CHAPTER THREE SHORT IN HEIGHT, TALL IN COURAGE

SHORT IN HEIGHT, TALL IN COURAGE the Story of God's African Special Forces Unit

CHAPTER THREE

The Moses Mission

 

     The morning after Samuel's graduation ceremony, I absent-mindedly ambled down the street by our compound. In the process of rounding up The Team, I was stopped by a middle-aged man. He laid his hand on my shoulder, asking, "James Jefferson, correct?" I guessed by the accent that the man speaking to me was of British heritage. "Yes, sir. How can I help you?"

     "I think your man, Winston, has got himself into a bit of a tiff with some of the locals and may need your assistance."

     It came as no surprise that the man knew me by name. We were well known locally. I couldn't imagine Samuel causing trouble. Quite the opposite, but I followed silently to investigate.

     The man led me to a large crowd of Dinkas mixed with other nationalities gathered around a person talking to them that I could not see. I stood on the crowd's edge, listening. I heard the distinct voice of Samuel Winston telling those gathered there that, "...listening is as much of an art as speaking, and, without listening, your discussions will never bear fruit; it will only end in continued controversy." I just shook my head at his new mission as a peacemaker.

     When the crowd began to break up in an improved demeanor, I worked my way through the crowd to Samuel. "We need to talk, Mr. Winston - in private."

     Samuel courteously maneuvered his way through the crowd as I followed while listening to his explanation, "Two families were fighting over a promise made years ago that supposedly nobody ever honored. A good old-fashioned feud. I knew it might end in violence, so I had to attempt to calm the situation."

     "Samuel, you never cease to amaze me. Now, to my point, there has been a significant development. We have been asked by a South Sudanese military official to take on a rescue mission. It involves rescuing a Christian group kidnapped and moved into Chad - of all places. If we do this mission, we'll either go through Sudan or the Central African Republic, which would be preferential as they are more inclined to look the other way at our Christian operation.

      Samuel, you, Mabior, and Chan's Arabic language skills will be essential. From what I am told, the new language skills classes prove worth the effort. I'm sure you know that most of the Muslims in Chad are Sunni, which will help us as most of our familiar sources in that area are Sunni. As far as we know, there are twenty hostages held in Arada within eastern Chad. With our limited resources, that is an extensive group to transport over a thousand miles. That adds up to be over 2,000 miles round trip. We will need good vehicles, and the logistics of fuel, food, water, mechanics, medical personnel, etc., are immense. Our full team will meet in an hour at the office - have your thinking cap on."

     Samuel gave me his patented smile with this remark, "Chief, don't worry about me. All is well with my soul, and I have no doubts about the condition of the other team members' souls. Remember - lay it in God's hands. After all, we are employed by him."

     Our work involved synchronization with several world government agencies to protect Christian groups and missions in North Africa. That synchronization can be complex as well as create difficulties. Over time, the increased demand had forced an expected expansion of team members and the role of our team.

     For WCPN, maintaining an element of secrecy comes with some tradeoffs. It came down to this: we managed situations that the politically corrupted local governments could not. In return, those governments gave us mission support. In other words, they turned a blind eye to the underlying Christian Mission. An upside was that missions came with a lot of the danger and action our team members are addicted to. They are, without a doubt, "risk-junkies."

     As I walked in, the team all cheered, which bode well because I knew they had all received news of the mission by now. Morale was always high in our group, but never before had we considered an undertaking such as the one on the table today. Confidence in the face of a seemingly impossible mission is another facet of this team that has helped it become so highly rated in world military circles. How our ruling organization preserves its secrecy amidst all this is a mystery. Just as the "Good News" was impossible to keep quiet in our Lord's time upon this earth, so is the good news to the world of a Christian/Jewish team willing to go into hell for the heavenly cause of rescuing God's chosen.

