Chapter 1
Nairobi, Kenya
War was a beautifully paradoxical phenomenon. Combat, real combat, was horrific. It was violent. It was brutal, cruel, and fierce. It was the stuff of nightmares. But at the same time, it had the potential to bring out the best in people. Following the 9/11 Terrorist Attacks, the entire United States had come together as one nation. Citizens, soldiers, and first responders alike had untied under one singular goal. To help one another. Since then, the country had never been so united. But the patriotism, the love for the country that had been displayed during those following weeks and months had done enough to take hold of a pair of young brothers in suburban Newport Beach, California...
The helicopter rotors spun around and around, kicking up dust all over the landing zone. It was a Boeing Chinook CH-47, a common aircraft in the United States military to transport troops. Morgan Peterson stood a few feet away from the chopper, the rhythmic beating of the rotors ringing loudly in his ears. Despite wearing earplugs and headphones connected to his communications gear, the chopper was still unbelievably loud. He was covered in dirt, grime, mud, and blood from nearly four days of continuous combat operations. Relieved to have the action finally coming to an end, Morgan was enjoying a cigarette, as the feeling of exhaustion set in.
Morgan Peterson was a Chief Petty Officer in the United States Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU, more colloquially known as SEAL Team Six. The other men who were moving around the chopper were the SEALs on his team or the men from a partnering Delta Force unit, the Army’s Tier One Special Forces unit. The SEALs, which stood for Sea, Air, and Land, were notoriously the most elite fighting force in the United States Military. They’d famously conducted the raid that killed Osama bin-Laden, earning them Hollywood-level fame across the globe.
“Can’t wait to get home, man,” one of Morgan’s teammates, Lars, said, walking up to him. “Kids are starting to talk, last time I talked to Kelli,”
“They gotta miss you,” Morgan said, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke.
He had no kids of his own, but had without a doubt taken the trophy for coolest uncle; his two nieces were in high school. Despite not having kids yet, he and his wife, Alexandra, had always talked about having a family. The timing had just not worked out yet.
“I miss ’em like crazy,” Lars shook his head, smiling. He ran a gloved hand through his messy, brown hair. “Alright, I’m gonna go grab a seat on the bird,”
“Right behind you,” Morgan tossed his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. He raised his hand and waved the others back onto the chopper. “Mount up!”
Like Lars, Morgan was also sporting a rather disheveled haircut. His brown hair was longer than it had ever been, nearly down to his shoulders, and his beard was thick and bushy too. Lars had jokingly started calling him “ZZ Top”, much to Morgan’s displeasure. He didn’t think it fair to compare the legendary beards of ZZ Top to his own.
Including Lars and Morgan, a total of eight Navy SEALs and four Delta operators climbed onto the chopper, each of them taking a seat in the hold. The Crew Chief gave Morgan a concerned look as soon as he sat down. Morgan could tell he was getting orders relayed into his headset. Morgan raised an eyebrow as he put on a headset so he could talk to the Chief.
“What’s the deal?” Morgan asked.
“I’m getting word that there’s a Ranger unit pinned down a few clicks from here,” the Crew Chief responded. “HQ is trying to find an alternative, but we might have to go play QRF,”
QRF was the designated acronym for a Quick Reaction Force.
“How far exactly?” Morgan asked. He was completely exhausted, as were the rest of his men, but their brothers in arms needed help.
“Working on it…”
“Work in the air, tell the pilot to get a move on,” Morgan said. He stood up and raised his voice. “Listen up! We got Rangers in contact not too far from here. We’re gonna go bail ’em out on our way home, alright?”
All of the operators in the hold nodded, no questions asked. There never would be. Morgan smiled and nodded. A few moments later, the Chinook lifted off into the air and began flying toward the Rangers. Ammo was passed around to the soldiers and Morgan made sure to replenish his pouches with fresh magazines for his Heckler and Koch 416 assault rifle. Once he had all the extra ammo he could carry, Morgan sat down in his seat and rested his head against the frame of the chopper, closing his eyes. There was no way he’d be able to sleep, but even just closing his eyes took some of the stress off.
As they flew across the sky, Morgan’s mind began wandering to his brother. Caleb Peterson was older than Morgan by a few years, but he was also a Senior Chief Petty Officer in DEVGRU. He had enlisted a few years before Morgan did, while Morgan was finishing up his associates degree at a local community college before enlisting - their mother had insisted. It had been a few weeks since he’d touched base with his brother. In fact, Morgan wasn’t sure if Caleb was still stateside or if he had redeployed again. Caleb had been married for almost fifteen years and had twin girls that were freshmen in high school. As far as brothers went, Caleb and Morgan were exceptionally close. The best of friends. Morgan made a mental note to reach out to his brother, it had been too long since they'd last touched based.
An alarm went off in the chopper, snapping Morgan out of his thoughts. He sat straight up and looked at the Crew Chief.
“Contact, 10 o’clock!” one of the pilots yelled, swerving the massive chopper around hard. “Fire, fire, fire!”
The gunner immediately began hammering off rounds from the belt-fed .50 caliber machine gun mounted behind the cockpit. Morgan crossed the cargo hold and looked out one of the port windows, seeing a mess of enemy fighters in the mountains adjacent to them. He saw a duo of men running toward them, each one carrying a Rocket Propelled Grenade, or RPG. His eyes went wide.
“RPG!” Morgan screamed a warning.
“Break right, break right!” the pilot yelled.
The rocket sailed toward the chopper, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. It impacted right into the middle of the chopper, blowing a hole through it. Instantly, three of the Navy SEALs were killed in the blast. Morgan heard the pilots yelling distress calls as the Chinook began breaking apart in midair, heading on a collision course with the ground beneath it.
“Mayday, mayday, we are going down!” the pilot yelled into the radio, desperately trying to keep the chopper together.
“Another RPG!” Lars shrieked.
Morgan slammed his eyes shut before the rocket impacted with the helicopter.
