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The Gauntlet - Editors introduction

The Gauntlet

With Eric Rudolph

I lay concealed between the rocks and slowly lined up the cross hairs of my high powered rifle with the head of Yassib Ossophat. This was one of the most wanted killers among the world's terrorists, and now his days of terror were over. He had been responsible for numerous car bombings and suicide squads in the Holy Land of Israel.

I tested the range, wind and altitude with my high tech computerized scope, and then eased the trigger back until it clicked. There was a jolt of the rifle, accompanied by a hissing sound, as the silencer quenched the thunder. I watched as the terrorist collapsed in a heap.

I worked the action of the rifle, chambering another round within seconds, and sighted Yassib's lieutenant. I aligned the crosshairs and began to pull the trigger, with my eye on the target.

There was an explosion, and then a yawning abyss of darkness.

I woke up what seemed only seconds later, but I found myself in the infirmary. I heard voices speaking in Hebrew, not Aramaic, and breathed a sigh of relief. My left eye was blocked with a bandage that covered most of the side of my face, along with my chest, which seemed to burn and throb all at once.

A nurse saw that I was awake and hurried to my side.

"A loose rock fell off the ledge you were under and smashed your face", she said.

I thought, "the repercussion of my rifle." I silently cursed the stony hills of Israel. "How bad is it?" I asked out loud.

"Your left eye was blinded, and that side of your face will be permanently scarred, unless you receive multiple plastic surgical operations."

The news went from bad to worse when my superior, Colonel Frank Jacobs, stopped by. "You are being taken out of the SEAL team. We're giving you a medical discharge from the Navy."

He was sympathetic as he debriefed me and reminesced over old times. But I thought I had lost everything I had worked so hard for. Yet a God I had never met was working in my life.

The nurse I had met when I first woke up took a special interest in me. Nurse Simmons, a 5'-9" slender lady with lustrous black hair and brilliant green eyes. She had a special glow and energy about her, with an atmosphere of profound peace that radiated around her. I was drowning in the depths of despair when I reached out, trying to grasp what she had. She began to open up and share what Jesus had done in her life.

Cheryl Simmons began life as an orphan. Her parents both died in an automobile accident. Cheryl's mother gave birth right at the accident scene, and died hours later.

Cheryl was bounced from foster home to foster home until she was 10, when she was finally formally adopted by a Christian family. She then felt a calling to help others, so she started at age 12 to prepare for a career in the medical field.

Starting with a Red Cross CPR and First Aid class, she moved on to other classes, culminating in several years in nursing school.

She was then called to enter the military service, where she received further medical training. She eventually wound up working at a military hospital in Israel.

As she shared more about herself, I began to open up and share as well. I shared how I had been raised the son of a World War II Admiral, and was the youngest and smallest of seven brothers. Being the youngest, I tried hard to overcome my age and size with energy and enthusiasm. I was the only son who wanted to follow in my father's footsteps, so he pulled some strings to get me into a military academy, where I spent the formative years of my life.

I left military school and entered right into the Navy, after a week-long family reunion. I wanted to be the best -- because I had giant footsteps to fill -- so I enlisted with the SEALS program.

I failed miserably on my first try, due to a bout of a nasty strain of flu, but squeaked by on my second attempt.

Our team spent two years training for desert warfare, and each of us learned Hebrew as a second language. We were to be based in Israel to train, since we helped the Israeli special forces track down and eliminate terrorists. This is how I found myself in the Promised Land, and how I came to meet Cheryl.

Cheryl began to open up the Gospel to me, taking me down what she called "The Romans Road to Heaven". She started out by telling me how our ancestors, Adam and Eve, rebelled against God, thereby bringing a curse upon all mankind: the curse of death. In Romans 3:10, 23, she showed me that no one was right in God's sight -- every person except Jesus is a sinner, falling short of God's standards.

Then she showed me the results of sin, explained in Romans 6:23. The result of sin is death, eternal separation from God! But God offers a gift of eternal life through His Son, Jesus Christ the Lord. She also shared how Jesus can offer us this gift. In Romans 5:6-8 it says that while we were helpless (with a death sentence upon us) Jesus died in our place to take our punishment. God showed us love even while we were in rebellion against Him!

But God has made a way for us to make our peace with God, as shown in Romans 5:1, which says that we can be justified by faith in Jesus, and through Jesus we can achieve peace with God.

I knew I was a sinner. I drank way too much, smoked lots of cigarettes and pot, and was a womanizer, not to mention my filthy sailor's mouth that could peel paint off the walls. I saw something in her life: a strength and peace, which I, even though I was a proud Navy SEAL, envied.

I asked her how I could become a Christian. Did I need to go on a quest? What did I have to do?

Cheryl told me the Christian walk is not a piece of cake, but rather a life-long commitment that takes determination and self discipline. She told me how the devil would not like to lose me, and would attack me in proportion to how obedient I became to the Lord. But then she told me how Jesus would come into my life and give me life spiritually, which would make the Christian life possible. She told me how the Holy Spirit would become my teacher to guide me through the pitfalls, and through Satan's snares.

I knew, as a soldier, when I should fight, and that there are times when surrender was inevitable. I knew this was one of those times. I surrendered to the Lord. I accepted Jesus into my heart and was born again!

Because of my injuries, I found that I was going to be shipped back to the states within a week or two. I determined to get as much time with Cheryl as possible until then. We grew much closer together over that week. We grew so close, that it became necessary to pray that the Lord would guide us whether we should seek marriage or not. The answer was to wait. So we exchanged addresses and promises to write and call often.

Soon I was on a transport back to a hospital in the states for reconstructive surgery. Mercy Hospital is where I wound up, sharing a room with an intense, charismatic Christian named Joshua. Joshua was having his nose fixed, along with a few scars that he received at a "Rescue". He described a "rescue" as a prolife sit-in at an abortion mill.