     "Gentlemen, I'm sure you all know the basics of the proposed mission by now. This will be a huge undertaking for our small team if we accept this mission. We will need to be creative in our prep and acquiring the resources. On the screen, you see a satellite photo of Arada, Chad, supplied by our friends at the CIA." The team let out a loud round of cheering. "Just before I walked in here, our source from South Sudan's military told me that we would quietly have their full support for organizing the mission. Our source and several other military officials have relatives in the kidnapped group. We pray for all of them. Also, our friends at the CIA have offered a small aid package for our mission." The room erupted in cheering and dancing. Everyone knew that the aid package would assure our continued presence in the area. The news of the Christian community's growing acceptance of our team was exciting. We would need that support and more going into one of Africa's most corrupt and dangerous countries.

     That night we began planning the mission that became known as "The Moses Mission." We would travel over a thousand miles into Chad and come back with twenty-three people, safe and sound. That was the hope, and that was what all of us prayed for. We had a huge undertaking that required absolute secrecy. We could not let the Chadian government know the full scope of the twists and turns we planned for when the unexpected always happened. Getting out afterward would be another problem. The Chadian Air Force has some old Russian Mig aircraft that could annihilate us. So much to pray about. We needed all the courage and wisdom our Lord could give to us.

     As the exuberance of the first night wore off, I assumed the daily grind of planning and solving the problems of such a massive operation would wear the men down. Still, they trudged on with an exceptional and consistent level of enthusiasm. I was so proud of them. Each day began with a group prayer for God's strength, wisdom, and courage. Still, I wasn't sure that we could pull this off, but I suppose Moses had his doubts, too.

     Mabior said that I walked into this particular morning's meeting looking exhausted. The responsibility was weighing heavily on me. To my pleasant surprise, that morning is when we made some very refreshing breakthroughs on planning.

     As I was about to begin my usual recap of where we stood, Mabior stood up and began, "Chief, we think we are going about this in the wrong way. As you say, we are spinning our wheels - not using creative thinking. Little Brother found information on an American Travel company called Mountain Travel Sobek that has been doing four-wheel-drive vehicle tours in Chad for several years."

     In a brusque tone, I remarked, "What does that have to do with us and our mission, Mabior?" My tired lack of patience was evident to all the men.

     Mabior struck back at me with, "Ready for this, Chief? Samuel and I think we should go in as a tourist group," the team had a good laugh at this, "in four-wheel-drive vehicles with the pre-planned permission of the Chadian government. They would relish some American Greenbacks. After the rescue, we come out with a Chadian military escort to Central African Republic and home. Only an hour ago, we spoke with Chadian military high-level officers who have given us names and amounts needed for such an operation. The Chadian government and military are like any unscrupulous human being; they want to be seen as heroes for being a part of the rescue of the prisoners - for a price, of course. The Chadians will sell out the tolerated, but not loved, Al Qaeda group for the right amount and good publicity. And, by the way, we do not trust the Chadian government officials. We will use them like they will use us - with utmost caution."

     Everyone had their eyes set on me, waiting for my reply to Mabior. I said the only words I could think of at the moment, "Wow, who would pay for a tour of Chad? My guess would be rich people with more money than brains? That is really good, Mabior and Samuel. It still has a lot of holes to fill, but really good. Let's develop it." The unit cheered. We were all in need of success. 

     We had little time in which to plan and assemble the mission. Our South Sudan military source and contact told me he had received a demand for ransom and a threat and promise of death to the prisoners if not delivered within seven days. The small amount of time given to meet their demands concerned us. Our efforts were increased. As we know from experience, there are no locked doors when God is with you. With God, nothing is impossible. We just had to keep our lowly and frail human minds focused on God's strength, not ours.

     A man showed up at the afternoon meeting introducing himself as Uncle Sam. Of course, we knew he was CIA. He received a warm-hearted welcome from everyone. Uncle Sam astounded us with his gifts. He told us where to pick up our new vehicles and our counterfeit American passports. News of the Chadian military officials being mitigated was another sign of God's involvement. Chad receives millions in U.S. aid yearly; leverage. Uncle Sam reminded us that nothing in Chad is ever as it seems. But the most astounding news of all was that a Swiss C 137 passenger jet had been chartered by a Swiss Christian organization and would be waiting at Abeche Airport 82 miles or 132 km from Arada to take the prisoners off our hands and back to South Sudan. The sooner, the better. Now, it seemed the most dangerous part of our mission was getting the prisoners away from Al Qaeda in Arada and to the Abeche Airport, but we were all highly trained for that area of the Mission. A plane taking the hostages off our hands meant getting home from Chad just became easier - closer to possible.

