( This post will be here only a few days. I just wanted to let the fans here, like Nitta, Mr. Moribund, and preacher1st, see how their help has help me to secure a book deal to turn the poem in to some short stories. Thank you Poetry Showcase and all the poets here. God bless. Rev. R.L. Walker)

The Journey Begins
A bullet traveling silently through the air.

Mission content

Mission 2: A bullet traveling silently through the air.

Chapter 1: The Special Operation’s Covert Infiltration Team

Chapter 2: The Micas Clains Mission

Chapter 3: In the rear of the main house

Chapter 4: A bullet traveling silently through the air

Chapter 5: Man on the run

A bullet traveling silently through the air

My next mission was an easy one.
I am now good at killing the enemy.
I just do what I am trained to get done.
I have a very natural killing ability.

Captain hands me a top-secret folder.
I am told to read on the plane.
I place my gear over my shoulder.
I am off to kill another enemy, again.

I jump out the door of the plane.
I floated out in the night sky.
I glide silently to the jungle floor.
The U. S. Army Ranger will survive.

I camouflage myself from head to toe.
I recheck the picture inside the folder.
Into the dangerous jungle, I now go.
I sling my sniper rifle over my shoulder.

The enemy camp was five clicks away.
It is setting in the middle of a wheat field.
The night had just started turning to day.
I will wait for nightfall to make my kill.

I climbed high up in a magnolia tree.
I waited for the moonlight to shine.
Inside the whole house, I could see.
My target was not very hard to find.

I scoped him sitting in the hall.
Someone was brushing his hair.
Then, his brain is splatter against the wall.
By a bullet traveling silently through the air.

My job has now been done.
The man slumps in his chair.
Again, I am a man on the run.
I run like hell away from there.

Chapter 1: The Special Operation’s Covert Infiltration Team

Sergeant Major Walter Monroe Wilson was a very well decorated war hero. He was among the first infantry soldiers to go to Vietnam. He did four straight tours in Heong Nu. After the war, one of the generals of the rangers requested that he become a ranger. He graduated number two in a class of sixty rangers. The sergeant major was placed in the U. S. Army Ranger Hall of Fame with over three hundred and ninety documented kills.

The best covert operations unit in the 23rd ranger battalion was the sergeant major’s S.O.C. I.T. unit. Every ranger craved to be a part of the sergeant major’s unit. He would not let just anyone in the unit. You must be requested by the sergeant major to join the unit. The unit was a group of elite rangers that were natural born killers. Jamal had proven that he was good at killing the enemy. He was put in the sergeant major’s unit because of how he performed in the last mission and the presents he brought back. Jamal was just doing what he was trained to do in Ranger School.

The first day that he pledged his loyalty to the Soc. It. unit, Jamal was intensely trained in many different covert assassination techniques. This included the use of hand to hand combat, long range shooting, surveillance, and a host of other useful skills. Most of these skills, he learned at Fort Benning. Nevertheless, he now knew over 1001 ways to kill a person without a weapon. An U. S. Army Ranger is a very dangerous enemy to have.

Slowly, Jamal pulled the Ford into the Special Ops parking lot. The building was on the highest hill on the base. It was constructed right after Hurricane Mary. The Army Corps of Engineers constructed the three-story building with white marble blocks. Four enormous marble columns supported the front entrance. The personnel office was east of the front entrance. The base hospital was built on the southside of the building. To the north was the Officers Club. From the Special Ops building, you could see most of the base.

Three months pass by before Jamal received his next mission. During this three-month period, the unit trained daily. He was ready for this mission. As he opened the door to the captain’s office, he noticed that the sergeant major was not there. Jamal walked across the highly bluffed tile floor. The captain was sitting at his desk with his door opened. Jamal noticed his presents displayed inside the unit trophy case. As he stood looking at the human organs emerged in the embalming liquid; the captain motioned to him to come into the office.

‘It is good to see you, Private Walker’ he said as he rose from his chair and extended his hand. Captain Jab has never been one to stick to military traditions. Quickly, they shook hands and sat on the leather couch in front of the desk. Captain Jab continued, ‘Tell me how do you like being in SOC IT. That unit was the brainchild of the Sergeant major.’

‘It is okay, sir,’ Jamal quickly replied.

‘Well, the sergeant major has a lot of faith in you, private. You are a carbon copy of Wilson when he first became a ranger.’