The police treated the prolifers mercilessly, breaking arms, carrying people by their faces, causing many injuries requiring hospitalization, and much pain with their cruel methods of handling people. "Pain compliance holds", they called them.

Joshua had actually been trampled by about 20 policemen who were running through and over prolifers to get to the entrance of the building. His nose had been smashed against the pavement and his face slashed open by jagged rocks.

Between our operations he shared how he had become involved in the pro-life movement, and how terrible abortion really was. I had never given any thought to abortion, and began to wonder if any of the women I had slept with had become pregnant, and if any of them kept, or aborted, our children? I realized that by my actions, I may have influenced some to seek abortion! So I repented of this, and felt a weight taken off my chest.

I began to get very mad about how people were killing little babies.

"Sounds like a very one-sided war, with the butchers holding all the cards", I told him. "It's about time that the scales were tipped more on the side of the children by throwing a 'wild card' into the game."

"What do you mean?" Joshua asked, looking askance.

rolled up my sleeve and showed him a Joker playing card tattooed on my upper arm, with "Jokers Wild" written above and below the card. I then began to share about my SEAL training.

As I talked, I saw a spark glow in his eyes. He grew more and more excited until he couldn't contain himself. He shouted "Praise God!"

The nurses peeked in the door and shot us a withering glare. We sheepishly looked at the floor.

Joshua told me how he had decided to abandon the conventional protest methods and take the fight to the killers themselves, along with those who supplied and supported them. He had never been in the service, so he lacked the know-how to proceed, so he had simply prayed that God would send him someone with the necessary experience! It was only hours after he had prayed that I was brought to be his roommate!

As our time grew to a close, we began to make plans to get together later.

I had to get to a week-long family reunion of my family, which they organized to welcome me back. My family had been visiting me by two's and three's ever since I returned.

They tried to cheer me up about the accident and the loss of my career. But I surprised everyone with my happiness and peace. They noticed my whole attitude was different. I no longer swore like a sailor, and I even smiled a lot. So they all jokingly asked if they had the right person, or if I had been switched with a twin. Thus I was able to witness to my family about what Jesus had done for me. They all listened and watched me carefully, giving thought and consideration to what I was saying, even though they joked that I had gone a bit bonkers in the brain.

The day finally arrived when the bandages all came off, and the doctors' work came to light. There was a lot of bright pink skin showing, but I finally had my face back. Minus my eye. A glass eye sat in its place. The only place scars remained was on my chest. A souvenir, a reminder to me of how God had spared my life.

During my stay, I maintained contact with Cheryl by phone and letters. We learned and shared more and more about each other. She told me she would be coming back to the states within the month for two weeks of hard-earned vacation, and she wanted to visit me during her stay. The next few days were a flurry of activity as I went to stay at my parents' guest house after receiving my medical discharge with honors.

I helped at the main house in preparation for the family reunion fast approaching. I learned that Cheryl's visit would start on the day before the reunion was to start. I made arrangements with my parents for her to stay with my parents in one of the spare rooms.

The reunion went great. There was rampant speculation about my wedding date. I was thinking about this myself.

I paid a visit to my brother Clay's jewelry shop, where we worked together to make three rings. The engagement ring was made of a bunch of silver and gold seals overlapping each other in a circle. Her wedding ring had two dolphins jumping into the shape of a heart, with a brilliant red ruby inside and diamonds forming the outside.

I next talked to my other brother, Edward, a pastor and marriage counselor. We talked well into one night. I left feeling much better. Armed combat was something where I was experienced, but matrimony was terrifyingly uncharted waters, with signs warning "Thare be Sea Monsters".

The next day I took Cheryl out on a boat ride. We sailed to a small island. We went swimming, had a picnic, and laid on the sand listening to a local contemporary Christian station blasting inspirational music, while we talked.

I told her I had made a decision to fight abortion and take a stand for the helpless babies. I was taken aback by her response: she hated abortion with a passion! Two of her friends were pressured by parents and boyfriends into having abortions. The first one died as a result of a botched abortion, and the second went slowly insane after having an abortion.

Cheryl had always hated abortion, but in an abstract way, until death reached out and touched her life.

During her training, a nationally known baby killer, George Miller from Wichita, Kansas, came looking for assistants for his late-term killing center. Cheryl had covertly placed pictures of aborted babies all over her nursing school. There was a picture of Miller and an aborted baby, side by side.

Above the pictures were the words: "Wanted: hired killers. Miller the Killer needs your help to dismember helpless babies. Good pay. No consciences, please!"

To top that, when Miller complained about the leaflets, she marched up and spit in his face, calling him a child molesting baby killer, before walking off!

Afterwards, no one wanted to work for Miller, and he stopped coming back!

Cheryl received a mild rebuke and a slap on the wrist, more for show than anything. She had been fighting a subtle war ever since.

I shared with her how I loved her. I got down on one knee, while I played Jim Croche's "Time in a Bottle", and asked her if she would marry me. I handed her the seal ring, in a glass and velvet case, and her eyes grew wide and twinkled merrily.

With teardrops in the corners of her eyes, she said "yes"! My heart gave a wild leap for joy!

We arrived back shortly before supper. During the meal, we stood and made the announcement. The whole room went wild. We were hugged, patted and congratulated repeatedly.

Cheryl and I agreed to hold the wedding on the upcoming Sunday while the whole family was together. Cheryl, who until then had no family, was brought into a huge one, with arms opened wide! My brother, Ed, said it would be no problem for him to marry us, so we broke the news to everyone, and once again pandemonium broke out, with lots of cheers, hugs, pats on the backs, along with advice and congratulations.

The wedding day went great. Everyone had gone into hypergear. The arrangements were great. I got a laugh and a great kick out of the Wedding Cake topper: a toy nurse beside an action Popeye figure! I had to admit it looked hilarious!

We planned to spend the next week honeymooning at Disney, but balked after learning they sponsored and encouraged homosexual lifestyles. So we went to Six Flags over Georgia, where they had fun, not political correctness, for their agenda.