     Samuel stood, saying, "When God asks us to do the impossible, he makes it possible. So, let your hearts be comforted in this." The men all gave a resounding, "Amen!"

     After Uncle Sam made it clear that we still needed to make at least a meager attempt to disguise ourselves as American tourists, he bid us farewell and Godspeed. His point about keeping up some semblance of disguise was that a large group of heavily armed Americans and South Sudanese appearing in Chad might seem more like an invasion and destabilize the government. From past examples, who knows what would be the result of that. Therefore, we needed to protect the Chadian government from the look of being a part of this plan, or Al Qaeda could make it tough on them and their Christian citizens in the future.

     The afternoon fashion show began with a look at Chan's and Alek's in-vogue touristy outfits as supposedly American tour group members. Everyone, including myself, had tears rolling down our cheeks from laughing as they walked in. They were dressed in Bermuda shorts, polo shirts, fluorescent pink Nike tennis shoes, Oakley sunglasses, with fake gold chains around their necks and fingers covered in gold costume jewelry rings while strutting to the music of Lil Wayne's "Sucker for Pain." This music had been encouraged by the good-natured humor of Mark Iverson, my executive officer and our black-American team member from my old Green-Beret team. He rarely let it out that he is the son of Brigadier General Stan Iverson, a WCPN board member. Next came little Samuel, dressed in a shirt with a ludicrous blue-flower design on white and buttoned to the top, and below-the-knee Bermuda shorts, long dress black-socks under white sandals, and topped off by a baseball cap with an American flag across the front. Thon shouted out, "If those outfits don't make those Al Qaeda guys surrender, nothing will." We all needed a good laugh.

     So many miles for things to go wrong on this mission. Five days from the ransom deadline, we moved out before dawn to not draw attention to our leaving. Spies and information vendors were always around. We assembled at several different points during the night. The last thing we wanted was to drive out of the compound in a long caravan containing strangely dressed men and all at the same time. If possible, we would keep several miles of separation throughout the journey to Arada. In the event of one or all of our team being attacked, we had solid plans for handling different situations. A great strength of our team, copied from the American Military, is each of the five four-man units could operate independently or as one team. Also, each individual was trained to manage situations solo. Our team is confident and professional, working like a well-oiled machine, and that type of organization is tough to defeat. I encouraged independent thinking while keeping the overall game plan in mind. Our team embarked with such high hopes that early morning.

      We originally had three days to make the trip to Arada. The roads were terrible, an understatement, and 400 miles a day would have been impossible. Our South Sudan source had managed to get two extra days, which would still be difficult. It was tough even while rotating drivers with 24 hours per day travel time. The strain on vehicles and men was tremendous.

     I discovered at the first breakdown that the CIA had an unannounced trick up its sleeve. As the #3 team sat by the road with a blown transmission in one of the SUVs, they called me about the situation. That's when we found out someone was monitoring our phone calls. Within 30 minutes, a Chinook helicopter landed by the vehicle with a new transmission and a team of mechanics to install it. Dok, Mr. Mechanic,  was in awe when he called to inform me, "Chief, God just sent an angel flying down with a new transmission. I'm beginning to like this being an American."

     "What?" I thought he was making a joke at first. In short order, the #3 team was on its way again.

     There were five teams, each with an assigned leader: #1Mark Iverson; #2 Mabior; #3 Bol; #4 Chan; #5 Samuel. We anticipated the Al Qaeda tactic of dividing the hostages at different locations, preventing a single surprise attack like the Israelis pulled off at Entebbe Airport in Uganda. All of us prayed for no friendly casualties.

