The Uvalde Raider
A Templar Family Novel: Book One
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A MILITARY THRILLER BY BEN H. ENGLISH The time is the eve of the First Gulf War. The place is an abandoned World War II emergency landing strip for heavy bombers, nestled amid the near countless miles upon miles of wide openness in West Texas. Here another climatic battle will be fought, while the rest of the world focuses on what would become known as Operation Desert Storm. But in some ways, the stakes are even higher as men from other places and past conflicts gamble all that they are, and all they ever were, to prevent a catastrophic terrorist attack unthinkable before on an American city....
A MILITARY THRILLER BY BEN H. ENGLISH The time is the eve of the First Gulf War. The place is an abandoned World War II emergency landing strip for heavy bombers, nestled amid the near countless miles upon miles of wide openness in West Texas. Here another climatic battle will be fought, while the rest of the world focuses on what would become known as Operation Desert Storm. But in some ways, the stakes are even higher as men from other places and past conflicts gamble all that they are, and all they ever were, to prevent a catastrophic terrorist attack unthinkable before on an American city. The key to either side's success or failure? One old Boeing B-17G Flying Fortress, an enduring symbol from another war and ensuing catastrophe of a different era. This relic of a not so distant past is named 'The Uvalde Raider,' and this is its story... EXCERPT Trooper Micah Templar lazed in the cab of the sandstone colored Ramcharger, relaxing from what started as an early morning shift. He had the driver's seat run back as far as it would go, with both doors as well as the rear hatch opened wide in search of a cooling breeze. It was the time of year when the mornings would start off chilly, but by mid-afternoon could turn uncomfortably warm. This was one of those afternoons and the spacious greenhouse of the Dodge made it all the more so. Micah had his DPS-issued felt hat pulled low over his eyes, trying to shut out the west Texas sun that was just now peeking below the top of the windshield. He was trying to doze a bit but his excitement, along with that burning orb overhead, was making his attempt nigh impossible. Tipping the hat back slightly with the tip of his right index finger, the highway patrolman glanced at his watch and noted it was near the top of the hour. With nothing better to do and little progress made as far as catching some shuteye, he leaned forward and turned on the vehicle's radio for the latest news. "...at present officials for the Bush administration say an international coalition must be formed to push the Iraqi forces out of Kuwait. Other sources in the Pentagon are stating that plans for military action have been drawn up for a possible response to the crisis. Meanwhile, the United Nations is also considering further action against Iraq. A resolution has already been passed condemning the invasion and demanding that Saddam Hussein withdraw his forces. In other such news, negotiators remain hopeful for the release of American hostages still held in Lebanon. It is believed the recent release of Irish citizen Brian Keenan signals a new opportunity in that direction. However, intelligence experts remain noncommittal following the murder of Marine Lieutenant Colonel William Higgins. Higgins was abducted February of last year by suspected Islamic terrorists. A videotape purporting to show his execution was released, but the American government did not officially declare him dead until two months ago. This is TSN, the Texas State Network..." "Should've known, nothing but bad news," Micah muttered to himself, shifting his weight in the seat and switching the radio off. A former combat Marine, he had a better idea than most of what going to war really meant. It had been a long time since the thought was discussed so freely among those with the power to do so, and by all indicators those discussions were in dead earnest. And when war talk occurs in dead earnest among such people, that's a sign of what will most likely result: a lot of other dead people. These disturbing thoughts banished any further hope of a short nap and Micah crawled out of the cab of the Dodge to stretch his legs. Slouching in the driver's seat had badly skewed the gig line for his uniform, and by habit he hitched the Sam Browne belt around to line everything back up.
