SITREP:

Geo Space: Somalia, Mogadishu

Time Stamp: 0700 October 3^rd 1993

Mission: Evacuation/Retrieval

“Chalk One proceed to Super 61”

“Oscar Kilo” said Lt Smith. Dust swirled, seeking ingress thru his army issue googles. His small team was designated Chalk One. He was in charge of fixing the cluster fuck known now as Super 61.

After several Delta Force snatch and grabs even the Somalis had figured out how to lay an ambush…or maybe they just got lucky. Either way Smiths challenge today was to reach the site, only shoot people with guns, and not piss off the locals.

Right.

Then secure the site for evac.

A Delta Force sniper team and the pilot were relying on him and his men to provide them with the urgent support they needed.

The area was teeming with locals, armed rebels, armed locals brandishing everything from cricket bats, baseball bats to machetes. Time was not on the side of the Rangers.

Ammo was low, the pilot injured and Lt Smith had a sinking feeling this was going to be a shit fight. The RoE meant they had to be basically fired on first or risk being mobbed. Everything a soldier needed to do had strings attached.

Direct conflict had been avoided so far. Using satellite guidance and back alleys the men minimized exposure to random gunfire.

 

As the men closed in, and the sun rose higher in the sky the wind died down along with the dust. Body armor chaffed, weapons grew heavier with each nerve racked pace. The sound of high caliber rounds started to become clearer; as did the chanting and shrill noise of the mobs. They were close to the objective.

It happened quickly, streets cleared, windows closed and Smiths men were caught in a deadly cross ifire mid over watch transition. Cement, dirt and debris spat up all around. Wild, erratic reckless fire rained upon them. Dangerous fire, from unskilled men and boys, hell bent on their death.

“Frag ’em”,

“Tango down”,

“I’m hit”,

“Corpsman”,

“Tango down”,

“Reloading”,

“Reloading”,

 

The bodies fell only to be replaced. Guns were snatched from dying hands. Only to be dropped moments later.

Yet the way was barred.

“HQ I need a route.”

“Stand by came the airconditioned cool voice at the other Tactical Combat Center.

Moments passed. The hail of fire continued. “Confirming route west 150m, no street traffic”

“Roger that” Smith said. He organized his teams, to close assault the building due west while the rest of his men by passed, and headed down the road past the mobs and militia.

 

 

As the building was cleared and the men paused to reload and body check, they heard the angry cries from behind. More fighters approached.

“Chalk One, this is a SITREP, Delta Force under heavy RPG fire. Requesting ETA”

……

Silence.

Static.

“Chalk One, urgent SITREP ”

“This is Chalk One” said a panting Smith. ” we are under heavy fire. Cannot see a clear route to Super 61. We are close but do not know how much resistance is ahead. We have a large mob on our tail.”

Silence from the other end.

“Understood” Said the dispassionate voice finally from the static. “Proceed at haste”

“Guys, we got to move faster, the pilot and sniper team are under pressure, we need to run the gauntlet or else we may all be in bigger trouble. Buddy up, stay in pairs keep visual contact with me. One more block and the chopper will be in sight.” Smith finished speaking, eyed his men.  They were resolute, nervous but resolute.

“I need 4 man team providing over watch at that intersection” he said pointing across the street. “Suppress the bastards, choose targets carefully.”

“The rest of us can support from across the street , and plan from there. GO!!!” He finished not waiting for an answer.

Burning tires, bullets and riotous noise assaulted Smith and his men. Twice in a 150 yards his men were hit, forcing them to fireman carry either a lost soul or a wounded man.

Firing from overwatch the fireteam peppered rounds at armed combatants, then continued moving ever closer to the chopper.

Smith and his men held off two attacks and reached the chopper. Just as RPG rounds exploded nearby. Shrapnel filled the air, eardrums hummed, vision blurred.

The wounded and dead were laid next to the injured pilot, 2 corpsmen got busy shooting morphine and placing compression bandages.

The Rangers were hunkered down in cover across the street when Lt Smith and a Pfc scuttled to them and deposited ammo and water at their feet and exchanged names, the Delta Force spotter said “what took you so long?” He smiled, and went back to work.

 

The Militia incited the mobs to a frenzy handing out weapons, khat and money.  The pressed forward upon the teams of soldiers. They died in droves. Smith radioed for Evac.

It was lost in the streets, the Humvees were under attack.

“Super 61 & Chalk One, hold until Chalk 2 arrives.”……..