     Dashing through Central African Republic at above the expected speed with no mechanical nor military problems was an unexpected delight. We approached the border checkpoint of Chad with great caution, ready for anything. All six teams made it through that checkpoint with no issues. We breathed just a little easier but kept up a high alert. Our teams had about 600 miles left to Arada, and the roads were only getting worse. Had this mission occurred during the rainy season, June to September, the roads, a misnomer, would have been impassable, and the mission would have been canceled or air transport provided. Though the roads were fortunately dry, we shared those roads with livestock blocking our paths many times. We did not want to make unnecessary enemies out of the locals by killing their precious livestock. We proceeded with extreme patience. Strange as it sounds, hawks could be a problem. Large and aggressive hawks are native to the area in large numbers and could dive on windshields, breaking them. However, we are fortunate to have bullet-resistant glass. Still, the hawks, hitting unexpectedly, could cause a tired driver to veer off the road and crash. It's not paying attention to the little things that could kill a closely-timed operation such as this.

     Mark sensed our exhaustion and pulled out his guitar. He strummed Blessed Assurance while we all perked up and joined in the singing. The SUV was kicking up massive clouds of dust. Sitting beside Mark, Deng commented how the dust plume behind us looked like he pictured the Pillar of Cloud in Exodus that God guided the Israelites with. Everyone agreed that was an accurate and beautiful observation by Deng. We lived our lives daily with the faith that God took good care of us. 

     Sitting next to me, Thon, our-much appreciated class clown, said, "You know, if I make it through this adventure, I am going to buy a small farm and some goats and settle down."

     Mark shot a look of astonishment at Thon, inquiring, "Really?"

     While staring out the window with a far-away look, Thon said, "Mark, I am kidding. You know that I would die of boredom sitting around a quiet farm surrounded by a bunch of dirty goats." Humor soothes the nervous soul.

     A short time later, I received a call from our CIA contact informing me that he had received permission to cut all cell phone communication at the scheduled attack time for 20 minutes. That was crucial to cut off Al Qaeda's contact with one another. He also informed me that Al Qaeda had split the hostages into three groups. Getting that info this early really helped with our prep. We had little time to meet before the rescue attack on our tight travel timetable.

     The team hit checkpoint after checkpoint with no problems. The Chadian soldiers snickered and laughed at how our boys were dressed, making comments like, "Those crazy American tourists," Which kept them distracted from any accurate searches. Our boys were really enjoying this bit of acting. I'm sure it is difficult to believe, but our team's code of ethics is to bring as little harm to our enemies as is necessary to accomplish our mission. We could simply have shot our way through all these checkpoints, but the result would have been local animosity and reprisal attempts.

     I told Deng, who was driving at the time, about a mile outside of Arada, to pull over while we waited for the other teams to meet up. We all got out to stretch and do some warm-up exercises after a thousand-mile journey with few stops. As the other teams met up with us in the middle of a semi-forested area, everyone began stretching and warming up cramped muscles. Eventually, they all formed up in a circle around Mark and me as we went over the latest intel and any changes to the attack plans. So far, so good, but, in combat, nothing ever goes entirely as planned. The team now put on what we called our business faces. All watches were synched, then we all joined hands for a final prayer delivered by Mabior. We knew that most of the 23 prisoners were 12 to 14-year old children. We needed no more incentive to succeed than that. We all had a hidden fear of the possibility of accidentally wounding hostages, especially children. Harming hostages is a fear that we could not let slow us down but must keep us on top of our game. We had the advantage of the darkness, and we owned the night with our night-vision goggles.

     The teams with their weapons piled into the vehicles. We had managed to acquire the SCAR-L, with multi-length interchangeable barrels, used by NATO special forces that fire the 5.56 x 45mm ammo at 625 rounds/min with a 20 round mag. We carried seven mags each. As the L indicates, this weapon is lightweight and has good stopping power. We each took two flashbang grenades. Mabior and Chan had M203 grenade launchers attached to their SCAR-Ls. An anonymous benefactor thought we should all have superior handguns. Thus, we now carried the NXS 8-shot .357 Magnum. Though heavy, the men felt it gave us the cowboy look they loved. Many soldiers think the standard-issue Beretta is very underpowered.