‘I do not know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, Captain Jab,’ Jamal said as he slowly smiled.

Captain Jab laughed loudly and stood to retrieve a top-secret folder. ‘Trust me, Walker that is the best compliment you can get. Wilson is the best ranger in the entire U. S. Army. Here is your next mission.’ He handed Jamal the folder. He continued, ‘Report to the base airport at 2300. There will be a cargo plane waiting for you. Good luck on this mission, private. Oh, leave the presents in the jungle,’ he laughed and dismissed Jamal. Jamal quickly left the Special Ops building parking lot and headed toward the barracks. It was 1100 on Thursday, October 11, 2001 and he was free until 2300.

2300 arrived before Jamal knew it. The C-47 arrived and he loaded my gear on the plane. He had packed his chute and double-checked all his equipment before he left the barracks. ‘This will be my fifty- sixth jump.’ Jamal thought to himself, as he climbed into the plane. The pilots completed the last checks and the camouflaged metal giant lifted noisily off into the midnight sky.

The folder was in his backpack and he retrieved it. He quickly read the information on the target, his location, and the planned route of escape. It was a three-hour flight to the mission location. The co-pilot woke Jamal from his sleep. He said, ‘Time to jump, soldier.’ He helped the ranger get his parachute and gear situated as the gray metal door slid open. Jamal could feel the strength of the wind as it loudly wiped around inside the plane. He jumped out of the open door and floated silently into the midnight sky.

After he pulled his parachute, the ranger gently floated down to the jungle floor. It sounds easy to do. The hardest thing to do is to jump out of a perfectly good plane. The scariest thing is to float down to the ground not knowing who might be shooting up at you. Nevertheless, Jamal just forgot about all the dangers he would face and focused on completing the mission. He is an U. S. Army Ranger. The ranger will survive.

Chapter 2: The Micas Clains Mission

Cárdenas Carrillo was one of the major kingpins of the illegal drug trade. Carrillo maintained the largest and most powerful drug cartel in this hemisphere. "The Micas Clans" had control of or were in charge of an estimated $142 billion a year business in cocaine, heroin, marijuana, and other illicit drugs. Cárdenas Carrillo had taken over and was running the Micas Clans cartel, and getting the bulk of the money.

Consequently, the Micas Clans cartel controlled most of the drug transit corridors. The cartel controlled most of the island of Chabat District. Chabat District is in the Gulf of Mexico about 100 miles southeast of Panama. The powerful and feared cartel had controlled Chabat for 36 years. The cartel’s cocaine and heroin was shipped to the USA by small planes by way of Colombia or Mexico. They usually loaded marijuana shipments onto fishing boats, private yachts, or commercial ships coming into the United States.

Jamal understood the difficulty in accomplishing this mission. This mission would require some covert surveillance and a lot of waiting; nevertheless, he had came prepared for the task. He camouflaged myself with the Moss cover and covered my face with mud. He rechecked the picture inside the folder. He read the information on Carrillo with great care, making sure not to miss any details.

Cárdenas Carrillo lived about seven clicks outside of the village of Juan. The target was scheduled to attend a birthday party at his residence. The ranger should be able to spot him there. Jamal looked at his picture and continued to read the mission report. After the mission was accomplished, he was to proceed to Juan and report to the police chief, Jesus Garcia.

Jesus Garcia has been an undercover operative for the DEA for over fourteen years. He was educated at UCLA Berkeley. He had retired in 1993 and moved back to his family farm on Chabat. Jesus became the police chief after the former state police chief was murdered by the cartel. He will provide the ranger with a safe escape from the island.

The cartel’s camp was a little over five clicks from his current location. Jamal destroyed the report after he had finished reading it. However, he put the pictures in his backpack. The ranger stood up, slung his Springfield .30-06 sniper rife on his shoulder, and disappeared into the dense dark rain forest. The rain forest was alive with various foliage and tropical wildlife. The ranger was very careful to cover his tracks. Jamal walked through the thick brush for about three clicks. As he emerged from the rain forest, he looked down upon the fertile farms of the Juan Valley.

A few farms in the district provided produce sold at the local markets. The remainder of the farms were either owned or controlled by the cartel. They grew the coca plants and processed it into cocaine. Jamal continued to travel unseen through the fields for about another click and came upon Carrillo’s estate. It was a stately southern style plantation mansion complete with the columns and the enormous front porch.

