Scott A. Meehan's Blog, page 6
September 27, 2016
ARMY BRATS BOOK 3 MILLENNIAL GIRL
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LXYLH4B
1. THE VICTIM
Fourteen year-old, Nicole Anderson bounded down the stairs with her light, sand-colored hair dancing off her shoulders. Mark and John, her two brothers, were busy playing a video game on the family’s large 55-inch Smart TV.
“I’ll be home for dinner,” Nicole called to them.
Engrossed in their intense competition, Mark half-heartedly yelled back, “Okay,” which was the response she anticipated.
Once out the door, Nicole briskly, but comfortably, walked towards her destination in a pair of shaker bow flat shoes. Only a quarter mile from her five bedroom, two-story home on Birnam Wood Drive, she arrived at the corner of Old Falls and Swinks Mill Road within five minutes. Since her brightly patterned spring dress hung three inches above her knees, Nicole used her hand frequently to restrain its natural rise with the breeze.
Between glances at the virtual phone attached to her wrist and the cars moving past her, Nicole assured herself, everything is going to be okay. Approximately ten minutes later, a sleek black Sports Sedan pulled up to the curb and a twenty-one year-old, striking man with dark hair poked his head out the window. He lowered his mirrored sunglasses and with a charming smile, said, “Hey gorgeous, there you are. Get in, hurry.”
Nicole did a double take before entering quickly and sliding into the passenger seat. “Wow Chad, where did you get this car? It looks brand new!”
“It is new–a 2025 Saab. Good to see you.”
“Well, don’t forget, I need to be home before five,” she giggly added while surveying the plush interior.
“You won’t have to worry about that baby. Here, taste some of this.”
The manner in which he replied escaped her attention. “What is it?”
“Some really good stuff I made. Go on, it won’t hurt you. It’s really good!”
“Does it have alcohol? I can’t…”
“Of course not. Come on, you don’t think I would give you something like, would you?”
Nicole looked at the drink and then at Chad who was smiling pleasantly. Then, hesitantly, she drank from the cup. “It’s a little sweet but not too bad,” she added nervously.”
“See, I told you it was good. Sometimes takes a little getting used to. Go ahead and finish it up. We’ll chase it with our espresso’s later.”
With a not so convincing smile, she finished its contents. In minutes, drowsiness started to overcome her. “I–I’m feeling really sheleepy. You–you didn’t put shomthing in my drink, did you?” she asked slurring her words.
Chad looked at her with a smile. “Everything okay baby?” as she slumped over against him. The dashing man she had met only the day before reacted by shoving her towards the passenger door as he swerved to miss an oncoming bus. She slammed against the window with a thud and remained sleeping against the door.
Nicole never made it to her café date with the flamboyant, European-accented, man who lavished his charm on her the previous afternoon. Thanks to the drink containing gamma hydroxybutyric acid, the colorless, odorless liquid used to knock out an unsuspecting victim, Nicole was sound asleep, oblivious to the drive transporting her to an undisclosed and very private, airport
September 26, 2016
ARMY BRATS BOOK 2 THE HAWKINS: ARMY OF ONE
1 Sunni Awakening Fallujah 2006 The rotor blades roar drowned the clinking, pinging sound hitting metal. Hovering approximately four feet above the tattered two-story brick-and-mortar rooftop, the…
Source: ARMY BRATS BOOK 2 THE HAWKINS: ARMY OF ONE
ARMY BRATS BOOK 2 THE HAWKINS: ARMY OF ONE
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LXYLH4B
1 Sunni Awakening
Fallujah 2006
The rotor blades roar drowned the clinking, pinging sound hitting metal. Hovering approximately four feet above the tattered two-story brick-and-mortar rooftop, the door gunner aimed carefully with covering fire, ensuring none of the 7.62-mm rounds from his M60 machine gun hit any of the four Special Forces soldiers running or limping toward the evacuation chopper.
Ron Hawkins on the left and Chris Short on the right of Dave Sutherland, dragged him along with his mangled leg toward the craft. A trail of red blood smeared across the dirt-brown surface like a giant paintbrush, adding to the array of colors on the rooftop palette. John Banks trailed the three, firing his weapon at the doorway in an effort to keep the insurgents from reaching them.
The jihad martyrs had swarmed the school building like ants, chasing the last four Special Forces soldiers who were holding what was left of the structure for two hours. John reached the Black Hawk helicopter as it lifted with a jerk. Two enemy rounds crashed into his body, one in the chest and the other his left leg, just below the knee.
“AAAHHH! GHAAT”
Dangling over the skid, the impact caused him to slump backward, nearly falling nearly twenty feet back into the swarming enemy. Ron quickly grabbed his ammo vest as the chopper pulled abruptly away.
“HOLD ON!”
September 25, 2016
ARMY BRATS BOOK 1 LOVE IN THE HOUSE OF WAR
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LXYLH4B
1 Fort Bragg, NCNovember 4, 1979
Charlene Hawkins screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Come on, push, baby!” her husband Brady said earnestly. Staff Sergeant Brady Hawkins squeezed her hand tightly.
“Can’t you see, I’m trying,” Charlene grunted in a southern drawl. Then, she gave one last forceful push before Doctor Randall Scott lifted the blood-covered baby high for all to see. The clock in the background showed 5:55 PM when Brady took the picture.
“We have ourselves a boy, babe!” Brady said excitedly.
Charlene’s breathing was slowing back to normal and drops of sweat streaked down her whiter than normal cheeks. Piercing blue eyes highlighted her pleasant face, eyes that all but revealed her determined character to consume whatever she desired.