     Thanks to Alek's insistence, we acquired an M240B light-machine gun, belt-fed, for this mission. As a team policy, Alek also trained every member on the weapon. Against my better judgment, Alek had outfitted the M240B to be operated from his vehicle. I questioned him time and again, "Can you pull this off without burning everyone and the vehicle up?" He just smiled and waved my objections off. Alek had a natural ability with weapons. Others told me that he came from a family of warriors. Indeed, it was evident. I trusted his judgment on firearms completely. He and the U.S. Army's Armorer assigned to us became lifelong friends.

     We all carried 7" Kabar boot knives. Some of us are more proficient than others with knives. Mabior and Chan had 6" Stilettos. Personally, I would not want to go up against Mabior or Chan in a knife fight. I would soon learn that another team member was quite proficient with a knife.

     The houses holding the prisoners were approximately 100 yards from each other. Though communications would be cut, the sound of gunfire would alert the others. We had to be on time and brutally efficient with our attacks. There were three Al Qaeda with each group of hostages. According to Chadian sources, the men carried AK47s and no other weapons. #1 & #2 teams would attack the first house, #3 & #4 teams the second house, and #5 & #6 teams the third house. We set the time, and the teams parked about 100 yards from the houses. Intel was that there were no outside watches at this time.

     All of us exited the vehicles and gathered in our attack teams with the stealth of cougars. Thon indicated by hand sign that he and I were the same color.

     At precisely 4am, we began a simultaneous attack on all three houses by breaking two windows on opposite sides simultaneously. A big part of our training had been firing from opposing windows without hitting friendlies. One man broke the windows while one man threw a flashbang grenade on each side into a designated area. Intel and infrared told us that the hostages were against the doors and the enemy at the back of the single-room houses.

     As the grenades detonated, two other men on each team had already sighted in on the targets at the back of the home with night vision goggles and scopes. Their shots rang out simultaneously with deadly accuracy. A second later, I heard all the doors being breached by rams. I heard screams mixed with The Team shouting, "You're safe, we're Christians." that quickly settled down to excited talking and crying moments later. I was relieved when the cell phones were operational again. I received each team leader's call saying merely, "Success, NFC (no friendly casualties), and ABD (all bogies deceased).

     We rushed the hostages to the waiting vehicles then headed for Abeche Airport, 82 miles distant. Ideally, we would have brought up all the vehicles, but it would look too much like a military invasion by a foreign power, namely the U.S. The race to Abeche was on. Our CIA source did not fully trust the Chadian military's promise to stay neutral. Until the hostages were safe on that plane headed for South Sudan, the hostages were in danger. Our other vehicles kept a healthy separation from us. They would join us at the airport.  

     God blessed us with an uneventful journey to the airport and the plane. Things were proceeding too smoothly, but what a blessing. As we stood there on the airport tarmac watching the Swiss plane disappear into the early morning sky filled with VIP cargo, I took time to give a silent prayer of thanks to God for his help in getting the hostages safely on their way home. Also, I prayed for God's help in making our way home.

     I felt a nudge from behind pulling me out of my transfixed stare into the sky. It was a familiar face from years ago in Iraq. "Frank, what brings a CIA man into this Shangri-la of tourism?"

     "JJ, long time no see, my friend. looks like you went from tough situations with the Green Beret in Iraq to impossible situations in Africa." He chuckled as he extended his hand.

     "Frank, I have a soft spot in my heart for God's work."

     Frank's face melted slowly from humorous to severe as he said in an all-business tone, "JJ, there is a Colonel in charge of the airport exit gate that needs to be taken very seriously. We have good intel that he was the planner and physically carried out the bus massacre in Yei, South Sudan, last year, killing 42 people; 17 were children. We know that he is a loose cannon anyway, and he doesn't seem to be cooperating with the Chadian government on your attempt to scurry out unscathed with their blessings. Heed my warning, this Colonel is here and backed by soldiers waiting for your team at the gate."

     I knew that the Moses Mission had gone too smoothly at this point. "Frank, how many soldiers, positions, and firepower?"

