~ * ~ * ~ * ~
As planned we doubled the night watch around the parameter of the clearing to make sure no one could escape our trap. 400 of our own men encircled El Diablo Alcazaba. They lay in wait hoping and praying for a chance to enact a revenge they’ve thirsted for, for many years.
They’d lost many family members, friends and neighbors to the savagery of El Diablo. They’d watched helplessly while their women, young and old alike have been brutalized by the sadistic soldiers under El Diablo’s command. In their eyes everyone in the fortress was guilty of horrendous acts against mankind and had to pay for it with their lives.
After all of these years of being put thru a living hell their time had finally come. Thanks to their American friends, El Diablo would finally answer for all he had done to the people of Cuba. His cousin Fidel wouldn’t be here to protect him this time.
Suddenly from the other side of the fortress I could hear a chant starting. I couldn’t make out what was being said but it was growing in volume as the men that circled the fortress picked-up the chant. Four hundred voiced spoke as one.
The owner of each voice had suffered their own brand of pain, torment and injustice at the hands of those who occupied the fortress. You could hear all of the emotion pouring out of them. The pain, torment and suffering of years of abuse by those hidden behind the walls. You could also hear the unbridled joy of finally being shed of the oppression.
“Venir conocer vuestro muerte!” shouted the two hundred strong. The volume of their voices was echoing off the surrounding forest.
“What the hell are they yelling Patch?” I asked the suddenly grinning man.
“I like it a lot LT, I surely do,” Patch said throwing his head back and laughing at the moon. “They’re saying come meet your death.”
I stood up among my new friends and joined them in their chant. “Come meet your death.” The bastards had earned it. They were being invited out of their fortress for a short journey to hell.
“Venir conocer vuestro muerte, come meet your death!” the chant went on for ten full minutes and was punctuated by four hundred and ten rifles being fired at once. Yes, four hundred and ten rifles were fired as my Seals joined their new comrades in inviting El Diablo and his men to come out and play. It was an awesome sight, the muzzle flashes of all of those rifles in the darkness surrounding El Diablo Alcazaba being fired as one. The echoing sound of the rifles reverberated off of the fortress walls as the men around the clearing became silent.
The silence was ominously oppressing for those huddled in fear inside the fortress. It was just the way we wanted it. Let them live their last hours fearing for their lives. It would be the same fear the men around me had lived with for years.