The following story is a work of gay fiction. If you are offended by the subject matter or are too young, please exit now. This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced without his permission. John Tucker, JETjt@aol.com
SUPER JEFF
Chapter Thirty
DR. JEFF RICHARD'S POV
The door opened and my escort to Bin Laden indicated for me to follow him. I grabbed my bag and followed. After winding down a couple of hallways, I saw two guards outside a door and knew that Bin Laden was there. It was a different room than he was in the previous day. When the guide stopped and turned toward the door I walked past him, pushed open the door and entered.
"Ah Dr. Richards," Osama said with a smile. "Here for your daily visit, I see."
"It's not like there's much choice Sir," I replied picking up his chart. Everything on the chart appeared normal. The small fever which had appeared the day after the surgery, a not unusual occurrence, was gone and the patient appeared comfortable."
"Are you feeling any pain?" I asked, seeing on the chart that he'd refused his pain medication.
"I've scratched myself worse," he replied. "I can only feel the incision when I need to get up to go to the facilities."
"That's normal," I acceded. "Are you having normal bowel movements?"
"Yes, I guess you could say that," he said. "Although the food I've been getting has practically been all liquid. You can imagine what that does to emptying my bowels."
I smiled. "I can authorize a more normal diet now. I'd suggest that the serving quantities remain small for two or three more days and that all solid food be chewed thoroughly before swallowing. We don't want to put any strain on the incision before it's completely healed."
"I understand," he said, "I'd like to start the treatment for the Hepatitis as soon as possible. I'm at great risk here in this hospital."
"I'd rather wait for your surgery to heal, but under the circumstances, I'll agree to start the treatment tomorrow, if you insist."
"The medications arrived this morning," Ben Laden reported. "The doctor that will be treating me will arrive in about a half-hour. I'd like you to consult with him and be with him tomorrow to begin the treatment."
"Of course," I replied. "Have you changed your mind about murdering my wife and me?" I asked grimly.
"I'm still thinking about it," he offered, hoping to make me squirm a bit with his power over life or death. I wasn't sure if he was hedging to keep me cooperative or was sincere. I suspected the former.
Continuing he said, "It's a very difficult decision for me. I'm sure you know I have a great hatred of Americans. It's no secret that I wish all of you dead. On the other hand you've been very professional and have done a noteworthy job at diagnosing and treating me in spite of being brought here against your will. That service should have some reward. I hope you understand my dilemma."
"I understand Sir," I said. "I hope you understand that I won't plead for our lives. You of all people can appreciate the fervor created with martyrdom. The American people look at all of your victims of 9/11 as martyrs and will not rest until you're brought to justice. Two more will only reinforce their anger."
"I've done all I've done for my beliefs," Bin Laden countered.
"Then Sir, I pity the followers of Allah that believe as you do. To believe in the murder of innocents as a righteous cause is sick. If your God is as you believe, a God of hate and murder, then he is unworthy to be followed."
"I will not listen to more of your blasphemy!" Ben Laden shouted angrily.
The door opened quickly and two guards rushed in.
"Get out you sons of camels!" Bin Laden screamed at his guards. "If I need you I'll call you!"
The guards beat a hasty exit as Bin Laden's rage began to quickly disappear.
"Enough of that discussion," the patient ordered when his calm demeanor again had returned. "You just came very close to your own execution."
"Murder is a more accurate word," I repeated stubbornly. "I am ready to die if that is the will of God."
"You keep using inflammatory words," he sharply warned. "It makes it impossible for me to show mercy."
I'd pushed him as far as he was willing to be pushed.
"Now, if you're done with me Sir, your guards can return me to my room."
"I was really hoping that we could talk," he said in a rather quiet voice.
"I'm afraid you wouldn't like what I have to say," I responded, "but if you wish to take that risk, I am your prisoner."
"Please have a seat," he said. "This should take only a moment."
"As you wish," I said sitting down on a chair beside his bed.
"I'm interested in the reaction of the American people to our holy attacks," he said. "Of course I have agents in your country and can get the news from them and from radio and the newspapers, but I've never really talked to an American. I'm sure that my perspective is distorted."
