“Captain Sabata, how would you like to volunteer for a mission that has a rather surreptitious nature?”
“I am your man, Colonel.” Captain Sabata graduated from West Point, class of 2006. A second generation Mexican American, he was an all-star football player in high school in Las Vegas, Nevada. He played linebacker at the Academy and was noted for his hard tackling. He thought about professional football off and on, but decided the Army held more and greater challenges, like Ranger School. He thought about Special Forces, but decided not to go that route, as the specialization in one culture and language would curtail a broader range of activities in the Rangers. At twenty-seven years of age, he was bench pressing two hundred pounds in sets of ten repetitions. At six foot one inches tall and 200 pounds, he was all muscle and sinew that was hard to hide. His body fat content hovered around five percent. Unmarried, he didn’t have much time for anything but the Army. His second tour of duty was in Korea, just before U.S. Forces were withdrawn from the peninsula in 2008. “Screw the duties” became his motto while in Korea. He spent four hours a day in the gym taking Kuk Ki Do lessons. When he left Korea twelve months later, he was a first Dan, a true black belt. Kuk Ki Do is the form of karate that is mandatory for all of the guards of the Blue House, South Korea’s version of the White House. All of the elite guards must be Kuk Ki Do black belts. Kuk Ki Do is not a sport, but a deadly art. It has only one philosophy, to kill, maim or completely incapacitate your opponent as quickly and quietly as possible.
“Do you have a couple of Mexican Americans in your battalion you would like to join you? We’re thinking about a four- or five-man team. Final number is up to you.”
“Yes, sir, I can pick four easily. I have a couple in my own company, as a matter of fact, that will do nicely for whatever needs to be done.”
“Good. They must be fluent in Tex-Mex, have completely Mexican names, willing to go undercover unarmed and in civilian dress. Have them in my office at fifteen hundred hours.”
Three hours later, Captain Rodrigo Sabata, Sergeants First Class Manuel Estevez, Miguel Perez, along with Staff Sergeants Caesar Consaida and Romero Chavez stood before the Ranger battalion commander.
“This gentleman will brief you now and alone,” stated the Lieutenant Colonel, indicating the man dressed in casual clothing and sitting in a chair against the wall. The Lieutenant Colonel left the room.
“The five of you must commit now, without hearing any details at all of what you are tasked to do, or you are dismissed as of this moment.”
No one said anything, but all except Captain Sabata had a slight smile on his face.
“Very well. You five are going undercover into Mexico to investigate, and possibly join, the organization or organizations that have been raiding across the border in Texas and Arizona the last year or two. You will leave Fort Benning tonight. We will fly you to El Paso, where you will buy a car and proceed into Mexico as braceros looking for work. You are to travel separately, unrecognizing each other until you join up at the Motel 8 on Interstate 10 outside El Paso. Reservations will be made for each of you under your own names. Each of you will be given $3000 cash at the end of this briefing. Captain Sabata, you will have an additional $10,000 out of which you are to purchase a dependable used car for travel into Mexico. I have reviewed your field 201 Personnel Files. You have somewhat diverse geographic backgrounds, coming from different areas of the southwest. That is fine. Your cover will be that you met and formed friendships while working the sugar beet fields in central Wyoming. That’s far enough from the border that no one there will hopefully have any details of that area. Each of your packets has information on the Big Horn Basin. After you memorize it, burn it, and I mean burn it before you leave here tonight. You are traveling unarmed, at least until you get to El Paso. No firearms there, but I don’t object if you get a good fighting folder out of your pocket money. You each worked and saved for a year in the sugar beet fields to accumulate your pocket money. You decided you didn’t like the cold Wyoming winters and wanted to return to the southwest. Together, you traveled south but your car, a tan, 2002 Chevy Impala with a small engine and an automatic transmission, caught fire and burned along the highway just north of El Paso, so you abandoned it and bought another in El Paso. You heard a rumor in a bar in El Paso that the farm in question was hiring, so you thought you would check it out. So, go to a bar together in Ciudad Juarez and establish your presence with the bartender. It doesn’t seem to matter which bar.
