALONG WITH THE MEN WHO GAVE THEIR VERY
LIVES, IN ORDER THAT HE, AND THE MANY UNTOLD OTHERS MIGHT CONTINUE TO LIVE.
THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO THE
MEN I LOST AND LEFT BEHIND. YOU
SHALL FOREVER BE A PART OF ME.
I SALUTE YOU, ONE AND ALL!
MAY GOD GRANT EACH OF YOU
YOUR RIGHTLY DESERVED ETERNAL
PEACE.
IN CARING MEMORY,
GUNTHER K. RUSSBACHER
JEFFERSON CITY, 110
APRIL 19, 1993
OPERATION CLYDESDALE
By: Gunther Karl Russbacher
It was a cold and wet Thanksgiving Day. The overnight temperatures had dipped
to near record levels, as we gathered in the formal dining room to begin the
special meal. I didn't think that there would be quite so many of us, as we
began the process of finding our seats. As always, I sat at the head of the
table, in one of the uncomfortable captains' chairs, all the while hoping
that the somber meal would pass without incident from the children. I glanced
in the direction of my eldest son, who at the time was age eight, but like
many of the children his age, going on sixteen. He was an innocent, living in
a world that didn't necessarily consider children to be innocent. Quickly, I
stole a hurried glance to the man seated to my right. An expression of
extreme pain crossed his brow, as he sank his eyes towards his dinner plate.
None of the men in the room were able to meet each others eyes. It was a time
of grief, abject sadness; a time for the tears we couldn't cry. The cold
anger of the men was evident throughout the strained meal. Everyone was
merely going through the motions, picking at the food, which was placed in
front of them. Three members of my Special Operations Group were dead. Two
others had sustained such severe injuries which would, in all likelihood,
preclude them from further service with the Group. The civilian death toll,
attributed to accidental and or stray rounds, for the entire operation stood
at four. The actual ordered or condoned sanctions exceeded a verified body
count of sixty-seven. Although the operation was considered a raving success
by Rudolph Guilliani, the United States Attorney for the District of New
York, we felt betrayed by and through the revocation of the Executive
Sanction which had fielded our unit, and given us clear and free hand to
terminate, with prejudice, any and all persons associated with the targeted
pedophile ring, both at home and abroad. We were stopped short of that mark
by the President of these United States. There was no reason for happiness
that day on which all America celebrated as the day of Thanksgiving. The
historians were writing the year 1985. It had been a year of absolute
turmoil. It was a year of red hot paramilitary tactics, and international
terrorism. We were steeped in far too many operations, and were to the point
where rookie hirelings and contract labor became prevalent throughout the
entire Agency. After our guests had made their good byes, leaving to return
to their own homes, I retired to my little sanctuary to reflect upon the
history of the last few months. Much had happened to my little family. Not
only was I absent from the home for months on end, having little or no time
for my own children, I was also in the middle of divorce proceedings. All in
all, it was. not the kind of a year one cares to etch into his memory.
Slowly, my tiredness began to catch up with me. My eyes grew increasingly
more heavy, permitting the entire file and record of events of the past
months, to flash before me. With heavy heart and moist eyes I gave in to the
memories as the macabre occurrences danced before my hooded eyes.
II The days were just beginning to get warmer and longer, permitting a little
yard work, in hopes of getting our home readied for spring. The decision was
made to have a combined birthday party for our sons, consisting of pizza, ice
cream, more pizza, and even more noise, at the local Chucky Cheese Pizza
Parlor. My wife, at that time, was massaging her temples in the hope that her
headache would abate. Our children, in concert with the many neighbor
children, danced around our chairs, whooping it up as if it was the
re-enactment of that fatal day at Little Big Horn. At the rate they were
going about it, we would soon suffer the same fate as the men of Custer�s
Cavalry. The brightly colored Indian headdresses and tomahawks were about to
reduce two normal and relatively sane adults to babbling idiots. I excused
myself under the pretext of going out to the motor home to look for
cigarettes. The cellular phone was ringing as I inserted the key into the
door lock. Without giving matters a second thought, I answered the call. It
was the Chief of Station of the St. Louis area office..He stated that we had
received the go ahead to field an operation designed to flush out and
identify pederasts and other pedophiles in the St. Louis, Miami, Phoenix,
Seattle, Chicago, and New York areas. The request for an operation was
formulated in such manner as to include the entire country. Our SOG (Special
Operations Group) had entered the picture earlier, after an extensive fact
finding investigation into the pornographic movie industry. It didn't take
all too long to determine that the real problem wasn't the "old fashioned
plain brown wrapper" kind of pornography. That, in itself, would not have
been of sufficient interest to the Central Intelligence Agency. Our
involvement commenced after being contacted by the FBI. They had asked us to
bring on line a major sting operation designed to flush out potential buyers
and traders of "kiddiporn", as well as sexually explicit porno films wherein
a victim is brutalized, savaged and ultimately murdered at the point of
orgasm. The entire ritualistic murder scene is recorded on film and generally
distributed throughout the cult circles. Many of the SNUFF films (the term is
derived from the act of snuffing out the candle [or spark] of life while the
camera continued to roll) find their way to Europe or the far East. Our
Intelligence Organizations had been tracking the disbursal of material for
several months. The extent of the distributor network amazed even the most
seasoned operatives. We were awaiting operation orders prior to bringing the
Covert Operations Division on line. Hours later I was sitting in our offices,
eagerly awaiting the transmission of the operations order from Washington,
D.C. Although we had received verbal A-okay for the operation, written
details and executive consent was still forthcoming. We whiled away the time,
lounging around the office, making small talk, and generally keeping each
other occupied. Photographs of a young lad were lying on top of a dossier.