"Let me say that the people of the United States are far stronger than you give them credit for," I began. "I'm not talking about the military might of the government; I'm talking about our people. The Japanese made a disastrous error when they attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941. The Japanese Admiral Yamamoto, who years before had spent considerable time in our country, commented after the strike that he was afraid the attack had awakened a sleeping giant. That proved to be the case. I don't think Sir that you understand what you've done with your attacks. You Sir have awakened him again. The American people have now declared war on terrorists, but they're not deluding themselves. They know that the safety they have become accustomed to is no more. They know that terrorist attacks are difficult if not impossible to stop. Yet the war they've declared will not stop either. You are not safe anywhere in the world. The rules have changed. Perhaps we will not get you with tanks or jets, but we will get you. We and the other free nations will root out you and your followers and will continue to do so as long as it takes."
"I guess that the most perplexing thing to us is why?" I continued with a question. "What is there to achieve? Your people have so much more to gain with peace than with war. All you're doing is prolonging their suffering. I guess the only comment I have to add is that it doesn't really matter that the Americans understand why, in spite of the question being unanswered. They know that you've attacked us, and they know you will continue to do so. That only stiffens their resolve. You should not delude yourself and think otherwise."
"An interesting perspective," Bin Laden commented. "I guess we'll see who's right."
"I think that that neither you nor I will ever live to see the end of the conflict nor ever know that answer," I said.
"That I can agree with," he said with a grim smile. "Thank you doctor for your candid opinion. You may return to your room until you are called to meet my new doctor."
I stood and walked to the door and knocked for the guards to open it. Looking back at the tall man lying prone on the bed it seems hard for me to believe that he was the most hated man on the planet. I nodded to him in farewell as the door opened and I stepped though the doorway into the hall to return to Mel, my wife.
JEFF'S POV
"Where are you Tyler?" I asked after he identified himself on the phone.
"I can't say, Jeff. Are you in Scotland?"
"Yes we played St. Andrews today. It was interesting to say the least. Is there any news?"
"None that I can talk about on the phone," Tyler said. "The reason that I called is that I wanted to know your plans for the next couple of days."
"Our plans are to travel by car around Scotland tomorrow and return to London the day after."
"I'd like you to return to London tomorrow," Tyler requested in a voice that sounded like an order.
"I'm sure everyone will be disappointed, but we'll do as you ask," I agreed.
"Are Rick and Amanda with you?" he asked.
"No, they went to Paris. I think they were returning to London the day after tomorrow too."
"Can you reach them?" Tyler asked.
"I'm sure I can," I said. "Amanda calls me daily but I have her number too."
"Ask them to return tomorrow as well," Tyler requested.
"Sure, I can handle that," I agreed.
"Thank you. I'll be in touch in the next day or so," Tyler committed. "Goodbye."
"Uh^Å. Goodbye," I barely got out before the line went dead.
"What did Tyler say?" Chris asked as I snapped my phone shut and placed it again in my pocket.
"He wants us to return to London tomorrow," I reported. "I got the distinct impression that something will be happening very soon."
"I'm sure that Tyler knows what he's doing," Chris said. "We'd better do as he asks. He wouldn't have called unless it was important."
I turned to Kayden and Terry.
"I'm sorry but we need to go back to London in the morning," I said. "You can keep the car and stay if you'd like."
"We wouldn't think of it chaps," Terry responded. "If you have time we'll show you some more of our city. Of course then, you'll have to invite us to America."
"We'd love to have you as our guests," I said with sincerity. "Consider the invitation given."
"I'll call good old dad and have him send the plane," Kayden offered.
"Thanks Kay, we'd appreciate that," I said automatically, my mind jumping to the danger that I knew Tyler and my parents were facing.
Kayden pulled out his cellular phone and pushed the speed dial button.
RICK'S POV
I wish I would have let Amanda come to Paris on her own. It's not that we've both not been there before, but it was her friends that attracted her to join them. She'd offered to let me go with the guys to Scotland, but I knew that five is an odd number for golfing and I loved being with Amanda. I originally thought we'd just go to Southampton then tour around the English countryside for a couple of days. Of course that was before Linda Swarthmore called. She was one of Mandy's rich-bitch friends, not the theater friends that I really liked. I'm not sure how Linda found us, but she did. Amanda seemed at first reluctant to go and had even asked if it was alright. Like a fool I had agreed that it was fine and in a real act of insanity, I agreed to go with her to Paris.
Linda and the girls in Paris were the epitome of the worthless offspring that the captains of industry often spawn. They were so far removed from the need to earn anything, their existence swirls only around their own need to feel important and the need to convince themselves and their friends that they are better than others around them. When I met Amanda she seemed to be in that mindset, but her involvement in the theater arts convinced me that there was more to her than what appeared on the surface. It proved to be prophetic as Amanda dropped all the pretenses, particularly when her parents were kidnapped and we had returned to her home. Now here we were again with those mindless women! Yuck!