“Basically, the farm in question is believed to be the base for these raids. What scanty information we have is that some Asians are backing these raids with money and guns. The Mexican government just calls them bandits. Maybe, but we don’t think so. We want to know whom and why. Try and get hired. If not, just hang around the area and see what you can pick up. If you don’t get hired, you have a month to gather collateral information. Travel around the area if you think it is indicated. When the month is up, report to Fort Bliss, Adjutant of the Commanding General. We will have further instructions for you then. Your information packet has a collect call phone number that is manned 24/7. Aerial photos and descriptions of the place are in your packets. These people are absolutely ruthless killers. If you think they are on to you, bug out. Pack light. You have four hours to prepare. Questions? None, then here are your packets and money. You depart here at 19:00 hours. A bus will pick you up at this office. Good luck.”
Captain Sabata and his four companions drove slowly past the fenced area. Sergeant First Class Perez was driving, while the other four scrutinized the road. At first, they paid no attention to the small boxes attached to the fence posts about every quarter mile, until Staff Sergeant Chavez noticed that sunlight was reflecting off what appeared to be a camera lens. Then they noted the little boxes every four hundred meters.
“This must be the place, with security like that,” said Captain Sabata. At that moment, a tractor drove past them from the opposite direction. After driving a few more miles, they turned around and drove back to a wide gate that was electronically controlled. They pulled up to the gate, and Sergeant Perez looked into the security camera.
A voice from a speaker asked, “Who are you?”
“Just a couple of amigos looking for work. We heard that there was a farm somewhere around here, hiring. We are looking for that place.”
“Someone will be with you in a couple of minutes. Be patient.” The speaker fell silent.
“Gomez, you and Hernando go look them over. Chat with them for a while. See what you can find out. We could use some good men, but don’t take any chances.”
Gomez picked up his AK-47 and a .357, Hernando took a .357 magnum revolver from his top right-hand desk drawer, got up from his desk and together they climbed in to a Ford pickup truck outside the office. Sabata and his team waited for five minutes until Gomez and Hernando in their pickup truck came to the gate, opened it, and got out of their truck and walked over to the soldiers. Both Hernando and Gomez had their handguns in their waistbands hidden under untucked shirt tails. Gomez walked to the driver’s side and looked in. Hernando stood relatively close to his pickup, with the AK-47 in the front seat.
“So, Amigos, you are looking for work? What kind of work do you do?”
Sabata spoke for them. “We have been working sugar beet fields up north but didn’t care for the cold. We thought we would come to where it is warm again. It is good to be in a place like this.”
“You are field hands, then. Can you all drive trucks of different kinds, tractors, operate combines and other machinery?”
“We can do many things, all of those which you mention. We can do many other things as well.”
“What other things can you do, Amigo? Many skills are appreciated here. Can you weld? Are you a mechanic who can fix automobiles and farm machinery?”
“Caesar is a fair mechanic, Romero did a little welding, not all that good perhaps, but he knows to heat the metal before you push the welding rod. We had heard you were looking for other skills as well.”
Gomez’s sense of danger came alive. “What skills do you speak of? We have no special requirements on this farm. We do have feedlot cattle. Perhaps you do veterinary work?”
“Manuel knows a little of medicine. He might be of use to you. He has pulled a few calves, done a little surgery, he knows to wash his hands. We have heard talk that you have need of other skills as well.”
“Amigo, I do not know of what you speak. Where have you heard this talk? What is this talk? I do not understand you.”
“We were in a bar in Juarez two nights ago. We heard men talking that you were looking for adventurous men, men who were willing to do a little extra in order to earn a little extra money. We are very much interested in a little extra money. There are five of us, and none of us have families, but we would all like to be able to afford one some day.”
“Let me look at you. Step out of the car, let’s see if you are big and strong men, or are small and weak.”
The five dismounted from the car, as Hernando and Gomez carefully sized them up. “I am foremen for one of the crews, the one that works the feedlot. We have cattle to brand, castrate, vaccinate and dehorn in a couple of days. I will talk to the general foreman and see what he says. Come back tomorrow at the same time. I will tell you then what he says.”
Sabata and all of his men noted that Hernando stayed close to the pickup and kept his arms crossed across his chest. This tended to pull in his shirt a little, which allowed his revolver he had stuck in the front of his pants to be imprinted by his shirt, his right hand near the butt.