Glancing at the desk I saw that it contained a rather high security code. It
was marked in blue, gold and white. The lad appeared to be approximately
twelve years of age, and somewhat bleached of color. Little did I know what
he had gone through prior to the time of the taking of the photograph. The
file stated that he had been used for kiddiporn and that he had recently been
sold as a sex slave. We had received intelligence that-the boy had been sold
to an East German photographer. The last location given as to his whereabouts
placed him somewhere on the East German and Slovak border. He was being moved
from location to location, all the while making porno films for his captors.
We were to set up the operation for an extraction and to terminate all
targets in the field.
The wire began to hum, as the decision to go ahead was coming in from Covert
Operations, via a Field Intelligence Order. I turned to Roger, my second in
command, and began the process of assembling an operations plan. A quick cup
of coffee, made sickeningly sweet by using honey instead of sugar, propelled
my sugar levels to dangerous highs. A phone was ringing of the hook in -the
conference room. after numerous rings a colleague stated that he had received
a call from Portland, Oregon, advising that cousin Richard was on his way to
the airport to catch the first flight to St. Louis. With good speed the
entire hit and extraction team was being assembled. It wouldn't be long until
the rest of the old and long true cadre would find its way to the Blues
capital of the Midwest. We were now reduced to waiting, preparing the
logistics for the long flight to the staging area. The time to write the
Operation Plan for Operation Clydesdale was at hand.
The necessary calls went out to Meteorology, Group Operation Support, and
foreign, local intelligence support. It was expected that we had specific
assets in place which could render initial support upon landing at the
insertion site. Several calls to the Ops Office in Bad Godesberg, Germany,
provided much needed intelligence on speed crews who were to accompany our
team to the insertion site. I asked for SEALS and or other branches of the
Special Operations Forces. Due to the hurried nature of the pending
insertion, we dismissed the idea of fielding additional SEALS to weatherproof
and render safe the designated arrival area. An "A" Team of the Tenth Special
Forces, of Bad Toelz, Germany, was' offered. The offer was quickly discarded
as we made contact with our own Delta Force Extraction Unit.
It was a lucky coincidence that they had just returned from a training
exercise, landing at our facility at Rhein Main AFB, Frankfurt, Germany. The
Chief of Station of Bonn assured me that the Delta Unit would be placed into
an isolated and sterile environ, pending our arrival at Rhein Main. It took
another five hours until the entire Team had arrived in St. Louis. Those who
could took commercial flights, while the far removed members were provided
fast movers (fighter aircraft) to bring them to our location. The time had
come to excuse myself and make for the ready room in order to write my part
of the operation plan. Glancing around the room I couldn't help but smile at
the faces of the men who had shared the taste of wet operations around the
globe. The time. was at hand to strike a blow against the satanic element
which had grown to alarming proportions on all fronts.
Little did we know what we were about to encounter. No one had an inkling of
how high and deep these operators had infiltrated the very government we
served. The operation was a firm GO, by any standard, but as said, we had no
idea of what we were about to encounter. I can state, unequivocally, that we
were about to be plunged into the darkest recesses of hell!
The teleprinter apprized us of the fact that the targets had considerable
influence in East Germany as well as Czechoslovakia. They also knew that we
had placed strong inquiries onto the international wires, in order to secure
their location and relative strength. The idea that a reception committee
could and would be waiting for us was taken into consideration. Local assets
in East Germany, Austria, and Czechoslovakia were contacted and placed on
high alert status. Soon a purge would be launched against the international
pedophile community. our intent was not merely to arrest these God awful
perpetrators, or to smuggle them to a safe pick-up point for our Federal
Authorities. We were given the Green Light to commit to "Field Resolutions",
terminating the targets with extreme prejudice. The operation had been
sanctioned from "ON High", therefore leaving little doubt about the final
outcome. our intent was to enlarge upon the Operation Orders, the listed
sanctions, bringing down their murderous friends who had chosen to terminate
innocent children, for the sake of pornographic snuff films, while others
were hiding behind the rolling cameras. I asked cousin Richard, as well as
Roger Rabbit to assist me in the writing of the general operations plan.
