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The Gotham Division and Staff Sergeant Parker:

Imagining the Future of Urban Warfare

By Sergeant Major Richard Russo


The stories we tell literally make the world. If you want to change the world, you
need to change your story. This truth applies both to individuals and institutions.

Michael Margolis

Introduction
This article is a thought experiment about how the Army might imagine operations in the
future. It results from research done by Fellows of the Chief of Staff of the Army Strategic
Studies Group (CSA SSG) on the implications of future operational environments, particularly
large urban areas. The mission of the CSA SSG is to conduct CSA-directed independent,
unconventional research and analysis to generate innovative strategic and operational concepts
for the future employment of the Army.
Although this article is a work of fiction, set in a fictitious location in 2029, every
elementthe technologies, operating concepts, and trendsis imaginable.
This article is actually two intertwined stories. First, it tells the big picture story of an
Army division commander, operating in a complex future environment. Second, it tells the much
more personal story of an infantry squad conducting a raid to secure an high value target. Both
stories combine to describe a profoundly different Army that the United States could have by
2029. We believe this Army is both imaginable and necessary to be successful in this notional,
but believable, future.
The Gotham Division, 25 March 2029
The Joint Task Force (JTF) Commander was waiting for the "all clear" to come up from
the clearance team in the last bunker. For Major General Paul Thomas new Gotham Division it


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would be the culminating point of a three-week long joint and combined cordon, search, and
secure mission. The other nine sites had been mostly uncontested...with two heartbreaking
notable exceptions. The JTF had lost a full company's worth of Soldiers and equipment on
bunkers three and seven when the Tanal-al-Qam (TaQ) operatives detonated their radiological
dispersal bombs rather than be captured with them. Most of the Soldiers had received lethal doses
of radiation from contaminated shrapnel before they hit the ground. General Thomas wrestled
with the logistics of his decision to reallocate some of his automated airframes and delay clean up
in order to facilitate his MEDEVAC. The ground drones' ability to autonomously re-task from
their cesium detection mission to evacuating their incapacitated human teammates had saved
some, but not all.
The price was high, but securing the cesium-137 would prevent another TaQ attack on
Indian soil. The U.S. State Department liaisons on General Thomas staff were hopeful these
operations would deescalate the nuclear saber rattling which followed the TaQ attack on New
Delhi the previous November that had precipitated the crisis. The Khanistani Tribal Capital City
Police was some help in keeping the streets clear for JTF convoys but when requested to actually
share intelligence on TaQ, the Khanistani officials just shrugged. General Thomas guessed TaQ's
quasi state-sponsored history had caused the Khanistani s enough embarrassment and
underpinned their attempts to distance themselves from the problem. General Thomas Intel
fusion officer still had contacts in the Khanistani Intelligence Services Agency, or ISA, from his
time in the Defense Attach Office. Through that grapevine, General Thomas had gotten some
idea how the New Delhi attack had come to pass. Those rumors were confirmed by the Joint
Interagency Task Force (JIATF), which did dual duty as his combined intelligence and operations
staff. The JIATF reporting reflected that somewhere in Khanistan an ISA handler leaked the
location of the Khanistani government's stockpile of weapons grade cesium, salvaged from
medical waste, to an TaQ operative then things quickly got out of hand. Sometime later a dirty


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bomb was detonated in the New Delhi's Dili market, killing hundreds and irradiating thousands
more when the cesium contaminated the water table. That cleanup would be next.
Khanistan openly condemned the attack and denied any direct responsibility for TaQ's
actions. The UN mandated a cease fire in the region and passed a security resolution. Then, the
division-size JTF was deployed in response to the resolution and welcomed by the Khanistani
government.
Finding the cesium-137 had required persistent overhead Measurement and Signatures
Intelligence (MASINT). The drone swarm the JTF employed established a rolling no-fly zone to
keep up with TaQs elaborate shell game of moving their dirty bomb precursors from bunker to
bunker. The Military Intelligence Source Operations (MISO) network established by the Special
Forces Regional Support Company (RSC) had worked wonders prior to the arrival of the
Gotham Division. The Human Intelligence (HUMINT) operations theyd conducted alongside
their CIA counterparts from Station in Khanistans capital city, Faracci led directly to the
identification of the bunkers hidden entrances. Once the bunkers were secure, pumping of the
"render safe" gel allowed tailored bacteria to convert the radioactive isotopes into inert cement
colored sludge--and it weighed about as much. The sludge was siphoned into massive transport
bladders and carried off site by Blackfoot autonomous rotary wing heavy-lift airframes in concert
with their evacuation runs of the JTFs wounded.
Rooting out the remaining TaQ from Faracci was getting harder the longer it took. Every
time the JTF was able to geolocate a burst transmission from one of the TaQ's cloned VoIP
messages, the enemy became cautious and went to ground. The rapid network mapping
algorithms--custom built cyber smart tools--helped spot the counterfeit IP addresses where and
when they popped up. Rumor had it that at least three of those detained were directly linked to the
bombing in New Delhi. According to the FBI agents embedded with the JIATF, the captured TaQ
operatives would likely face international war crime trials at The Hague.


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General Thomas was glad he'd been proven wrong. He'd initially feared his ground
assault forces would get lost in the maze of the capital citys 15 million people. But with so few
places to air assault, ground routes proved the only viable option to get after the TaQ. He also
worried that ambushes would eat up his formations before they even got to their intended targets.
Between the all-out internet media blitz and his drone swarm keeping the roof tops clear while
they dynamically mapped the road network, Faracci had not been the slaughter he'd feared. Most
important to this outcome had been the relationship his forces had built with the Khanistani Tribal
Police, especially in the Southern Zone. It was a bold move on General Thomas part, integrating
his force down to the squad level into the 32 Southern Zone Police Stations of the Capital City
Police Office, but thats what the Special Forces Regional Support Company and the regionally
aligned brigade commanders had recommended. Over time, theyd been proven right. In Faracci,
integrating with the police had afforded his force a degree of agility and situational awareness no
amount of overhead imagery or signals intelligence could provide more than partnering with the
Khanistani Army could have.
The last all clear was sounded and General Thomas knew he could shift his focus to
redeployment operations when the raids to find remaining TaQ cell leaders were finished. The
fight was now in the hands of his squads.
Objective Jazz 7: The Sinnadar Neighborhood in Thudarr Town, Faracci,
Khanistan, 26 March 2029
Staff Sergeant Josh Parker stopped just short of the corner where the side street
intersected with Doodarmar Street, dropped to a knee, and toggled his gun sight camera. He
stayed behind cover as he angled it around the corner. The picture from his gun sight camera fed
onto the display on his helmet visor. He could see most of the frontage of the left side of the
street, but not the building they were on the corner of. It was a blind spot a block long and
jammed full of people. He wanted it checked before they moved into the target building at the far


