PINNED DOWN

By Vince Davis

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CHAPTER ONE

FORT BENNING, GA

"There was another firefight this morning in Somalia," the anchor woman announced at Fox News. "There were six US casualties, and an estimated thirty-two enemy casualties. British Prime Minister Blair told the President today that..." Alan V. Topp turned off the television and picked up his spoon so he could finish his cereal and get to work. His wife, Grace, was in the back getting ready for the day as well.
Alan slurped at the milk. He felt like a kid again. Grace and he were both young and trying to start a family. Where they could live would be a nice environment for a child to live in. Topp's parents were in the close vicinity. Unfortunately, however, his brother had been deployed to Iraq, and his sister was a hospital intern in Japan, so a little Topp wouldn't know his uncle and aunt, for a while, anyway.
"Honey!" Grace called. "Have you seen my hair spray?" Alan smiled to himself. He'd been head over heels for this girl since he was in high school. It took a while for her to warm up to him, but eventually, she accepted him, and the next thing he knew, he had married the woman. The main thing that captured his attention was Grace's smile. It was the one thing that kept him sane during his long Ranger deployments.
"Honey?" Alan shook his head with a smile and stood up, dropping his dishes in the dishwasher and running up stairs. Screams and yells were heard, playful of course. Alan was happy with her, and she with him. They were ready to start a family. He knew it, and she did, also. Most nights, tired from the work load that accompanied being an US Army Ranger, he just flopped in his bed. As he didn't have to be at work for another thirty minutes, however, he could have a little down time with Grace.
Grace was beautiful, with tanned skin and a slim figure. Her curves were in all the right places. All the attributes added together showed why she had won her town's beauty contest in high school. As Alan walked in, she only wore a bath robe. He smiled, knowing that he wouldn't have to do too much work. Alan walked right behind her, holding her close to him, and kissed her on the neck.
"Finally..." Grace vocalized her thoughts. "I think you were reading my mind..." Slowly, he slipped the bathrobe off of her shoulders, dropping it to the ground, and lead her over to the bed, taking advantage of a chance to start the family-making process.

QUANTICO, VA

Ronald Earnest Matthews woke up and looked around, trying to find out where he was, thunder echoing in the background. He wasn't always used to sleeping in his house, usually working in the woods. He'd recently returned from Iraq and was doing a little bit of R&R.
His girlfriend, Cindy, was happy when he came home, but it was short lived, as her mom died soon afterward. Ron wanted to accompany her, help her ease her pain, but he didn't want to be away when he got called in. He knew that he was going to Somalia but just didn't know when.
There was a knock at the door, and he stood to answer it, grabbing some sweatpants to throw on over his boxers. The person at the door rapped again, this time a bit louder and longer.
"Just a minute!" he barked, getting his pants on. He stood tall and opened the door, finding his woman standing there before him. She wore a trenchcoat over her slim figure, and a look of melancholy draped her face as the rain fell around her.
"I thought you were at your mother's funeral," he announced solemnly, a sober look on his face.
"It's over," she informed him, throwing her arms around him, small tears streaming down her face. "It's good to see you again, Ron. I missed you." Ron held Cindy close to him. She needed him now, and he wasn't going to let her down. Gently, he took her face in his hands and brought her into a liplock, not one meant to arouse, but one meant to comfort. A protective arm around Cindy's shoulder, Ron eased her in from the rain, closing the door behind him.

Alan was in the treeline hill, looking down at the town. Thoughts of his morning with Grace entered his mind. The very thought of it brought pleasure to him, but now was not the time for that. Three dummies waited to be rescued. A soft breeze fluttered through the trees.
"You know what to do," Alan yelled. Move out!" The six Rangers charged down the hill in an assault formation, entering the town. No sooner than five seconds after stepping foot on the objective, paintball guns erupted and Rex, the machine gunner, got hit. Everyone went for cover.
"Did you see what I just did?" Alan asked, getting positive responses. "Never ever do that!"
"We need to get Rex!" Henry, the demolition expert, stated.
"What about our mission?" Nixon, the medic, asked.
"Nixon, I want you and Yates to go out and grab Rex," Topp ordered. "Me and Hippo will cover. Got it?" They nodded. "Go!" Everyone stood, Nixon and Yates running toward Rex, a good ten feet away. Alan and Hippo started laying down suppressive fire, returned promptly by the enemy. Paintballs zipped past Alan's ear. Out of the corner of his eye, Hippo stumbled to the ground, grunting. Alan looked down and saw a yellow spot on his chest.
"Damn!" He looked ahead and saw Yates go down, also. "Fall back!" Nixon looked up at Alan, grabbing Rex by the hand. Alan saw the determination in Nixon's eyes, characteristic by Army Rangers. True to the Ranger Creed, Nixon wasn't about to leave a man behind. Alan gained strength from this and charged forward.
Dirt around Topp was kicked up by the paintballs as he charged, firing from the hip as he ran. Nixon started dragging Rex, then cried out, looking to his leg. A bright, yellow spot covered the back of his calf.. Alan grabbed Rex and Nixon and dragged them to the hole. Alan was shot twice in both legs, but not willing to surrender, he made it to the ditch. The firing stopped and the new colonel walked out of one of the buildings. He had a smile on his face.
"You guys were brilliant," he said. Alan liked the new colonel. His training methods raised morale, especially the use of paintball guns for exercises. He trusted everyone to play fair, which they did. The rules stated injury areas as the legs and arms, and they could still fight back. Stomach, head, groin, and chest were automatic death zones, however.
"Okay," the colonel started. This firefight took four hours. I want you guys to hit the showers. I have some briefing material, so be in my office at 1730 sharp." The men acknowledged, snapped to attention, executed crisp salutes, and continued on their way.