We had an awesome time with the rides, games, and just getting to know each other. The week went by so quickly. But the videos, pictures, and memories would remain.

Cheryl had to leave on Sunday morning and fly nonstop back to Israel, where she would turn in her one-month notice. She would fulfill her obligations, and then return to the states to be with me.

During her absence, I contacted Joshua, and joyfully filled him in on the events of the previous month. He in turn shared a little about his own wife, and shocked me by telling me my brother Ed had married him as well! I had not known my brother was active in the pro-life movement.

Joshua and Ed had gone to jail together as far back as the Democratic Convention in Atlanta, Georgia some years ago. Ed had performed Joshua's wedding just hours before Joshua and his wife took part in a rescue in Wichita, Kansas. They had their honeymoon in separate cells in the same jail!

Joshua and I brainstormed how we could most effectively bring the slaughter to an end with the minimum amount of bloodshed possible. The weakest link in the whole abortion chain was the butcher. Take the butcher out of the equation, and the system collapsed in upon itself without support.

We hooked up to the internet from a library a few towns away, and began to track down information about babykillers. We were buried in information. We filled disks with photographs, addresses, maps, killing center locations, and other information which we began to organize on a state-by-state basis.

I called a friend and soon had my hands on a state-of-the-art high-powered rifle, made by Winchester, completely equipped with armor-piercing rounds, and the best computerized scope available. And oh, a silencer, too.

He also sent me a lot of other hardware. There were night vision and heat-seeking goggle combinations, handguns with silencers, and ammo. I thought that the variety pack of hand and rocket propelled grenades would come in handy, and the wireless headsets were top of the line.

We sat out in the guest house with maps, marking distances, traveling times, addresses, routes, and secondary routes. When Cheryl returned, we packed up and headed up into mountain country of the Carolinas. I taught them how to become proficient in the use of the handguns, rifles, grenades (both hand and rocket propelled) along with the use of the radio system and hand-to-hand combat techniques.

During our stay, we met Eric Rudolph on the run from the feds. He had also taken a stand against the murder of babies, and waged a battle in Birmingham, Alabama where he bombed a murder mill there. He was short of supplies, so we gave him some of ours, and asked him to join us, as we prepared to go to war for the babies. He said he would sleep on it, and let us know in the morning.

That night, "Gypsy", our new friend's nickname among the Special Forces, set out tripwires, noisemakers, and flares, in a circle 100 yards around us, in case the Feds got lucky. We cooked up a rabbit I had snared, and went to sleep just after dark -- weapons at our sides and ready.

We woke up to whistles and flashes of lights to the South, as a group of flashlight beams closed in on us from that direction.

"Joshua! Cheryl!" I whispered, urgency making up for volume. "Head back down the trail, guns ready, and night vision on!" They headed out, leaving me with Gypsy.

Gypsy turned to me. I answered the question his expression demanded. "If they want to track my Christian brother down like an animal, they had better be ready to pay the piper."

He smiled. We shouldered an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) each and fired at the lights, and the shouts for our surrender, in unison. The shouts were cut off as the explosion ripped through the woods. We each fired two more RPG's, and then began heaving hand grenades as fast as we could, as we ducked bullets. We then grabbed our assault rifles, mine an AK-7 and his an SKS, both with banana clips taped back to back. We began to quickly lay down a scathing field of fire. After about a minute there was no return fire.

We cautiously approached the enemy and found our battle had been a bloody one. There were 20 FBI agents and a few from unknown organizations, all either dead or dying. One was saying his last words into a radio. Gypsy and I quietly fled, knowing helicopters would be there within the hour. We found Cheryl and Joshua, ran to our car, and raced to the road with our lights off, and then slipped nonchalantly into traffic as we saw helicopters in the distance.

Gypsy took a serious look at us, and then gave us his hand of fellowship and agreed to help us.

We abandoned the mountains as quickly as possible, avoiding any further confrontations. We headed back to my home in Hilton Head Island. We gathered in the study and showed Gypsy our intelligence that we had gathered, and our tentative plans.

He listened, and pointed out strengths and weaknesses with our ideas, and proposed some additions himself, which we discussed at length.

The media was going crazy with the news about the showdown in the mountains. Reports were sketchy, but what was confirmed was that 25 government agents had been had been caught in an ambush, and only one FBI agent was able to escape with his life, thought shot, with grenade fragments embedded under his skin. A full report would be given later. The survivor had reported that the attack came from several people, not one. There was confusion in the Fed's camp. Did the Birmingham bomber have accomplices? If so, who?

We laid low for a few months. I did work around the 10 acre property, while Cheryl and Mom did work inside both the houses on each end of the property. I painted, mowed, mended fences, and a hundred other chores. Gypsy was stashed out in the wilderness corner of our property, an acre-sized tongue jutting into a swamp, where people seldom went. He had my pop-up camper hidden with camouflage netting.

Joshua left for home to let things cool down for awhile.

Cheryl and I began to do dry runs of our route to get first-hand information about the areas we would be going. We took pictures, planned alternate routes to avoid construction work, and generally had a great time seeing the country. The road trip took two months.

During the drive we visited all 48 continental states, and even snuck a weekend in Hawaii! Mani was spectacular. The sunsets were like scenes from Heaven's treasures.


But soon it was time to get back to business. I called Joshua back so we could get started. That Saturday we had a meeting at my place. Gypsy, Cheryl and I had just sat down to a light dinner when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door.

"Joshua!" I cried. We embraced, which required not seeming to notice, for a moment, the short, fiery redhead at his side.

"Meet my beautiful wife, Ruth!"

The room was around her by this time. She explained, "Joshua told me what you are cooking up. So I decided I needed to come along...." She leaned towards her husband, patted his head, and continued, her vocal inflections and facial expressions like one talking to a baby, " order to watch over my Joshua."

We heartily welcomed the fifth member of our team.

