Black-Haired Internal Revenue Service SWAT Agent - Chapter 332



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Side Story 38: The Colombian Connection

If someone who doesn’t know hears it, they’ll probably think it’s the sound of an old-fashioned UH-1 Huey helicopter.

However, he said that if we were to get caught by these AH-1S attack helicopters that the Colombian Army is using to crack down on cartels, we would all be in deep trouble.

What’s ‘fucking’ ironic at this point is that the CIA were the ones who handed the Cobra helicopters over to the Colombian military to destroy the cartel guys in the first place.

That too, unofficially.

But now we have to dodge the Colombian military in the Medellin area, including those Cobra helicopters and Black Hawk helicopters.

Because they have to rescue Trevor Miller without the cartel informants within the military knowing.

In the end, there’s nothing we can do about it, even if those Cobra helicopters find us with thermal imaging equipment and start raining down rockets on us, turning us into hamburger patties.

Anyway, that’s a story for later.

How on earth are we going to avoid those attack helicopters and get to our destination?

Since we were barely able to move through the thickets without a path, we couldn’t even dream of running away from the helicopters.

We all lay flat on the ground in the bushes, muddy from the rain that had poured down the previous few days, looking up at where the Cobra helicopters were circling.

Unlike the Black Hawk helicopters that use old-fashioned infrared searchlights, the AH-1 helicopters, which have more advanced night vision equipment, simply circle the area without projecting any visible or invisible light.

Besides, the spot where we are currently hiding is not directly overhead where there are branches and leaves hanging thickly, so if the Cobra helicopter were to fire its 20mm Gatling gun, we would be helplessly reduced to a bloodbath.

I slowly pulled out the M32 grenade launcher that was fixed next to my holster, my head tilted upward.

I don’t know if the anti-armor rounds in the six chambers will be enough to take out that helicopter, but if that happens, I’ll have to use this.

Besides, in the current situation, none of us have any choice but to use a six-barrel grenade launcher.

Our old men also slowly move their heads while observing the huge attack helicopter passing by in the sky.

Cobra helicopters hover just above the treetops

Above, where the helicopters hovered for a moment, tree branches swayed and leaves fell in a flurry just below.

That’s even scarier than the infrared searchlights that the Black Hawk helicopters beamed down toward the ground, dipping back and forth around.

My mouth feels like it’s burning.

Tata tata tata tata tata!

Tata tata tata tata tata tata!

Suddenly, amidst the loud noise of the helicopter, gunfire began to be heard.

In an instant, a surge of electricity runs from my buttocks to my back and the back of my neck.

Tata tata tata tata tata tata!

Tata tata tata tata tata!

I tried to get up while holding the M32 grenade launcher on my shoulder.

However, someone flew from behind and fell on me, preventing me from getting up.

Tata tata tata tata tata!

In the jungle I had never been to before, I couldn’t tell where the 20mm Gatling gun was firing its shells because of the dizzying sound of the helicopter.

So I tried to aim the grenade launcher at somewhere in the 10 o’clock direction where a strong wind was blowing, but Soto stopped me.

He soon whispered in my ear.

“Kim, it’s not us they’re destroying!”

To the far left of our position, obscured by thick brush, we could clearly see 20mm shells raining down below where the Cobra helicopters were circling, sparks flying.

When the Gatling shells fell, the red light spread across the air, making it possible to see what was happening there.

Soon, Rooker, who was scanning the direction of the chaos with his sniper scope, whispered into the radio.

“Cobras are firing 20mm shells at us at 10 o’clock, 260 meters away! There must be something there!”

Immediately after his situation report, UH-60 helicopters from our rear begin flying toward this area.

Once again, infrared searchlights appeared from all directions, and the sound of Black Hawk helicopters echoed throughout the area, turning the area into a battlefield of chaos.

Unlike the men who were watching the situation so calmly, my heart started beating at a frightening rate again.

At the same time, my eyesight and hearing receive explosive buffs, and my entire body becomes sensitive to battlefield noise as if it were a submarine’s sonar.

“Shoot! Nine o’clock, nine o’clock!”

O’Connor’s voice came over the radio, and all our heads turned towards it.

Tata tata tata tata!

Tata tata tata tata!

Amidst the hail of red Gatling shells, something dark could be seen running through the shells and bushes.

Two electric-powered ATVs and a motorcycle are racing from our 9 o’clock position to our 11 o’clock position.

