Notes - First mission. Tara and I played the whole game so we'll pick selected jobs for the story and combine some events for the purpose of clarity and story telling. This is a little bit of a self insert and the goat story really happened to me in a similar context. I am also a competitive pistol and rifle shot, having shot IPSC, bullseye and CQB events.

Ghost Recon – Wildlands

Itacua Province, Bolivia, January 12, 2019

In the aftermath of the mortar strike, the meeting with Pac Katari was a little tense and it clear he was not a huge fan of the "yanquis," and his lack of trust was understandable. He'd been burned by Americans before who had promised aid, reneged, promised aid and reneged. "Flip floppers," he called them. In his opinion, America was run by feckless politicians more concerned with political theatre and personal gain than actual action. Or, when they took action, it was with a chainsaw and not a scalpel when needed. At least he was sympathetic to Tony Stark's injuries and "Nomad" got the best care that the rebels could provide, which, unfortunately, wasn't a whole lot.

"We need to get him out ASAP," urged Weaver with a hint of a Northeastern accent. "That leg doesn't look real good but at least Nomad's his grouchy old self."

Karen Bowman pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows, clearly annoyed. "I've been working on it," she said with a bit of an edge. "The nearest facility that would treat him properly is San Gabriel in La Paz but we have to get him out of the country and that will take a little bit longer. We can't risk Unidad or Santa Blanca getting their hands on him."

Weaver sighed and nodded. "I know, I'm sorry. I know you're doing all you can. It's just that we've been with Nomad since 2013. I'd see it as a personal favor if you can expedite it."

"I took a look at his leg," said Midas, who was also the team medic. He had black hair, looked to be in his early 30s and was definitely Hispanic. He was dressed in black tactical pants and a black 5.11 shirt with a dark bandana around his neck. "I'm no doctor, but if we can get him out soon, I'm sure he'll recover but it'll be a few months before he's playing football again." He pulled a silver cross that was on a chain from his shirt and kissed it. "I'm praying for him. You all should too."

Alice listened to the conversation with concern. She was at ground zero when the mortar round hit the aircraft, wounding Nomad. If Chad had not sent her out, she'd be dead with him and the flight attendant. "Is there anything that I can do?" she asked politely.

Karen turned on her sharply but then took a breath and softened. "Sorry, I've been under a lot of stress, and you wouldn't deserve what I was going to say. Yes, were you aware that another group was supposed to arrive when you did? They're posing as missionaries. You wouldn't have happened to have seen them or know where they might be, huh?"

Alice scrunched her face up and shook her head. "No, sorry. I do recall that a small commuter plane touched down as we were taxiing into the terminal. Sorry, that's all I have," she said, hoping to be helpful.

"Okay, I might take a look at that. They were supposed to meet us at the terminal, but that was before the attack," Karen said and then thought for a moment. "I do have something that you can help with. Pac Katari is sending us an informant who says he knows the location of where Amaru is being held."

"Amaru?" asked the lieutenant.

"He's Pac's uncle and right-hand men. Amaru was the heart of the rebellion, giving it legitimacy and helping to bring the cause to the people," Karen answered. "He's the reason the Katari 26s exist. Go talk to the informant and see what he has to say. He's waiting in the other building, over there."

The other member of the team, Holt, raised his hand. "I'll come with," he said in a distinct Cajun accent. He ushered Alice to the door. "Hey Alice, my real name is Dom…Dom Morretta, short for Dominic. I figured we oughtta know more about you if we're going to work together, you know." He extended his hand, and she shook it. "Well, you better get changed out of the that dinky flight attendant getup. Yeah, that's gonna stand out." He grabbed a set of clothes off of a shelf. "Sorry, this is all we got. It's to blend in as Bolivian villagers." He handed it to her and it was baggy pants, a baggy shirt and a baggy hat, completely the opposite of what she was wearing. At least the hat had some color to it. Holt turned around. "Not a lot of privacy here. Sorry, but you'll have to get used to it."

Alice blushed pretty hard, feeling the heat in her cheeks. This whole gig was one humiliating thing after another. She should have been flying F-35s soon. She knew that she was stuck up and prissy, but she felt that it was part of her charm. "Fine," she said with an edge of disgust and pulled off her flight attendant uniform. "I barely fit into that thing anyway. That Paul Mitchell slash Peter Miles guy was creaming his pants." She made another disgusted grunt and pulled on the brown Bolivian garb. "I look like a damn tent now."