We started packing for the road. Gypsy showed his talents by arranging fake ID kits for all of us. They contained everything from birth certificates to drivers' licenses. I had bought an older Ford Bronco, and a Jeep Wagoner, also of older vintage. I had both restored them and souped them up with off-road tires, raised suspensions, and extra horses under the hoods. I left the paint jogs the same, because I wanted them rough and blendable into traffic.

I added a hookup so we could plug our radios into the vehicles' power supply, to save on batteries.

We loaded up the vehicles with our supplies, and split into two groups. Cheryl and I would be taking the Bronco, and Gypsy, Joshua and Ruth would take the roomier Wagoner.

We headed for Georgia, where we had ten killers to visit before the night was over. We would split up, and I would head into Savannah, assigned to two targets. Gypsy's team would head to Atlanta, where we would meet him after stopping in at Augusta, where we had a third killer to visit. Macon would be our last city before heading south into Florida for a night raid.

Soon everything was ready. We were on our way South to Savannah. It seemed to be a very short drive before we were crossing the high arching bridge soaring above the Savannah river as we officially entered Georgia and Savannah simultaneously. We were at the killer's house within twenty minutes. As we drove, I used our mission cellular phone, and called up Susan Slayer, a self-proclaimed champion for choice. The phone rang twice before she answered. I faked and acted like I had a wrong number and hung up.

We drove by her house and only saw her car. As we drove a test run by, we parked right up the street a block, and I put on the infrared and night vision goggles, and watched the house and surrounding area to spot any surveillance going on. Spotting none, we each grabbed a dull black 9mm pistol with 2 extra clips besides the one in the gun already. Cheryl brought a small bag with ether and some other medicines, and we made our way arm in arm to her front door.

I had a tazer ready in my hand as we rang the doorbell. Moments later Susan came to the door. As she opened the door I got a good aim and zapped her. She crumpled softly to the carpet with a faint thump. I barely stepped inside when I found myself facing a giant Great Dane. I whipped out my other tazer and gave the dog a shock as well.

Cheryl closed the door. Both of us got Susan on the couch. I got out a sterilized swab and cleaned a spot on her neck right above the jugular vein feeding into the brain. Cheryl picked up an ampoule of some very scary stuff. It had a long technical name, but what it boiled down to was liquid lobotomy. Cheryl easily located the vein and injected the liquid, following up with a sedative.

She also gave the dog a sedative before we left.

We figured the dosage would keep her sleeping for about 24-48 hours, when she would wake up a new person.

The chemical lobotomy was Cheryl's brainchild. The rest of us were leaning towards taking them out completely. But Cheryl stepped forward with a suggestion. She had some medical journals dealing with mental health disorders and the use of chemical lobotomies, giving us a way to possibly end the killing bloodlessly.

We all readily agreed to her idea. She taught each of us how the procedure was done: with just a simple shot. So each team now had one of the little medical bags.

The next stop was even easier than the first. We were on our way in only 15 minutes' time.

From there we drove Northwest towards Augusta, Georgia, our third destination. It took a half hour, after crossing the city limits, to find the recluse's house tucked far off the road behind a screen of lush magnolia trees. While Cheryl drove slowly around the block, I looked with the night vision goggles for security or surveillance. I didn't spot any, so we parked a block away, and walked arm in arm posing as the couple in love that we were, out for an evening stroll.

The property had a chest-high decorative brick fence around the perimeter. But what caught my eye was the "beware of dog" signs evenly spaced at 50 ft intervals. I counted three dogs that appeared to be pit-bulls wandering aimlessly, with the possibility that others lurked out of sight. We quickly and easily hopped the fence and drew our handguns, keeping our eyes and ears open. We put our heat vision goggles on, and easily spotted, and disabled, the dogs to the southeast of us, before they could do any more barking than dogs ordinarily do.

We reached the house minutes later. We saw that the front door was wide open, only a screen door barring our way. I peered in windows and saw Mr. and Mrs. Ahab cozily resting in easy chairs, watching the idiot box.

I made it back to the door, eased the latch back, and carefully pulled the door slowly open. Cheryl and I slowly entered the foyer. While I had been looking in windows, Cheryl had been installing a remote controlled Kill Switch to the building's power. As we stood outside the living room, each at one of the two exits, we slipped on the goggles and killed the power. There were muffled curses and oaths from the living room, and we walked in, tazers in hand.

Mrs. Ahab happened to be closest, so I quietly slipped over and zapped her, at the same time that Mr. Ahab was receiving the shock of his life. We prepped them both this time, because they were both an integral part of a killing center. Mr. Ahab was the killer, and she was his assistant and bookkeeper in the grisly trade. We lobbed them and gave them sedatives to keep them sleeping for awhile, while we left the house.

As we left, we turned on our night vision, and began to walk towards the street, pistols drawn. They crept up on us so quietly that we did not hear them until we suddenly found ourselves within a circle of gleaming eyes and snarling teeth. We instantly drew back to back, and began firing, filling the air with hissing silencers and snarling, whining dogs, until silence reigned.

I didn't know about Cheryl, but I was drenched in sweat, and very uncomfortable. We were about to climb the fence when I was bowled over. One of the dogs had been grazed in the head and knocked unconscious, and was now very angry with me. I lay on my back, looking into that scarred, bleeding face, with all those teeth waiting to bite, when I heard Cheryl fire four shots point blank into the dog. The dog stood until she put one right into its forehead, and then it dropped like a rock.

I had blood on my shirt, so I took it off, and wrapped it around my waist, and we hopped the fence and made our way to the Bronco.

We stopped at a convenience store and bought some breakfast burritos, juice, coffee, a paper and some munchies for the road, before starting out for Atlanta. While we were wolfing down our breakfast, Cheryl drove while I read the paper.

The lead story -- still, after all these months -- focused on the shootout in the mountains and the spreading manhunt for Gypsy. The feds were furious. Their reward jumped from $1,000,000 up to $5,000,000. They were looking for information on his accomplices as well.

