SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops IV Read Online Free Page A

chiseled. At first, people saw him as almost bland, but not all. More than one girlfriend had told him he reminded them of a young Clint Eastwood; a compliment he’d always accepted with some grace, even if they were plain loco. His angular face was again considered almost average, at first sight. But his strong chin and piercing eyes, the color of a clear, deep blue sky, were a hint that the man they belonged to was anything but normal. Despite his blue eyes, he had thick, dark brown hair, which some people found strange, but women frequently found attractive. But more than anything, it was probably the way he carried himself, a confidence, a strength and grace, which hid an inner core of hard, spring steel. Boswell hoped to acquire the same qualities but probably never would, although the men generally did their best to help and support him until he reached his goal. Or died in the attempt, but that was a risk they all took. The Lieutenant nodded.
    “Maybe you’re right. I’ll let it go this time, but…”
    He stopped, as the voice of their surveillance controller broke into their communications net. The unarmed Lockheed P-3 Orion was a four-engine turboprop surveillance aircraft, widely used in American theaters of war for its ability to loiter over a battlefield for up to ten hours at a time. Right now, it was circling in support of their mission a few kilometers distant, safe inside Afghan airspace.
    “Bravo One, we have a drone report just in. They’ve sighted suspected hostiles emerging from the town of Parachinar. We estimate their number at one hundred. I say again, one hundred.”
    They swiveled around to survey the landscape and to check out the nearby town. It was too far away, and the ground was too undulating to see anything clearly, but the dust cloud swirling toward them was enough confirmation. The Taliban were coming, and this time in greater numbers.
    Boswell reacted fast, rapping out orders. He tended to raise his voice to overcome his obvious feelings of some kind of physical shortcoming.
    It’s a pile of crap, Nolan considered to himself.
    He was not a significant looking guy, pale and of less than medium height; there was little of the macho cowboy in the Harvard educated Lieutenant, with his blonde hair and neat, clipped mustache. As a result, the image he presented to the world was of a rather preppy looking senior clerk, maybe a junior attorney. But he was a Navy Seal platoon leader, and for most men it would be enough, more than enough. He just hadn’t realized it yet. Nolan turned his attention to the Lieutenant.
    “We need to clear the area. There are too many of them if they catch us here out in the open. You have to prepare the Platoon to move out, and we’ll find a better defensive position.” Boswell stared at him, uncertain, but Nolan ignored him and replied to the Orion. “Control, we require exfil ASAP. Send in the helos right away.”
    Boswell nodded. It made sense to get out. They’d carried out their mission with no loss of life, so it was time to bail. Except that the Orion crew had other ideas.
    “Negative, Bravo. The images show those hostiles equipped with RPGs. We can’t send in helos until they’re taken care of. They’d be sitting ducks on the ground.”
    Nolan tried again. “Do you have air support in the area? Anything we can use?”
    They could all hear the controller’s irritation. “Bravo, you’re in Pakistan. We can’t overfly the country without the permission of the Pakistan military, and we don’t have time to ask them.”
    “What about a drone?”
    “Well, it was a drone that spotted them, but it’s unarmed. Look, we have enough trouble with the Pakis, without shooting up the country with Reapers. Sorry, Bravo, you’re on your own.”
    Nolan saw Boswell’s expression darken, and the Lieutenant took over.
    “Feller, listen up. This is Lieutenant William Boswell, United States Navy. Now you get off your ass and mention that name to your