Dead or Alive by Tom Clancy EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Tom Clancy
- Language: English
- Genre: War Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
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LIGHT TROOPS—an Eleven-Bravo light infantryman, according the United
States Army’s MOS (military occupational specialty) system—are supposed
to be “pretty” spit-and-polish troops with spotless uniforms and clean-shaven
faces, but First Sergeant Sam Driscoll wasn’t one of those anymore, and
hadn’t been for some time. The concept of camouflage often involved more
than patterned BDUs. No, wait, they weren’t called that anymore, were they?
Now they were called “Army combat uniforms,” ACUs. Same, same.
Driscoll’s beard was fully four inches long, with enough flecks of white in
it that his men had taken to calling him Santa—rather annoying to a man
hardly thirty-six years old, but when most of your compatriots were an
average of ten years younger than you . . . Oh, well. Could be worse. Could
be “Pops” or “Gramps.”
He was even more annoyed to have long hair. It was dark and shaggy and
greasy, and his beard coarse, which was useful here, where the facial hair was
important to his cover and the local people rarely bothered with haircuts. His
dress was entirely local in character, and this was true of his team as well.
There were fifteen of them. Their company commander, a captain, was down
with a broken leg from a misstep—which was all it took to sideline you in
this terrain—sitting on a hilltop and waiting for the Chinook to evac him,
along with one of the team’s two medics who’d stayed behind to make sure
he didn’t go into shock. That left Driscoll in command for the mission. He
didn’t mind. He had more time in the field than Captain Wilson had, though
the captain had a college degree, and Driscoll didn’t have his yet. One thing
at a time. He had to survive this deployment still, and after that he could go
back to his classes at the University of Georgia. Funny, he thought, that it had
taken him nearly three decades to start enjoying school. Well, hell, better late
than never, he supposed.
He was tired, the kind of mind-numbing, bone-grinding fatigue Rangers
knew only too well. He knew how to sleep like a dog on a granite block with
only a rifle stock for a pillow, knew how to stay alert when his brain and
body were screaming at him to lie down. Problem was, now that he was
closer to forty than thirty, he felt the aches and pains a little more than he had
when he was twenty, and it took twice as long to work out the kinks in the
morning. Then again, those aches were offset by wisdom and experience.
He’d learned over the years that despite it being a cliché, it was in fact mind
over matter. He’d learned to largely block out pain, which was a handy skill
when you were leading much younger men whose packs undoubtedly felt
much lighter on their shoulders than Driscoll’s did on his own. Life, he
decided, was all about trade-offs.
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