Quickly the steel vault door of the small chamber closed and sealed behind us
as we entered the secure room. We were in the inner sanctum of the St. Louis
office of ' the Central Intelligence Agency. Everything we needed had already
been laid out. With gusto, but stern intent, we launched ourselves into the
birth of "OPERATION CLYDESDALE."
OPERATION CLYDESDALE
PROJECT CLASSIFICATION: TOP SECRET; SOG-SI/6 Copy No. 1 OF 3 COPIES
SOG/ALPHA/DELTA/-DETACHMENT TS-Q/SOG-D/F; 201 (insert complete routing and
code classification Nos.)
CD279853 STAGING AREA: RHEIN MAIN AFB, FRANKFURT, GERMANY DATE OF OPERATION:
08 MAR. 85 DOS/DIA/CIA 850308:0001Z OPERATION ORDER 2-687/4 REFERENCE:
EUROPEAN QMVB: MAP SERIES K-424, CZECK; L-415, GER;
M-216, AUS. SCALE: 1:50,000
1. SITUATION
A. Hostile Forces: Heavy hostile traffic and activity along the Czechosolavak
borders with Austria and West Germany. Realtime reconnaissance Sat/Intel
designates and reveals medium to heavy border, and other ground forces.
Sat/Intel designates such forces as Soviet and Czech forces, which have been
detached from main units to reinforce standard border patrols in the
anticipated DZ areas.
SITUATION UPDATE
B. Hostile Forces: Latest Sat/Intel discloses the ground build-up is
comprised of STB and KGB elements. Assessment of update: EXTREME CAUTION
REQUIRED.
Meteorology and Forecast: High pressure system dominating target and DZ area.
Intermediate cloud cover at 14,000 ft., otherwise, clear skies. Moist, cold
air. Anticipated and projected temperature range: 40OF to 280F.
Half Moon: 47% illumination
Sunrise: 0714 hrs. Sunset: 1618 hrs.
(1) Terrain: The terrain is comprised of low rolling hills. In the
higher elevations the terrain is open with majestic evergreen
forest areas. The lower ground is mostly open cultivated land.
Night movement will be relatively easy.
(2) Identification: The Hostile Forces are comprised target
members as well as Czech and Soviet troops. Probable STB and
KGB elements have been identified.
(3) Location: See map overlay - Enclosures # 1-4.
(4) Activity: Combined target and hostile forces are currently
reinforcing the border guard units, as well as setting up security
check points around the target property, and road blocks on the
main routes leading to the target property. Additional roadblocks
on main routes leading to the border areas have been noted by
friendly border overflights.
(5) Strength: Indeterminate, however all indications
indicate/suggest ground forces are currently held at least double
normal strength.
C. Friendly Forces in Target Area: None.
(1) Airborne or Ground Fire Support Available: None.
2. MISSION
A. D/F; 01 Detachment: Will conduct infiltration exercise to secure perimeter
and contact local agent/asset on DZ, provide logistics as well as possible
ground fire support for SOG, and esc-ape and evade to extraction site. (See
map overlay-enclosures # 1-4)
B. AGENCY/DIA Component: Will access local asset, determine feasibility of
extraction; acquire and define all existing targets; remove the minor child,
while terminating all of the targets found on secured premises. Escape and
evade to extraction site. (See map overlay-Enclosures # 1-4)
3. EXECUTION
A. Concept of Operation: DIA/CIA/ODA-204 (Half Team) will conduct the
operation in two (2) phases.
Phase I: Airborne Operation - Night HAHO infiltration to DZ to link
with local agent/asset and minor child.
Phase II: Escape and evade, after termination of all targets, ,~vith minor
child to extraction site.
B. Coordinating Instructions:
(1) Time of departure and return:
Depart: 08 Mar. 85-2100 hours
Return: 09 Mar. 85-0600 hours
(However, mission has final priority)
(2) Infiltration Route; Escape Route; Evasion Route, as well as
Coordinates of DZ and Extraction Site: See Enclosures numbered
1-4.
(3) Rally Point: See Enclosures 1-4. The Detachment Leader/
Commander will designate the Rally Point-to be used only if the
unit becomes separated or disorganized.
(4) Actions on Hostile Contacts: As per Detachment Field Standard
Operational Procedure, TERMINATE WITH PREJUDICE.
(5) Actions at Danger Areas: As per Detachment Field SOP.
(6) Actions at the Objective: Take control of the minor and escape and
evade while remainder of Team is sanitizing the entire target area.
(7) Prisoners: NONE shall be taken.
(8) EEI (Essential Elements of Information): None
(9) OIR (Other Intelligence Requirements): None
4. AGENCY AND SERVICE SUPPORT
A. Supply:
(1) Rations: One (1) days' rations will be provided and carried into the
insertion zone.
(2) Arms and Ammunition: As per Special Requirements -see
Enclosure # 5
(3) Clothing and Night Equipment: As per Special Requirements -see
Enclosure # 5
(4) Method of Handling Wounded: Walking wounded will
accompany Detachment. Critically wounded will be cached until
the mission is completed. At which time recovery attempts will be
made to bring out and/or extract such wounded personnel.