The entire grounds of the compound were surrounded by a five feet tall cinder block wall topped with a razor wire fence. The only entrance into the compound was through a large steel gate. Guards were posted at the gate and at other points around the compound. The mission report indicated a security force of about sixty men. It was now about 0600 and the night sky was giving away to the daylight. Jamal decided to take cover for the day and hiked back to the cover of the rain forest. The ranger will wait for nightfall to make his kill.

Chapter 3: In the rear of the main house

The Chabat District is a lush, mountainous island, covered with fragrant flowering magnolia trees and rare tropical wildlife. Bordered by stunning beaches, and dotted with many colorful small villages and towns, the nation of Chabat was a major source of spices, sugar, cigars, and cocoa. The ranger, silently, drifted through the colorful dense rainforest. He explored the interior and discovered a cascading Juan River and a breathtakingly amazing waterfall. The lush rainforest was bordered by an impressively beautiful white sand beach. Jamal patiently waited for the sun to descend over the horizon.

This small nation consisted of three islands: Romero District, San Montaine District, and Chabat District. Chabat District is the largest of the three, with a width of thirty-two miles and a length of sixty-one miles. The ranger traveled over the hilly, terrain atop Mount St. George. Jamal made camp for a few hours beside a quiet lake and was entertained by a bizarre variety of insect and wildlife.

The sun, resolutely, traveled across the blue sky to rest below the horizon. The ranger slowly descended Mount St. George into the waiting rainforest under the cover of the dark moonlight. Jamal carefully retraced his path. He soon exited the rainforest and entered the farmlands. The scenery shifted from the fragrant mango and magnolia trees to the green fields of the farms. The ranger continued to retrace his path to the cartel’s camp.

The house was alive with movement. From a safe distance, the ranger watched as the cars and trucks drove into the camp. Intelligence had estimated the crowd to be around one hundred and fourteen. Cárdenas Carrillo was celebrating his youngest daughter’s sweet sixteenth birthday. The entire cartel was expected to attend. Slowly, Jamal inches through the field under the safety of the Moss cover. He was headed for some trees about half of a click from the back patio.

The ranger was unseen as he quickly scurried across the road to venture to the back of the cartel’s camp. Carrillo had constructed a fabulous swimming pool and patio in the rear of the main house. This was in the courtyard where he held his parties and gatherings. The pool was equipped with a water slide, three hot tubs, a bar, and a dance floor. The entrance into the house was a seven-foot tall sliding glass door. The ranger carefully crawled up a magnolia tree just out of eyesight.

Jamal adjusted the sight and slowly scanned the area around the rear of the house. The party guest had started to arrive and all the curtains was pulled back from the windows. The ranger leered through the scope and searched, room by room, the entire backside of the house. Cárdenas Carrillo was greeting guests in the hallway. He was not a very hard target to find.

Chapter 4: A bullet traveling silently through the air

The capital of Chabat, San Paulo was widely held to be the most expensive city in the Caribbean. Its large four harbors were surrounded by a dockside of warehouses, hotels, casinos, and the traditional high priced shops and million dollar homes. The ghettos where Cárdenas Carrillo had grown up were totally different. His family lived in a three-room house in the worse part of San Paulo.

Carrillo attended the public schools of Chabat. During the reign of President Manuel St. George, it was mandated by the nation that every child attend a state-sponsored school until the age of sixteen. At San Paulo Training Academy, Carrillo excelled at the coursework and graduated third in a class of forty-five. However, the streets of San Paulo, offer Carrillo a different type of education.

He would often run the streets with his cousins Carlos and Manuel. However, Carrillo soon found that running for the different cartels were more profitable. He ran drugs for many small time dealers and cartels until he was fourteen. Most of those years he worked as a carrier. He would pick up a package at one location. Later, he would drop the package at another location and return with the money.

As the tourist industry grew, more organized cartels took over the drug trade in San Paulo. The Micas Clans recruited Carrillo at fourteen and he quickly rose through the ranks. Because of his intelligence and skill with words, he became a major player in the operation of the vast drug smuggling industry. Carrillo left high school at sixteen years of age. By twenty-five, he had graduated into a career as a member of the Micas Clans.