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end of the block where Doodarmar intersected with Noor Marjad Street. Making their way up the
street on foot would be like pushing their way through a packed nightclub to get to a gunfight. He
pulled his rifle to his chest and leaned back on his heels.
The rest of the team had taken up covered positions and now scanned the streets around
them. This place looked like the Khanistani version of the trading floor of Wall Street. Constable
Quarshi shooed people away from the squad. Specialist Bryant helped an older gentleman clear
the corner for which he received a handshake and a paternal pat on the head. Bryant was a class
act that way; he knew it was important. Bryant knew if he didnt keep it classy as they said,
theyd all be watching any bad moves streaming on the internet in a matter of minutes. Then, the
crowd of people who were due to flood the street soon wouldnt just be a crowd; theyd be an
angry crowd. Sergeant Parker checked the time. He wanted to be off the street before the evening
call to prayer. There was a Mosque right around the corner on Adamjee Street and the streets
would soon be full of people. He did a quick scan of the passing crowd and then pulled up the
navigation app on his handheld Combat Personal Computer, or CPC, and thumbed through the
map graphic overlays. He checked traffic. The outer cordon had only slowed things a little. He
brought up the sentiment overlay. It took a short moment to update as it scraped local social
network feeds and then converted the keyword hits into a multi-colored heat map. Cool colors
were benign or positive internet posts, while hotter colors reflected animosity. He virtually
checked the vibe on the virtual street to confirm what his gut told him reading peoples faces. So
far his squads activities werent rubbing people the wrong way. If they were, it hadnt made the
internet yet. The sentiment map reflected curiosity and some minor annoyance but nothing the
transliteration software interpreted as threatening. He had time, but not much. Sergeant Parker
opted to exercise some tactical patience.
He asked Constable Quarshi, his squads embedded Tribal Police officer, to please join
him. He quickly laid out his scheme of maneuver and asked for Quarshis approval to execute.


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Quarshi looked intently at the little sand table Sergeant Parker was scratching on the alley floor.
Sergeant Parker finished and looked up. Constable Quarshi grinned and said, Ok, ok. Very cool
my friend. Parker nodded and gave Quarshi a forearm bump--the obligatory combat handshake.
Sergeant Parker used his CPC to jot down a hasty maneuver graphic which captured his plan like
a coachs football play. He sent the graphic back to Platoon headquarters to fill them in on the
details. Parker decided hed brief the squad face to face in case there were questions.
Parker called up Private First Class Velasquez and told her to pull out her cold launch
mortar. She dropped to a knee and unclipped the reinforced carbon fiber tube from her assault
pack. As she prepared the mortar for action, she asked, Sergeant, am I looking at something or
blowing stuff up?
Were gonna look firstthen maybe we blow stuff upso get both rounds ready. Start
with the Bird Eye. I want that dropped right up this street. He motioned down the right
thoroughfare looking at the frontage and tops of the buildings; both sides of the street. Turn it
just before the target building.
Velasquez grinned as she readied the sensor round and asked, Look both ways before
crossing the street, Sergeant?
Sergeant Parker kept scanning the street and answered, Yup: Safety firstand make
sure the feed goes back to the two shop also. Parker wanted another set of eyes on the video feed
the Bird Eye would send back. The Company intelligence section, also called the S-2 or two-
shop, would fuse the squads micro UAV feed into their bigger composite intelligence picture
and use their Facemask software to compare any good portraits pulled from the video feed
against a growing database of known TaQ operatives and supporters. It would also crawl social
networking sites for possible matches. It was never perfect; if he got one or two hits there might
be some misidentifications, or false positives, but if he got a bunch of hits back then he could
bet he was getting warmer finding their target. He thought he might be wasting his time dropping


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a drone down the street; people dont exactly file down to the street and hold out their ID Cards
or signs that say theyre a bad guy. It was a shame they didnt, he thought smugly, itd be so
much faster. But why would they? If they wanted to be found, the TaQ wouldnt be hiding in
these residential blocks and market streets to blend in with friendly old men. He thought back to
his introductory psychology class and his paper on small team motivation. How do I motivate
these guys to come to me? Then he got an idea. It sure wasnt in any of the field manuals, but he
wanted to see if it would work.
He thumbed through his application menu on his CPC and pulled up local area
broadcast. He spoke a quick public service announcement into his helmet microphone and auto
translation software did the rest. He could have tried making the message himself but even with
all the Khanistani he had picked up during his regional alignment training, he thought it best to let
the software do what it was designed for. He checked the message once and pressed the send
icon. Similar to an old style Amber Alert, his CPC sent out a localized mesh net burst, which co-
opted cell phones within a 200 meter radius and squawked a text and audio message, Official
notice: there is an airborne drone in your area. This is for your protection and the safety of
military personnel. Please remain calm; we will be done in just a few moments. We apologize for
any inconvenience and we thank you for your cooperation.
As soon as the message went out, heads popped up into widows all along the front of the
building and scanned the sky. It never fails, he thought. The troops called the phenomenon
prairie dogging and the effect was almost Pavlovian. Theyd always made fun of it, but hed
never considered using it as part of a tactical approach. Have to write that one down, he thought.
He called over his shoulder, Send it, V and get the Bee Hive ready to drop.
Roger. HangingFire! Behind him he heard the telltale sound of the cold launch
mortars initiator spring as she pulled the mortars trigger, which flung the round up and kicked
off the gas tube primary charge. The round sounded like a bottle rocket as it shot up to rooftop


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height on a geyser of compressed gas. People in the street instinctively flinched and moved away
as the round shot up. The soda can sized Bird Eye drone fell out of its launch sabot and its video
feed began streaming onto his display. The drones tiny shrouded fans deployed and it buzzed
along roofs, scanning the windows and rooftop in the preset, lazy W search pattern Velasquez
had programmed.
All right V; put it in orbit. He said.
Roger, Sergeant. Weve got it turning left for 44 minutes, Velasquez said. Sergeant
Parker looked at the feed on his CPC and saw lots of people pointing fingers, but not pointing
guns. The Bird Eye was getting lots of good portraits; a little green halo would snap around each
head when the pattern recognition software identified something that looked like a human face.
The face painted on the billboard at the end of the street was getting lumped in there too, but
Parker didnt care. As the drone buzzed closer to the target building, the halo over one face
flashed red which meant a suspected TaQ combatant. Okay, not a big deal yet, Parker thought.
Then three more flashed red. Theres our local bad guy overwatch position, Parker realized. He
swiped the screen on his CPC and brought the map back up; the sentiment overlay was spiking.
The colors of the heat map warmed from cool colors to angrier yellows and reds down by the next
corner. Looks like the bad guys are having a group therapy chat, he thought. The overlay flashed
a geo-rectified call out bubble over their target building. The sentiment software pulled a new
social network post from an account associated with a resident of that building. It didnt
necessarily mean that person was in their target building right at that moment, but it was a good
bet. The post was short and ominous. It roughly translated to, They are coming for me, brothers.
Prepare yourselves. Bingo.
Parker toggled over to the Company net, ATTACK ONE FOUR this is RED TWO
ONE, over.