(5) Method of Handling Dead: Bury (shallow), mark grave site, record
grid coordinates, and report at debriefing upon completion of
mission.
5. COMMAND AND SIGNAL
A. Signal
(1) Signals to be used by Detachment will be hand and true electronic
signals.
1. Detachment Code Names:
Walker-Raven/01 XXXXX-oriole/12
Benson-Rabbit/02 XXXXXX-Turtle/18
Brenneke-Silk/03 XXXXXX-Orion/04
Henderson-Joker/08 XXXXXX-Piper/15
Spann-Catnip/19 XXXXXXX-Hawk/25
XXXXXXX-Leopard/23 Parker-Horse/21
Peters-Bear/22 XXXXXX-Samson/16
XXXXXXs-Fly/07 XXXXXXXXX-Goose/06
XXXX-Crane/00 XXXXXX-Mama/05
XXXXXXX-Lancer/09 XXXXXXX-Dancer/10 (The names that have not been X�d out are
or men who are �dead� or whose covers have been broken to such a degree that
they have become public figures. Walker-Raven/01 is Gunther Russbacher.)
2. Code Words:
St. Louis Blues - Have taken control of subject child
and proceeding with escape and
evasion.
Riverboat Gambler Have reached extraction site.
Ticket Taker Mission has been compromised. This
signal is to be followed by Situation
Report ASAP.
Delta Queen Targets acquired and terminated.
3. Challenge and Password at Rally Point: Old man River.
(Any combination of
words will do.)
B. Command
Chain of Command: Walker-Benson-Brenneke-Pauley-XXXXXX-
XXXXXXXXX-XXXXXXX-Henderson-XXXXXXX-
XXXXXXX-XXXXX-XXXXXX-XXXXX-XXXXXX-
Spann-Parker-Peters-XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX-
XXXX /Supercargo
ADDITIONAL ENCLOSURES: Map overlays of radar gaps and checkpoints along
airborne infiltration route to target area. Required time and altitude at
each checkpoint. Photograph of subject (minor). Code Name for local agent at
DZ. Communication frequencies.
DEBRIEFING: Detachment will be debriefed upon completion of mission by CIA
Deputy Chief of Station-Bad Godesberg at isolation area.
III.
THE MISSION
Approximately six and one half miles from Bonn, West Germany, at the end of a
remote, tightly secured airstrip, which happened to not appear on any
aeronautical charts, the turboprop engines of a Lockheed C-130 shook and
roared to max power as it began its takeoff roll and lumbered down the long
runway. Steadily gaining speed, the throttles firewalled, the transport
rattled and creaked, threatening to come apart at the seams, as it rotated,
lifting its broad frame into the cold night air, while climbing slowly away
from the retreating lights of the CIA isolation base and mission staging
area. We were banking into a slow turn, while gaining altitude, the C-130
heading due east before following a southerly course over the mountainous
region of the beautiful Bavarian forest which formed the West German frontier
with Czechoslovakia. The course had been most precisely planned to track a
narrow corridor, above and parallel to the commercial airline routes of the
area; the takeoff time of 2030 hours coinciding with a period of heavy
commercial air traffic. If all went according to our plans our effort to
divert attention from the Czech radar operators away from the flight path of
the C-130 would soon be augmented by elements of the United States Air Force,
based out of Rhein Main AFB. The DCI, through proper channels, had requested
two formations of fighter aircraft to fly border cover for us. The fighters
were scheduled to arrive in the border area at the same time as the C-130.
