The Gomorrah Priniciple a Vietnam Sniper Story

A Novel About a Vietnam Sniper in the Phoenix Program

The Gomorrah Principle by Rick DeStefanis about a sniper

Book #2 of this series has been awarded the Readers’ Choice Award for military fiction and is lauded by reviewers as one of the best Vietnam War novels to appear in years. An exciting new thriller filled with gripping tension and espionage The Gomorrah Principle hooks readers from the opening pages, with its ambitious story, multi-layered themes, and complex characters. A story about a young Vietnam sniper, The Gomorrah Principle has the ingredients to become an instant classic among war novels.

When Brady Nash receives a cryptic letter, he realizes that his foster brother may have been murdered in Vietnam and is compelled him to join the military in order to find the truth. Unwilling to explain to his one true love, Lacey Coleridge, why he is joining the army, Brady leaves her angry and grief-stricken. Disavowing their relationship, Lacey turns away to pursue a country music career in Nashville. Only time will tell if she can totally abandon the man she loves, or if he will ever return from Vietnam.

A product of a war fought in the jungles, villages and cities of Vietnam, Brady Nash develops into a sniper of legendary proportions as he faces life and death metered in elements of elevation and windage through a riflescope. Eventually, through his inquiries and his reputation as a sniper, he attracts the attention of a CIA advisor and is recruited to a special operations group. Only then does Brady realize he is no longer the hunter, but the hunted. Caught in a web of espionage, drug dealing, and assassination, his search for the killer has put him on the same hit list as his foster brother.

Learn more about the book’s reviews and awards here.

Gomorrah Principle Purchase Options

PRINT  eBOOK 
Paperback
amazon
Hardcover
amazon

kindle

You may also enjoy my other books below:

Melody Hill: A Vietnam War Novel

Raeford’s MVP: Military Fiction with a Love Story

Valley of the Purple Hearts: Book #4 of my Vietnam War Series

Tallahatchie: Southern Fiction and Dark Comedy

Rawlings, No Longer Young: A Western Historical Fiction Novel

Reviews
5
Sending
User Review
0 (0 votes)

Recent Posts

Light to Moderate Tornadoes with Scattered Cats

Light to Moderate Tornadoes

January 11, 2020

Sometime Around 5:00 a.m. Saturday Morning

The Cedar View Community, DeSoto County, Mississippi

My yellow male labrador retreiver busted out of his laundry room digs Saturday morning and ran back to our bedroom where he jumped on the bed and began licking my face and whining. Do you know what it’s like to be awakened from a deep sleep with a big mutt licking your face? I cussed him, but my wife Janet said she thought she heard distant thunder. Blondie (yes, my dog is named after a big Swede paratrooper army buddy who had that name) has experienced many thunder storms without acting like a wussy, so I got up, stumbled into the family room and turned on the TV.

And of course, while I’m trying to punch up the TV channel, my cotton pickin’ cell phone starts some kind of screaming claxon warning. Technology! Damned it, Jones. Gimme a break. Anyway, sure enough, there it was, a tornado warning with a big red cone coming our way—Hernando, Lewisburg, Cedar View and Olive Branch. I went to the back door, opened it and got stampeded by a heard of cats running between my legs. All this before my first cup of coffee…D#~!!! What can I say? I am NOT a %&$ morning person…at least not before a half-pot of coffee.

So anyway, shortly thereafter the TV and the power went blip and we were suddenly and irrovocably left in the inky black predawn darkness. I told my wife to get into the interior hallway and close all the doors.  I went to the front door and walked out on the porch (It’s something us rednecks do when we ain’t sayin’ “Here, hold my beer.”). Yeah, there was a little lightning, but it seemed quiet…..at first.

Only then did the tornado sirens begin wailing. We hear them test once a week, every week, but there’s no comparison when you know it’s the real thing. Kinda makes the hair crawl on your neck. The practice sirens remind me of sniper school back at Fort Bragg–no comparison to the real thing. Back in my railroading days, I once had to jump from a speeding locomotive when its brakes failed. Never since has there been a roller coaster or carinval ride that can increase my heart rate.

So, I’m on the porch, and a warm and somewhat pleasant wind is blowing in my face and I’m thinking WTF? This is pretty nice for January. The wind chimes are tinkling gently…but then from the somewhere down to the southwest I hear it. At first, it was distant. It was an ominous thundering roar, and it sounded like an F-4 Phantom fighter jet on continuous afterburner. It was a long way off, but enough to convince me standing on the front porch might not be the brightest thing I ever did. So, I joined Janet in the hallway. With pillows over our heads, we waited and she began talking, but I told her to wait! I thought I could hear it. Yes, even though we were now in the interior hallway, I could hear it. It was getting closer.

Within a minute the roaring thunder was upon us, that fast, the house literally quaked, our ears popped and loud thumps began coming from debris hitting the outside walls and roof. I was pretty certain we were about to view the night sky minus our roof. And that was when my dear wife said it. Yes, she really did.

“It sounds like a freight train,” she said.

I looked out from beneath my pillow at her.

“I can’t believe you really said that.”

“Well, it does,” she said.

I stood and tossed my pillow at her.

“Where are you going? You can’t go out there!”

“Listen,” I said.

The only remaining sound was the now fading roar of the tornado as it moved away to the northeast.

“It’s over.”

And it was…that fast.

I switched on my flashlight and went to take a look. As I went to the front door, I noticed one of the cats huddled on a dining room chair. She looked like she had been plugged into a wall socket.

“Buttercup?” I said.

She let out a long and pained, “MEEEOOOOOWWW.”

I opened the front door, but that was a ‘no-go.’ The topmost limbs of an oak tree, that only moments before had been sixty or seventy feet off the ground, were now blocking the door and porch, along with a pile of rocking chairs and such. The root-ball of the same tree had also torn a gaping hole in the driveway when it fell. A four by twelve foot section of asphault was gone.

Nothing but a mess.

After a few minutes checking things with the flashlight, I realized we had barely escaped a major disaster. The roof remained largely intact, although it appeared to have been ‘sand-blasted.’ We were unhurt and the critters, although somewhat frazzled, were all accounted for.

I checked on several neighbors and everyone was okay. In our front and back yards, at least four huge oaks, three of them at least four-feet in diameter, were down, along with a big elm and several mature cedars. The fences were gone. The ceiling fan on the back deck was stripped and what trees that were left were decorated for tornado season with strips of pink home insulation. Even my Jimmy Buffet, “It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere” sign was shattered.

It’s Five O’clock Somewhere…..

There’s a three-foot diameter oak tree about sixty-feet behind the house. Its trunk is twisted like a giant cork-screw. There is another that is at least four-feet in diameter that is snapped off thirty feet above the ground. I’ll be chain-sawing when the cows come in, but I absolutely refuse to whine. NO! No way. We’ve got neighbors in the area whose homes are flat as flitters.

Pink Insulation…the decoration for Tornado Season

I had two life-long friends, Ted Spence and Mike Thron, drive down from Memphis and after a day’s work clearing debris and puttin up temporatry fences, we didn’t put a dent in the damage, but we celeberated with a bottle of Evan Williams single barrel bourbon. I’m gonna buy a couple more chains for the saw and celebrate more in the coming weeks. There’s nothing like the adrenaline high of dodging a bullet.

  1. Raindrops Keep Falling on my head….Yea!! Leave a reply
  2. The Birdhouse Man and a Visit to North Carolina Leave a reply