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The voice of the Company Fire Support Officer (FSO) answered back, RED TWO
ONE; ATTACK ONE FOUR, go.
Roger. Request music and mood lighting for Objective Jazz 7, over.
The FSO paused and answered, Copy, RED TWO ONE; standby.
The FSO came back up on the net, RED TWO ONE, ATTACK ONE FOUR. Ambience
will commence in five Mikes over.
ATTACK ONE FOUR, RED TWO ONE; roger, out. Parker toggled over back to the
squad net, Lights out and jamming on the objective will start in five minutes. Sergeant Davis,
pull Louie and Thelo off the cordon and call them over to our position. Looks like we got a fan
club down there. He pointed to the corner apartment at the opposite end of the building across
the street from them. The Bird Eye gave us bad guy hits on at least three TaQ Combatants in that
corner apartment and we got some chatter which backs up our target being home. Were gonna
give those three the good news from here and then move right down the street to our target
building. V, get ready to drop the Bee Hive on my go. Ill guide it in. Everybody else get ready to
mount up and move as soon as the Spiders get here. Parker waited, scanned the crowd again,
and craned his neck to see if Louie and Thelo had rounded the corner yet. Their icons flashed that
they were in route and moving at a good clip.
When we hit the front door, stack on Specialist Bryant and, after that, you know what to
do. The squad members all acknowledged with a curt, Roger, Sergeant.
Sergeant Parker Davis called, Here come the boys as he pointed down the
intersecting street to the corner. As Parker turned to look, the squads two Spiders, nicknamed
Louie and Thelo, came veering around the corner. Their servos whined like oversize golf carts, a
sound which belied their speed. As Louie and Thelo sprinted towards the squad, their front and
rear legs retracted a bit to help them fit down the narrow side street. They were called Spiders but
they never struck Parker as looking particularly arachnid; more like a ten foot long skeleton of


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some large robotic quadruped like a horse or a cat. The long spine which connected the front and
rear axles was no bigger around than a 55 gallon drum, yet it hung the roll cages for Soldier
transport, housed the Spiders main battery, and supported the elevation mount for its 30 mm auto
cannon. Parker was used to the alien look of their skeletal shapes skating down the narrow streets
on their four long limbs. The locals must have thought its variable geometry wheelbase was just
creepy, and the crowd on the street quickly hustled out of their way. Perhaps they thought the
semi-autonomous transports might run them over by accident--or on purpose. Sergeant Davis
pantomimed the hand and arm sign language to visually guide the Spiders to their loading points
behind the squad. Louie fell in right behind Parker and kneeled down to lower its fuselage down
to waist level. Thelo tucked in behind Louie, spun in place, aligned its turretless 30 mm auto
cannon down the street it just came, and kneeled down. Each Spider could carry five combat
equipped Soldiers, which was enough for his nine person squad. It also left a spare seat for other
equipment or, in this case, their embedded constable.
With the vehicles thin Spectra laminate skin and alloy skeleton, the Spiders were almost
completely unarmored. Each of his fire teams weighed more than the vehicles they rode on,
especially since theyd forgone the detachable armor pods. Sergeant Parker often ran the Spiders
slick, as it was called. His Soldiers could mount and dismount faster and the team leader seat
up front still had the quick-release ballistic shield. Hunched down on the curb, the vehicles sat
motionless and silent like prowling wolves, except for the spinning Light Detection and Ranging
turrets which stuck out at various angles.
The Squad quickly collapsed their security huddle. Constable Quarshi grabbed the empty
bench on Louie and called back to his local station on his radio (Parker assumed it was to let them
know the raid was moving forward). His team leaders, Sergeants Davis and Bristol, ran around
the Spiders slapping the safety latches on the Soldiers roll cages to ensure they were secure.
Sergeant Parker and Private Velasquez remained in the street.


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Thelo: standby! Sergeant Parker held his hand up. Thelos sensor turret slewed and
focused on Parker. Proceed to blocking position one. Parker pointed up the street. Execute!
Thelo rose up on its articulated axels, spun in place, and carried Bravo Team down towards the
objective building at a sprint.
Ok V. SSG Parker aimed his rifle at the corner window, where the three TaQ
henchmen lay in wait, and toggled his laser aiming device. Let it fly!
Roger. Hanging Fire! The Bee Hive round popped and fizzed its way to rooftop level
as the Bird Eye had done, then the tertiary propellant kicked in and it streaked towards its target.
Parker kept his reticule fixed on the corner window as the Bee Hive covered the block in a
heartbeat, fixed on the laser point Parker had painted on the window with his targeting laser. Its
motor cut out right before it hit as the round punched through the window.
The three TaQ operatives inside had begun gathering weapons and ammunition as they
fortified their attack position. When the Americans attacked the apartment building across the
street to capture their cell leader, theyd be ready. They had seen the little drone fly past, so they
knew the Americans were close. Nevertheless, they all flinched when the window shattered.
The Bee Hive smashed through the window and tumbled into the room. The round came
to rest, balanced on its nose. The body of the round sprang from its nosecone, four feet in the air
with a loud ping, and then exploded with a muffled pop. The plastic outer shell splintered and
released hundreds of frangible clay filled, copper ball bearings. The shrapnel traveled slow
enough to not penetrate the walls of the apartment, but the TaQ operatives were not so lucky.
V, lets move! Private Velasquez had already slung her cold launch mortar over her
shoulder and was headed towards Louie. Parker was right behind her and had barely locked in
when he heard Sergeant Davis order Louie to follow Thelo. Louie spun in place with whiplash
speed and sprinted down the street backwards keeping its 30 mm auto cannon trained down the
street to cover their rear flank.


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Thelo had already made it down the street and peeled off to the left. Bravo Team was
already dismounting when Parkers CPC alerted him that the tactical cyber assault on Objective
Jazz 7 had begun. He couldnt tell from the outside of the building but the power had just been
cut off. Parker looked to see what music they were using to jam local cell phonesIt was Round
Midnight by Thelonious Monk. The FSO has style, Parker thought and smiled. Bravo Team
would like that; their Spider was named after Monk. The tactical cyber attack had electronically
isolated the building and anyone trying to use their cell phone or access the internet would receive
a network message apologizing for the lack of service and hear a little Monk in the background. It
might agitate some of the locals, but emergency calls would still go through and it was the only
way Parker could see to get ahead of any TaQ reinforcements or flash mobs.
Specialist Bryant was already at the door with Bravo team behind him when the shooting
started. The bark of small arms fire echoed flatly off the old stone walls punctuated by the zip and
crack of the rounds whizzing past Parkers head. Parker flinched but managed to stay focused on
getting to the door. The stereo microphones on his helmet triangulated the source of the shots as
coming from his upper left. Ahead of them, Louie had spun around at its blocking position to the
left of the intersection and elevated its 30 mm cannon towards where the rifle fire came from.
Louie was requesting permission to engage. Parker could see Bristol giving it the signal to hold
weapons tight and not fire. It was the right call, that 30 mm cannon would have taken the front
of that building off and killed everyone on every floor above the target. They couldnt afford that
kind of collateral damage--getting their target was their mission, but it couldnt come at the
expense of the trust theyd worked so hard to build with the Khanistanis. Louie almost looked
dejected as it spun back around to cover the side street. Thelo spun around as it slid into a
complementary blocking position next to Louie. Sergeant Parker flung open his roll cage and
leapt off before Thelo had fully lowered. Alpha Team was right behind him. They all fell in
behind Bravo Team. Sergeant Bristol gave the Go. Specialist Bryant opened the door and