Their mission, the true purpose unknown to the pilots, was to conduct high
speed night maneuvers a few miles north of the release point where my Team
would exit the transport via HAHO parachute jump. All was going according to
the preset plan. We were nearing the point of no return; a point where the
mission would be committed to go. I left the cockpit and made my way to the
aft section of the plane. Jockeying for position, I saw the faces of the men
with whom I would be sharing nods and last instructions. We were set to go. A
firm resolve was visible on all the faces .... the team was ready for
whatever might come. I found my seat of nylon webbing, located on the
starboard side of the aircraft, while the vibrations of the deck plates
traveled up through my entire body. The sound of the engines was somewhat
muffled by my helmet, while I listened to the rhythm of my own breathing
through the demand regulator attached to my oxygen mask. My thoughts were
concentrated on the mission. The details of the OPS Order were burned into my
memory, along with the countless other details I would have to call into
play, before the long night ahead was to be over. At the staging area, and
along the flight to Germany, there had been no false bravado or tough talk
about the mission, just a silent confidence and professional ease. Most of
the men had served one or more combat tours in Viet Nam, or taken part in
some strategic-OPS, planned and orchestrated by our masters in Langley. To a
man, we were seasoned veterans, ready to do a job. My eyes settled on BXXXX
XXXXX, the CIA paramilitary specialist seated on the opposite side of the
aircraft. XXXXX had been chosen by the Agency to act as oxygen safety man and
jumpmaster for the HAHO insertion. Needless to say I had questioned him at
length at the isolation base, and was more than satisfied that XXXXX was far
more than merely qualified to handle the tasks assigned to him. The man had
made more than two thousand jumps, and had been through special jump schools
during his lengthy tour of service with the Army. We were rapidly approaching
the drop zone, as we continued to monitor each other, making sure that our
systems were being saturated with oxygen, making all the while sure that we
weren't hyperventilating. Such irregular breathing, caused by stress or
symptoms of hypoxia. We had been prebreathing pure oxygen for thirty minutes
prior to take off from the staging area, and would continue to take in such
oxygen for the duration of the thirty minute flight to the release point,
saturating our systems for the jump. our safety margin was slim as continued
to climb to thirty-three thousand feet. At that altitude, hypoxic effects
could occur within 45 seconds. We removed the arming pins to permit our main
chutes to open at the twenty-five hundred feet level, in the event that any
member of the team became dysfunctional or physically incapable of deploying
the chute after exiting the aircraft. The aircraft had reached thirty-three
thousand feet and was now fully depressurized to the outside air pressure in
preparation for the opening of the tailgate ramp. Despite the inefficiency of
the heater in the cargo bay, the team was well insulated from the ice cold
air. Upon arrival at the isolation base, we had turned in all clothing and
personal effects, including all items of identification. We were issued
forged Czech identification papers, the equivalent of seventy-five dollars in
Czech crowns, and the sterile and untraceable clothing and equipment stored
at the site for our mission. We wore East German boots, socks, underwear, and
thermal longjohns. These were worn beneath Czech made civilian slacks, shirts
and parkas. A one piece, insulated jumpsuit, light gray color, and gloves
worn as the outer laver, would provide the additional protection which we
would need against the fifty- degree-below-zero temperature and sixty mile an
hour winds which we would experience while exiting the aircraft at
thirty-three thousand feet. The helmets, goggles, and oxygen masks,
completely covered our faces and heads. There was no skin exposed for
frostbite by and through the high-altitude temperatures and the wind-chill f
actor as we descended under canopy. Our teams primary weapons consisted of
German made H&K (Heckler & Koch) sound suppressed nine-millimeter submachine
guns. We carried them secured to our sides on the outside of the jumpsuits.
In such position they provided for ready access in the event of trouble at
the landing site. The wet team members also carried Walther twenty-two
caliber sound suppressed automatic pistols. They were carried in shoulder
holsters, beneath the parkas. Extra magazines of ammunition were stored in
the bellows pockets of the parkas, along with the freeze dried rations, and
two mini-grenades, which were to be used in the event of ambush or to break
contact with a superior force. In addition to these items I carried a small
satellite relay radio, attached to the small of my back. All of the equipment
used to bring us to the drop zone would be discarded and left before leaving,
dressed as civilians. The tension and adrenaline flow increased as we saw
XXXXX give the six minute warning. I pulled down my goggles and responded to
another oxygen check, as the red lights went on over the tailgate. The huge
cargo bay resonated with the high pitched whine of hydraulic motors as the
tailgate was lowered to its horizontal position, forming a ramp on which we
were to stand. Frigid air filled the entire aft section of the aircraft, as a
gaping black hole opened to the night sky. Four minutes later, our sense
heightened, our eyes clear and alert, we received our two minute warning. It
brought the start of the jump commands. In response to the first command
(XXXXX raising an outstretched and an open hand upward), we got to our feet,
conducted an equipment check, and prepared to disconnect from the oxygen
console. At the one minute warning, we activated our individual oxygen
systems, known as the "bail out bottles", which would sustain us through our
descent to ten thousand feet, where we could safely breathe the available
air. The steel bail out bottles, stored in the compartment on the side of the
parachute pack tray, were actually two small high-pressure canisters,
specifically designed for high altitude jumps to provide a demand regulated
thirty minute supply of pure oxygen, with most of the moisture removed to
prevent the oxygen-mask valves from icing. We disconnected from the main and
on board system, checking each other to make sure that our units functioned
properly. We remained standing, ready to exit the aircraft. The command came
.... we moved slowly, and in unison to the rear of the aircraft. We were
huddled and standing together three feet from the end of the ramp. The main
reason for standing so close was to assure us a fast out, and limited lateral
dispersion. All systems were go as we switched on our secure inter team
radios. The headsets were built directly into the helmets with a voice
activated microphone at our throats. Through this equipment we would be able
to communicate with each other from a distance of up to three miles during
our descent. I gave my thumbs up signal to indicate that I was ready. The
rest of the team followed suit. XXXXX raised his arm which was bent at the
elbow. A single finger pointed upward. All eyes were on the jumpmaster as the
green light came on. His extended finger jabbed vigorously toward the exit.