As I read, en route to Atlanta, Gypsy's team was working on their third killer on the outskirts of that city. Joshua was driving with Gypsy, riding shotgun. Ruth was the navigator in the back seat. Their next stop was the state's leading late-term abortionist: James Miller, who had pushed so hard for the enactment of FACE, (Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances), and the application of RICO to prolife activity, at the state capitol. He and his staff were a scourge to the dedicated prolifers of Atlanta, leveling lies and false accusations in never-ending volleys.

Well, the liar, and the accuser of the brethren, was going to face a reckoning this night.

The team found his luxury condominium and had to use glass cutters to gain entrance through the patio window. The patio had a 6' privacy fence, which made the job easier, so they were soon inside, wearing the night vision-wear. They were a bit surprised to find that Miller had company in bed. Even more so to find that it was male company. Now they understood why he had been so nasty to the women protesters: he was a woman hater.

The team gave both sedatives and quickly ran a check on Miller's lover. It turned out to be the clinic's head pro-choice escort. Since they were together, they were both injected with the serum before they left.

All together, there were six killers in the city. As their team headed towards the fourth, we were just entering the city limits. I called Gypsy on the radio to get our first briefing for the night. Each team reported its progress, and how each assignment was finished. We were ahead of time, so we would take the last killer, and then rendezvous before moving on to Macon together.

We finished Atlanta at 4:00 a.m. and moved out towards Macon, driving tandem down the highway.

Macon was a lot smaller than Atlanta, and a lot older as well, or so it seemed. We had to speed things up a little, as it was starting to get on into the morning. Our next killer would be heading to work in about an hour to perform his terror upon the innocents.

We pulled up in time to see an unmarked suburban idling in the driveway. I saw the driver and recognized him as the BATF agent heading up a team looking for Gypsy! A moment later Gypsy and the agent had locked eyes with each other and had drawn their guns. There were two other agents in the car, who jumped out behind their vehicle just as Gypsy opened fire. Gypsy's first volley shredded the door with armor-piercing rounds, and the agent spilled out, bleeding from several wounds.

Cheryl gunned the Bronco into the driveway amongst the hail of bullets, which pinged off and into the body while she smashed head-on into the agents' parked vehicle. The agents opened fire with thunder from their unsilenced guns. Gypsy was coming around the corner as Cheryl and I jumped out of the Bronco. I saw Gypsy take a round into his left leg, several inches above the knee. Cheryl pulled him behind the truck, out of the line of fire, while I pulled the pins on two grenades and tossed them where I had seen the agents last. After the two explosions, I ran around the vehicle, my pistol, with Cheryl's, ready for action.

I heard a crash from around back, behind the building, followed by more gunfire. I realized that in the confusion, the agents had retreated into the house.

Gypsy walked with me. We each got on one side of the door, while Cheryl covered us with Gypsy's SKS. Gypsy nodded. I raised my hand to Cheryl, letting her know we were getting ready for action.

I stepped forward and kicked the door in, just as Cheryl started shooting into the windows as a covering fire. Gypsy and I barrelled into an empty room as Cheryl ceased fire. I pointed down one hall and started walking, as he walked down another hall perpendicular to mine.

I heard a noise behind one door, so I kicked it in and jumped through. I came within inches of being brained by Richard Adams, the abortionist we had come to visit in the first place. He came around again and caught me right under my right armpit. I heard bones cracking as pain exploded in my side. I didn't even think. I just clenched my arm to my side, trapping the bat, while at the same time I snapped the 9mm in my left hand to his temple, and blasted away.

I was covered instantly with brains, blood and gore. I staggered out into the hall and ran into Joshua. He told me Ruth had been shot in the chest twice, but that all of the agents were dead. He asked if I had seen the killer. I told him the target was dead. We got back into the vehicles and drove quickly away, vainly trying to avoid the curious eyes of the neighbors.

We drove quickly down to Florida and made it to Miami. We loaded all our supplies into a motel room, using a second set of fake ID's. Gypsy talked to a few gang members hanging out a few blocks away, and gave them the two vehicles, to be taken immediately to a chop shop for oblivion.

Cheryl and I worked together to get everyone patched up. Both Gypsy and Ruth had gunshot wounds. Ruth seemed to have two wounds to the chest, but it turned out that the bullet went in, deflected off a few ribs, and then exited 3 inches away. Cheryl sterilized and cleaned out the wound, and then stitched it up quickly, adding a lot of layered bandages. Gypsy's gunshot wound was a clean flesh wound through the meaty part of the upper thigh, which Cheryl also had patched up in no time.

When Cheryl finished with the others, I showed her my side, which was turning nasty shades of black, purple, blue, red and yellow. She gave me some painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs, which soon had me in la-la-land, laughing at anything and everything, which only aggravated my side, making it worse. Cheryl had Gypsy and Joshua assist her, as she tightly bound my chest with a special long bandage that she produced from somewhere in her medical kit.

I dozed off, while those still awake began to discuss our next course of action.

The next morning I woke up feeling like I was being squeezed slowly to death by an invisible giant. I gave a gasp and had to squeeze up into the fetal position to get relief. Cheryl came running with some pain killers which she soon injected into my arm, which brought almost instant relief from the pressure. I was propped up a bit so I could see everyone.

I was laid out on one bed, Ruth was on the other, and Gypsy was kicked out on the couch with his leg elevated. We watched the news. All hell was breaking loose over our weekend mission. Butchers were being found wandering aimlessly in catatonic states, obviously the victims of a large conspiracy to take away the freedom of choice, or so the media trumpeted. There was a lot of coverage on the shootout Monday, but for some reason there were no witnesses, even though the reporter said it was a prolonged gun battle in which four BATF agents and an abortionist lost their lives.