     "Okay, should be about 20 men within basic sandbagged positions, ten on each side of the gate. He has an old Russian DP27 light machine gun from the 1920s. We have no idea what museum he found that thing in, but it definitely can be dangerous. The soldiers are armed with AK47s, the older models, but still effective. There is a piece of good info; they don't have any RPGs for some reason. You are going to need to blow that heavy steel gate. Not sure if your HE (high explosive) Grenades will breach it."

     I sighed, "Thanks, Frank. We need all the help we can get. I have a feeling getting home will be tougher than the trip here and the hostage rescue."

     Calling the team to me, I filled them in on the intel from Frank. As I finished, Samuel raised his hand while saying, "Chief, look what I have? Will this help us?"

     I glanced at the little black electronic box with two buttons on it but could not make out its purpose; I asked, "What is it?"

     Samuel shrugged, "It's a gate opener. You know, like a garage door opener. It opens and closes the exit gate that we need to get through." Everyone turned and stared in shock at Samuel just as I did.

     Finally, Chan asked, "Little brother, everyone wants to know, did you just find it laying on the ground?"

     Once again, Samuel presented his answer with a shrug of his shoulders, "No, silly, you don't just find these things laying around on the ground in Chad. A Russian KGB agent or whatever they call themselves nowadays gave it to me."

     Stunned, I stepped in, asking, "Where did you meet this so-called Russian agent?"

     "Over there, he approached me, explaining that he recognized me by my height as one of The Team. He said he is a Christian, and, as a Christian, he wanted some Colonel in charge of the exit gate taken back to South Sudan for justice. Said the Colonel was responsible for the attack on the bus in Yei. He felt it necessary to tell me, 'Russians have no use for child killers any more than Americans do.' Then he tells me that a Russian company had fabricated the gate and installed it. This is his exact words, '...they gave some of the gate controllers to the Russian Intelligence Service, and, the Intelligence Service being so giving, I said to myself, why not give one to that nice young man standing over there.' And, being a courteous American, I figured that I must accept it or risk offending Russia."

     A smile crept over my weary face as I remarked, "Samuel, you never cease to amaze us. Under no circumstance should we offend Russia. Now, let's make a plan for that exit gate and that Colonel in charge. It seems as though we've added on to the Moses Mission. With a little pre-planning, I think we can easily make this a one-sided shootout at the gate." At this point, I couldn't help but look around to see if I spotted an angel nearby. Samuel has this feeling of Godliness surrounding him.

     Our six filthy, bug-covered, and pathetic-looking vehicles pulled up in line at the exit gate of the airport. Just as Frank had told me, tiny-sandbagged shacks stood on each side of the exit with a substantial steel-bar gate that closed off the narrow space for vehicles exiting the airport. We were approached by who we assumed was the infamous Colonel to our left. He had his hand cemented to what looked to be a Beretta pistol. The haughty-looking Colonel gave us a thorough visual screening. He knew who we were, but still insisted on collecting the passports from everyone in our convoy. Mark carefully assessed all the points to be suppressed as we opened fire. Behind the frosty-eyed Colonel was a shadowing guard armed with an AK47 held at the hip-firing position and, we assumed, ready for action. He picked a bad spot to occupy. He was taken out early. They were backed up by several other men armed with AK47s and positioned at strategic points near the gate on each side.

     Mark, beside me, tapped my leg while lifting two fingers to our men in the back. From our intel, we knew that a firefight was imminent. The problem for the Chadians was that we were anticipating all of this. In an equal gunfight, the team with forewarning and prep should have the tactical advantage. I put my right hand on the 357 mag hidden under my right leg. Mark followed suit, as did Deng and Thon in the back seat. I tapped my brakes three times to signal those behind that our plan was operational.

     At the brake-light signal, Samuel exited the left-side-back seat of the #5 vehicle and walked toward the Colonel capturing his attention. The Colonel, seeing this, turned to approach Samuel. They came face-to-face beside Mabior's vehicle. Samuel extended his hand to the Colonel to shake his hand but was refused that generous offer. Instead, while staring intently into Samuel's eyes, he said, with gritted teeth and in Arabic, "Alkhanazir alqadhra! Sawf tamut!" Translated as, "Filthy Pigs! You will die!" These were words well understood by Samuel, Mabior, and Chan.