It was time to go. I was the first man in the line and moved the last three
feet to infinity. Without thinking, I stepped away from the metal of the
aircraft. The operation had begun. All in all the descent went rather
smoothly. we remained close together, all the while calling to each other and
monitoring our descent. The chutes were more like paragliders, and therefore
steerable to any compass point. The HAHO (High Altitude High Opening)
exercise had gone well. Soon we were gathering the shrouds around us,
monitoring the location of each team member. The local agent, using night
vision goggles had spotted us. We were met, and began the process of
evaluating the raw data and information, which would bring us to the target
property. Considering the nature of nighttime operations all had gone quite
well. We launched ourselves toward the objective. It was cold and dark during
the late winter night, but the mere thought of the young lad, less than five
miles away, spurred us on. We wanted to be there within a short period of
time, and coordinate the rescue of our subject-child. No voices were heard as
we began the trek to the property. Our Deltas had performed in their usual
and professional manner. They established point and rear guard, permitting us
the leisure of walking in a sweeping formation. All in all we were making
excellent time. Within thirty minutes, I signaled for a stop. That permitted
the me to eat a candy bar, or use the outdoor facilities. We were ahead of
schedule. There was no need to push ourselves, knowing that within the hour,
after all intelligence had been processed, the shooting match would begin.
The weapons were held at the ready, in case unexpected company were to drop
by. With comfortable thoughts, I placed my hands over the shoulder holster,
feeling the cool smooth touch of the Walther. This was, and still is, the
weapon of choice for the professional in the field. The signal was given to
resume the trek. Absolute silence would now be called for as we were entering
the outer perimeter of the target zone. The slightest sound. could
conceivably jeopardize the success of our mission. There was truly very
little room for error. Mistakes in our line of work tended to be paid for
with the blood of our own. We had come to a small stand of trees, trying to
remain within the cover of the additional darkness provided by the
evergreens. The road ran parallel to the trees and was therefore an immediate
landmark for our journey. A sudden flash of brilliant light flooded the stand
of trees, turning the night into glaring day. All of us froze in midstep for
a brief second before reacting instinctively, and dropping flat unto the
ground which was covered with ankle deep grass. We unslung our weapons as we
fell. I had already returned to the edge of the treeline, crawling on my
stomach into the sparse underbrush. The other men, caught in the open, began
crawling towards me in an attempt to reach the woods and the little cover
they provided. The glare of the floodlights concealed their source at the far
end of the clearing, about forty-five yards away. A voice came out of the
darkness, amplified by a bullhorn, shattered the accustomed silence. It left
no doubt in my mind that we had dropped into a well organized ambush
situation. Although the harsh words were muffled by my headgear - we re
nonetheless clearly heard. "Lay down your weapons and walk to the center of
the field with your hands raised above your heads," the high pitched, heavily
accented voice ordered. "There is no possibility of escape. Do as you are
instructed or you shall all be killed." The fact that the voice had spoken in
English was not lost on me. It made the situation explicitly clear. They were
expecting Americans. Cursing under my freezing breath, I scanned the opposite
end of the field. Squinting into the lights I readily determined that they
had been arranged in a half circle, just inside the other side of the woods.
It didn't take a great deal of deduction to determine that the troops and
security forces were lying deployed, in the same manner, providing them
fields of fire, all the while permitting them coverage of the entire
clearing. It was doubtful that they would be foolish and endanger their own
men. The team was now within ten yards of my position, at the edge of the
woods. The curses I heard through my headset reminded me that all the
interteam radios were still on. Under my breath I told them to keep moving
straight ahead. I was directly in front of them, and was therefore able to
provide a little support in the event that shooting erupted from the hostile
force. The silence was broken again. This time by a single short burst from
an automatic weapon. one of the Czech soldiers on the left flank of the half
circle formation had broken fire discipline. The others, assuming the burst
had been a signal to open fire, joined the melee. Within a matter of two or
three seconds, the night air was filled with the sharp, staccato sounds of
automatic weapons, as a chain reaction from the hostile forces sent a flurry
of rounds across the clearing. The rounds sent a cracking through the
underbrush causing spouts like small fountains of soil and other debris from
the ground around the team. I heard two distinct cries of pain. The sounds
and voices made the situation clear. One of my men was hit in the leg, while
the other took a series of rounds in the upper chest region. I scrambled
quickly to my left, crashing through the woods to attain a position where I
could return fire without hitting my own men. The thought struck me why the
local asset had not been more accurate in assuming control of the drop zone
and the line of march to the Target Zone. However, there was little time to
really consider the whys or the hows. It was imperative to secure the team
and prepare them for a front guard delaying action. The team had to be split
up if we were going to be able to move against the target proper and extract
the subject child. Through the interteam radio I instructed the men as to
what was expected of them. To a man everyone cooperated and followed the
prescribed path. The Delta Group began to open fire on the ground forces,
pinning them with accurate small arms fire, while others began to lob the
mini grenades into the ranks of the hostile forces. One of the Deltas, a
sharpshooter of great reknown, began the process of shooting out the
floodlights. Soon we were bathed in pitch darkness. It would take several
