They had blackface on, and as the evening sun crept below the roofs of the gas stations and hotels along the main strip outside the fence, any reflections by the low lying sun would hopefully be soaked up by the black grease. The sharpshooters needed no distractions as they prepared to execute their mission.
The plan was simple. The targets were arrayed just past a small hangar, occupying strategic positions from where it was assumed they would launch their attack. The counter plan was to get them before they could execute. This was do and make them die. As Lieutenant Phillips liked to joke, do or do do. There was no fail. Failure was not an option or there could be heavy loss of life.
He had three men situated on top of the hangar. He was afraid the targets would strike against an aircraft early, so if they engaged before all of his men were in position, these sharpshooters would do their best to take out the lead elements and then he would lead a charge to place withering fire on the rear elements and hopefully mow down every single one.
It wouldn't be easy if he couldn't get everyone in place in time. They had to use stealth to take their positions. The targets were uncanny. They had no regard for life or limb. They could care less if they took out an engine of a 737 and it plummeted to the earth right after takeoff and hundreds of passengers died. What's worse the fatalities on the ground from the plane crash, debris, and jet fuel fires could be disastrous as well. What if the plane crashed into a school or a hospital? He didn't even want to think about it.
He motioned to Strike Force Blue to circle around behind an abandoned luggage cart. He gave the sign to stay low and crawl into position. They were good men, and he was trusting them to secure the left flank. Now he looked over to Strike Force Green. They were taking the right flank near a fuel truck. One of the targets had been lingering near the tanker, but luckily decided to return to the core group. He saw him waddle away and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He could have blown the entire operation. He wiped some sweat off his brow and gave them the sign to proceed. They too hit the deck and got their suits dirty. It was tough crawling in flak jackets and Kevlar vests.
He even feared that the two flanking positions once they started the crossfire could cause some friendly fire casualties. He had told his men, make each shot count. Shoot for the head. One and done guys. But shoot fast. The motherfuckers were fast despite looking like a bunch of light weights. This was what the Department of Homeland Security had feared most, direct engagement on US Aircraft on American soil, and now their worst nightmare had come true. But not on his watch. Not in his backyard. Not in his hometown. No one would die at his airport, well, none of his people.
Now his own Strike Force Red entered a service door at the back of the hangar. The huge hangar doors were open and they had to be very careful, moving along the walls on each side hiding in the nooks and crannies. They had to have perfect timing to execute the element of surprise. They certainly had enough firepower. These SIG 551 short assault rifles could lay down 700 rounds per minute. All hell was about to be let loose.
He looked left, Blue gave the thumbs up sign. He looked right, Green was go. He looked up, snipers ready. His Red team had moved up on both sides and had crept up as far as they could go without revealing their positions. Hell, he had even taken the wind into consideration. He didn't want them smelling the sweat and stress of his men. But he could smell them, and it wasn't pretty. He could see their beady little scheming eyes. Well, prepare to die chickenshits.
He checked his watch. 7:05:00 he had said. It was fifteen seconds to go. Fourteen, thirteen, shit! One of them was making a break for it! "Open up!" he screamed. Everyone surged forward, guns blazing. The enemy never knew what hit them. Heads exploded, throats were sliced open by withering fire. Their bodies writhed in slow motion as his SWAT teams superior fire power never gave them a chance. Bullet after bullet screamed through the air taking out the targets with no mercy. And the two that had made a break for it were silenced by the accurate shots of his rooftop snipers.
"Hell yes!" he screamed giving a war whoop as they approached all the downed targets. Blood and guts and feathers were everywhere! "Damn, that was some fine shooting fellas! We smoked 'em! Yeah! Boo-ya! Teach you little muthafuckers, don't mess with my homeland!"
***
"Citing the need to prevent a "Miracle on the Hudson" emergency landing in Madison, the city's Board of Park Commissioners signed off Wednesday night on a plan to kill geese at Warner Park.
The reduction proposal would involve the first lethal measures taken against geese in a Madison park despite years of discussion about how these geese -- and their droppings -- are overwhelming city parks, particularly Vilas Park on the near west side.
The hazard the large birds pose to airport traffic, however, has sped up the process at Warner Park, located off Northport Drive on the north side, with introduction and approval of the plan all at the same meeting."
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