     Samuel turned and walked to Mabior, driver of the #2 vehicle, and whispered, "Do you think you can put a grenade through the window of the Colonel's Mercedes sitting over there?

     No sooner had those words left his mouth than the hollow thunk of a grenade took off from Mabior's 203 crashing through the passenger window of the Colonel's beloved Mercedes. Instantly, small and large pieces of Mercedes flew up and out. The car became salvage material before our eyes. The Colonel's expression - priceless, and his armed aid was taken out of the picture.

     The result was, the Colonel became livid with rage. He turned toward Samuel, who was also walking toward him. As the two came close, the Colonel clasped his Beretta pistol. Samuel reacted with speed and agility as he drove his Kabar into and thru the Colonel's gun-hand, pinning it to his holster. The Colonel let out a blood-curdling scream and grabbed Samuels shirt collar, but the solid left arm of Chan clamped itself around his neck and put a knife to it with the right hand. Samuel commanded the Colonel to get into the back seat of Chan's vehicle. The Colonel stared at his hand with the knife through it. Chan was about to throw the man bodily into the vehicle, but Samuel stopped him. With teeth gritted, Little Brother said to the Colonel, while jerking the knife from his hand,  "You aren't fighting with little children, now, Colonel!" The Colonel spat in Samuel's face and tried to slap him, but Samuel drove the knife violently back into the Colonel's hand to emphasize just how serious things were at that moment.

     Chan released the Colonel then wheeled him around to a face-to-face position. He cautioned Samuel, "Easy, Little Brother. We want to save something for the executioner." Then he let fly a well-placed left back-hand across the Colonel's left cheek. Chan looking directly into the Colonel's eyes, said, "That was in case you misunderstood what Little Brother was telling you about who you are dealing with, Colonel child-killer, sir."

     Meantime, Mabior had crawled through the sunroof window onto the top of his #2 vehicle. He engaged the soldiers on both sides of the gate with his 203. His fire was rapid, accurate, and devastating. At the same instant, the other vehicles opened fire. It got loud real quick. At that, I pushed the open button on the gate controller. The gate creaked then slowly began its upward rise. At that, Mark yelled, "Never thought I'd ever say, thank God for the Russkies!" We both smiled deviously.

     Meanwhile, the other vehicles followed us through the gate, with Mabior on top of #2 still putting rounds from his grenade launcher into the guard shacks and surrounding area. At that moment, a light-armored vehicle appeared behind our convoy. That could be trouble. But not with Alek on our side. He used his M240 machine gun to shoot out the rear window of his #6 vehicle at the very back of the column. Shooting out the window was not planned, but due to Alek's impatience in waiting for the window to lower, his AP (armor piercing) shells destroyed the window. Now, Alek had a clear line of fire on the armored car behind. The old military vehicle, from WW II possibly, was no match for the M 240. Alek destroyed the vehicle's engine with about 20 armor-piercing rounds. Then he put a few well-placed rounds through the driver's opening. The war was over for the armored car.

      As the gate opened, I had accelerated through it while Mark, Deng, and Thon tossed flashbang grenades out the window and into the guard shacks and surrounding areas as we shot by. This was done to persuade any soldier considering getting up and taking shots at us that it was not a good idea. I looked into the rearview mirrors to make sure all the vehicles took off with us. That's when I noticed Mabior still protruding from #2 laying grenade rounds into the areas around the gates with one hand while grabbing reloads from Marial  with the other and yelling, "Hope your Mothers have clean underwear waiting for you, boys." I didn't expect anything less out of him.

     About two miles up the road, we pulled over into a thick group of trees to make a quick assessment of our situation. We had no idea if anyone was following. Thanks to God, we had no casualties, and all the vehicles seemed undamaged. But most of the talk was about Samuel's battle action. Chan was doing all the tale-telling. Samuel stood there smeared with the Colonel's blood while he shunned all the attention, as was his usual. We had a prisoner to deliver to the South Sudanese authorities. There was no time to waste telling tales around the campfire at this point in our mission.

