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None of the characters in this book represents any real person, living or dead. However, some of Kauai’s fictional crew members’ best qualities were inspired by many of the fine people with whom I had the honor and pleasure to serve while I was a part of the Coast Guard.
USCGC Kauai is fictional. There is no “D Class” of the 110-foot patrol boat series, and the last of those built was USCGC Galveston Island (WPB-1349). I created a fictitious D-Class to buy some extra margin of verisimilitude and get the nit-pickers off my back. The medium endurance cutters Dependable, Northland, and Thetis are real and currently in service as of this writing. The “Fast Response Cutters” referred to by Sam Powell in Chapter 18 are an actual class of patrol vessels and a-building of this work’s writing. They are each named for a Coast Guard enlisted member of historical note.
Pan-Commonwealth Airways is fictional. However, the mishap depicted is a fictional composite of two real-life incidents:
The dialog between the Coast Guard people and in radio transmissions depicted in this story has much more “plain language” than what you would hear during actual operations. Including all the acronyms, jargon, and formal protocols vital for clarity and brevity in real life would have been more authentic. However, it would also be a great deal more tedious or confusing for the average reader. I ask all veterans and any other purists forgiveness for this compromise for the sake of readability.
MAYDAY, MAYDAY – Request Assistance!
First of all, thank you for purchasing Caribbean Counterstrike! I know you could have picked any number of books to read, but you chose this book, and for that, I am incredibly grateful. I hope it gave you what you were seeking, be it a little extra enjoyment or just a chance to escape the trials and tribulations of life for a while. If so, it would be really helpful if you could share this book with your friends and family by posting a mention of it on Facebook and Twitter.
If you enjoyed this story, I’d like to hear from you and hope that you could take some time to post a review or at least a rating on your bookseller’s website. Your feedback and support will help me as I work on future projects, and I am very interested in hearing your thoughts. Please visit my website when you have the time to provide your feedback, find out what is new, and grab the occasional freebie:
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Very Respectfully,
Ed
A New Captain’s First Patrol Turns into a Fight for Their Lives!
Young Coast Guard Lieutenant Haley Reardon gets her dream assignment: a patrol boat command in the red-hot operating area of South Florida and the Caribbean. She has not even gotten her feet on the ground when she finds herself and her crew supporting a dangerous covert mission. The strict protocols she has lived by in the law enforcement world are in abeyance, and there is no time for her to grow into the job. Her XO is experienced and able, but even younger than Haley and dealing with the trauma of his earlier missions and the challenge of courting a woman with special needs (a neurodiverse genius).
They must insert and retrieve a DIA operations team trying to seize a transnational criminal syndicate boss from a small Caribbean island controlled by a front company of the Chinese government and protected by a superior military force. Most importantly, they are on their own and must remain covert, and Haley has strict orders to avoid contact with the Chinese.
Can Haley avoid leaving the DIA team to their fate when attempting to rescue them could destroy her crew and boat and lead to war?
Excerpt from Bravely and Faithfully
They were within a quarter-mile now. Haley could clearly see the deck was crowded with individuals, and the ship had a visible list to port. They were still charging at full speed. Hopkins had better hit the brakes if she doesn’t want to overshoot.
As if reading her mind, Hopkins’s voice came over the 1MC, “All hands, prepare for crash-back!”
Haley observed the deck crew kneeling and grabbing a handhold. As she did the same, the bow suddenly dipped down, and the hull began the shudder Haley recognized as engines going full astern with a high forward speed. She almost fell forward in the deceleration as Kauai came to a halt about thirty feet off the Miho Dujam.
“Heaving lines, let fly!” Hebert shouted, and two small lines with weighted balls at the end streaked across the water to where Ben and Bondurant were standing. They hurriedly pulled over the two mooring lines, threading them through the hawseholes on the ship and giving a thumbs-up to indicate they had been attached. In the meantime, Hopkins was working motors and rudder to walk Kauai sideways into the larger vessel, with the crewmen pulling in the slack from the mooring lines. Finally, the two vessels came together with the loud squeak of compressing fenders. “Hold all lines!” Hebert shouted. “Second men, report to me!”
The second man at each position dropped his mooring line and trotted over as Hebert said, “Help Doc get the litter over there.” As they assisted Bryant, Hebert turned to Haley. “Ma’am, it’s gonna get mighty crowded mighty fast. Can you take them to the messdeck when we gather half a dozen? I have water bottles laid out for them.”
“No problem!” Haley answered.
“Thank ya, ma’am.”
The litter with the catatonic woman came across first, with Drake and Bondurant on each side handing it carefully across to their counterparts on Kauai, followed immediately by Bryant. The men carried it aside, laid it down on the deck for Bryant to do his work, and returned to their place on the rail. Like the litter, Drake and Bondurant handed off each survivor to the crewmen waiting on the patrol boat while Ben was herding the others into a single file for the transfer. Haley beckoned over each new arrival to keep the path clear. The fear they showed of the male crewmembers and the contrasting expressions of gratitude on their faces when they saw Haley almost made her tear up. As they huddled close to her, Haley was grateful for Bryant’s gift—even in the open air, and through the Vapor Rub smear she applied under her nose, the stench of waste and old sweat and vomit was almost overpowering.