The nurse brought the crying baby to her, wrapped in a blue-green towel. Charlene smiled the smile of a very proud mother. “Heah you are, ma precious little boy.
ARMY BRATS BOOK 1 LOVE IN THE HOUSE OF WAR
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LXYLH4B
1 Fort Bragg, NCNovember 4, 1979
Charlene Hawkins screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Come on, push, baby!” her husband Brady said earnestly. Staff Sergeant Brady Hawkins squeezed her hand tightly.
“Can’t you see, I’m trying,” Charlene grunted in a southern drawl. Then, with one last forceful push, Doctor Randall Scott lifted the blood-covered baby high for all to see. The clock in the background showed 5:55 PM when Brady took the picture.
“We have ourselves a boy, babe!” Brady said excitedly.
Charlene’s breathing was slowing back to normal and drops of sweat streaked down her whiter than normal cheeks. Piercing blue eyes highlighted her pleasant face, eyes that all but revealed her determined character to consume whatever she desired.
The nurse brought the crying baby to her, wrapped in a blue-green towel. Charlene smiled the smile of a very proud mother. “Heah you are, ma precious little boy.
January 5, 2016
December 3, 2015
LIVING FOREVER
I remember in 1965, my fifth summer visiting Atlantic City with my parents, grandfather and uncle, I was six years-old. One bright sunny morning, we walked along the boardwalk, feeding the pigeons Planters peanuts. Tagging along, I followed my mom to the front of Boardwalk Hall, also known as Kennedy Plaza. On this particular pier, there was a shoulders and head bust of former President John F. Kennedy. It had only been there for one year.
Although the statue attracted a crowd, the largest gathering emerged when someone spotted a couple of huge whales. I do not believe anyone knew whether they were Blue whales, Sperm whales, or Fin whales; they were just enormous whales to me. However, I certainly remember being fascinated, watching them glide over the watery horizon, fountains of water shooting into the air. The sheer power of these giants so mesmerized me that I asked my mom, “Will they live forever?”
Her answer revealed a stark fact I had never been aware of before then. “No honey, nothing lives forever. Everything dies sometime.”
She tried quickly to change the subject. “Even us?” I pressed.
“Yes, even us. But not for a long, long time.”
I thought about her words the rest of my vacation and at some point; my mom sensed my distress and decided to explain why I had nothing to worry about if I believed in Jesus. If I did, I would go to heaven and live forever. I wondered if the whales believed in Jesus. The Sunday school teachers at the church my parents took me to every week were saying the same thing, that Jesus loved us and if we believed, we would be saved and live forever.
Fifty years later, I look back at that defining moment and have concluded with what I believe are three prominent influences in a person’s life that likely determine his or her belief in a God and eternal life, or lack thereof, on a worldwide scale.
1) education: Everything we learn is taught to us in public schools, private schools, churches, our parents, etc. and form the basis of our understanding of the past, present, and future life we live.
2) observation: All that we observe in the nature surrounding us, the people we meet, how they conduct their lives, the good, bad, and ugly, the beautiful…merges with our education, sometimes in conflict, other times in cohesive understanding and confirmation.
3) experience: Our own experiences with life…the people, places and things we have direct contact with throughout our journey. We test, trial, learn from our own successes and failures, feel…physical and emotional, think, and make decisions based on our experiences, observations, and our education. Together, we form our personality, character, and belief…a belief in God or not.
“But if you refuse to serve the Lord, then choose today whom you will serve…as for me and my family, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15).
September 11, 2015
9/11 Part ONE
9/11 Part One
While on a flight from Orlando to Seattle on the 10th of September, 2001, I just finished convincing the young college age girl sitting next to me that there was no reason to fear flying in a commercial aircraft. This conversation was a result of her expressed misgivings about going back home when it took a lot of courage just to get on this particular flight.
Later, as we approached Seattle, Mount Rainier peaked to our left side and was very clear. I grabbed my camera and took a few pictures of the majestic snow-capped mountain with a camera that automatically added the date. Rising above sea level at 14,409 feet, it is the highest mountain in the state of Washington.
I was on my way to Fort Lewis with a briefing scheduled for September 11, 2001, to members of the 7th Infantry Division, one of the units designated to field the new Stryker Brigade Combat Teams. After landing in Seattle, I made the drive to a nice hotel just outside the main gate entering Fort Lewis. I settled in and had time to run a couple of miles around the area before turning in for the night.
As I prepared for the next day in the early morning hours of 5:45 AM, I turned on the news and was surprised to see a breaking story about a plane flying into one of the Twin Towers in New York City. I continued to prepare for the day, arranging my notes, drinking some coffee, and following the story on television. I was a Captain in the Army at the time, a Project Director for the Simulation Command and wanted to make a good impression on some high-ranking officers that would no doubt be present for this briefing about the new transformation between the instrumentation connectivity from their Stryker vehicles to the Joint Readiness Training Command facility at Fort Polk, Louisiana.
My thoughts were suddenly distracted by the rising voices of the news commentators as they just reported a second passenger airliner flying into the other tower. I knew then that my new objective for the day would change from training to a real life mission. Glued to the set as I continued to finalize my drive onto the post, news came from Washington DC about a third aircraft flying into the Pentagon. As suspected, all pre-planned activities for the day at the Army base were canceled.
My next agenda was to find a way back home to Orlando, which in time and effort, I did. I also was able to see an old Army buddy that I hadn’t seen since 1982. When I finally arrived home in Orlando, nearly a week later, I had my photos developed and immediately noted that the date on the camera was set 24 hours ahead of time for all of my pictures. When I admired my shots of Mt. Rainier, I couldn’t help but notice the orange glow at the bottom of the photo, which read 9/11.
