CHAPTER 25

MacDill Air Force Base

Tampa, Florida

March

GETTING UP FROM HIS office chair was painful for Sergeant Major Jeff Otaktay, thanks to the 7. 62mm bullet that had shattered his femur in Sadr City a decade earlier. That bullet had turned the 3rd Special Forces Group’s most promising sniper into a deskbound staff NCO. He could have retired medically thanks to the plates and screws that held his leg together, but he felt a duty to train and mentor the soldiers who came after him, passing along his knowledge to the next generation of Special Forces operators. That path led him to an instructor slot at the Special Forces Sniper Course at Fort Bragg’s Range 37, a job for which he was perfectly suited.

His current position was not so stimulating. As the senior noncommissioned officer of the SOF Warrior Acquisition Office at SOCOM, which was part of the Special Operations Force Acquisition and Logistics office, the once-proud warrior now spent his days going over gear requests instead of teaching snipers to stalk and kill their prey. He’d resigned himself to his fate and dedicated his efforts to putting the best equipment available in the hands of the special operations soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines still working downrange. He worked long hours to shuttle requests through the acquisition process as quickly as possible and had learned to navigate this new battlefield nearly as effectively as he’d done in the streets of Iraq. He was still able to contribute at the tactical level by spending much of his free time training SWAT snipers from all over Florida’s Gulf Coast.

It was his overseas battlefield experience that made the current request on his desk seem unusual. Someone was requesting a pair of CheyTac M200 sniper rifles with high-end Nightforce optics and a large amount of match ammunition for a joint U. S. -NATO sniper program in Turkey. Relations with Turkey had become increasingly strained as of late, and it struck Otaktay as strange that the United States would be urgently shipping them high-end sniper weapon systems. This wasn’t a rifle that fit into the traditional military arsenal of either the Americans or Turks. As a sniper, he was very familiar with its extreme long-range capability and this wasn’t something he wanted in the hands of the bad guys on his watch. Trusting his instincts had kept his men alive on the battlefield, and those same instincts were now sounding the administrative alarm.

The sergeant major made a few calls to his contacts in the special operations community, and thanks to a friend in the military deputy’s office, he was able to trace the request to a call placed from a Senate staffer a week earlier. It wasn’t totally out of the ordinary for someone on the Hill to carry water for a weapons manufacturer constituent, but it was rarely for something so specific. Having done his due diligence, it was time to go see the boss.

As he pushed himself up from his chair, he took a moment to steady himself before making his way into the glass-paneled hallway that led to the program executive officer’s domain. Otaktay had encountered a few good officers during his military career, but his current boss was not one of them. Major Charlie Serko was a logistician, and not a particularly good one. He had been a mediocre Field Artillery officer before transitioning to the Acquisition Corps, where he did nothing but hone his skill for managing his career up the chain of command. The NCOs on his staff were all convinced that his regulation-length brown mustache was the result of the time he spent crawling up the SOCOM acquisition director’s ass. This, along with his rodentlike face, led to his nickname: Gerbil.

Otaktay’s limp became less noticeable as his leg muscles loosened with each step. Exhaling deeply, he knocked on the Gerbil’s open door frame.

“Sir, do you have a moment? ”

Major Serko looked up, surprised to see the hulking and heavily tattooed Native American NCO in his doorway. The man’s camouflage uniform was covered with badges and patches that were a testament to his career in special operations. The major stared at the Combat Infantryman’s badge, Master Rated Parachutist badge, HALO wings, and Special Operations Diver badges that decorated the NCO’s chest, tangible reminders of a life spent running toward the sound of gunfire. The major’s own uniform was almost bare but for his rank, name badges, and single row of administrative ribbons. The Special Forces Group combat patch, Ranger tab, and Presidents Hundred tab on Otaktay’s sleeve only added insult to the major’s injury.

“Umm, sure, yeah, Sergeant Major, ” he said, glancing at his watch. “Can you make it quick? ”

The walls of the office were covered with photographs and mementos from the major’s single deployment to Afghanistan. There was a traditional Afghan pakol wool hat on the shelf, a decommissioned Chinese hand grenade on his desk, and a seemingly endless array of photos depicting the Gerbil holding various weapons. Otaktay was amused by the fact that all the photos appeared to have been taken inside the walls of the sprawling Forward Operating Base that the major likely never left.

“Sir, I need you to take a look at this. ” Otaktay slid the request across the major’s desk. “Something’s not right about it. I checked with some of the guys overseas and they haven’t heard anything about this program. We appear to be exporting weapons to an unknown entity. ”

Serko glanced at the form and frowned. “Where did this request come from? ”

“That’s why I came to see you, sir. It came from Colonel Fenson’s office. Someone in D. C. asked him for a favor, from what I hear. ”

“The deputy? You expect me to question a request that came down from an 0-6? ”

“Sir, I don’t really give a shit who it came from. I’m trying to prevent sniper weapons systems from being used against U. S. forces overseas. ”

Major Serko paused and chose his next words deliberately. “You think you’re still a sniper, don’t you? Better get used to the fact that you’re not. You are just another staff NCO. ”

Otaktay’s hands balled into fists as he suppressed the urge to pull the Gerbil’s spine out through his throat. He took a breath and pressed on in a professional but measured tone: “Sir, this isn’t about me, this is about keeping weapons out of the hands of our enemies. This request is highly abnormal. No one that I’ve spoken to has ever heard of a combined U. S. sniper program with Turkey. At best, these rifles are going to be used by the Turks against the Peshmerga. ”

“And what, precisely, do you expect me to do about it, Sergeant Major? ”

“Sir, perhaps you could reach out to someone on Colonel Fenson’s staff and dig a bit deeper. Once these weapons ship, there’s no getting them back. Remember all of the weapons we sent to Afghanistan in the eighties? ”

“Sergeant Major, have you ever heard the phrase ‘the nail that sticks up gets hammered down? ’ The chain of command exists for precisely this reason. We must all do our part to keep the machine moving. These rifles need to ship as expeditiously as possible. ”

Serko signed each page of the form and placed it in the outbox on his desk.

“Anything else, Sergeant Major? ”

“Negative, sir. ” Otaktay turned to leave and then stopped. “Sir, you don’t have to lead men in combat to show courage. ”

“What are you talking about, Sergeant Major? ”

“It’s a pity you don’t know, ” Otaktay replied, leaving the office with no sign of his limp.

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