Two- and four-wheeled electric bikes, each loaded with what looked like cocaine sacks in two tiers on the back, were escaping through waist-high grass about 100 meters from our position.

However, the cartel hitmen are unable to speed up because of the wooden pillars standing everywhere and the tree trunks and vines hanging down everywhere.

The three bikes were moving at a speed slightly faster than a person could sprint.

Sure enough, the infrared searchlights of the Black Hawk helicopters soon followed them close.

Then, just above the bushes, a Black Hawk helicopter fired what looked like a flare, sending a small fireball crashing down just behind the bikes.

A moment later, another flare landed in the bushes, this time in front of the bikes.

Immediately afterwards, AH-1 Cobra helicopters resume firing their 20mm Gatling guns near where the flares landed.

Tata tata tata tata tata tata!

Tata tata tata tata!

Pfft, bang!

Pee-pee, pee-pee!

Boom! Boom!

Pee-peet, pee-peet, pee-peet!

Boom! Boom!

Sparks flew as 20mm shells hit the bushes, followed by a hail of rockets that struck the cartel bikes.

The moment the rockets struck the large tree trunks, several trees exploded, and the motorcycle rider fell down as debris and smoke flew everywhere.

And the ATVs that were following soon fell over as well, and immediately after that, red Gatling shells rained down on the area.

Tata tata tata tata!

Tata tata tata tata tata tata!

Phew~, bang!

Phew~, bang!

A flash of light, flames flying 4-5 meters high, followed immediately by smoke spreading in all directions, blocking our view.

Moments later, Black Hawk helicopters arrived over the area and opened fire with M240 machine guns.

It seemed like at least five or six guns were firing simultaneously, but it really was like a battlefield.

The Colombian army was ready to completely destroy the jungle, and the troops inside the helicopters unleashed all their firepower, including machine guns, rifles, and grenade launchers.

Shit, the Colombian army’s shooting seemed so persistent that it was nerve-racking just watching from the side.

It seems that they are already killing the cartel guys with the Gatling gun and rockets from the Cobra helicopters, and even exploding them to ensure a kill.

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Boom! Kwaang!

Colombian soldiers on board helicopters were now throwing grenades at the places where the bikes had been destroyed, and the sound of the grenades exploding echoed through the jungle.

The explosive vibrations transmitted directly through the ground to my abdomen.

Damn, this is another battlefield, something I’ve never experienced before.

Kwaaang!

Boom!

It looks like more than 10 grenades were dropped just now.

However, the purpose of detonating the grenades was not to confirm a kill.

Mr. Soto whispers, pointing with his index finger to the 11 o’clock direction where the grenades fell.

“We’ll come down the rope to the spot that was cleared out by the grenades.”

As he said, soldiers were seen descending on ropes from the spot where the smoke created by the grenade explosion had been blown away by the downdraft of UH-60 helicopters.

At least 20 Colombian soldiers are fast-roping down from two Black Hawk helicopters.

The grass stalks were long enough to cover the ground, and we were lying down under the branches, about 80 to 90 meters away.

Soon, Team Leader Decker’s voice is heard over the wireless network.

“Everyone stay still! Don’t even breathe!”

At that time, Colombian troops deployed on the ground were establishing a perimeter around the area where the cartel men had been suppressed.

They are not communist guerrillas armed only with a machine gun (an automatic rifle without any combat optics), but soldiers with M4 rifles equipped with laser targeting devices, aiming optics, and dual-lens night vision goggles.

It’s burdensome enough to engage in a gun battle with them, but there are American armed helicopters circling overhead.

Colombian soldiers form groups of two or three and surround the area where the shelling occurred, and shortly after, a spine-chilling scene unfolds.

One soldier with an M249 machine gun and another with an M203 ran to a point about ten meters away from where Soto was lying face down.

Then, he aims his gun at the top of both of our heads and enters alert mode.

Two men can then be heard shouting in Spanish to their colleagues in the rear.

“Southeast section, clear!”

After saying that, the M203 shooter took something out and broke it.

Then I threw it into the air, and the damn thing hit the floor right next to my left arm.

It was a ‘fucking’ infrared chem light (an infrared version of a chemical light that, when bent, mixes the chemicals inside to emit multi-colored light, visible only to those wearing night vision goggles).

I literally held my breath and watched them out of the corner of my eye, but Mr. Soto, who was lying face down on my right side, had already pulled out his gun and was holding it.

The heavy silencer mounted on the front of his .22 caliber pistol rests just above the nape of my neck.