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turned to cover their rear flank as the rest of Bravo Team flowed past him into the target building.
Alpha Team and Sergeant Parker waited outside as Bravo Team cleared the lobby. From inside,
Sergeant Bristol called out the location of two stairwells off of the lobby, a front and rear.
The apartment building was old, very old. Parker hit the squad net, Rear stair is evac.
Front stair is attack. Bravo Team has evac. Alpha Team has attack. Execute. Without a word
Bravo Team pushed right through the lobby to rear stair case entrance. Alpha Team, with
Constable Quarshi in tow, held at the first floor landing before heading up the stairs. Sergeant
Davis looked back at Sergeant Parker and held up a Storm Cloud grenade. Sergeant Parker gave
him a nod and thumbs up. Sergeant Davis nodded at Specialist Stevens behind him and Stevens
pulled out a Storm Cloud of his own. They both held them away from themselves in an
exaggerated manner as a visual signal to the rest of the team that they were about to deploy the
grenades. The team sealed the latches on their face shields and turned on their overpressure
packs. They both shouted, Stormy out! and popped the rings from their grenades and tossed
them into the stairwell. Immediately there was a pop and the sound of high pressure aerosol
discharge. Sergeant Parker pulled the stairwell door shut behind him and sealed the team inside
with the billowing smoke. Within a four count, soot-colored opaque smoke filled the entire
stairwell. Between the smoke and the lack of lights, the stairwell was now completely black.
Sergeant Parker toggled his multispectral imagers and their variable frequency laser emitters
refracted off the microscopic conductive crystals in the smoke. The TaQ would have old style
night vision goggles (NVGs), but theyd be useless in the chemical plume made by the Storm
Cloud. If the TaQ tried to use their infrared illuminators or targeting lasers theyd be reflected by
the crystals in the Storm Cloud and white out their own NVGs. But chances were theyd be too
busy trying to catch their breath in the grenades irritating smoke screen. Gassing out the staircase
left evacuees (if there were any) only one route out of the building and that was secured by Bravo
Team. Alpha Team started up the five flights of their attack staircase to the target. Parker


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couldnt imagine trying to do this with a hundred pounds on his back. Sergeant Parker thought
back to his history class at the Advanced Leader Course and the cartoonish pictures of Soldiers
trying to patrol with massive rucksacks loaded with more than a hundred pounds of lightweight
gear. If he had tried that today, hed get relieved for causebreaking the 50 pound load limit was a
show stopper.
On the fourth floor the team pulled off and went down the hall to the apartment directly
below the one occupied by their target. Sergeant Davis called to Sergeant Bristol, BRAVO
TEAM; RED TWO ONE, checkpoint one.
Bristol answered back, Roger. Stand by.
Constable Quarshi moved around the team and knocked on the door. A man in his 50s
answered and his eyes got wide when he saw a uniformed constable from the Tribal Police in
tactical gear. His eyes got even wider when saw the rest of Alpha Team. The team opened their
face shields and tried to look as friendly as they could for a group of sweaty people in combat
gear who had just been shot at. Constable Quarshi held out his hand and the resident reached out
and shook it as Quarshi explained. The gentleman nodded slowly and stepped aside, still looking
a little bewildered. The Team filed past the gentleman. Sergeant Parker was the last to enter.
Parker stopped, turned to the man, removed his glove, and offered his hand. Toshtor, Parker
said in Khanistani, thank you. The man gave a confused grin, nodded, and accepted the
handshake.
Once inside the apartment the team quietly fanned out and got the layout of the four room
dwelling as cartoons played on the familys television. Quarshi spoke quietly to the owner as the
team move through the apartment. They touched only the floor and didnt stay long, but now they
knew the location of doorways and closets. Now the layout of the target apartment above
wouldnt be a surprise. Once done with their walk through, the team quietly filed out. Private
Velasquez waved and smiled at a little girl she thought to be the mans young daughter.


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Toshtor. Velasquez whispered.
The little girl sheepishly burrowed into her fathers side and answered back with the
barely audible formal reply, Hur karla sinda - You are welcome anytime. The door closed
behind them and they made their way back to the stairwell.
Whatd he say? Parker asked Quarshi.
He says our bad guy; upstairs. Quarshi said nodding and pointing up.
Good thing for us, that guy decided not to evacuate. Alright, that clenches it. Lets go.
Parker said.
The team got ready to move and latched their masks closed again. Sergeant Davis opened
the door and some of the smoke billowed out but the team hustled through the doorway. Davis
pulled the door behind him and moved back to his place in the file. The team moved up the stairs
quickly with Specialist Stevens clearing corners with his gun camera along the way. They were
silent except for the sound of Specialist Garcia charging his pneumatic breaching lance from his
overpressure pack. They hit the fifth floor landing and Sergeant Davis made another radio call to
Sergeant Bristol and then the team moved out of the stairwell without so much as a whisper. The
hallway was completely dark but not to the teams multispectral imagers. The combination of
variable frequency LIDAR and thermal imaging artificially rendered a picture of the hallway
ahead of the Soldiers. To Sergeant Parker it looked like a poorly colorized black and white movie.
They stacked on the door. Constable Quarshi and Specialist Garcia moved around the team and
this time took a position on the opposite side of the door, careful to duck under the doors
peephole as he did. This was going to be a different kind of door knock. Sergeant Davis made eye
contact with everyone in the stack, nodded at Specialist Stevens and Private Velasquez who
pulled out two more Storm Cloud grenades. Sergeant Davis signaled Specialist Garcia and the
final assault began.


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Specialist Garcia was born in Mexico City and moved to New York City on a work visa
when he was sixteen. At the end of his two-year visa he was contacted by the Army recruiters
who kept track of the work visa population for the Accelerated Citizenship Program. He decided
to see if he measured up, so he took some tests. Then he took some more tests. Then he took
some more tests, and then accepted the Armys offer for U.S. citizenship upon completion of a
six-year tour in the Army. While he wasnt outstanding at any one thing, the recruiters told him,
he was good at learning new things and he adapted well to new and challenging environments. He
exhibited a high degree of fluid intelligence in his ability to adapt, make sound decisions on the
fly and apply pattern recognition at large and small scales and, not only infer, but distinguish
between correlation and causation between seemingly disparate events. It took Garcia a while to
figure out all of that was a good thing. They could have just told Garcia he was street smart--he
would have understood that right away. It was too good to pass up; a free associates degree, six
years of steady pay and medical benefits, and citizenship when he successfully completed his
term? Yeah, he thought, six years. No sweat. He might even apply to serve four more years as a
career Corporal and get out in ten, or maybe hed apply for advancement up the
noncommissioned officer ranks like Sergeant Davis or Sergeant Parker and stay in for the long
haul. Hed have to see what the cadre at the Team Sergeants School said. Either way it was nice
to have options--even if he had been really, really wrong about the no sweat part. For now, he
had a job to do.
Specialist Garcia tagged behind the Constable. The constable pushed a little farther down
the wall and left a spot for Garcia on the far side of the target doorway. Garcia pulled the
breaching lance off his back again and checked the pressure sensor. He had enough air for three
good hits at around 1100 psi each. He looked up at his team leader. The hallway was eerily quiet.
From somewhere else in the building music chattered from a radio and a baby cried. The air was
hot, stagnant, and still.