Having arrived yesterday, our train had been met by Linda and a couple more of the girls and we were rushed to a waiting taxi to be whisked away to the George Sanc Hotel where the others were waiting. Since that time, the crazy women didn't let us out of their sights. Finally after having been dragged around by them all yesterday and through this morning, Linda let slip that they'd spent three hours at the Eiffel Tower the day before we arrived. After lunch Mandy announced that she wanted to see the tower too. Most of the rich bitches didn't want to go again, so we were able to shake them, but only by promising to meet them for dinner. At last we were really alone. We did go to the Tower but only stayed an hour, spending the rest of the afternoon roaming the streets of Paris. It was delightful
When we arrived back at the hotel, we slipped through the lobby and immediately went to our room, purposely sneaking past a couple of her friends who were there. Once alone in the elevator to our room, my romantic ardor began to show itself. I looked forward to a couple of hours of mad passionate loving.
Once inside our room, I pulled Mandy into my arms and we locked lips like we'd not seen each other for a month. Finally as my motor began to race, she pushed me away.
"First things first Lover Boy," she insisted. "I need to call Jeff, then I'm all yours."
I wasn't pleased at the delay, but I understood her anxiety about their parents.
"Okay Babe," I agreed grinning, "but it's gonna cost ya."
"I hope so," she said with a wink, walking to the side table next to the bed where she'd left her things. As she retrieved her small phone book from her purse, she saw a light blinking on the bedside telephone, indicating that a message had been left with the hotel operator. She picked up the handset, and dialed the desk. I watched as she announced her name and room number, telling the operator that she had a message light.
Listening to the message, she simply said `thank you' and hung up the receiver.
"Who was it?" I asked, hoping it wasn't Linda wanting to get back together with us early.
"It was from Jeff," she replied. "I'm to call him as soon as we get in."
Using her satellite phone instead of the desk set on the table she found Jeff's number to his identical phone on the speed dial menu. Pushing the button we heard the phone begin to do its thing.
"Hi Jeff," she said after the phone had rung a few times then been answered. "You called?"
I again watched her expression as she listened to her brother. Though his message took a couple of minutes, her face didn't reveal much.
"We'll catch the earliest flight we can from Orly," I heard her promise Jeff. "I think Rick will be glad to get away from all these women anyway so it's no great sacrifice. I'll call you when we arrive and get checked into the hotel. See you tomorrow."
She disconnected the call and turned to me.
"Well?" I asked.
"Jeff got a call from Tyler asking that we be in London tomorrow. Jeff seems to think that the rescue is about to happen. Either that or it's bad news. In any case, we need to get back there."
"I'll get reservations," I said. "If they're all booked up we'll take the train."
"Thanks Sweet, you'd better call the Hotel too^Å.oh and let Charlie know,." she said with a smile.
"I got it covered," I replied before changing the subject. Charlie was one of our security men. They'd need to know if we were leaving.
She stepped into the bathroom and was gone for the 15 minutes that it took for me to make the calls.
"When she returned she'd removed her outer clothing and was wearing just a bra and panties. It was planned to turn me on, and it was working.
Before I lost all reason, I said, "I've got all the arrangements made. Now, what's this about me wanting to get away from women?"
"You can't fool me, Sweet Guy," she said moving in on me and depositing a little peck on the lips. "I know you're miserable around Linda and the bitch bunch."
"I guess you caught me with that," I stammered, my mind on other things than our conversation. "I don't know what it is, but those girls just drive me up the wall."
"I agree and understand," she said. "At first I thought I wanted to be like them, you know: high society. Now I see they're all smoke and mirrors. Not one of them has had an original thought in years. I much prefer my theater friends^Åand you of course."
"I agree with you about the theater bunch. At least those people are real," I said, trying with difficulty to keep up a conversation. "I'm a little surprised that you even hang out with Linda and her friends any more."
"I wasn't sure I wanted to come to Paris to be with them, but I thought I'd give them one more chance. I thought maybe I was `pointing the finger,' judging them unfairly. Now I'm pretty sure that I wasn't. It's not that they're bad people or anything like that; it's just that their idea of accomplishment is just to take their place in high society. That seems somehow to just be pointless to me."
"I knew there was a reason that I loved you," I said with a leer. "You're not only gorgeous but you have brains too."
"I've got a body attached," she said temptingly. "Wanna see it?"