When she hit the required critical mass of six rescues, she led them aft to the open messdeck, sat them down in the chairs, and handed out water bottles. There was some concern among the women when she turned to leave, so Haley smiled, waved her hand down, and said, “Bleib hier.” as Bryant suggested. The few who had stood sat down again, although their looks of concern remained until Haley returned with the second half dozen survivors. Some faces were more expressive than others, but the new arrivals brought signs of relief and hope.
On her second return to the foredeck, Haley noticed Ben was no longer herding the remaining women in line. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen, and she wondered if he had returned on board while she was shuttling survivors to the messdeck. After her third run, she remained on the foredeck and watched as the last survivor came aboard. Drake and Bondurant then cast off Kauai’s mooring lines before jumping across. As the two vessels drifted apart, Haley went directly to Drake and asked, “Chief, where’s the XO?”
“He’s up looking for evidence, ma’am,” Drake replied puzzledly.
“He’s what?”
“He told us to cast off and return on board after the last survivor crossed over. He’s taking the RHIB back.” He and Bondurant shared a worried look.
“How much longer will that ship last?”
“Ma’am, I’m surprised she’s still upright.”
Haley hated stepping in, but things seemed to be getting out of hand. “Chief, call the RHIB!”
“Kauai-One, COB, is the XO with you?”
“Negative,” Lee’s voice replied.
Drake lifted his radio again, but before he could speak, a series of loud bangs erupted from the Miho Dujam, and she quickly rolled to the left. He keyed the radio and shouted, “Kauai, COB, XO is still on board!”
The ship continued to roll with a cacophony of bangs and crashes and, within twenty seconds, had completely capsized with only her hull bottom visible. Haley, Drake, and Bondurant were transfixed in shock until the 1MC jolted them into motion.
“Man Overboard Port Side, repeat Man Overboard Port Side! This is no drill!”
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Check Out the First Book in the Series
An obsolescent patrol boat is all that stands between the world and nuclear annihilation!
The world is on the brink of war, with NATO mobilizing to counter a Russian threat to Poland and Lithuania and leaders openly discussing war options. In the midst of the crisis, a Russian bomber collides with a U.S. fighter off Florida, causing the accidental launch of a nuclear-tipped hypersonic missile.
A Coast Guard cutter finds a drug-laden sailboat smashed and adrift north of the Florida Keys. The boat’s damage is from a near miss by the Russian missile, which had not flown harmlessly deep into the Gulf of Mexico as initially thought, but crashed somewhere in the keys.
The Coast Guard crew is racing against a vicious and powerful international crime syndicate to find and recover the Russian nuke before its discovery can trigger a nuclear war.
Excerpt from Dagger Quest:
“Conn, Mount 51, sound of gunshots zero-four-zero relative, no visual target!” Hebert shouted through the bridge door from his position on the starboard machine gun.
“Conn, aye!” Hopkins replied.
Sam watched the scene ashore unfold in real-time in the video feed from the orbiting Puma. His heart pounded, and he felt rising nausea as he watched the SUVs split apart and then stop. Figures emerged from both vehicles.
“Kauai, Shore-One, we are taking fire; repeat, we are taking fire. Request immediate assistance!” Ben’s voice burst from the radio.
“Conn, Mount 51, sound of continuous gunfire zero-five-zero relative, no visual target!” came the redundant report.
“Conn, aye! Captain, one point seven miles to shoal water.”
Hopkins had called down to Drake at the two-mile point, and Sam saw the engine speed back down slightly to “normal” emergency ahead in response.
“Very well, prepare for crash back. Williams?”
“Nothing yet, Captain, sorry,” Williams said, shifting in his seat.
Hopkins announced, “Captain, one and a half miles to shoal water.” Into the telephone, she said, “Chief, stand by for crash back.”
“Very well, stand by,” Sam responded.
On the Puma’s video display, Sam saw Bill take the fatal hit and fall back dead. His heart was in his throat until he leaned forward to peer at the screen, then a wave of relief when he saw the long hair and beach clothing, apparent even in the low-resolution image. It must be the prisoner. He noted a pause in the action and saw the figures behind the westernmost vehicle aim a mortar-like device and fire it. The camera picked up a flash of a small object, then a burst overhead Ben and Simmons’s redoubt. Either Ben or Simmons—from the camera aspect and mist, he couldn’t tell which—fast-crawled to the other briefly, then returned to his position. Sam was unconsciously pounding his right fist on his thigh as the scene played out before him.
“Getting something,” Williams said. “Yes! Two targets on long-wave IR.”
Sam leaned in. “Surface action starboard, train on the target on the far left and standby. Deffler, illuminate the hostile vehicle farthest west.” Standing up, he shouted, “OOD, Crash Back Now!” He keyed his handheld radio. “Pickins, haul ass back to the boat deck now!”
Hopkins shouted into the telephone, “Main Control, Conn, Crash Back, all back full!”
“Unmasked,” Deffler piped up. “Target illuminated.”
Sam held on to the safety rail as the patrol boat pitched down and violently shuddered while shedding speed quickly in the emergency stop. He watched the firing resume on the screen, and the figures started moving from behind the vehicles and closing on Ben and Simmons’s position.
“Main Control, Conn, All Stop!” Hopkins shouted into the phone when the speed dropped to zero. The roar of the engines immediately died away.
“Conn, Mount 51, more continuous gunfire bearing zero-six-zero relative, no visual target!”
“Conn, aye!”
“Target identified, target confirmed, on target and tracking!”
“Batteries release. Commence fire!”
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