Ron crawled very sluggishly toward his target. He knew they were watching him, and he knew that his whole future as a Marine lay in this exercise. Matthews moved an inch. A shot rang out, forcing him to freeze. There were six other snipers out in the field. A sniper got up with yellow paint splattered on his back.
"Not very good!" the instructor yelled. "Train harder, soldier!" Ron was afraid to move, knowing that the six-no, five, he thought-other snipers were well trained, and too much movement would be signing his "death warrant."
Sweat stung his eyes. Another shot rang out, and another soldier stood. More derogatory comments erupted from the mouth of the instructor. Ron deemed it safe, and slowly moved forward. He raised his gun and aimed at the head of a fellow sniper. The clouds moved away from the sun, making the world seem brighter, slowing his shot for a second. Ron squeezed the trigger, however, and the Marine cried out as yellow paint splattered all over his head.
Wow! Ron thought. That was pretty powerful. The inspectors looked at that shot in awe. Ron saw the look on their faces, grinning a little. But the grin died quick when shots rang out. A zing registered in his ears, and two snipers stood. That left only one opponent left, and he took out two in a row, making him extremely skilled. Ron stretched forward. He was aiming at his next target, and last.
Perspiration rolled down his filthy face, his blue eyes staring straight at his target. He crawled forward and got a perfect view. Zip! Ron froze in his tracks as the last sniper got up. His aim was a bit low, and the last sniper grasped his crotch as he approached the instructors, who thought it funny.
"Who ever shot that, stand up," one of the inspectors commanded. Ron stood. He

was about ten feet away from the inspectors.
"Nice shot," another one complimented.
"Come with me," The head inspector directed.

One lone UH-60 Blackhawk flew over the thick forest towards the landing zone, known inmilitary jargon as LZ. Alan looked over the trees. This reminded him of what his grandfather used to tell him about the Vietnam War. Topp saw the clearing up ahead. He turned back and looked at his men, smiling.
"Listen up! This is the real thing. The colonel is going to be watching us. We are

up against the best company in the Ranger Battalion. Let's grab them by the balls and twist hard!"
"Hooah!" came the loud response of agreement. The Blackhawk landed, and men started to tumble out the side of the helicopters, going low automatically. Immediately, the paintballs started flying. Alan and his men took position and returned fire.
"Is anyone hurt?" Alan yelled as he looked around. Nixon, Hippo, Rex, Yates,

and Henry shook their heads, calming Topp's nerves slightly. Suddenly, Yates was slammed by some invisible force on his back, closing his eyes and screaming.
"Shit!" Topp cursed. "I want everyone to return fire and run to cover!" Alan got up and ran, followed by his team. A ball struck Rex in the back of the thigh again, sending him hard to the ground. Hippo heard the thump and turned around. He ran toward him, grabbing his arms. He dragged him toward the wooded area where Nixon ran to help them. Hippo cried out as a volley of paintballs came from all directions, slamming into his body. Apparently, he had walked right into an ambush. Staying low, Rex crawled to cover, where Nixon "administered first aid."
The shots died and the Rangers eyeballed each other. Sweat was heavily pouring on their faces, and they sat down, trying to catch a breather.
"Gimme a sitrep," Topp ordered.
"Two dead, one wounded," Nixon announced. "Henry called in a chopper for Yates, Rex, and Hippo."
"We're down in the fourth quarter, guys." Alan leaned forward and spread out the map of the enemy base where over a hundred men are waiting to be called to search out the Rangers. "We've still got a secret play, though. We can still pull this off, men. Now, here's what we are going to do..."

Ron was still in full Battle Dress Uniform, or BDUs, as he walked with the inspector toward a meeting room. The inspector opened the door and Ron walked past, snapping a salute. The inspector closed the door and offered Ron to sit down.
"My name is Greg," the instructor started, "and I've been watching you. You look good. That's why you are going to get a promotion to E-8. You're one of the best snipers I have seen since the Vietnam era."
"Yes, sir," Ron replied, for lack of a better response. Greg smiled.
"You're modest. I like that. I'm serious, though. You did great. I'm going to pull a few strings so you can be with Delta Force. I've heard you did a tour with them. In a few weeks, you'll be transferred to the Army and promoted to Master Sergeant. They really could use a guy like you."
Ron blushed and stood while shaking his head. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to decline. I mean, I would love to serve with them, but I have two reservations. I'm a Marine all the way, sir, and the Corps still need me. Second, I work alone. I'm not real great about following orders in a team combat environment."
Greg frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, sir. The D-boys are good men, and I appreciate the offer and the compliment, but I can't happen." Greg smiled, reaching to shake his hand, giving him a business card with the other. "If you change your mind, my number is on the card," he informed him. "Thank you for stopping by."
"Of course, sir," Matthews nodded, snapping another salute before turning heel and leaving the office.