There were some leads left behind: pools of blood, not of the agents, were found, and sampled along with paint fragments taken from the smashed suburban. It was then, while we recuperated, that we found out that while Gypsy and I were in the firefight at the front of the house, Joshua and Ruth had gone around to the back and caught the feds trying to sneak out the back door. A firefight broke out and two agents were shot down.

During that attack, Ruth had been shot, but had continued to fight despite the pain. Gypsy had run into the last fed, and had to fight him hand to hand when his gun ran out of ammo. Even with the leg wound, he had killed the man with only his bare hands.


We knew that we could not stay there, so Cheryl and I went to a seedy car lot and paid cash for an older Delta 88 "land yacht". We loaded up and headed South to meet a friend of mine, also from the SEALS, down in the Everglades.

The trip was just a little over an hour. We were soon sinking the Olds into the glade while we loaded our gear into a swamp boat. We donned mosquito nets and were cruising across the water, propelled by the giant fan on the back of the boat. During the hour-long, high speed boat ride, "Duece" and I made small talk, but he sensed that it was not the right time for a detailed explanation.

I remember the night when our unit was in Tel Aviv getting started on a major drunk when we stopped by a tattoo parlor. We bragged, boasted, and had the unit tattooed along with the international symbol of the seals below it. That was the night when I got my pair of jokers tattooed with "Joker's Wild" written around it. Duece got a pair of intricate dice tattooed on his biceps, and the nickname stuck.

Duece had an 18 acre island raised above the surrounding swamps. He had raised the level of the whole island to 7 feet above the water from the original 3 feet, which was subject to occasional flooding. He had landscaped the entire island, ringing the whole island's outer perimeter with Juniper bushes armed with razor sharp leaves. Our boat turned into a narrow stream just wide enough for the boat to get through, which wound an elaborate S-shape before opening up into an acre-sized sand-lined lake.

We pulled up to the dock and began to unload our gear into a small golf cart-type vehicle with a pickup-style bed.

Gypsy and Duece climbed aboard with Gypsy's leg propped up. We drove off the dock onto the cobblestone walkway. We had taken off the netting because Duece had designed plants into his landscaping which were natural mosquito repellents. I only spotted an occasional mosquito, much to my amazement and relief.

The house was actually built inside a man-made hill. The hill opened up into a 30' x 30' cave-like patio overlooking his gardens and lake. Deuce parked the cart and we once again unloaded our gear and cleaned up inside.

After a shower, new dressings, and a meal, we were soon out like lights and slept all night, and well into the next evening, before waking up much refreshed and ravenously hungry. Over dinner I began to open up, and tell Deuce what we had been involved in. He was initially surprised that I had become a "Holy Roller", and was shocked that a Christian would be involved in such activities. He had understood from church sermons that to be a Christian, you must become a wishy washy wimp. But the life we were living was the life he had always thought more consistent with his limited exposure to the Bible's teachings on love, self-sacrifice for others, and taking a courageous stand against sin.

Deuce asked us each to share our testimonies, how we had come to our faith and our radical activity. Over the next few days we each shared what Jesus had done in our lives, and the roads we had traveled to reach our present situation.

The week turned into a month and then two, while we all healed up and recuperated. The wraps eventually came off my ribs, which had healed slowly but steadily. They felt as good as new. Ruth and Gypsy had their stitches removed and were also doing great. They even had souvenirs to remind them of the event.

Deuce had long talks with each of us alone, and after some time he made the first surrender of his life: he surrendered to Jesus and was born again. We threw him a big birthday party to celebrate his birth as a Christian into the family of God. Our team was ecstatic about having a new brother in Christ, and we all took joy in our Bible studies together almost every night, as we got to know each other better.

During our stay, all of us took advantage of Deuce's underground firing range, which was 100 yards long and had five booths, each 10 feet wide. We had a great time with his enormous gun collection, which he opened up for our use. He had flintlocks, blunderbusses, and weapons from the newest Glock to weapons hundreds of years old. He actually owned a cannon collection and had cannons from Napoleon's army, George Washington's army, and from the Confederate states of America. All three still worked, and he would occasionally shoot them off on the Fourth of July. He kept his cannon collection in another underground bunker across the lake.

I found out that Deuce had built underground for a number of reasons: first of all, for a defensive strategy; secondly, to keep out of harm's way when tornados and hurricanes swept through. I loved the island immediately, with its many magnolia trees, pecans, peaches, orange, grapefruit, tangerine and many other fruit trees. Some I knew; others were obviously foreign.

I remembered back when we were in Israel together, with six other members of our team tracking a member of the IRA. We broke into his meeting, where the IRA agent was trying to sell a vial of Ebola virus to the Islamic fundamentalist. We shot them both, destroyed the vial with white phosphorus grenades, and then divided up the $10,000,000 among ourselves and the rest of our unit. Deuce had left the service shortly afterwards, invested his money, and now was quite well to do.

All of us kept a close eye on the news, watching the FEDs and local authorities chasing their tails, trying to find any information about us. We knew they had our bullet casings along with good blood traces from Gypsy and Ruth, but the authorities were still looking for witnesses. They were still offering a high reward for information leading to our arrest, but still didn't have any pictures to go with the ads.

Meanwhile we were getting stocked up and ready for our next trip. Deuce was stocking us with arms from his own collection, to replace the ones the police could trace ballistically. He took our guns and set them aside as a part of a new special collection marked "AOG Collection". I asked what AOG stood for. He responded with a grim voice "The Army of God".

We had all our intelligence and surveillance files scattered over the tables in the floor-to-ceiling book-lined study. We began to plot our next course of action.

The abortion industry was panicking. It was in an uproar, screaming for help, so the BATF and Federal marshals joined forces to stand watch over the killing centers, as well as the Butcher's homes. We were going to have to switch to sniper mode, something we had planned for in advance. This is where our sniper rifles and RPG's would come in handy. We intensified our training in these areas.

Deuce showed us a larger firing range below the first one, only 2 booths wide, separated by a 3' thick concrete wall. One side was further lined with steel plating, and had the end filled with sand for 20 feet.