minutes for the opposing team to regain their night vision, and I hoped above
all hope that during this brief period of time, I would be able to gather the
kill force and proceed to the target, less than one-half mile away. The
diversions worked well, opening a corridor for forward movement to the
target. Crouched and perspiring from the excess adrenalin pumped into our
systems, we forged ahead. Within a few minutes, we were at the target site. A
few hand signals, coupled with short radio transmissions, we prepared for the
assault. Through my night vision glasses I was able to determine the strength
of the outer defenses. It was a job which could be done with nominal loss of
life. Quickly I positioned the team for the assault. I placed the
satellite-relay radio into XXXXXXX's hands, motioning him to remain behind
and to secure our retreat after finishing the assigned tasks. The entire team
opened up on the target. The noise and the smell of automatic weapons' fire
filled the cold night air. We crossed the little makeshift forest clearing
and crouched at the walls of the target. on the count of three, we broke open
the main entry door and flooded the interior, with guns blazing. There were
men and women everywhere. However, the subject had not yet been seen by any
of us. Rounds of automatic weapons fire rained indiscriminately at the
occupants of the building. Chests and heads exploded as the rounds impacted
with soft tissue. Spraying fountains of red glistened in the soft light of
the rooms. No one was spared by the angry buzz of our weapons. Death had
taken command of the, room. With speed we forged ahead into the other parts
of the building. Room by room the search for the subject child continued. We
had come a long way to retrieve the subject and were not at all prepared to
vacate the premises of death without the child. No amount of noise or
pandemonium would be able to stop us from completion of the mission. Doors
popped open, displaying the occupants. There were no questions asked, or
lengthy discussions held. Each room was sprayed with steel until all movement
had ceased. After all, the operation orders clearly specified that we were
not required to take any prisoners. We arrived on the landing of the second
floor. Several occupants of the house had decided to return fire and attempt
to save their lives. None of the return fire could have been termed as
effective resistance. None of the men or women had the slightest chance.
Sure, there was the odd round which came close to hitting one or more of my
men. However, as indicated, the resistance was slight and shallow. Soon we
would be involved in the mop up segment of the operation. I arrived at what
appeared to have been a corner salon. Kicking the door off the hinges I
gained entry. A quick sweep of the room indicated that our subject child was
present. He was flanked by what appeared to have been two men, wearing hoods
and bright scarlet clothing. The taller of the two had an open front pair of
pants. His genitals were exposed as he bent over the child. Closer
examination of the situation disclosed that the man had a stiletto like knife
in his hands. He made the motion of drawing it toward the subject. At that
very moment Pauley came flying through the door. Without considering the
field of fire, he sanctioned the man with the knife. With a shriek of pain
the man doubled over and collapsed on to the floor. He had taken four rounds
to the chest. Surely, he was dead before his bullet riddled body hit the
floor. I came to the lad, covered. him with a bedspread from the massive king
size bed, and began to softly whisper into his ear. Over and over again I
told him that we were friends, and that we were there to bring him back home.
There wasn't even the slightest spark of recognition or emotion in his cold
and seemingly chiseled face. He appeared traumatized and therefore incapable
of any response. The bedspread fell from the child's shoulder, exposing his
left side. I was not prepared for the scene. The child had been tortured and
brutally marked with branding irons. Multiple tiny red scars, delineating
pentagrams were etched into his bruised and torn skin. The boy was in
immediate need of extensive medical attention. By this time, the gunfire had
become sporadic, down below. We were ready to finish the mission and extract
ourselves from further involvement. I rallied the team and issued the
necessary field orders to terminate all targets. The members of the team
began the process of venting the sinus cavities of the remaining survivors.
No one was spared. The body count was made and preparations to destroy the
building were under way. Mini-grenades, coupled with cooking oil was deemed
appropriate for the task. The pungent odors of blood, urine and feces, became
so overpowering that I gagged, as I was bringing the boy outside. Bell was
waiting to make the necessary, in person identification. As soon as he would
give the A-Okay, we would proceed to the pre-arranged extraction site.
Arriving at the rally point, I began the head count. We had suffered losses.
Fuller-Mama/05 had received a clean head shot from a small caliber weapon.
Peters, the Bear lay in a puddle of blood. He had taken the full load of a
twelve-gauge shotgun in the chest. There was no spark of life in his
terrified and open eyes. Spam-Catnip, appeared to have been hit so often that
none of his features were recognizable. by any team member. Larson had
received a round in the face. Although his wounds were not critical, he would
never be the same again. XXXXXXX, in heat of the fire fight, stumbled after
arming a mini-grenade. It had blown off his entire right hand. He would
survive if we could get him out in time to tie off his bleeding veins and
arteries. I cringed as I looked at the mayhem about me.
With haste we returned to the perimeter where the Delta Group fought a losing
battle against the hostile ground forces. Simple radio commands advised them
to fall back and cover our retreat to the pre-arranged extraction site. I
asked for a head count and was advised that five of the Delta Group had been
lost to hostile fire. during our raid against the target property. With sad
hearts, we began the labor of burying our dead, marking clearly the spot of
such burials. The walking wounded were not cached but rather came with us to
the border area, where we were scheduled to interdict a flight of Hueys.