"Yeah, and I wanna do more than just look," I said responding to her invitation by pressing my body against hers. My lengthening rod was demonstrating a passion that was greater than just the verbal lust that was coming out of my throat. We abandoned our conversation as we let our desire for each other take over. Our clothing was frantically discarded on the floor, leaving a trail as we hastily moved to the bed."
CHRIS' POV
Tyler's call certainly put the bug in my boyfriend. He was nervous as a whore in church. We all ordered another round of beers as he and Kayden made arrangements for our travel back to London in the morning. I thought the strong brew might calm him down, but it wasn't to be. Since we had a car we decided to take a drive to finish off the afternoon before coming back to dinner. I'm glad Kay was driving. I can't imagine Jeff or me driving, knowing that our trained reactions were backward for driving on the left side of the road. Fortunately, we weren't in a hurry and just drove along the coast. We did find an old ruin of a castle that we explored a bit, but it couldn't have been too significant as there were no signs or markings that told about what it was.
Arriving back at our quaint hotel, we decided to shower and clean up before meeting again for dinner in a couple of hours. I had an idea how I could relieve some of the tension that Jeff was feeling. I'm not sure it was completely successful, but it sure brought a big smile to Jeff's face, before, during and afterward. I can assure you that I wasn't stoic during the exercise. I hope I didn't squeal and groan too loud. (blush).
We fell in love with Kayden and Terry. They are such neat guys. I wished they lived in California so we could be around them more. Somehow a fast friendship was building between us two couples that we'd never even contemplated before meeting them. I knew I'd be sad when we returned home and left them in England. I sure hope they can visit us soon. I'm sure Jeff feels the same way.
On the way back to the hotel, Jeff's satellite phone rang. It was Mandy calling from Paris. Jeff told her of Tyler's call and speculated a bit with her on what it could mean. When he hung up he told us that she'd promised they would take the first plane they could get back to London in the morning. He then chuckled a little to himself. I asked what was so funny, and he said that Amanda had indicated that poor Rick had been a bit overwhelmed by being around all of Amanda's rich-bitch friends and would be glad to be back with us. Jeff and I talked a bit about how well suited to each other Rick and Amanda were.
"I could tell you stories about her that would make your hair stand on end," Jeff said. "She had a very rebellious, yet snooty childhood. I must say that I didn't like her at all and avoided her as much as possible. It's to Rick's credit that she's turned into a human being."
"Really?" I said as we rode in the back seat on our way back to our hotel. "It's hard to imagine her like that."
"Before she came home with Rick, I would have told you some of those stories," Jeff continued. "Now, I'd rather bury the unpleasantness that I felt about her. She's turned into someone I can really admire, and it would be unkind to have you think badly of her."
"That's fine with me," I agreed.
I must say that the vicinity around St. Andrews is hardly a gay Mecca. We ended up having a quiet dinner with Kayden and Terry, then finding a fairly small pub where they had a rather cute young guy playing the guitar. We took a table close to the small platform where he was playing so we could hear better over the din of the other bar patrons who had no interest in the entertainment. He had a great voice and played and sang many songs we requested. We in turn tipped him shamelessly. He was wearing a nice casual outfit with an open shirt and Docker pants with his feet in sockless loafers. One thing that was hard to miss was the tube that ran from his crotch down the inside of his right leg. Damn, it had to be twelve inches long! Soft! I'm pretty sure he played for our team too `cause the looks he gave us sure led us to believe that he'd accept an invitation to get better acquainted. The four of us just looked at each other with knowing eye contact and big grins. It was fun, but no matter how cute he was, we each were with the one we wanted, but I have to admit that I was tempted.
Around 10:30 we decided that it was time to retire. I suspect that Kayden and Terry weren't really all that tired, but just wanted plenty of time for another round of sexual gymnastics. I know that I was, but my sitter was a little tender from the round earlier. I shouldn't have worried though. When we got back to the room Jeff made it clear that he wanted to reverse our roles in bed. He was his usual considerate self. You can see why I love him so.