     We saddled up and made a mad high-speed dash over those horrendous roads toward the border. Morale was higher than ever. I admit that I was caught up in the excitement myself. I let the men know that we might be in for an even bigger fight down the road after what occurred back at the airport exit gate. A battle with more extensive assets than this lightly-armed team could handle.

     As we neared the border of CAR, Central African Republic, We made out what we thought to be the silhouette of a tank and some other military vehicles on the road ahead. Our hearts sank. In a standup battle, even an old tank would destroy us. We were well within the 3,000-meter effective range of its main gun. Daylight had destroyed our hopes of going off-road in this situation. Fortunately, there was a slight rise in the road to give us temporary cover. We used this to have a strategy session. Everyone wanted to charge straight into the tank and the supporting column. Taking in a deep breath, Mark ordered, "Let's pray and see if God has a better solution." And so we did. We prayed as never before.

     After our long prayers, Alek spotted military vehicles approaching from behind. I had to make a decision fast. I looked into everyone's eyes. They all had those steely eyes that said fight. I didn't expect anything less from this fine group of Christians. However, as Christians, this wasn't about our will; it was about God's will. What did he want? Did he want us to die in a glorious fight, killing as many as we can, or did he want us to surrender to these pagans to be tortured? We are not bloodthirsty killers. We are Christians, and surrender was our Christian option. I had called the men together to give them my decision when my phone rang.

     The call was from our CIA source. "James!"

     "Yes," I said dejectedly.

     "James, don't you guys move one inch till I tell you. Is that clear? Not one inch! This is critical!" His voice was very excited.

     "Yes, sir. What's up?"

     "Just stay put and ready."

     We remained connected but did not talk. Minutes passed. The Chadian military vehicles were closing in from both directions. We could not sit idly by forever. To the left, about 200 yards away, from a small elevated area that ran beside us for miles, four familiar objects rose slowly, looking as if the earth were giving birth to them. Mark shouted out, "I can't believe it, JJ! What are AH64s doing out here? If they are Apache helicopters, they can only be American. Thank You, God, and God bless you, Uncle Sam!"

     Chan and Samuel grabbed one another and danced in a circle while praising God. The rest of us went down on our knees and thanked God. Dok said quietly after the prayer, "Like I told everybody before this, I'm really beginning to enjoy being an American."

     On the phone, our source said, "James, we just received a call from the Chadian military stating; basically, the military show-of-force was all a joke - a case of mistaken identity. They are backing down, and your way across the border is wide open. After you make the border crossing into Central African Republic, a Blackhawk has landed there with extra fuel for your vehicles and food for the trip home. CAR military officials have given permission for a South Sudanese military convoy to enter their country to escort your team the rest of the way."

     "Thanks, we needed this."

     "Tell The Team, job well done. Of course, I'm assuming the Colonel is still alive - correct?"

     "Yes, sir, with a minor dent in his hand."

     "Your South Sudanese military contacts want me to relay a message that the hostages are home and safe. God smiles on those that rely on him. South Sudan owes you a debt of gratitude."

     I took in a deep breath, then addressed the men, "Mission accomplished. After a prayer of thanksgiving, Let's set sail for home."

     Samuel ran up and gave me a big hug. "Chief, that was the most exciting thing I have ever been through. Thank you for getting us through it all."

     I responded to Samuel, "I wouldn't want to go to war without you or The Team."

     As we crossed into Central African Republic, we stopped to fuel and hand our prisoner to the South Sudan Military escort. The South Sudanese General in charge of the escort commented, "After a careful inspection, the prisoner has suffered no abuse at the hands of your team, Mr. Jefferson, other than a superficial scratch on one hand which, I assume, happened while picking his nose."

     Chan remarked, "That is normal for babies to do such things."

     After that short stop, we set our compass for home surrounded by the South Sudanese military escort.

    Upon arriving safely at the compound in Yei, all of us kissed the ground. We jointly gave thanks to our Lord for the safety of the hostages and our safe return. Thus ended the Moses Mission.