“Bridge destroyed, Mover Two-Three splashed. No survivors.” Jack’s voice was dead flat.
The command post was silent as Stansell drew a line through Mover 23 on his board. So easy, he raged at himself, just draw a line and they cease to exist. I ordered them against that goddamn bridge and now … He fought to contain what he felt and returned to business. “Roger, Stormy, copy all. Understand you are bingo at this time. You are cleared off to the tanker. Be advised we have three thousand feet of runway and a fuel truck available here.”
Jack did not hesitate. “Rog, Lifter. Landing now.” Thanks to the deposed Shah and the massive economic buildup under his regime, the airports used American equipment and the fuel truck was fitted with a standard single point fuel nozzle. And thanks to Zakia, it was at the airfield.
Gregory was talking to his operations officer. “Colonel,” he called to Stansell, “here, please.” Stansell turned his attention away from his small board and the black line through Doucette’s name. “Trimler reports that it’s slow going blowing all the cell doors and expects it will take another forty minutes before he has cleared the prison. That makes that armor coming at us a threat. I plan to deploy Ratso One and Two down the road toward the highway bridge. I’m going to position a blocking force there.” He pointed to the east side of the bridge. “They hold as long as they can and then withdraw back to Objective Red.” He pointed to the intersection near the prison.
“Two Jeep teams against an armored column …”
“And reinforce them with Second Platoon, Bravo Company. I want to airdrop them, Colonel. They’re ready to load. Hell, sir, I’ll get ‘em out, that’s why I’m sending Ratso One and Two ahead. They’re to pick a DZ and commandeer vehicles. We only drop Second Platoon when we’ve got something to move them in and I can’t think of a faster way to get them there. Besides, quite a few of those unfriendlies got away from the barracks and are running around loose in the town. We leap frog ‘em.”
Stansell nodded. “Okay, load ‘em on Mallard’s plane.” The S-3 ran out of the room, calling for Bravo Company’s captain and Mallard to join him. Gregory studied the map. He was in his element, meeting the challenge he had trained so long for. There was nothing political to interpret, no deep analysis required. It was a tactical field problem that required an answer he was prepared to give. Gregory would never make a good colonel, but he was one hell of a good battalion commander. Stansell let him go, not getting in his way.
“We’re going to need to use Spectre for a radio relay,” Gregory said, “Mahidashi is beyond the range of the PRC-77.”
“Spectre can still provide fire suppression,” Stansell said.
“On three engines?”
A pained look crossed Stansell’s face. “It’s what they get paid for.” The demon was back on him. He was ordering another crew into harm’s way and his stomach was twisting itself into knots. Oh Christ, Muddy, he thought, is this what you went through? But he wasn’t looking for approval from the shadowy figure from his past. Still, for the first time, he understood the agony of command, of what Muddy Waters must have known.
For the next five minutes Stansell and Gregory went over the ground situation while the RTO relayed the latest developments over the SatCom to the Pentagon’s command center. Jack Locke came into the room, then, his refueling completed. “A hell of a mess you have here, Colonel.” The two men shook hands while the sound of Mallard’s C-130 taking off filled the room.
The MX-360 radio the RTO had set up next to his PRC-77 crack-
led to life. “Lifter, this is Romeo Two-Five with Romeo Two.” “About time,” Gregory yelled. “That’s Kamigami and Jamison!” “Lifter,” Kamigami radioed, “you’ve got company coming your
way. Expect incoming mortar fire in the next few minutes.”
“Say position of mortar teams,” Gregory answered. He jotted down the coordinates while he called for a sergeant to spread the word and for the men to take cover. Stansell was on the UHF ordering the three remaining C-130s to start engines and launch before the attack started. Jack sprinted for his Eagle, intending to do the same. “Colonel,” Gregory shouted, “have Spectre hose the shit out of these coordinates. We got problems.”
CHAPTER 49
Scamp 14 was the first C-130 to bring all four engines on line and was turning onto the runway when the first mortar round hit the airfield. Because of the short runway, Scamp 14 paused while the pilot ran the engines up to max power before starting his takeoff roll. The nose of the C-130 tried to dig into the concrete as the props wound up. Then the big cargo plane was rolling, but before its nose gear could come unglued from the ground, Scamp 14 disappeared in a fiery cloud. A mortar round had scored a direct hit.
The pilot in Scamp 13 now taxied across the runway and onto the open flat area next to the runway. After landing with the Rangers he and another C-130 pilot had driven around the field in a jeep and staked out a long stretch of dirt that could be used as a makeshift runway. He lined up and ran up his engines, sending a cloud of dirt and dust out behind him, then he started his takeoff roll. But before he reached lift-off speed a barrage of mortars walked across in front of him, he tried to dodge a crater but it was too late. The left main gear of the Hercules sank into the mortar’s crater. The crater was a minor obstacle for the gear to handle, but the left wing tip dipped too low and the number-one prop hit the ground. The plane wrenched to the left as the prop broke off the engine and smashed into number-two prop. Propeller fragments ripped into the fuselage as the pilot fought to bring the plane to a halt. The engineer pulled the emergency tee-handles on the fire emergency control panel for one and two, shooting the fire extinguishers in each engine and cutting off all fuel flow, which saved the crew.
The two props on the right were still spinning down when the five men jumped out of the plane and ran for cover …
Furry scrambled out of a ditch when he thought the attack was over and jogged for his F-15. Another mortar round exploded behind him, knocking him down.
“Lifter, tell Spectre to come right ten degrees and the target will be on his nose.” Kamigami was talking on his MX-360 and having Stansell relay vectors that would guide the gunship to the soldiers they had followed and who were now mortaring the field. “Also, friendlies are two hundred meters north of target on road in a dark pickup truck.”
“Roger,” Stansell replied after he had relayed the messages to the gunship. “Spectre has target in sight and are aware of your position.”
Kamigami watched the gunship set up a firing orbit around the cluster of buildings the mortar teams were firing from. “Those muthas are in some kind of trouble, Lieutenant.” Jamison wasn’t sure who the sergeant was talking about, the mortar teams or the gunship. The ZSU-23-4 was hidden not far from them and he had seen what it could do.
“We go,” Kamigami grunted, and drove slowly past a walled compound. “Now,” he ordered. Jamison sat up in the back of the pickup and raised the sergeant’s M-203, pointed the barrel skyward and fired the grenade launcher, sending a 40mm cartridge over the wall. They were sending indirect fire onto the ZSU-23-4 that had run to earth inside the walls. Jamison reloaded and fired again and again as Kamigami turned down a side street and moved down the other side of the compound. Their plan was to keep the crew of the ZSU-23-4 occupied while the gunship was in range.
In the distance they could hear the gunship work the mortar teams over, destroying the low buildings where they were hiding, then they heard the distinctive whomp of the 105mm cannon as Beasely leveled his target.