These birds would bring us to safety and back to our side of the border. We
force marched the contingent to the border, waiting only ever so briefly for
the Delta Team to fall in behind us. In the distance, gun fire was still to
be heard. It didn't have or carry the urgency it had at the target premises.
Hostile helicopters and armored vehicles could be heard in the distance. We
had to move fast in order to extract ourselves from what was rapidly
developing into a nasty international incident. The satellite relay radio
unit was continuing to burp messages to our forces. The Hueys were At the
pick-up point. All we had to do was reach the border area.
There was no time for discussions or small talk. The operation had been
salvaged, at great cost, while many of our men had suffered the pain of
hostile fire. I knew deep down in my heart that we had been sabotaged and
betrayed by one or more of our own men. After all, the opposition had been
ready and waiting for us upon arrival in the little forest. There was no time
to reflect upon the reason for such betrayal. our every sense was geared in
the direction of making it to the safe place; the helicopter pick-up point.
The Delta Team was doing a great job of keeping the main force of f our
backs. The overhead whirring of choppers began to fill the air. We looked for
flight lights, but found none. With fast beating hearts we scrambled for the
four large creatures which hung from the heavens. We were spotted. A green
light was shown from the side or belly of one of the birds. A quick reply
over the radio indicated to the air crews that contact was secured, and that
we were ready for extraction.
Within a matter of three minutes we were airborne, winging our way over the
border. We were safe, leaving the Delta Team to extract themselves from a
highly volatile situation. They were true professionals and knew what to do
to -escape and evade capture.
For all intents and purposes, our mission had been accomplished. The subject
child had been found, secured and transported to freedom. All that remained
was the task of telling the families of our team-mates that they had died in
a formal training exercise. No one would ever know what really transpired to
take the lives of their loved ones. Another team, composed of a sterilization
crew and a sanitization crew, would soon be fielded to retrieve the bodies of
the fallen comrades.
Once again, the true heroes of the operation gave their lives so that others
might live. For us, the men in the field, it was another repeat of the
operations of the recent past. I am of course referring to the numerous
sabotaged and betrayed operations, which had cost so many lives, in the
jungles of Southeast Asia, to the bloody shores of Beirut, Lebanon. For years
I have led men into acute danger situations, and have grudgingly accepted the
death tolls which tend to permeate and erupt as a result of and from such
surgical strikes. The faces of my dead colleagues live within my soul. They
are my constant companions and shall accompany me, forever.
During the flight back to where our C-130 was to rendezvous with our party I
tried, numerous times, to evoke a response from the lad. I was not able to
reach him. It soon became obvious that the lad was lost and that he had
retreated to the corners of his mind. No amount of soothing words or coaxing
could bring forth the slightest response. My heart bled as I watched the
stone like face of the young sitting across from me. The C-130 was waiting
for us at the pick-up point. They had brought a combat surgical team with
them on the flight down. Lord only knows that we needed them ever so
desperately. As soon as the most pressing wounds had been tended to, the lad
began to occupy the time of the doctors and nurses. At first it was
considered to give the child a sedative. However, that idea was quickly
discarded as the medical team went through their first stage evaluation. The
child was as if dead to any attempt to reach him. The assessment of the team
was that he would never regain his mental faculties. His face had been frozen
in a mask of sheer terror, with his hands appearing like claws instead of
human appendages. It was all we could do not to shed rivers of tears. Viewed
from the point of having recovered the child, the mission was a com-
plete success. The pained faces of the wounded was forever to marked in my
mind, as the C-130 crossed the outer marker, inbound, in final preparation
for landing. Our debriefing was lengthy and dry. No one accepted
responsibility for the soured operation. The wounded were brought to 97th
General Hospital, while the youth was secreted away, shortly after our
arrival in Bonn. To this date no word has reached me as to the fate or future
of the youth. I can only assume that he had become a permanent victim of the
child-porno-war.
The sun had begun to peek through the clouds as I boarded the Lufthansa
flight from Cologne, Germany to JFK airport. Soon, I would be reporting back
to the man who authorized the operation. We talked a few minutes over a
secured line from the American Embassy, earlier that morning, and decided
that the soured operation was not to be put to bed. We were to go after additi
onal targets, identified as being both on American soil, as well as on the
European continent. It was far from over. A new list had been drafted.
Operation Clydesdale would receive the required additional funding. We were
at war with the perverted pedophile community, both at home and abroad. our
task was to eradicate the scum, forever. I remembered looking at the men
during the debriefing sessions, wondering what the final outcome would be.
There was little doubt that the lad would never be able to find a place in
the society which had ignored him during the years of turmoil, shame and
extreme pain. For him, time no longer moved in any rational manner. He would
become a ward of the federal government.
Messages In This Thread
OPERATION CLYDESDALE--PEDOPHILE ERADICATION (views: 458)
Rayelan -- Saturday, 11 December 1999, 2:45 a.m.
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