He told us there was a large concrete block in the middle of the sand pile. That was where we fired our RPG rounds. The range was 200 yards long, a 15' x 15' shaft. The RPG round would hit the sand, but would only explode when it hit the block.

Joshua asked why. I told him it was because the RPG had an armor piercing round. The sand triggered the first detonation, and the block triggered the main explosive charge, sending showers of sand everywhere, even sandblasting and embedding itself in the steel lining.

Soon we were back on the way, with a new addition to our team: Deuce. He had his own supplies, and insisted on being able to help us. He said the Bible taught him to fulfill his commitments, and one of the oaths he had sworn was to uphold the Constitution against all enemies, foreign or domestic. He then pulled out a pocket constitution and read the preamble, emphasizing "among these are certain inalienable rights, and among these are the right to LIFE, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness". He spoke with fire in his eyes, and declared that all children had a right to live, and he was going to take a stand for their lives: regardless of the cost.

With zeal like that, along with his understanding of the risks he faced, we accepted him into the team. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged.

We netted up, after closing up the house, and began our boat ride back to the small town where we docked. We made our way to Miami, where we bought three Jeeps. We would be breaking up into three teams so we could cover more area. We would stay in contact with the radios, as we started our sweep of Florida.

Cheryl and I were to head right out for Ft. Lauderdale, where we had two killers to take out. It was a short drive to Ft. Lauderdale. We set up at our four locations, all on rooftops, with lines of sight open to the murder mills, as well as the killers' homes.

We were set up with a rifle, two handguns, an AK47 and a small assortment of hand grenades. Cheryl was going to be my eyes and ears on the street.

An hour later I was on a rooftop of a 7-story apartment building, looking through my heat vision lenses at the two surveillance vehicles parked in front and along the side of the killer's house. The were Federal marshals, and were six in number. Two were in one vehicle, three in the other, and they would keep one member of their crew walking the block on a rotational basis.

I opened my briefcase and assembled my high powered rifle and scope. As I waited, I tested the wind and aligned the scope, dry-firing at the unsuspecting Marshals below. I drew the bolt back, and loaded the first armor piercing round, snapping it home with a clap like thunder. I took the foot-long cylindrical silencer and threaded it on to the end of the barrel.

I was ready, when Phillip walked out into the front lawn for the morning paper, which had only moments earlier been delivered. I shouldered the rifle and flipped on the scope. I instantly received information on wind speed, range and elevation, lined up the scope, lined up the crosshairs, and squeezed the trigger.

Phillip collapsed like a rock.

In seconds, I broke down the rifle and was on my way down the elevator, where I was picked up by Cheryl on the street below. As we were driving away, we passed a number of police cars, lights flashing, going the other way.

The next stop was a hive of activity, with Marshals standing prominently around, watching warily. This time the killer got in the Feds' armored Suburban inside his garage, so we drove to the killing center blind.

I grabbed two RPG's and climbed on to the building just as the sky was beginning to light up with the dawn. I got settled in and loaded up the launchers, just in time to see the line of four vehicles pull up into the clinic. One was going to drive into the building's parking garage, when I stood up, braced myself, and fired. There was a swooshing sound, a cloud of smoke, whose trail snaked its way to the passenger's side of the vehicle, where a fireball rose and bloomed in the early morning hours. I just stood and watched, listening to the bees buzzing, and finally snapped out of it to realize I was being shot at!

I snapped up the other launcher and blasted the Suburban in the driveway, trapping the other two in the parking lot, as we made our getaway.

We were on our way West to Orlando, when we drove around a corner, right into a roadblock!

Two police cars blocked the road, parked nose to nose along with two other squad cars. There were a number of officers bristling with handguns, shotguns and automatic weapons all watching us intently.

As we were slowing down, I spotted an old trail, almost completely off to the passenger's side, and quickly pulled in without stopping -- the tires squealed in protest and we went up on two wheels for a second, and then slammed down hard enough to jar my teeth. The trail was twisting, and wilder than a rollercoaster ride.

Cheryl shouted that there was a Range Rover in pursuit. I looked into the rear view mirror, and saw the black vehicle with the flashing light on top, and shouted for Cheryl to get down, as the back window exploded inward with the first shot. There was a matching hole, much smaller in size, right in the middle of the windshield.

But Cheryl ducked just long enough to come up with a handfull of grenades. She began pulling pins and throwing them out through the new hole in the back window. The first two missed, going off almost simultaneously, while a second later two more exploded right under the Rover, launching it upward and forward as the gas tank erupted.

It crashed into a fireball just before we hit another hairpin curve out of sight. As we rounded another hairpin curve, the trees opened up in front of us just as we crashed into a chain link fence.

The fence marked the outside of the divided highway in front of us. I carefully drove across the clearing, through the ditch, and then pulled on to the sparsely populated highway headed North. I had Cheryl drive while I radioed in and briefed Joshua and Gypsy on our mission and current situation.

They shared what they had been doing, and advised me to ditch the Jeep, get another vehicle, and head West as fast as possible. We would meet up in Birmingham, Alabama that upcoming weekend.

The next town we drove into, I bought a Volkswagen Bug for cash, and ditched the Jeep in a nearby lake before heading Northwest up and out of the state through Georgia and into Alabama. We stopped late that night in Mobile, at a motel there, and headed on to Birmingham after breakfast. We found a motel out of town and reserved rooms for when the others arrived.

While we waited, Cheryl and I rested and enjoyed some quiet time together. We had 3-1/2 days before the others were supposed to catch up with us, so we checked out the town. We went to the movies, shopping, and walks in the city's beautiful parks.

I called my parents and told them I had been doing some driving with Cheryl, and we were spending a week in Birmingham. Things were going good back home, although there were some new people hanging out around the island. I didn't remember much else of the conversation because I was just then informed by my beautiful bride that I was soon to be a daddy!!

I was ecstatic! Speechless! I had to tell my parents, so I called them back.