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At the back of the stack, Sergeant Parker fought to control his breathing. He could run a
sub-twelve minute two mile, but each breath now filled his whole chest. Parker could feel his
pulse hammering away in his temples. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up
and he could feel his legs twitching slightly. He clenched his teeth. Parker was sweating profusely
and he radiated heat. The overpressure system pushing air into his helmet kept his visor clear, but
did nothing to cool him down. The whole team looked like race horses ready to charge out of the
gates as they hummed with adrenaline. Go time, Parker thought, just as Sergeant Davis gave
Garcia a thumbs up.
Garcia swept the door with his hand and then pressed the lance between the door knob
and the door jamb. He leaned hard into the lance and thumbed its trigger. The lances pneumatic
bolt slammed into the doors plunger assembly with over a ton of force. The impact was enough
to buckle half the door out of its frame and drive what was left of it slamming inwards.
Specialist Stevens and Private Velasquez immediately pitched their Storm Cloud
grenades into the room beyond. From inside the apartment they heard the pop and rush of
chemical smoke discharging and filling the room. They waited for four pregnant seconds which
seemed more like four minutes for the smoke to fill the room.
All right Stevens; cook em, Sergeant Davis ordered.
Stevens pumped the coaxial shotgun mounted below the barrel of his assault rifle and
launched the electrostatic discharge initiator (EDI) into the plume. The effect was instantaneous
and spectacular. As the EDI struck, it fired a pulsed current of over 5,000 volts, which was
conducted throughout the room by the conductive, microscopic crystals in the smoke. They were,
after all, called Storm Clouds for a reason. The pulse burst out with a blinding flash, temporarily
disrupting any electronic devices in the room as it passed through anyone caught in the cloud with
the force of a cattle prod. The pulse cooked off the smoke and Sergeant Davis squeezed


18


Velasquezs shoulder, giving the order to move. The team silently flowed into the room with
Specialist Stevens in front.
The room was laid out exactly like the one directly below it; except the furniture (what
there was of it) was in different places. Stevens moved through the room along the wall. As he
navigated around an old couch he saw a man, older than him, hunched over on the floor, still
reeling from the effect of the stun grenade. An older-style submachine gun lay in front of him on
the floor. Hed clearly been hiding behind the couch, using it as a makeshift barricade--which was
about as effective as hiding behind cotton candy. The man let out a groan and reached for his
weapon. He lived his last seconds trying to get a shot off at Specialist Stevens.
As soon as Stevens saw the mans hands come up, he fired two shots into the mans head.
The seven-millimeter round was caseless and subsonic. Like a .45 pistol cartridge, it traveled
slow enough to impart almost all the kinetic energy of the frangible rounds impact. It was
designed for urban combat in that it could kill without over penetrating. The result was massive
hydrostatic shock which took most of the mans head off above the nose killing him instantly--
without going through the wall behind him.
Stevens kept moving. He stepped past his initial target and was about to stop at the
doorway to the apartments kitchen when a hand holding a machine pistol appeared around the
corner and began spraying the room with nine millimeter ball ammunition. Stevens took a round
in the shoulder and dropped to one knee, and then slumped down the wall. A second round grazed
off his chest plate and tore into his thigh.
Specialist Garcia watched his battle buddy get hit and go down on the opposite side of the
room. Garcia popped off a single round which caught the second shooter in the left shoulder at an
oblique angle, spinning him backwards. Garcia knew the squad was there to take prisoners if they
could, so he didnt bother with another live round; instead he transitioned to his under-barrel
shotgun mount and fired an EDI which caught the man square in the throat. The second shooters


19


body went immediately rigid as he fell backwards. It looked like a trust fall gone horribly wrong--
or in this case; horribly right.
The team took turns calling, Clear! as they moved through the rest of the rooms and
found them empty. Once the all clear was given, the team began volunteering their status, when
Stevens didnt sound off, Specialist Garcia ran over to check his teammate. Stevens has been hit,
one enemy down, and one enemy KIA he called.
Sergeant Davis and Private Velasquez moved on the man in the kitchen who had shot
Stevens. Davis dropped a knee into the mans groin and pinned him to the floor. The man let out
a noise like a deflating tire. Davis angled his helmet camera to get a good shot of the mans face
so they could get a positive ID on their target back to the company S2. He recognized the
shooters profile immediately. His CPCs link to his headset confirmed it. The shooter was the
Squads primary target; Ali al Mussanitheir mid-level Tanal-al-Qam cell leader. AKA: Jazz 7.
Sergeant Davis helmet visor displayed a green halo over the mans face and then it flashed red.
Company headquarters sent back a note over the battalion net informing every one of the
interdiction of yet another TaQ cell leader. Jazz 7: Jackpot! Sergeant Davis rolled Mussani over
so Velasquez could see beneath him. Clear! she called outno booby traps.
Sergeant Davis patted Mussani down and rolled him over. He pulled Mussani up to his
knees with his arms pinned behind him. Velasquez slung her rifle and moved in to handcuff their
target. Davis stayed on top of Mussani and called out their code word, Jazz 7: Bowtie! to let the
squad know their target was secured and ready for transport.
Specialist Garcia gave Stevens a cursory check, but the injuries were obvious. The wound
to the shoulder was largely superficial, the one to his thigh however needed immediate attention.
I got you brother. Garcia said. Specialist Stevens moaned as he lapsed in and out of
consciousness. The hit was in the midpoint of Stevens thigh, dangerously close to the femoral
artery. Garcia worked fast. He laid his friend out on his back and pulled Stevens trauma kit off