DR. JEFF RICHARDS' POV
As ordered by Bin Laden, I had met the doctor who would be taking over his Hepatitis C treatment. He seemed a nice enough person, though obviously not delighted with his task. I was pleased that he appeared to be competent medically and spoke reasonably good English. He brought with him the medical file of Bin Laden. After discussing the surgery I'd performed and the patient's current condition, I reviewed the test reports and scanned the information with him, explaining the information that led to my diagnosis of Hepatitis C. He concurred with my findings and asked about the treatment I'd prepared. I explained the latest in techniques for battling the disease and the drugs that were used for its treatment. I reviewed the kind of results he could expect and the periodic testing that would show progress during treatment. I knew that continued testing would be the most difficult aspect to accomplish, particularly if Bin Laden returned to the mountains of Afghanistan or Pakistan where the U.S. suspected he was in hiding. Fortunately that was not my problem. Finally, I explained the signs of remission he could expect to see, and the timing. It would probably take around six months to accomplish, but I stressed that continued monitoring would be necessary afterward, on a periodic basis, to insure that the patient did not come out of remission and suffer more liver damage before it was discovered by external symptoms. I felt comfortable that the doctor would be able to handle the case adequately. Now there was only Mel's and my fate to worry about.
I was returned to my room and was pleased to find our `custodian' friend on his customary cleaning round. Once finished he looked over the room, and seeing that a pillow was left crooked, stepped to the bed. I watched as his hand disappeared beneath the pillow and was quickly withdrawn as the pillow was straightened. He turned, looked into my eyes without expression, then stepping to his cleaning cart, he pushed it to the door and knocked. The guards outside opened the door and he disappeared.
As was my usual procedure, I waited a few minutes passing the time talking to Mel, then announcing that I was tired, moved to the bed and laid down. My hand snaked under the pillow and was touching the note that had been left when the door opened.
As the door swung wide, I saw a hospital dinner cart parked in the hallway. A steward entered the room with our meals and placed them on the table which Mel had quickly cleared. After two trips into the room with the unusually large meal, he left and the door again closed. I slipped the note from under the pillow and as I got out of bed slid it into my pants pocket before I joined Mel at the table. Under the corner of my plate a note had been left in an envelope with my name on it. I pulled the note out from its envelope. I read it aloud so that Mel could hear it.
"Dr. Richards, thank you for your expert treatment of my conditions and for our enlightening conversation. I am forever in your debt. Enjoy your meal. Goodbye, Osama Bin Laden."
"What do you think it means as far as his releasing us?" she asked.
"I haven't a clue," I replied. "I don't think we can count on it though."
Pushing my chair away from the table, I excused myself to wash my hands, asking Mel to wait for me before beginning. I stepped into the small bathroom and slipping the note from my pocket cupped it in my palm, reading it while I turned on the faucet with the other hand. The note said. "Tonight. Be ready." I reached over with the hand that had the note in it, pulled a few squares of toilet paper from the roll on the wall and blew my nose into the folded up squares, slipping the small note inside the folds. I then threw the paper into the toilet and flushed it. The note and T.P. swirled and disappeared. Quickly washing my hands and drying them I pulled a small plastic bag from the few toiletries we had stored in the bathroom and after dumping the contents into the goodie bag, stuck the bag into my pocket where I'd hidden the note. Turning I opened the door and returned to the table. I saw that Mel had disregarded my request to wait for me before eating and had already started.
I quickly sat down and said. "I'd like to return thanks. I think it's time to renew our contact with God."
Mel stopped eating and looked at me strangely. Although we often prayed together at mealtime, we didn't make a big issue of it if we neglected to do so particularly now when we felt it might antagonize our captors.
I bowed my head and she followed suit.
"Lord," I began. "We have finished our work here and now we face an uncertain fate. We leave our future in Your merciful hands. We ask that You remove the poison of hate from the hearts of our captors so that we might be delivered tonight from their hands. That poison that has taken so many innocent lives is contrary to Your message to Your chosen people who only wish to escape from oppression. Now we thank You for this meal that has been prepared for us by our captors. We thank You for it and those who have toiled on our behalf. Amen."
Mel looked at me with knowing eyes.
"You know," she said. "Suddenly I'm not very hungry."
"I'm not either," I replied. "I'll just have a little to take the edge off so I don't become too hungry before breakfast.
Mel pushed away from the table but remained seated while I took a few bites of the offered banquet. Pulling the bag from my pocket while blocking the view from the door, I placed it, without looking down on my lap. Fortunately my back was to the door while I separated a few small bits of the meal and moved them into a small pile on my plate. Taking a spoon I scooped up the pile and deposited it in the bag before sealing it closed and slipping it again into my pocket. After another small bite or two of the dinner, I too pushed myself away from the table.
Looking at Mel I could see that her eyes were starting to glaze over.
"You look ill, my dear," I said. "Let me help you splash some water on your face. Maybe that will help."