Holt chuckled. "Tsk tsk, so picky. Shall I get you a pumpkin spice latté too while I'm at it?"

That did sound pretty good. "You know…never mind. I'm fine." She put on the baggy, floppy hat. "I should be pushing a shopping cart full of cats now, shouldn't I?"

Holt turned back around and looked her up and down. "The last outfit was better for my morale, but I'm sure I can find you a shopping cart and some cats."

Alice gave him a snarky sneer. "Ha…ha… Okay, let's get to it."

He gave her a goofy salute. "Yes ma'am."

In the nearby room, the informant was covered in ink, a skull design over his face and a tear below his eye. Alice couldn't see even an inch of uninked skin. He chuckled sarcastically and he eyed the two out. "Oye," he said to Holt in Spanish. "You always bring your grandma to work?"

They sat down across from him and Holt gave a big grin. "Nah, she's the crazy cat lady. I picked her up at the mall nearby," he answered in Spanish, and Alice's face turned red. This was all way out of her lane.

"Eh, you alright, gringo." He pointed to himself. "Gonzalo. I work for Yuri and Polito, but those mofos be crazy so I give info to Pac Katari sometimes. So, you wanna know where they got Amaru, huh?"

"Yeah, that'd be real nice," Holt answered. "I'm guessing that this isn't going to be free."

Gonzalo nodded emphatically. "Hey hey, just like your White House, nothing is free. I give, I get, right? Your politicians rake in the dough better than anyone so why not me?" Alice felt insulted that he would insinuate that the White House and the American government was corrupt, but she held her tongue. Her uncle was a US Senator and she knew better.

Holt shrugged his shoulders in agreement. "I can't argue with you there. So, what do you usually get?" he asked with a knowing nod.

Gonzalo looked around and fidgeted for a bit before he stared at Alice. He reached over and pulled her hat up to see her face. "Oh, you been holding out on me, mano, but you come prepared. I totally give you the info for this blondie." Alice's eyes bulged and she wanted to run out, but she stayed put even though her lower lip quivered.

Holt laughed and shook his head. "She's worth at least dozen goats and I don't see no goats with you so what's option B?"

"Heh, guy's gotta dream mano," he said and stuck his tongue out and made a licking motion. Alice turned away. "Oh, a shy one. I like it. Okay papi, you throw me down two grand US and somma those energy drinks, you know, Red Bull and we call it a deal."

"Done."

Amaru was being held at the Atollo Farm due south. As they walked back to the hut that served as a command post, Alice grabbed Holt by the arm. "Sergeant, what was that all about? That was positively insulting," she said with a sharp edge, pulling rank. She was fuming almost the whole time.

"Sorry ma'am, I'm kind of a jokester and we needed to let Gonzalo know that we were okay, not some stuffed shirts from Washington like he's probably used to. You have to show them that we're real people and can take a joke. You have to learn to give as good as you get out here. And besides, you're worth way more than twelve goats."

She forced a laugh. "Well, I suppose that's good to know. How many goats do you think I'm worth?" she asked, trying to fit in with what was going on.

"I was going to say twenty, but I'd push for two dozen. Gonzalo was obviously desperate. Oh! I am so calling you, Twenty Goat Girl!"

Alice rolled her eyes and made a deep, disgusted sigh. "What is with the nicknames?"

Back in the command post, Karen brought up satellite images on her laptop. She punched in some lat/long coordinates and the overhead image of a farm came up. "Okay, this is the Atollo Farm. There are two crop fields, a barn and a main house. My guess is that Amaru is at the main house. Look here, there are several vehicles and a chopper," she said and looked at Alice. "You can fly that, right?"

Alice nodded. "I sure can. Looks like a Bell Jet Ranger."

Weaver pointed to the eastern side of the farm on the map. "We take the Range Rover to here and deploy. I'll set up a perch here on the southwest corner as Midas moves forward to the northwest corner. Holt, you and the LT will start with drone recon. Tag any hostiles and then set up at the fence line on the southeast. Our mission is search and rescue so weapons tight. I'll cover your forward movement. If we go hot, assault the main house. You have to go in fast at that point." He looked over to Alice. "LT, you up for this? We need to be sure. There's no room for error here."

Alice nodded slowly. "I won't let you down, Weaver."