20


the front of his armored chest. Hey bro, Im gonna have to stuff it and tie a bow on it. This is
gonna hurt really bad at first, okay? Garcia ratcheted a tourniquet onto Stevens leg which
elicited a short scream from Stevens. Sorry man. Garcia grabbed a multi-colored tube from the
trauma kit and pulled off one of its end caps, exposing a syringe. He unceremoniously jammed
the needle into Steven leg and the auto injector dumped broad spectrum antibiotics and localized
analgesics into the leg. Stevens breathing slowed from its frenetic pace to a relieved regularity as
the drugs took effect. Steven eyes became glassy and placid. Garcia took his safety cutter to
Stevens pant leg to expose the wound site. The blood was hot and everywhere. Garcias hands
were still trembling as he flipped the tube over and uncapped the other end. He bent the auto
injector until he heard the audible snap of the capsule inside. He shook the injector to ensure the
binary chemicals mixed thoroughly. He tried to focus as he kneeled in a pool of his friends
blood. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and realized hed just smeared blood all over his face.
The copper smell mingled with the smell of chemical smoke residue, curry from the apartments
kitchen, and the smell of brains and excrement from the man Stevens had shot. It hit him all at
once in the stagnant air of the tight apartment and Garcia wretched behind the couch.
Specialist Garcia caught his breath and wiped his eyes again. He focused. His hands felt
numb as he found the bullet hole in Stevens leg, and inserted the auto injector. Instead of a
syringe, this end had a small nozzle. When Garcia pressed down on the neck of the tube, the
coagulant foam shot out into the wound and expanded like pink shaving cream. He watched it
drain from the tube until it was almost empty then he pulled the tube out and checked to make
sure hed have enough foam to harden the vacuum dressing. Garcia removed the gel-filled
vacuum dressing from the trauma kit and wrapped it around Stevens leg, covering the entry and
exit wounds. He opened the port on the dressing, plugged in the trauma tube, and emptied some
of the remaining foam into the bladder-like dressing. The foam began reacting with the gel
immediately and stiffened like epoxy in seconds, applying both pressure and support.


21


Garcia tended briefly to the shoulder wound which only needed a little foam and no
vacuum dressing. Garcia clipped Stevens rifle to the wounded mans back and dragged him out
into the hall where he rested him, lying down, against the wall. Garcia moved the rescue
carabineer from Stevens belt from his belt to the drag handle on Stevens vest between his
shoulder blades. Garcias hands fumbled numbly as he made sure Stevens helmet was on tight.
He looked Stevens over to make sure none of his gear would fall off of him or cut his retrieval
line during transport.
How is he? Sergeant Parker asked.
Garcia didnt answer.
Garcia! Sergeant Parker barked, causing him to jump a little.
Gunshot wounds to the shoulder and thigh, Sergeant. The thigh is serious; I think he
needs medical evacuation. So Ive prepped him for the flight already... He trailed off as he gazed
down at the blood on his hands.
HEY! Sergeant Parker snapped. Focus, alright? Were not done here yet. Hes going
to make it, if we can get him out of here and I need you for that. Understand?
Garcia flinched back into the present moment, Roger, Sergeant.
Good. You and Velasquez, get him ready for the ride upstairs.
Roger Sergeant. Hey V! Give me a hand!
Sergeant Parker went over to where Sergeant Davis knelt by Specialist Stevens, who was
barely conscious. Sergeant Parker placed a hand behind the young mans head as he double
checked Specialist Garcias handiwork.
Well get you out of here in just a sec. We got our guy, Parker said. Stevens tried to
mumble something but passed out mid-sentence.
Sergeant Davis, Im going to finish sweeping the apartment and get this clown out of
here. He motioned to their detainee, Mussani. You got the MEDEVAC. Well get Stevens out


22


then well have to wait till ATTACK SIX can send another bird to get the target out. It might
take a little while longer than we wanted to. Since the UAV fleet was a company asset, the
company commander, call sign ATTACK SIX, would have to detail the extra aircraft to them.
Im on it, Sergeant.
And keep an eye on Garcia. Parker said quietly. Hes tight with Stevens and its
messing with him. Keep him busy. Keep him focused.
Roger Sergeant. Sergeant Davis said as he pulled out Stevens Combat Personal
Computer and toggled the MEDEVAC beacon. The CPCs screen began flashing red. The
MEDEVAC beacon put a call out over a separate communications net requesting evacuation as it
sent Stevens vitals to the Battalion trauma center. A Shoshone UAV was dispatched
immediately, homing in on Stevens' CPC beacon. Parker checked his map and saw the icon
making a bead for them. He could tell because of its call sign; Amy, it was designated for his
squad.
Sergeant Parker got on the company net while Sergeant Davis gave Bravo Team the
update. Sergeant Parker called in a separate UAV to pick up their target and Sergeant Bristol
dispatched Privates First Class Kwon and Ambuje to help move the target to the roof. Bristol and
Specialist Bryant could handle the evac stairwell. Once they got their casualty and target airlifted
off the roof, the rest of the squad would collapse down to the lobby, hop on the Spiders and head
back through the outer cordon to their integrated operating base at Capital City Police Office 27.
Sergeant Parker moved back into the apartment and did a sweep for Mussanis personal
electronics. Parker checked the laptop and three phones he found and dumped them into a
Blackout Bag which would block them from sending or receiving any signals. Technicians at the
Battalion headquarters would come back with the Khanistani Tribal Police and conduct a more
detailed search of the apartment. Theyd also exploit the devices for their data and push scrubbed
versions of it to the isolation net for forensic analysis. Parker grabbed what looked like a


23


ruggedized hard drive. He felt a surge of adrenaline; it was one of the TaQs VoIP spoofers. This
dirty little box had made finding the TaQ almost impossible. Finding one which appeared to be
intact was a gold mine. Parker recalled the training his squad had gotten on sensitive site
exploitation. He inspected it where it lay, took some video of it, bagged it, and then sent the video
through the Platoon channel, back to Company and Battalion Headquarters with the codeword
Treasure. The spoofer went into its own private Blackout Bag with no small amount of reverent
satisfaction.
Within seconds he got word back from his Company Commander: Jazz 7 was now
designated a priority High Value Target. Guess they want to talk to him about this magic rock,
Parker thought. This was good news, and not so good news. The good news was that they had
caught a pretty big fish. The bad news was his squad would now be doing a MEDEVAC and
detainee extraction at the same time. This wasnt a battle drill either, he thought, but whatever.
Unexpected things like this were going to happen. As far as Parker was concerned, if he couldnt
handle a wrinkle like this and adapt to a new situation midstride, he had no business leading a
squad.
Privates Kwon and Ambuje moved past him into the apartment. Kwon had out an aerial
extraction harness, lovingly referred to as an idiot leash, ready to secure Mussani for his ride
off the roof and over to the JTF detention center. Sergeant Davis watched as Specialist Garcia and
Private Velasquez readied Specialist Stevens for his evacuation. They pulled Stevens water
bottle sized happy mat sleep pad from his pack and hooked the inflation tube into Velasquezs
overpressure pack. The thin rubberized matt unfolded and became rigid. Garcia and Velasquez
gingerly rolled Specialist Stevens onto the mat, which would now serve double duty as a
stretcher. They checked the security of his faceplate, lifted Stevens up, and moved back to the
entrance of the attack staircase. Stevens in his full gear weighed over two hundred pounds.