I began to feel a slight warmness moving over me as I stood and took Mel by the hand pulling her up and taking her into the small bathroom.
"Stick your fingers down your throat and throw up," I ordered, pushing her head down toward the open toilet. She did as I asked, emptying the contents of her stomach into the bowl before flushing it. I pulled her back to her feet and taking a small washcloth, I quickly wet it in the sink and pulling the door open wiped her mouth and brow as we exited back into the view of our captors. My legs were feeling wobbly as I led her to her bed and helped her lie down. I prayed that the small quantity of food I'd actually swallowed was too little to kill me because I knew I'd never make it back to the bathroom and then back to my bed. Accepting my destiny whatever it might be I staggered to the bed and fell onto it, immediately losing consciousness.
TYLER'S POV
It was midnight when my alarm went off. My body was still tired, but my mind became instantly alert as I realized the reason for my waking in the middle of the night. After a quick shower and taking care of my morning ablutions, I dressed in the combat uniform I'd been furnished with the day before. As instructed, I placed the personal items I usually carried in my pockets in a small plastic bag and tucked them into a leg pouch of the uniform to be checked in and left at the airport from where we were to leave.
As I stepped out of the small room where I'd been billeted, I saw Gary Franklin exit from his own room down the hallway. He was dressed identically to me. Looking my way, he gave a wave of his hand and moved toward me.
"You ready for this?" he asked.
"Yeah, about a ready as I'll ever be," I said. "I'm a still a bit tired from all the traveling, but I really want to get this over with."
As we talked, another soldier dressed as we were entered the hallway from the end doorway. He approached us.
"Mr. Franklin, Mr. Turner?" he asked, though I'm sure he knew the answer.
"That's us," I replied with a smile.
"If you gentlemen will follow me, I'll take you to the final briefing. I'm Corporal Dyan."
"Lead on Corporal," I said.
He turned smartly and headed for the doorway where he'd only a moment before entered. Outside was an olive-drab light personnel carrier. He indicated that we should enter while he circled to take the driver's seat. Starting the engine, he engaged the gears and the vehicle began to move. In less than 5 minutes we were parking outside the hangar building. Leading us inside, we found ourselves taken to a large room where the helicopter and assault crews had assembled. The Corporal pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.
"Mr. Turner," he said as he glanced at the paper, "you're assigned to Troopship four and Mr. Franklin, you're on ship five. He then led us to our groups and introduced us to our pilots. Wishing us luck, he then left us. The pilot for my chopper was Captain Schofield.
"I see you got the short straw, you got me," I said with a grin at the handsome but weathered man who would take us to our destination and back.
"I saw your scores from the firing range," Schofield said. "I was impressed or you wouldn't be along, at least on my ship."
"Thanks, I'll do my job and just try to keep out of the way," I said.
"I'm sure my crew will appreciate that," he replied. "I know the special forces men will. Is that your weapon?" he asked looking at the case in my hand.
"Yes it is," I replied, "and the ammunition for it too."
"Let's get you a side arm, then I'll introduce you to the rest of the crew."
"I'd appreciate that," I replied.
He took me to a weapons locker room and handed me a Glock 9 mm pistol with holster and belt. I told him that I was proficient with the weapon as he handed me a small box of ammunition for it. I loaded it, leaving the chamber empty, but the magazine full. He then led me back to the crew and introduced me to them. As I shook the last hand, Colonel Krackenhauer's aide appeared at the end of the room and called us back to the briefing room. Once we were seated, everyone rose to attention as the Colonel strode into the room.
"Seats!" he ordered as he mounted the dais. After a brief review of the purpose of the mission he went over each step of the rescue plan. The Special Forces attack crew had been previously assigned to their ships and had rehearsed their roles. After reviewing the plan, the Colonel ordered a final rehearsal with the mockups of the target site that had been marked out on the floor of the hangar. The choppers were all in their landed positions around the mockups. I boarded the chopper I was assigned to and took my position beside the boarding ramp at the rear where the crew would enter and exit. My job was to remain seated while the assault team exited then move to the opening to provide cover. At the chopper side doorway behind the pilots' area, a 50 mm machine gun had been placed to give automated fire. The opening would be facing the hospital building when we landed.
After the final practice, we reassembled in the briefing room where the Colonel expressed satisfaction with the preparations. "That is all," he concluded. "Good luck."
A sergeant shouted, "Attention!" and everyone leaped to their feet and stood rigidly at attention as the colonel exited the room.
A major stepped to the podium. "At ease," he ordered. "Load up!"