Midas went over to a weapon rack and motioned for Alice to follow. He handed her a tactical holster that would strap to her right thigh. He then pulled a SIG Sauer P320 pistol that was colored in various shades of brown. He pulled back the slide and locked it to the rear and did two safety checks. "Safe and empty," he said and then grasped the pistol by the muzzle and handed it with the grip facing her. "Double check it please. A professional always knows the state of their weapon."

She took it and then looked down the magazine well, followed by the chamber and did it twice. "Safe and empty," she responded and he handed her four high capacity magazines each filled with 15 9x19mm, 147 grain JHP rounds. She put the weapon in the holster and clipped the retention strap closed.

"Leupold Red Dot and a Surefire X300 flashlight," he said about the pistol accessories. Then, he then pulled an M4A1 carbine off of the rack and pulled the charging handle back and locked it with the bolt catch. He did the same safety check twice. "Safe and empty," he said as he handed the weapon to her. The carbine was also colored in various brown hues and had a number of attachments. "It's a SOPMOD M4 with 1913 Picatinny Rail, EOTECH G43 optics, AN/PEQ-2 infrared laser and a broom handle foregrip, chambered in 55 grain, 5.56x45 FMJ. It's kinda heavy, but I think you can handle it."

She took the weapon and it was heavy, even with the composite foregrip and stock. She did the safety checks and Midas handed her a camo-colored plate carrier, which was also heavy…for her.

He strapped it on her, securing the Velcro straps. "Spartan plate carrier with Level IV ceramic body armor, rated to stop .30-06 M2AP!" he said excitedly, telling her that the plate would stop nearly any small arms round made. "And it's pretty light overall he said as she thought she would sag under the weight.

She then put the Allen nylon rifle sling over her shoulder, letting the weapon dangle. "Thank you. I…I think I'm ready."

Finally, he pulled off her baggy hat and tossed it away. "Here. Here's a good boonie cap. Better to keep the sun and bugs off of you. And take this insect repellant and camo paint too. Okay, you're set. Let's head out."

As they headed to the Range Rover, Alice saw Karen on the phone, clearly distraught and she thought she heard the name, 'Ricky Sandoval.' It was just under an hour drive to the Atollo Farm, mostly offroad as Midas drove. Holt and Weaver kept watch along the route, occasionally waving at civilians who were walking by along the trails. Alice noted that, yes, they wore what she wore, villagers and townsfolk who were farmers, herders and who worked other agrarian jobs. She was a pure city girl and this was an eye opener.

Midas checked a GPS unit and came to a stop. "The farm is three-hundred meters to the east.

Weaver stepped out of the door and slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder. "We have good concealment here for the vehicle. This is our fallback if things go bad and we exfil to another secure location. We don't want anyone following us back to Karen." He pointed to Midas. "Off you go. Holt, Wonder…you know, I'm calling you Wonderbread, move up one hundred and fifty meters and start surveillance. I'll be overwatch…there."

Alice wrinkled her nose. "Wonderbread? What's that?"

Weaver snorted. "You know…Wonderbread…it was very popular…eh, never mind. It was before your time."

Holt snickered as he slung his drone pack. "Alrighty, old man."

Weaver gave him a mock kick to the rear. "I'm only Thirty-Four! Get out of here. Get going. Okay, everyone, phaseline yellow, go secure comm, radio and fire discipline. Check your weapons, everyone locked and loaded, suppressors on. Assault teams deconflict on who gets the HVA. Call 'Jackpot' when HVA secured. Assault teams exfil by helo, and I'll take the Rover back home. No one follows us, remember?" Everyone nodded and Weaver gave a thumbs up. "And so it begins."

Midas pulled his black bandana up over his nose and mouth and hustled into the crop field, vanishing from sight in a few seconds. Holt and Alice moved forward and then knelt down, Holt bringing out his drone, an EXO Blackhawk 3, good range, good optics and very quiet. "Here…I'll pilot, you watch the monitor and report to Weaver. When he gives the go, we collect our gear and press forward. You stay on my Six and don't shoot me in the ass." Using the control unit, the drone's rotors began turning and it barely made a sound. "You know that company, Skelltech? They made these things even quieter about a year ago. Wonders of modern technology, huh?"

Alice watched the monitor as the drone moved around the farm. She saw six tangoes, all gang banger wannabes with heavy ink, carrying AK-47s. They seemed happy about something. Audio was picking up chatter about Amaru, the Santa Blanca sicarios joking about his torture by La Yuri and El Polito. It sounded pretty horrific. She keyed the mic on her radio. "Count three tangoes north, two south and one west. Unknown inside."