24


Sergeant Davis told the two to hold fast. Theyd have to hoist Stevens upstairs when his
ride got here. Specialist Garcia, hang here with Stevens. Private Velasquez, hustle upstairs and
get the retrieval kit off the bird when it comes in. Get it set up and get the tether down to us.
Roger Sergeant Velasquez said and she bounded up the stairs to where Kwon and
Ambuje waited on either side of Mussani. Private Velasquez followed Sergeant Parker out onto
the roof. Once on the roof, she found an open spot and recalled the Bird Eye drone from its orbit.
The tiny drone flew towards them and its rotors brought it to a hover overhead. The Bird Eye
lowered itself to the ground and shut off. Velasquez quickly packed it into her assault pack. The
two Shoshone UAVs arrived on station from two different directions and went into a whispered
hover pattern thirty feet above them as their rotor wash buffeted the roof.
Movement caught the corner of Sergeant Parkers eye. Across the street on the roof of the
other building, a red flare shot straight into the sky and descended slowly. Thats not good, Parker
thought. Just then, a HN-8B Chinese made, man portable, surface-to-air missile streaked towards
the hovering UAVs from the rooftop of the building theyd mortared with the Bee Hive earlier.
The missile struck one of the Shoshones smack in the fuselage. It was a good hit. Amy dropped
straight to the street below, trailing black smoke, and landing smack in the middle of Doodarmar
Street. The impact barely missed evacuees from the target building whod stayed to watch the
show from a safe distance. Sergeant Parker tried to process what just happened and was shook
back into reality by the crack of bullets streaking past his head. It was then he became aware of
his squad mates shouting for him to take cover.
The noise from the impact caught the remainder of the squad in the lobby by surprise.
Having made it downstairs with Constable Quarshi, Sergeant Bristol saw the build your own
UAV kit out in the street and immediately put the Spiders to work. He moved Louie and Thelo
into security positions around the wreckage. This wasnt one of their battle drills, but Sergeant
Bristol had heard the exchange of gunfire on the roof above and figured the squad would be


25


improvising some stuff. Bristol radioed Sergeant Parker and let him know he was already moving
on the wreckage as he exited the front door of the apartment building. As the crowd began to
move towards the downed UAV Louie turned on his caution lights and broadcast a warning to the
crowd in Khanistani to please stay back for their own safety. When the crowd ignored that, Louie
asked to turn on its microwave emitters. Sergeant Bristol obliged. The crowd quickly winced and
moved away. The spotlight sized emitter mounted next to the 30 mm cannon pulsed directed
microwave energy into the crowd. The effect was temporary, but felt like sunburn. It was enough
to dissuade and disperse the persistently curious. Constable Quarshi had made it out into the street
and was on his loud speaker working the crowd as well. The flames went out almost as soon as
the unmanned helicopter hit the stone street so Quarshi didnt bother calling the local fire brigade.
It was quite a mess, though. Theyd have to get this wreck out themselves.
As their rooftop strongpoint was peppered with small arms fire from across the street,
Sergeant Parker almost admired the discipline it must have taken for the TaQ to wait this long.
The TaQ had watched their comrades get blown up in a mortar attack, and then a raid, yet did
nothing. They must have been in the stairwell; otherwise the Bird Eye would have seen them on
the roof. Theyd been waiting to hit the squad as it left the target building. They let their cell
leader get balled up and they did nothing. And that flare must have been a signal for
reinforcements-- so they knew or guessed their cell phones would be jammed. As their Sergeant
Major had warned them, this marching band has some brass buttons. The Sergeant Major
wouldve known, too; hed grown up here.
Sergeant Parker popped off a Storm Cloud to obscure them on the roof. Velasquez did
likewise. The smoke would mostly get blown off by the Shoshones prop blast as it lowered but
for now the cloud hung to the roof like dense fog. Nina spun around and requested permission to
engage targets moving on the roof. Sergeant Parker authorized it, Nina; guns only--engage
hostile targets moving on rooftop--Execute!


26


Nina went to work. Its sensors identified three armed targets on the roof, barricaded
behind a box shaped cement dormer on the roof. The computer selected its onboard machine gun
and servos chambered the .50 caliber sabot rounds. The gun on the Shoshone was much smaller
than what the Spiders carried, but it tore the three TaQ combatants to shreds with short bursts.
The tungsten flechettes cracked right through the cement dormer and into the men using it for
cover. When it had made its gun run, the semi-autonomous UAV took Amys place and began
recovery operations, independently transitioning missions from target pickup to MEDEVAC.
Nina opened its cargo sled and lowered it to the roof. Private Velasquez unplugged the
suitcase-sized recovery winch system from the sled and ran it back to the doorway. She unfolded
its support legs and braced them into the roof exits door jamb. Private Velasquez unspooled the
Kevlar tether from the winch system and ran it downstairs to Sergeant Davis who hooked
Specialist Stevens into it with his rescue carabineer. Davis hit the recover button on the control
collar of the tether and the recovery system began pulling Stevens up the stairs. Garcia and
Velasquez guided the stretcher around the staircase landings and up to the roof. Stevens, happy
mat and all, was pulled right onto the roof. From there Garcia and Velasquez muscled Specialist
Stevens onto Ninas cargo sled as Sergeant Davis stabilized it. Velasquez collapsed and replaced
the recovery system. Once Sergeant Davis was certain Stevens was securely locked in place, he
hit the auto retract button on Ninas sled. Stevens was hoisted up, right into the UAVs belly--his
feet were protruding a little out the back, but he was secure. Once the sled was locked in place,
Nina peeled off towards the trauma center like a bullet.
Sergeant Parker called up the platoon net and let them know what he was sure the UAV
had already told them. He poked his head over the side of the building and took some video feeds
of the crash site. Theyd been on the block for fifteen minutes, so they only had another fifteen
before the evening call to prayer. They had to get their target out and clear the wreckage before
then. Parker wasnt sure if thered be another Shoshone available to send his way and he wasnt


27


sure he wanted to wait for it if there was. Nevertheless, he was sure he didnt want to try and
drive his prisoner out on a Spider while they were conducting a hasty recovery operation.
Sergeant Parker had to do something and waiting to decide wasnt going to make things
any better. He called back to the platoon and asked for another extraction bird. Thankfully they
dispatched a bird from the companys orbiting constellation, assigned it call sign Ella, and moved
it out on high priority; he should expect it in about seven minutes. It would be close.
Parker called to Privates Kwon and Ambuje, Get him ready to move. The two prepared
to move Mussani from their sanctuary in the stairwell to the makeshift pick up point they used to
hoist Specialist Stevens. Parker looked over the roof again and looked at the street below. It was
getting crowded again. Theres been a firefight and a UAV crash and people are still out in the
street? Parker wondered. He knew a lot about Faracci, but he was always amazed at the way this
place could just keep going. He checked the map on his CPC again and toggled the traffic
overlay. There was a blank circle around his location which wasnt reporting any traffic datathis
was because the cyber jamming was still active. Outside their jamming radius the traffic was still
moving but starting to clog in a few places. They had to hurry. Parker didnt want to get caught in
the crowds going to prayer only to then be stuck the middle of a traffic jam. The flare the TaQ
had set off might also mean reinforcements were on the way.
Ella showed on station and lowered its retrieval basket when Sergeant Parker activated
the beacon on the idiot leash Mussani wore. Mussani was flanked by Kwon and Ambuje, who put
him on his knees facing away from the basket. Velasquez brought the basket to the ground and
began unrolling its cargo harnesses to receive its new passenger. They laid Mussani back onto
the basket; cuffed and secured in his harness. Sergeant Parker checked the restraints, secured the
harnesss rescue carabineer to the basket. He leaned in close to Mussani and sneered. Think one
happy thought he said over the noise of the UAVs prop wash as he hit the auto retract button.


