Mennzinger looked at the map in his lap, checking their progress, and looking at what lay ahead. As he did so, he pressed down with the toe of his right foot on the intercom transmit switch. "Next checkpoint is forty-three. It'll be a road junction with a wide ditch to the south of it and a stand of trees to the north. We'll be able to see them as soon as you clear that next rise. When we get there, hover to the north of the trees. We need to allow the rest of the company to close up before we move into battle position COBRA."
Mennzinger's pilot acknowledged with a simple "Check." Flying mere feet above the ground at 100 knots plus required his undivided attention. Putting his map back into its stowage box, Mennzinger began to prepare the Apache's fire control system. Starting with the fire control panel, he checked each switch setting and each laser code input, arming the laser as he went along. Satisfied, he checked the controls and display on his optical relay tube, starting with the heads-out view screen, then the heads-down display. He fine-tuned the images until they were as sharp and clear as possible. He was still fiddling with his fire controls when they reached checkpoint 43.
Shegayev felt, more than heard, the beating of helicopter blades out in the darkness. He sat up and looked down the ditch. The men on either side had heard the same thing. With his hand and a whispered command, he instructed them to pass the word to stay down and be quiet. Moving to the edge of the ditch, he slowly raised his head just as a dark shadow zipped overhead. The sudden burst of noise and the pressure of air forced down by powerful rotor blades caused Shegayev to pull his head down and seek safety at the bottom of the ditch.
Mennzinger was still busy when the Apaches suddenly made a violent banking maneuver to the right. Without bothering to key the intercom, he yelled out. "Jesus, Andy! Next time you want to stand this helicopter on its side, at least give me a warning."
Over the intercom the pilot replied, a little sheepishly, "Sorry, boss — I almost missed the checkpoint. Didn't want to overshoot the trees."
Looking out into the night, Mennzinger could make out the image of the trees they were now slowly approaching. "Okay. Almost time to go to work. Maintain a position on the north side of the trees, Andy, while I gather in the flock." Moving his left foot to the radio transmit switch, Mennzinger pressed his toe down, keying the radio net for the first time since leaving Cairo.
Using the company's "Bandit" call sign instead of the official call signs of letters and numbers randomly generated by a computer, Mennzinger put out a net call. "Bandits, Bandits. This is Bandit 6. Rally at checkpoint 43 and report. Bandit 6 out."
As he waited for his company to close up on him, Mennzinger continued with the check of the fire control system that the pilot's turn had so suddenly disrupted.
Recovering his composure, Shegayev crawled back to the wall of the ditch and slowly, carefully began to raise his head. There was a ringing in his right ear, which probably accounted for his not hearing the slow approach of the next helicopter. When he finally became aware of its presence, it was practically on top of him.
Shegayev froze in place. To his immediate front, less than twenty meters from where he sat, a large, black apparition appeared before him. It hung there as if suspended by an invisible string. Then it began to rotate toward him. Common sense told him to pull his head down and seek the safety of the ditch. Curiosity kept him watching. When the apparition reached a point in its turn where they were facing each other, it paused for a second. Shegayev found himself looking at the black, sinister form of the Apache attack helicopter head on, silhouetted against the dark sky, with most of its features and details obscured. He imagined he was facing a huge black insect. Its low, swept-back wings were heavily ladened with ordnance. The whirling rotors beat the night air, holding it in place like an insect preparing to strike. Like a poisonous stinger, a single large-caliber gun protruded from its chin. And its one large, shiny eye twisted and turned, probing the darkness for prey.
Just before they came eye to eye, Shegayev dropped down. Turning and placing his back against the wall, he fought to regain his composure. Despite the cold, sweat was running down his face in rivulets. He was hyperventilating, gasping for his breath. The only external sensation he felt was the beating of the blades over him. All other senses were paralyzed, unable to deal with the image burned in his mind of the huge black bug about to attack him.
The last Apache to report into Mennzinger was Bandit 5, George Katzenberg, the Cat. When he did, he informed Mennzinger that Bandit 3, crewed by First Lieutenant Tommy Hightower and Warrant Officer One Ed Franks, had made an emergency landing. Cat reported that he had circled and recorded the grid where Bandit 3 had set down. There was silence on the radio net for a moment as Mennzinger recalled what task Hightower had been given and who could best take it. Based on Cat's location, Mennzinger ordered Cat to take Hightower's tasks as well as his own. When Katzenberg acknowledged, Mennzinger ordered the company to follow him and occupy battle position COBRA.
"Comrade Lieutenant, they're leaving."
Shegayev heard his sergeant but didn't make any immediate effort to move. He was still struggling to pull himself together. For an instant he considered himself lucky. They were going. Good! They would soon be someone else's problem. But his duty wasn't finished. He had to do something. Even if it was only counting and reporting the helicopters, he had to do something.
Turning back to the front of the ditch, Shegayev carefully stuck his head over the lip of the ditch. He was in time to see the last of the Apaches leave the cover of the trees and head off to the west, toward the airfield. When he was sure they were gone, Shegayev asked the sergeant how many there had been. Four was the answer. Only four.
Shegayev was able to think rationally for the first time since seeing the helicopters. He called to the radioman, who came scampering down the ditch, bouncing from wall to wall. He found Shegayev and reported. "Aliyev — contact battalion — quickly," Shegayev said. "We must wam them."
Aliyev was a good radioman, the son of a coal miner, but at times a little slow. "What is it that you want me to report?"
When he heard the helicopters passing overhead, Kinsly paused and looked up. Seeing them thundering in toward the target gave him both satisfaction and relief — satisfaction that he and his men had been able to play a part in setting up the attack that was about to go down, relief that his role was finished. The fight belonged to the chopper jockeys and zoomies. He and his men were out of there.
Looking back down the ditch, he could see the rest of his team had also paused to look. With a low "Pssst" he got the attention of the man behind him, signaling to him to start moving again and pass the word to the rest.
Turning back to the east, Kinsly began to move along the ditch. The road junction and clump of trees where they would wait for pickup was only another two hundred meters down the ditch.
As the rest of his company moved into place, Mennzinger ordered Andy to hang back. To his far right Cat moved up, hovered, then found a position from which he could spot the maintenance sheds and then the runway. Between Cat and Mennzinger Bandit 4 moved into a position from where he would spot the ammo dump for the incoming F-111s. Set on the right, Mennzinger traversed the target acquisition and designation sight, TADS for short. Through its green thermal eye he could see Bandit 1 was already in position and waiting to designate the far fuel tanks with his laser.
Satisfied that all was ready, he laid his TADS onto his target. To his front, at a range of eleven hundred meters, was a field full of fuel blivets. Unlike the ones back at their own refuel point, these blivets held five thousand gallons of fuel each. Between them a maze of pipes connected them into a system that allowed the Soviets to feed the steady stream of aircraft coming in and out of Libya. Satisfied that he had the target, Mennzinger ordered Andy to move forward slowly to a point behind a slight rise in the ground. As Andy eased the Apache forward, Mennzinger continued to watch the point he had selected for a spot. The idea was to get into the best-covered and — concealed position possible and still be able to designate the target.