“We will return tomorrow at this time. We hope you have work for us. We are good workers,” stated Consaida as they climbed back into their car. They drove carefully away, so as not to raise a lot of dust.
“What did they look like to you two?” asked Jesus Gonzalez.
“I don’t like them,” said Gomez.
“I liked them,” said Hernando.
“Interesting,” said Gonzalez. “Why didn’t you like them, Gomez?”
“Because every one of them had very short hair, every one of them was very well built, very muscular. They have not suffered lack of eating, but they are not at all fat. They have the physique of people who lift weights and work out regularly. They look like soldiers. Only the leader spoke until the very end. That smacks of military discipline. Each of them inspected us as we inspected them. They are very observant, these men. They did not smell bad enough. They have all bathed and shaved recently. None of them even had a mustache. The piercing eyes of the leader bother me. He was looking right through me. I have seen that look before.”
“All that Gomez says is true. Perhaps that is why I liked them. Our reputation has spread very far. Perhaps they are police or soldiers as Gomez suggests. This I do not know. Certainly, they are not from around here. Their Spanish is different. That might mean that they are from a different region or that they are Federales or perhaps Americans, if Americans would dare to do such a thing. We know the American drug agents do these things, but soldiers? Perhaps they are what they say they are. Who knows?
Jesus Gonzalez thought about it for a minute, and then said, “Do not hire them. We are not planning any big raids for the time being. Our snipers are busy, but we have lost several of them. We could not find the bodies of two, so maybe the Americans have them. The timing is not good. Tell them to leave their names and check back in a couple of months. We might be hiring then.”
“I will tell them when they return tomorrow. I told them come back tomorrow so we could think about it; maybe have someone watch them for a while if they stay around in town.”
“That is a good idea, Gomez. Take one or two of your better street fighters. Go into town tonight. Find out where they are staying. Have your man start a fight with one who is not the leader. See how well they handle themselves, if they come to the aid of their man if he needs it. Do not use any weapons, but bare hands. We don’t want any unnecessary trouble. If you find their car in a place where you can search it without difficulty, do so. Perhaps there will be some clues as to how they act. They will probably eat at a cantina, and so be easy to find since there are only two in town.”
Captain Sabata and his four men strolled into the cantina and selected an empty table adjacent to the far wall. From their table, they could watch the front door, the bar, and the back door that opened at the end of the hall along the bar. They had strolled around the back of the cantina before they entered it in order to orient themselves and identify possible escape routes. They ordered a meal of tamales, chicken quesadas, frijoles, tortillas, and a pitcher of Corona beer. The beer didn’t last long. Captain Sabata drew an American five-dollar bill from his wallet and threw it on the table. Staff Sergeant Consaida picked it up and walked to the bar with the empty pitcher. He handed both to the bartender without saying a word. He placed both hands on the bar top while the bartender refilled the pitcher and gave him a dollar’s change in pesos. As he picked up the pitcher, his arm was rudely shoved from behind. Consaida looked at the man who shoved him in the mirror, then turned to face him, as he sat the pitcher on the bar. Consaida shook the beer off his hand, looked at the bartender and then asked for a bar towel. The bartender, recognizing the offending man, gave Consaida the towel without saying anything, then began to wipe up the spilled beer with another.
“Why don’t you be more careful, Amigo?” said the individual, who slightly weaved as he stood. Consaida looked into his eyes and saw that they were clear. The man was not drunk as he pretended. He also read a degree of malevolence. The Sergeant immediately recognized the challenge.
“Si, I’ll do that,” Consaida said as he turned to the bartender and said, “Please fill it again, Amigo, throwing down the peso he had just picked up as change. When he started to pick up the pitcher, the man hit his arm again. All the time, the four other Rangers were watching. They had observed who sat with whom, who was paying attention to the altercation at the bar, and who was not. So far, no one else had moved in the direction of Consaida and the offender. They continued eating while observing carefully the surroundings.
“Don’t do that, Amigo, it is not good to waste good beer.”
“Then, you can lick it off the bar, can’t you?”
“Amigo, I do not want trouble. Do not carry this any farther. Let me go in peace.”