Five or six helicopters were circling the area, while a Cobra and a Black Hawk hovered in place, keeping an eye on the ground.

“How can those idiots think they can ride a bike in the middle of this deep jungle? They’re just stupid cartel slaves.”

The M249 machine gunner is heard grumbling to his comrade.

I keep watching them out of the corner of my eye, and when I keep watching them like that, my eyeballs start to hurt so much that I feel like they’re going to pop out.

And my right hand, which is holding the pistol grip of my AKS74U (a carbine model with a shortened barrel and buttstock of the AK74 rifle), is soaking wet with sweat.

While the bodies of the cocaine and cartel men were being recovered from the spot where the AH-1 helicopters had unleashed their devastating firepower, these two men continued to swear at the Medellin Cartel and their immediate superiors.

As the machine gunner, who had been chattering away for a while, was lamenting his fate, wondering when he would ever be able to escape the tedious military life, the cocaine batteries and the corpses were hoisted up by a winch onto a Black Hawk helicopter waiting in the sky.

I was secretly looking forward to them withdrawing soon.

Still, I think I need to maintain a state where I can hold my breath.

Even though the surrounding area is as noisy as Chicago Midway International Airport due to the sound of helicopters.

uh?

Suddenly, the M203 gunner starts walking towards us.

Instinctively, I placed my index finger on the trigger.

At the same time, I can feel Mr. Soto cocking the hammer of his .22 caliber pistol through the silencer on the back of my neck.

Oh, shit~.

Before we can even rescue Mr. Miller, are we going to have an accident?

I can hear the M203 gunner walking across the muddy ground, and I feel my face heat up and sweat start to form under my eyes.

Oh, please!

Ah, my~ba~al!

The M203 gunner stopped walking.

Then, he bent his upper body toward the wooden pillars in my 10 o’clock direction and started wiggling.

What the hell are you doing?

A moment later, a Colombian soldier, having gathered something from between the grass and the tree trunk, stands up again and shouts.

“Snacks, Sergeant! Snacks!”

What the M203 shooter saw raised high into the air was a pineapple.

Oh, shit, that torturer bastard!

I think I’ll take off all my pants and beat the shit out of that ‘fucking’ pineapple.

After the M203 gunner who had taken the pineapple joined the M249 gunner, they returned to the point where they had descended through the fastrope.

Then, about 20 soldiers climbed down ladders extended from the Black Hawk helicopters and boarded the helicopter they had originally boarded.

Soon I felt the Mexican ferret cocking the pistol hammer again against the back of my neck.

In less than five minutes, the helicopter assault team members were boarding the helicopters and soon the helicopters began to depart from the scene.

The Cobra helicopters continued to circle the surrounding jungle until just before they withdrew from the skies after the Black Hawk helicopters disappeared over the mountains to the north.

We remained in our concealed position until the sounds of helicopters were out of our ears.

I had been holding my urine for a while and was about to urinate, but even when I could hear the faint sound of helicopters, I continued to hold my urine without realizing it.

“Wizard Team! All clear! I’ll give you about 3 minutes, so stretch a bit!”

Only after Team Leader Decker’s voice was heard did the old men rise one by one.

After Mr. Soto tapped my shoulder, I also got up.

My whole body is drenched in sweat, and I feel like a sponge in a dishwashing tub.

Looking up at the northern night sky, it seemed as if at any moment another UH-60 helicopter would jump out from beyond the mountains there.

Ha, shit!

We haven’t even started properly with the mission to rescue Trevor Miller yet and I’m already exhausted.

After I lucked out of this horrific mess, just getting to Checkpoint Alpha felt like the mission of my life.

But I don’t even want to think about how the next journey, starting from Checkpoint Alpha, up the Santa Rita River and into the mountainous region with more dense jungle, might lead.

Whether it’s the Santa Claus River or the Santa Rita River, it’s not the territory of the cartel mercenaries from the FARC guerrilla force, it’s the territory of armed rebels other than the FARC.

And there, you have to be careful not to get your head blown off by bullets from those punks who aren’t cartel mercenaries or Colombian government helicopter assault units.

Damn, Claire’s done with all the important work in Florida and she’s only two days away from getting back to Chicago.

Rescuing Trevor Miller aside, will I be able to make it back to Chicago alive by then?

As I think about that, I let out a deep sigh, and Mr. Soto, who had no idea what I was thinking, stuffs a piece of pineapple he had cut with a survival knife into my mouth.

Wow! Do I look like I’m in the mood for pineapple right now?

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