The days flew by, and soon there was a knock at the door. It was Joshua and Ruth. We had food ready for them. They ate it with relish and were soon sawing Z's after their showers. Gypsy and Deuce pulled in around 3 a.m. the following morning.

While everyone caught up on their sleep, Cheryl and I decided to go to a mall to walk around window shopping. We were just pulling into a parking space at the mall when the engine died a violent death. It threw a piston for some unknown reason.

Well, we went window shopping anyway, and afterwards we walked to the movie theater and to the parks. It was late in the evening when we hopped a bus back to the motel

As we approached, we could see something was wrong from a block away. My heart jumped into my mouth, as, in passing, we saw the motel surrounded and overrun by police and Federal agents. We stayed on the bus and kept on riding.

Cheryl and I managed to get back to Deuce's island, where we kept a close eye on the news. We were shocked when Deuce actually showed up!

We heard when the Feds were going to take the rest of the team for their preliminary trial. Deuce came up with a bold rescue plan which would get us in serious trouble with the military. Deuce had connections in the service, and for an incredible sum of money, he bribed a worker to leave a fully loaded Apache helicopter unsecured on base, where Deuce and I could sneak in and steal it. He filed false documents, to forestall suspicion, showing the helicopter was being taken to another base for maneuvers.

Both Deuce and I could fly a variety of aircraft, U.S. or otherwise. We were ready when the day arrived. We took a bus to the base as the sun began to peer over the horizon.

We made our way to the helicopter pad without a problem, and were soon on our way.

It took an hour. We finally heard from Cheryl that the convoy had left for the Federal courthouse. She described the vehicles our team members were in: two white crown Victorians, tucked between two Suburbans, with a blackhawk flying as air support.

I figured there would be two patrol cars along as well.

We were cruising just above the treetops, scattering sleepy birds and even shredding a whole flock of terrified pigeons which had blundered into the rotor blade. We saw the Blackhawk right away, and I locked on two missiles with a motion detection guidance system on board.

The Blackhawk was turning, as I launched both missiles, just as the trees opened up and the convoy came into view. The missiles streaked across the sky, arching and catching the helicopter in a pincer movement from both sides. The main body came apart in a huge fireball, but the main rotor continued to spin in mid-air for a second as if the body was still there. I armed the Hellfire missiles and took aim at the three lead vehicles. I fired four of the missiles simultaneously, as Deuce opened fire on the rear vehicles with the 60 calibre swivel gun.

The missiles missed the lead patrol car, but landed on and around the two suburbans, raising an instant inferno on the highway. The two sedans got stuck as they hit the crater caused by the blast, and I lowered the chopper between the sedans and the rear two vehicles, one of which was burning after an explosion caused by the machine gun. The other had decided to split, and agents were evacuating as fast as their vehicle would permit.

I used the loudspeaker to demand that the prisoners be released, or we would shoot into the front seats of the vehicles. They complied instantly, and the doors opened up. I saw Ruth run over to Joshua and throw her arms around his neck, gingerly to avoid the large cast on his arm.

Gypsy got out, and we hustled everyone into the chopper.

I was getting ready to leave as a car came screaming to a stop. We were ready to fire when, to my surprise, I realized it was Cheryl in a stolen car.

Now everyone was together again. We were soon scrambling over the treetops, heading south to Mexico.

We ditched the chopper and bought a large yacht. We set sail. We were at sea for a few weeks. We sailed between the Straight of Gibraltar. We bummed around the Mediterranean Sea, checking out Italy, Greece, Egypt, and finally Israel.

On the second day in Jerusalem, we were all surrounded in an instant by Israeli special forces troops. We surrendered. Each of us were placed in a cell with an armed guard standing watch at the door. I was taken out and brought before a familiar face -- Joshua Ben Jacob -- head of the anti-terrorist response team. He had my handcuffs and shackles removed, had a good meal set before me, and we began to eat. As we ate, I told him everything we had done, and why we had done it. I even asked for political asylum

He told me his intelligence team had most of that information already, but he wanted to see if I would be truthful with him. He understood why we had gone on our mission, and he wholeheartedly hated abortion as well

He could not give us political asylum, but he could give us a new start. Joshua offered to give us plastic surgery -- new identities, and even a chance for us to work for the defense department.

We discussed the offer over the weekend, and unanimously voted to accept the offer to start anew. I was called urgently the next morning to their office, and was bustled off to a hospital. I was told I would have my surgery that day. I was prepped. As I lay on the operation table, the last thing I heard before I went out was "boy, will he be surprised when he wakes up!"

Well, I woke up after a few hours and tried to sit up. Both my hands were bandaged. The skin I couldn't see was now the color of a native Israelite: light brown! My head was bandaged. As well as I could figure out, the only openings were for my nose and mouth.

The others were going through similar procedures in this military hospital

Days went by. The date arrived when the bandages would be removed, an event we all eagerly awaited.

I was blown away when the bandages were removed. Something was surely wrong with my vision! I reached up with my hands and found that I could see with two eyes again! The doctors looking on, in the low lighting, came forward and began to examine their handiwork. They told me that after we had had our physicals, they had come across an organ donor matching my makeup, so they called me in early for my plastic surgery on my face and hands early. The doctor had done a full transplant of both eyes to complete my new identity!

It was truly a great thing being able to see again. I had to stay in low light for several days and wear sunglasses for several months outdoors, but that was fine by me. It took awhile to get used to the new me, though. My whole face, including my ears, were new. Getting used to each other was also fun, although a bit disturbing in the case of Cheryl, as I could not recognize her at all in the beginning.

Well, we were back in business, but for the Israelites now. Deuce, Gypsy and myself were to help train their special new team of counter-terrorism.

Well, a story never ends, but this part of the story does. One great thing about this job is that we were able to witness and share the Gospel with many of the new recruits, leading many to a relationship with Christ, the true Commander in Chief.

The End

by Peter H. Williams



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