28


Mussanis eyes were wide as he was hoisted up. As soon as the basket connected, Ella spun and
zipped off the in the opposite direction Nina had. The lack of noise was a little stunning at first.
Parker turned to the other four Soldiers, Clear the roof, get downstairs, and prepare to
mount up --Execute! The group made their way down. Sergeant Parker set off EDIs on the roof
and at the bottom of the stairwell to cook off the remaining chemical smoke from the Storm
Clouds. Out in the street Sergeants Bristol and Davis had already hooked up Amys wreckage to
Thelo using the tow straps from its recovery kit. They were getting ready to strap Louie in to
assist when the pickup truck came careening around the corner at the north end of Adamjee
Street.
Louie was the first to notice the movement. Its LIDAR sensor arrays picked up the truck
speeding towards them. The Toyota Hi Lux smashed through a fruit stand and the end of the
street, killing the vendor instantly. There were four armed men in the truck bed with Kalashnikov
assault rifles and an old M240B American made light machine gun. The gunfire fire started
before the truck had made it halfway down the street. The indiscriminate TaQ gunfire scattered
the crowd on the street in all directions. The street became a stampede of screaming people
punctuated by rifle fire. Louie spun in place, crouched into its gun fighting stance, and zeroed in
on the truck as it screeched to a halt. Louie practically read Parkers mind and requested
permission to engage. Parker gave the command, Louie; engage designated hostile truck to my
front--Execute! Parker snapped his rifle up to his shoulder and locked his targeting laser onto the
truck as the men inside scrambled to disembark.
The noise of the 30 mm cannon concussively echoed off the stone walls of the dense
street. Dust kicked up all around Louie as it fired off a three round burst from its onboard cannon.
The explosive rounds all hammered into the engine block and detonated on impact taking the
driver and his passenger with it. The TaQ operatives died standing in the truck bed when they
were cut in half by the resulting blast.


29


The street was eerily quiet after the echoes from the blast subsided. The truck burned in
the center of the street. This time Constable Quarshi did call the fire brigade. Kwon and Ambuje
ran up the street crunching on broken glass and debris. They slowed to check the burning Hi Lux
as they passed it--just to be sure--and moved to check the man TaQ had run over. He lay
motionless. Kwon checked him, but he was obviously dead. Kwon gently covered the man with
the sleeping mat from his assault pack while Quarshi and Ambuje marked off a perimeter around
the body with white and yellow marking tape.
Quarshi told Parker hed see them back at the Integrated Operating Base. Hed stay at the
site to help manage the scene when the fire brigade got there. Good hit, my friend. He added
with another forearm bump and a grin. Get moving. Parker nodded in agreement.
The Squad finished hooking up Amy to Thelo and Louie, who dragged the down aircraft
back in the direction from which the squad had come. Thelo drove backwards again, covering the
rear of the squad as they bounded by teams up the narrow street on foot. Sergeant Parker called in
the remaining contact and passed a status update to the platoon headquarters as they made their
way towards the outer cordon which was collapsing as they moved. Sergeant Parker sipped some
water from the bladder canteen on his back and checked his map again. Traffic barely skipped a
beat and now that the jamming had stopped all the local services had been restored. The
sentiment map showed some good feedback; people were annoyed at the power and phone
outages as well as having to be evacuated, but seemed to realize that couldnt be helped. The
jamming had allowed Parker to control the tempo of the engagement. With two different TaQ
ambushes, Parker didnt think he would have been as successful otherwise. The destroyed truck
was all over the local internet but, more importantly, so was the reverent display of Private Kwon
covering the body of a random victim of TaQ violence.


30


As the fire brigades sirens echoed towards them, mixed with the call to evening prayer,
the team leaders and their squad leader exchanged a look as they linked up with their police
escort. Jazz 7 was secure. It had been a long thirty minutes.
EPILOGUE
This article imagines the potential of an Army tailored to its mission and environment by
foresight, doing what only the Army can do. It is an Army which understands strategic victory
can begin with a handshake and that the finesse of trust is a powerful force multiplier. This Army
is in some ways is familiar to our Army of today; the bond between the team, Sergeants leading
from the front, the deeply personal interaction that is close combat are all experienced through the
characters eyes. In other ways, this Army is profoundly different. The formations imagined here
show an Army which boldly negotiates the protection and lethality trade space to capitalize on
speed and agility, with a critical eye towards discriminate precision in an unprecedentedly
complex environment. This Army is a study in economy and effectiveness. These formations are
as decisive as they are discrete, employing just enough lethality, automation, and information.
These capabilities are deftly employed by trained and educated Soldiers who can translate tactical
action into strategic success by ensuring the method is relevant to the moment. In this Army, the
focus is on Soldiers enabled by technologies that can provide on-demand capabilities and options
to a unit of action in contact, to preserve their decision space without slowing them down. Most
of the technologies illustrated in this story, like micro UAVs, semi-autonomous vehicles, social
network monitoring, and facial recognition software are real today; they only require refinement
to reach the military potential described here. Other technologies, like the Soldiers medical kit
and obscurants, are not in todays force, but they could be with investment. Here the Soldiers
equipment is multifunctional and designed to offer tactic-enhancing options, while eliminating as
much as possible, the need to carry multiple, sole purpose, disparate systems. The tactical agility
depicted in the story enables the Soldiers to flow through their environment, rather than be


31


consumed by it. The Soldiers in this are not natives of the operational environment depicted in
this story. Nevertheless, while foreign, the environment is not alien. They have been trained and
educated to understand their surroundings and the implications of the actions they take. In this
way, they are the cornerstones of future Strategic Landpower.
The author, Sergeant Major Richard Russo, is an Army intelligence analyst and a Fellow in the
second CSA SSG. The author thanks his SSG colleagues--Chief Warrant Officer Four Dave
Holton, Lieutenant Colonel Major Dan Maurer, Lieutenant Colonel Travis McIntosh, Mr. J. P.
Parker, Colonel Jim Patterson, Major John Spencer, Colonel Jennifer Sovada, and Colonel John
Via for their advice and thoughtful reviews of this article. The author would also like to thank the
CSA SSG Megacities Concept Team, the Police and Fire Departments of New York City, and the
director of the CSA SSG, Dr. David Johnson, for their counsel during the writing of this article.
Lastly, the author wishes to thank his friends and family for their support. This article reflects the
authors personal views and not necessarily those of the Department of Defense or the
Department of the Army.