"I don't know. We can't take them; we certainly don't have the resources to deal with them in Mansfield. Besides, we barely have enough people to drive all these vehicles, much less tend to prisoners; there must be close to seventy of them. Let's get them lined up and I'll address them."
The teams stepped out from behind their cover and corralled the prisoners, while Barrett paced along the line and addressed them, "Usted es libre de ir, seguir caminando hacia el sur y no volver aqu. No luchar de nuevo, la prxima vez no ser tan indulgente. Ahora Go!"
The soldados and sicarios nodded graciously and marched past the teams in a single file line to the south, too afraid to look back. They knew that they would have shot the guardsmen dead as they lay on the ground, if the roles had been reversed. As the grateful men left, the soldiers under Barrett's command inspected their newly-acquired rides.
"Well boys, if you didn't consider yourself a guerilla before, you can't deny it now." Barrett turned and said to Holt, "Can your men grab the Strykers?"
"We're on it."
"Good, let's double time it. I don't know if anyone else might be coming our way and I sure don't want to give these babies up."
Barrett keyed up his radio before climbing into his vehicle and said, "Dragon Warrior here, do you copy Cochise?"
"Affirmative; go ahead DW."
"We've commandeered seventeen ERC 90s. We'll be following the Strykers out on the designated route. Do not frat us Cochise.
"Copy that, DW; thanks for the heads up. I guess congratulations are in order. If you can't get your own tanks, then just steal the other guys; is that how it works now?"
"I'll take anything I can get at this point, Cochise."
"Roger that. You better get moving, DW; we're a few minutes out and closing fast. See you round the campfire tonight."
"Affirmative, stay safe."
The rhythmic Whoof, Whoof, Whoof of the helos echoed off of the rooftops as the four, Apache Longbows crossed the Rio Grande from Brownsville into Matamoros. Thanks to the successful strikes by Lobo and Guano earlier that morning, the four guns.h.i.+ps' mission was a walk in the park. If Governor Baker had not sent the F-5s to eliminate the Mexican jets, the choppers would have been in for a very tough day. Cochise grinned at the thought of the well-executed plan as he led his team of Longbows flew over downtown Matamoros.
Cochise, the commander of the air-strike team, had taken his call sign from the nantan warrior of the same name. Cochise lead the Chokonen band of Chiricahua Apaches in the latter years of the 19th century. The Apache chief and his warriors battled both the Mexican and American governments' intrusions into their lands in the Sonoran region of Mexico, southern Arizona and New Mexico. They mastered the art of the guerilla during their struggle against annihilation. The Mexican government often reso
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