"Mel Odom - Apocalypse Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Odom Mel)

andSyria and theKurdistan

Workers Party could bear fruit. It was his job to see that the diplomats had the time they needed to
keep people from dying.

But being so far from home for so long was hard. He missed his wife,Megan , and his boys,Joey
andChris . The last couple of years hadn't been kind to Goose-or to any American Special Forces
troops. Terrorist activity around the globe had kept them in the field. Goose's five-year-old son,Chris ,
seemed to be growing up much too fast in the pictures Goose had received from home over the last few
months. And his seventeen-year-old stepson,Joey , was on the brink of manhood. It nearly killed Goose
not to be there for his boys and his wife.

According to the intel from HQ, the peace talks betweenTurkey andSyria were going to get serious any
day.Any day had been more than a month in coming, and moving C Company from support ca-pacity
insideTurkey to the border wasn't a promising sign.

Dug in on the plateaus that made up the southeastern section ofTurkey , Goose stared due south. The
terrain wasn't as mountainous or craggy as in many places along the border. This had once been the
gateway toMesopotamia , home of some of the world's oldest civili-zations-Babylon,Sumer,Persia
,Assyria ,Chaldea . TheTigris andEu-phratesRivers flowed from the mountains further north and spilled
into the lowlands in the southeast, emptying intoIraq andIran to form what had once been known as
theFertile Crescent .

Back when he was a young man, in a Bible class his daddy'd taught at church back home
inWaycross,Georgia , Goose had studied this re-gion. It was the place many Bible scholars believed had
once housed the Garden of Eden. But now the green paradise was gone. Here the world seemed
reduced to a sea of shifting yellow sand and gravel that sported islands of treacherous rocks and
stubborn scrub bushes. And Goose, too, had changed. His easy acceptance of the church's teaching was
long gone. He had seen too much violence to buy into the simple beliefs of his youth.

His faith, like the landscape around him, had been blasted.

"So, what do you think, Sergeant?" The voice of his commanding officer came via Goose's ear/throat
headset. Satellite communications kept the teams in constant contact, and with HQ five klicks behind the
front lines, that was good. As First Sergeant, Goose's headset was chipped for the main channel as well
as four subset frequencies he could use for special team assignments. He was second-in-command and
ranking NCO of a company consisting of for four rifle platoons ranged across the border, shoring up the
exhausted Turkish soldiers on the front lines.

Despite the fact that the Syrian military hadn't shown signs of having audio-pickup equipment or
signal-capturing communica-tions antenna, Goose spoke quietly and evenly over the scrambled channel.
"I think they're waiting on something, sir. Or someone."

"Nothing appears out of the ordinary,"CaptainCalRemington replied.

"No, sir," Goose said, surveying the way the Syrian soldiers took refuge from the sun under vehicles and
tarps. "The grunts are all busi-ness as usual. But I do see a little more spit and polish than normal to-day.

"'Spit and polish'?"