In the world of super secret, Major Chuck Hammer and his Invisible Squadron take on the forces of evil in service to the country they love. Fighting battles unknown to all but those involved, the future of the world as we know it hangs in the balance. Standing for the cause of freedom, with the most highly trained and talented men in the business, aircraft unmatched the whole world through, what could possibly go wrong?
Copyright (c) by Phillip Kurz
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without written permission of the author.
Here are excerpts from the first draft of my next book. Some character studies. I will add more to this post as the weeks progress.
Episode 2:
Home Super Home
or
Be My Lady
Colonel Richard Leokardia
"Freedom ain't free and it's time to punch the clock!" Hollered Colonel Richard Leokardia, in a voice that boomed in the domed sanctuary known simply as 'The Super.' A super secret base in a super secret location, named by Colonel Leokardia after his love for beekeeping.
Colonel Leokardia, simply known as 'Sir', was Air Force, a veteran of Korea and Vietnam. A tall lanky man of advanced years. Gray haired, brilliant blue eyes sunken with age, dominated his facial features, now grown hard and sharp over time. Success in his career was measured more by the trust he inspired than the rank he had achieved. Being extremely fit and experienced at an age where most had retired, if not passed away, made him singularly qualified for his current post. For if a super secret aircraft could not be surrendered, all the more a super secret base. And if discovered, no remote detonation or computer program could be trusted to get the job done.
"Get your sorry butts out here and fall in!" The Colonel barked. Turning away from the row of small prefabricated living quarters, pacing back and forth, he mumbled incoherently under his breath. Within the minute a single line of five men formed, backs straight, chests out, heads held high. All sporting short flattop haircuts and dressed in simple gray overalls with no badges, emblems, or sign of rank. All average men of average height, distinguishable from any other man only in the abilities in which they excelled beyond all others.
"Attention!" the Colonel commanded. The men snapped to salute before a flagless flagpole, holding stiff and silent in sincere respect until the Colonel announced, "At ease men."
"Sir!" exclaimed Captain Andrew George, Air Force, nick named 'Cowboy'. For in a super secret base of indistinguishable allegiances no real names would ever be spoken. "Any news on Hulk? Sir!"
The Colonel scoured, and approached Captain George. Standing nose to nose, in a gruff growl the Colonel demanded. "Do you see Hulk's bird anywhere Cowboy? Do you think he just tiptoed in, in the middle of the night? COWBOY!"
"No Sir!" Answered Captain George, the youngest of the fighter pilots, blue eyed, blonde haired, baby faced, and never to be found without a smile. "I just thought you might have heard something. Sir!"
"NOTHING!" the Colonel spewed in his face, "Now ...All of you give me forty laps."
"Yes Sir!" the men shouted, instantly heading to the near wall, their boots pounding hollow on the decking, spanning the entire cavern at its widest point.
"Where's my breakfast?" Yelled the Colonel, hands resting on his hips.
See you guys." Said Lieutenant Salada. Lieutenant Jules Salada, Known as Jabby, with hair blacker than black, clearly of Italian descent, was pilot of King of the Beach, and head cook. His sidekick, Ensign Benny Hannah, nicknamed Benihana, or Beni for short, broke ranks with him as they both darted for the kitchen. Ensign Hannah had dark brown hair, a low brow, deep set blue-green eyes and a distinctly slovak chin and jaw. Both Lieutenant Jules 'Jabby' Salada and Ensign Benny 'Beni' Hannah were Navy SEALs and master of the cutlery.
As they began to prepare breakfast for the men, their conversation went to where it always went, to wedding plans for their children. With a bond born in the blood of combat, Lieutenant Salada had long pledged his daughter to Ensign Hannah's son, from the time they were newborns. A promised nurtured over long periods of shared solitude in bringing many a super secret base to operational status. Plans in the works for over a decade. Plans shared only between themselves, only overheard by those in the world of super secret, and perhaps only in honor of their fellow SEALs, those lost in combat.
A promise, whose origins traced back to the heat of battle deep in the jungles of Columbia. A promise made amidst a battle neither thought they would survive. A battle never recorded, known only to those who were there. A primal struggle, where the blood of the living and the dead, the past and the present, rushed as one through their veins. Desperately consumed in their training, no thought or energy wasted, in a rapid resolve to survive, to preserve continuity. Lieutenant Salada confirming nearly two-hundred kills that night, though he had long stopped counting when cold steel replaced hot lead well spent. From among their platoon of thirteen, and countless drug crazed madmen, only Lieutenant Salada and Ensign Hannah had walked away three days later.
Now they consumed themselves in preparing breakfast for the Colonel and the men. All the while arguing over wedding cake. Ensign Hannah making the case for red velvet cake with cream cheese filling. While Lieutenant Salada, trying not to pull rank, dreamed aloud of a chiffon cake with white chocolate mousse and marzipan roses.
Preface
I set forth three presumptions in my Preface:
If you believe this book to be anti-military, namely anti-United States, then I have failed. If you believe this book to be anti-war I have succeeded.If you forget any preconceived notions this preface may give you, reading the story to follow, then perhaps I am a good writer.
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