"Solid copy, rolling green," Weaver responded, giving the go ahead to prosecute the rescue. Holt brought the drone back, folded up the rotors and put it in his pack. He gave the signal to ingress, and led the way. Alice moved in behind him and held her M4 at the low ready. Holt moved along the north side of a goat pen and she could tell that he was highly trained in this, his movements clean and crisp, maneuvering his HK416 with professional ease.

She could just make out Midas crouching behind a low rock wall. Midas braced his SIG516 on the wall and there was a small puff of smoke at the end of the suppressor. "Tango down."

Holt raised the barrel of his weapon and there were two small pops like a staple gun. A pink mist blew out from the back of the other sicario's head, and he collapsed where he stood. Actually seeing something like this made Alice gasp. She saw a sicario poke his head out of a window of the main house. She gulped down hard as she brought her muzzle up and pushed the selector to single fire. She put the red dot on the sicario's face. PAF! There was a pink mist, and the head disappeared back into the window.

Her eyes widened at what she had done. She had never even harmed anyone much less killed someone. Her hands shook for a moment before she steadied her nerves. If there was one thing that she learned in flight school at UPT it was focus. She heard another PAF and then Midas called, "Tango down, northeast corner." His voice was calm and even as if he were buying groceries. "North side clear. Moving to ingress point at the main house."

The radio crackled. "South side clear. Move to assault."

Midas led the way to the door of the main house as Holt covered down behind them with Alice in the middle. Midas spoke softly as they reached the door. "Get in tight," he told her. "I'll clear left and you clear right. Check your targets. You've seen the photo of Amaru so only engage if you're certain but don't hesitate. Press right as soon as you clear the door. Remember your training. Squeeze my shoulder when you're ready."

Alice could feel her heart pounding and sweat trickled down her brow. She gulped hard and then squeezed Midas' shoulder. Midas raised his hand. "Holt, I need a bang."

"Bang up," Holt said as he prepped a flashbang. Midas pushed open the door wide enough for Holt to toss it in. In another moment there was a bright flash of light and a deafening sound. Alice had covered her ears but it was still disorienting.

"Go go go!" called Midas and he stepped into the doorway and turned left. Alice moved in and turned right. A man was rubbing his eyes and staggered a few steps until he saw her and started to raise the muzzle of his AK-47. It seemed like slow motion as the metal barrel and wooden foregrip moved upwards towards her head. She put the red dot on his chest and pressed the trigger twice. PAFPAF! The man fell to his knees and then collapsed, a wheezing sound escaping his lungs. He moved his hand towards her and then became still. Her eyes searched around the area as Midas called, "Clear left!"

Alice saw a door with bars, a cell of some sort and a naked man lay on the concrete floor, unmoving. She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Holt. "You need to call, clear right. Weaver is waiting," he said patiently.

She remembered to breathe now. "Sorry. Clear right."

Midas held up his hand and then looked down at the body of the sicario. "No apologies. You'll get the hang of it. We know you're filling in for Nomad temporarily and those are some mighty big shoes, mind you. Just listen to us and you'll come along." He keyed his mic. "Main house, all clear."

Holt bashed the lock off of the cell door. "Wonder, over here. We need to make sure that this is Amaru. I'm hoping he's still alive."

As Weaver came in, he and Midas took defensive positions in the house. Alice followed Holt into the cell and it was clear that the man had been tortured, cuts and bruises all over his body. There was blood coming from his mouth and nose and between his legs and it looked like several fingers on his left hand were broken. She covered him with a cloth. "He's still breathing," she said, seeing his chest rise and fall.

Holt snapped a picture of his face and texted it to Karen. He keyed his mic, "Jackpot, I say again, Jackpot. Extract and egress in five." He pointed to Alice. "Get the helo ready. We'll move to you in five."

She nodded and ran out the north door to preflight the helo. Just as they saw in the surveillance image, it looked similar to a Bell 206, which she had flown before. There was no time for a proper preflight so she quickly looked the exterior of the helo up and down and hopped into the cockpit, putting on the headset that someone left. She moved the cyclic around to test the flight controls. The pedals and collective moved freely too as did the throttle. "Hydraulic switch on," she said aloud as her training came back. "Battery on. Annunciator panel, check. Avionics on. Fuel valve and boost pumps on. Fuel pressure in the green. Starter…idle release on. N1, twelve percent," she continued as she advanced the throttle. "N1, fifty-eight percent…N1, seventy percent, generator on. Instruments on." Her hands flew among the switches on the overhead panel. "Torque thirty percent and increasing." She saw Midas leading the way from the main house as Weaver drove off with the Rover. Holt as carrying the barely conscious Amaru and laid him gently in the back. They hopped on and strapped in.