Almost two hours had pass, the ranger scoped in on his target. Carrillo was sitting in the hallway facing the glass door while someone brushed his hair. Most of the guest had arrived, and were milling around by the pool. Some half-naked girls were sitting in the bubbling waters of the hot tub. Over by the grill, two men and a woman stood talking to each other. ‘I really hate to ruin this party.’ The ranger thought to himself. He could barely hear the reggae music playing at the party.
Jamal searches for his target again. Carrillo was still sitting in the chair in front of the window. The party was really going by now. Jamal could barely hear what sounded like rhythm and blues coming from the house. Someone had join the group and stood in the line of fire for a moment. The guy had on a gray houndstooth suit and wore a very expensive watch. The ranger scoped in on the face of the Rolex. The time was 2235.

The man walked out of the opened sliding glass door. Carrillo continued to greet about fourteen more people before Jamal had a clear shot again. The woman returned to brushing Carrillo’s hair, as he greeted the last woman in the line. The woman exited through the opened glass door. The ranger silently said, ‘Time to take my shot’ He checked the wind speed and direction. He slowly wiped the perspiration from his face. Jamal took a deep breath and slowly squeezed the trigger of the .30-06.

The silencer quieted the bullet as it quickly traveled the distance to its intended target. The woman had turned away to retrieve a comb from her purse when the bullet burst through the sliding glass door. She nervously stood up and discovered Carrillo had slumped to the floor. Carrillo was hit by a bullet traveling silently through the air. Jamal could only imagine how loudly the lady had streamed when she turned and saw Carrillo’s brains splattered against the wall.

Chapter 5: Man on the run

The ranger’s job had been skillfully accomplished. Some of the men picked Carrillo up and placed him in the chair. The crowd was in an uproar and was running out of the house in a panic. His wife and daughter rushed into the room. They looked at Carrillo’s dead body and screamed as a small stream of blood flowed down from the entrance wound. Cárdenas Carrillo, the head of the Micas Clans, was dead.

Now that the ranger’s job was done, he quickly exited the tree. He took the site off the .30-06, and stored it in his backpack. Then, he disabled the rifle and left it sitting by the tree. He returned to the cover of the rainforest and traveled west until he came to the Juan River. Jamal took the preplanned route into the town of Juan. He would follow the river to freedom. It took him less than two hours to travel the unfamiliar terrain. The ranger followed the river to the next valley. In the middle of the valley was the town of Juan and Jamal’s ride home.

The ranger stopped on a hill before he came into the town. He took his backpack off and retrieved a change of clothes he had brought with him. He took his credentials and placed them in his pack. Afterwards, he set fire to all of the mission pictures and his military clothes. He put on a pair of headphones and a hat in order to pass as a tourist. Jamal was ready to go into town and locate Jesus Garcia.

Ten minutes later Jamal enters Juan. The town is bustling with activity. It is a busy little market town. The population was around four thousand. It is the commercial capital of Chabat District. Residents from all over the island came to Juan to trade or sell their produce. Juan was also known to have the best nightlife in the Chabat District.

Jamal located the police station about fifteen minutes later. As Jamal walked through the unpainted steel door, he was greeted by the desk sergeant. The desk sergeant was a short man in his mid thirties with a potbelly. He wore a poorly laundered blue police uniform and plain black dress shoes. ‘Is Chief Garcia in the office, today?’ Jamal politely questioned the man.
‘Yes, Who wants to know?’ The man roughly replied.

Jamal quickly gave his cover answer, ‘I am an old friend from UCLA. We played football together. He told me to stop in to say hi if I came down here. I am Jamal Walker.’

‘Oh, the chief been waiting for you.’ The man hurriedly left to retrieve Jesus Garcia.

After a few minutes, the sergeant returned and Chief Garcia came with him. They shook hands and the chief said, ‘I bet you are ready for that ride back to San Paulo by now. How did you enjoy your little visit.’

Jamal smiled and said ‘I was able to shoot some good pictures of your local wildlife. I was able to get my job done.’

Six hours later, a plane carrying the U. S. Ranger touched down at the airfield of the base. Jamal stepped off the plane carrying his backpack on his shoulder. The sun was rising over the horizon and the base was coming to life. Jamal started the Ford. He sat in the parking lot for a few minutes to let the engine warm up. Music loudly spilled out of the cab of the midnight blue Ford. The tires of the Ford squealed as Jamal quickly accelerated out of the parking lot. The U. S. Ranger made it back home safe.

(Copyright 2007)

(This is a fictional poetic series and short story about events that never take place and about people that have never existed. Any representation of an actual event or person is purely coincidental in nature.)