BEIJING

General Liu Xan traversed toward his temporary office in China. Xan had joined the Xinhua, or the Chinese Intelligence Service, and signed up for their Progressive Elements Division, which was an euphemism for terrorist activities. Xan signed up for this section with one goal in mind: crush the Capitalistic Pigs of America.
Ten years earlier, American commandos raided a terrorist camp in the Philippines. His family had been sympathetic to the cause that the group represented, and when they picked up weapons to fight, they had all been eliminated. At first, Liu Xan was crushed by the news, but slowly, a new anger boiled inside of him and he thought in a one track mindframe: Crush America. Kill America. Force it to its knees.
The events in Somalia were his brainchild. He wanted to draw America into a large scale war, one that they would lose. Certain people within his government shared the same dream, and ordered him to make it happen. With his involvement in the affairs of the Somalians, America would have no choice but to attack China, and then, judgment day would be reached for the United States.
Xan was being shipped out to Iraq to have a meeting with members of Progressive Elements on what their course of action should be. Xan opened the door to his office to find a man sitting in his chair, cross-legged in a cloud of smoke. He looked at the man with disgust.
"What do you want?" Xan demanded. The man turned his head and smiled.

"I have information," the man announced. Xan walked behind his desk, and the first thing he did was turned on the fan, which moved the smoke. Gesturing, the man left the chair, allowing its owner to rest in it.
"Go on," Liu gestured.
"The Americans are grouping," the man stated. "They are readying for a major assault on Somalia."
Xan sighed, looking around. "I thought you were here to give me information, not state the obvious." The man was shocked at Xan's last comment.
"Well, did you know that they are going to specifically target you? They know about your involvement. You step foot out of the country, and they will kill you."
"Listen. You are wasting my time." The man stood, starting to leave the office, but turned around and faced the General.
"I can stall them," he announced.
"Leave before I have you taken to a reeducation camp!" Xan barked. He had no time to put up with this subordinate's bullshit.
The man smiled, adding, "By the way, I didn't gather this information through the usual means. I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night." The man turned on his heels and walked out, laughing at his favorite Western joke, leaving Liu Xan both furious and stumped.

IRAQ

Liu Xan shielded his eyes as he stepped out into the Iraqi sun. He absolutely loathed the desert. Everything was too primitive to him, and the heat was unbearable. The odd thing was, he had arrived in a Lear jet and had been escorted to a black Mercedes-Benz limousine, and he still thought things to be "primitive."
Upon arrival at the camp, General Xan marched out of the Mercedes and directly to the meeting tent. He knew from past visits where meetings were going to be held, and wasted no time barging into the middle of a meeting. Naturally, all attention was directed at the General. An Asian face in an Arab camp was going to draw recognition.
"My deepest apologies for interrupting," Xan said in fluent Arabic. "But this is important. Tomorrow marks the commencement of a new war against the Americans. They have an intelligence center ten miles north of Mogadishu, and once it's out of the way, we will have more freedom to move.

"I know how much you hate the Americans," he continued quietly. "I know you want revenge against the men who killed Uday and captured Saddam. Now is your chance to take your place in history as the people who brought down the Imperialists! Are you with me?"

FORT BENNING

After the long night, the three Rangers moved out quietly, knowing the base was

close. They heard them digging all night and Alan knew what where they were but couldn't specifically pinpoint the location.
Four hours later, they stumbled upon signs of frequent human movement, and quickly drew back, getting ready to formulate an assault plan. Topp couldn't resist a slight grin. He knew he was so close. All he had to do is find a way in without martyring his men.
"Any suggestions?"
"No," Nixon allowed slowly. "But we can spread out so we can confuse them. If they think a larger force is attacking than really is, we might fool them into surrendering."
"Only drawback to that," Henry pointed out, "is that as soon as they figure out it's just three Rangers, it's game over, motherfucker."
"Oh, I know," Nixon chuckled darkly. "We will take them with us, however. Now, here's what I propose..."

SOMALIA

Xan rested on his cot, previewing a map of Somalia. He was frustrated that he knew nothing of the American battle plans. One thing that made him feel better, however, was that he knew where to get the plans.
The General had been planning a major engagement of the Western powers for some time. For example, the British had been taking over in Afghanistan, assuming the US Marine Corps' job. To keep the Royal Army off guard, he had sent twenty Xinhua advisers to retrain the Taliban and Al Qaeda, turning the tide of the battle slightly. He knew that eventually, he would light a spark, and after the smoke cleared, China would stand victorious.