Midas took the left seat. "All secure. Go!" he said, and Alice raised the collective and pushed the left pedal to keep the helo stable. The Jet Ranger floated off of the ground and Alice moved the cyclic forward to fly away from the farm. It was just a few minutes back to the CP where Karen was waiting. Alice lowered the collective until the helo touched down, neutral pedals and then rotated the throttle closed. She quickly shut down and they moved to the CP. Holt covered Amaru with a blanket and the man was now awake and could walk with help. He was shaking with fear and pain.

Amaru sat down on a wooden chair as Karen handed him a water bottle and some food. He drank it greedily, finishing the bottle off in under a minute. He started coughing and Karen tapped him hard on the back. "Ugh, thank you," he said in accented English. He looked around, hypervigilant, fearful of any sudden movement. "My hosts, Yuri and Polito were none too gentle. And the love poetry that they would spout as they tortured us made me want to vomit," he continued, the strain and fatigue in his voice clear. He glanced up at Alice and blushed, likely embarrassed at his situation. It was obvious that he was putting up a brave front.

Karen sat across from him. "We have a doctor on the way to look you over. He'll take care of you. I've already notified Pac and he sends his regards that you're alive and we'll arrange transport for you to get back to him. Now…about Yuri and Polito…can you tell me where they are, and can you confirm that Ricky Sandoval is dead?"

Amaru nodded. "Yes…when they took me to Yuri and Polito I had a bag over my head, but I could still see. They drove me around in some fancy sports car but they're near the top of a hill…I can give you the coordinates to the car for sure. They didn't think that I could see, but I kept careful track of the location. I'll never forget it as long as I live. And yes, Sandoval is dead. What they did to him…" he said and then shuddered. "It's unspeakable. He's better off dead, trust me. I don't know what happened after they brought me back to the farm, but I saw his body…what was left of it anyway. Animals!" he shouted and pounded his fist on the table. "Fucking animals!"

Karen got up and put her hand on Amaru's shoulder. She swirled her finger in the air to summon the team. "Get to the car and download the GPS info. Once we get the location, head up to Yuri and Polito's place and…prosecute the mission. Terminate with extreme prejudice. Oh, and by the way, I made contact with our missionary team. They have a SIGINT specialist who will join you shortly. The rest of the missionary team will infiltrate the province and provide intel and recruit sources. And…if you find out anything about Ricky…please let me know."

The team headed out of the CP to warm up the chopper and await the arrival of the specialist. Holt patted Alice on the back. "Hey, you did good back there. You'll get the hang of our ways soon. Just stay sharp and keep your head on a swivel." He pointed to Midas and Weaver. "And don't mind these assholes. They have their uses."

Weaver snorted a laugh. "Better useful than brainless," he quipped, slapping Holt on the back of the head.

Midas chuckled. "At least I have an asshole. Yours is puckered so far up I thought it was your mouth."

Holt laughed loudly and slapped his knee. "Awwww, these guys. They love me."

This was absolutely not what Alice expected. These guys were actually kind of funny. She guessed that you had to be to endure what they've seen and done. As she stepped towards the chopper, a pickup truck pulled up and a Hispanic woman got out. She approached the team and Alice thought that had to be the SIGINT specialist. The woman tilted her head up and bumped her eyebrows in an informal greeting. "Tara Cuevas," she said and then pointed to Alice. "And you gotta be Pepper Potts."

Holt looked at Alice and started laughing. "Oh shit, she's right! Now, you're Pepper Potts!"

Weaver wrinkled his nose. "Pepper Potts?"

Holt shook his head and gave Weaver a disgusted look. "You know, Iron Man's girlfriend? You know, Tony Stark. Gwenneth Paltrow? C'mon, get with it old man."

Weaver rolled his eyes and snorted. "Yes, I get it. You know I'm more of a Herman Melville, William Shakespeare kind of man when it comes to my literature. But yes…I see the resemblance," he said, putting his fingers on his chin. "Pepper Potts it is."

Alice shook her head. "Jesus. What's with the stupid nicknames!"