“Encoded message from the BCT, sir,” the radioman replied, handing Jurgensen the decoded message form.
Jurgensen’s eyes lit up when he read the message. “Outstanding, Breaker,” Jurgensen exclaimed aloud, as if the Building Clearing Team leader could hear him. To the radioman, he ordered: “Reply to the BCT in code: ‘Your idea approved, send transfer plan and route soonest, revised ETIC to Hammer launch twenty mike. End.’ “He turned and saw Ambassador Reynolds. “Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador. My assault team over at Fisikous has made contact with General Palcikas of the Lithuanian Self-Defense Force. Palcikas has apparently offered to escort the Marines secretly to the embassy. They may be ready to move within fifteen minutes. Do you see any problems?”
The ambassador thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, Major, I don’t. Your men must wear their uniforms at all times, and they must avoid offensive actions. That is very important. If we want to be able to prove to the world that we are not an invasion force, your men must keep their fingers off the triggers. We have to do everything we can to prove this is a defensive mission. Having Palcikas’ cooperation is excellent, but if he’s in charge, let his men do the fighting. Of course your men can defend themselves.”
“I understand,” Jurgensen said. “I’ll need a detailed map of the city, or a large-scale photograph if you have—”
“Choppers!” someone screamed. “Heavy choppers inbound from the east!”
Jurgensen dashed outside and picked up a pair of binoculars, scanning the horizon, checking around the area of the rising sun first. Sure enough, there they were — four Mil-24 helicopter gunships, NATO nickname Hind, coming in out of the sun. They were distinctive with their stub weapon pylons, resembling short slanted wings, carrying what could easily be seen as an enormous amount of weaponry, and of course by their incredible low rhythmic beat, like a thousand African war drums bearing down on you, loud enough now that the sound seemed to interfere with the beating of your heart.
Jurgensen was on his walkie-talkie in a flash. “All crews, all crews, air-raid procedures, air-raid procedures. All noncombatants, get into the basement shelters. Scan for flankers — I don’t want everybody fixating on the Hinds and letting a smaller gunship sneak in from behind. Rattlers, prepare for takeoff! Stinger crews, sing out when you acquire—”
“Major, you can’t attack those helicopters!” Ambassador Reynolds said, placing a hand on Jurgensen’s shoulder.
“Say again?”
“You cannot fire on those helicopters from this embassy.”
The roar of engines firing up on the AH-lW Sea Cobra gunships echoed in Jurgensen’s ears, making him shake his head as if he had not heard Reynolds’ incredible statement. “You have got to be joking, Mr. Ambassador.”
“I am deadly serious, Major,” Reynolds said earnestly. “Don’t you understand? We enjoy diplomatic protection here in this compound only because we maintain a purely defensive posture and we protect the lives of our own citizens here. Furthermore, we have not received permission from Washington or from the President of Lithuania to conduct any offensive acts.”
“Those helicopters are a threat to my troops.”
“Helicopters in flight are not legally a threat to anyone until they attack, Major,” Reynolds said. “You have no choice — you cannot fire unless we are fired upon first. An attack on the embassy is considered a declaration of war, according to executive order, but an attack staged from an embassy in peacetime is a serious violation of international law.”
“So what do you expect me to do? Just stand here and watch them attack …?”
“You have no choice,” Reynolds said. “You can only prepare to defend the embassy and pray they aren’t foolish enough to attack.”
“I am not going to sit around and wait for an attack!”
“I don’t know if I have any more influence over you, Major, but as U.S. ambassador to Lithuania and senior government officer in charge of this facility, I order you not to fire on those helicopters unless we come under attack ourselves.”
Jurgensen was shocked speechless. The Hinds were getting closer — Jurgensen could now see that they were older Hind-D gunships, with a 12.7-millimeter Gatling-style gun in a steerable nose turret, two 32-round 57-millimeter rocket pods, and at least four antitank or antiaircraft missiles. The Hinds had moved into staggered trail position, one behind the other, with the first and third helicopters a bit higher than the others — it was a classic head-on attack formation, in which the first and third helicopters act as spotters and the second and fourth act as shooters, Presenting the smallest possible profile to guard against missile attack.
“It’s a rocket-and..strafing..attack formation, Ambassador,” Jurgensen said. “We’ve got to do something!”
“You cannot attack, Major,” Reynolds said, almost pleading. “I understand what you’re feeling — I’m a lawyer and an ambassador now, but I was a Marine. If those helicopters goad you into attacking first, they can slaughter everyone inside this compound and reduce this embassy to rubble — and they would be entirely within their rights to do so, acting in self-defense. Legally, you cannot even raise those Stinger missiles at them — that can be construed as an act of war in itself! If they photographed you doing that and published the photos, we would all be out of a job.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The Marine major had never felt so hamstrung in his entire life. “I am not taking my Stinger crews off watch — I don’t care what happens to me, but those Stingers are our only hope against helicopter gunships.”
The Hinds were in optimal Stinger-missile range — it was now or never. Jurgensen got on the radio. “All units, now set condition green. Do not attack. No one opens fire unless I give the order. Repeat, no one opens fire unless I give the order.” To Reynolds, he said, “There’s nothing that says I can’t launch my Sea Cobras, is there?”
“We have permission to overfly Lithuania, Major,” Reynolds said. “You can do whatever you want with the Cobras. But the same rules apply — no one can fire unless fired upon. I would, uh, recommend that you follow international aviation rules as well.” Reynolds couched that last warning in less definite tones, because those Soviet-made helicopters were getting real close real fast, and Reynolds didn’t want to risk talking Jurgensen out of not launching the Sea Cobra gunships.
No danger of that right now. “I’m sick of following rules right now, Ambassador,” Jurgensen said. On the radio, he ordered: “Rattlers only, repeat, Rattlers only, now set condition yellow and launch. I want you to tail those Hinds. Do not attack unless fired upon first. Repeat, do not open fire unless fired on first. “Jurgensen studied the inbound attack helicopters I with his binoculars, then handed the binoculars to Reynolds. “Sir, tell me if you can make out that flag on the second helicopter. It looks like a tricolor, but I can’t make it out.”
Reynolds took the binoculars and peered intently at the gunships. “I can’t see the colors yet. All of the republics’ flags except Moldova and Georgia have horizontal bars, but I can’t tell if this is from Russia or—”
“Please keep looking. We have to identify them.” Reynolds was more than happy to be asked to participate — it was just like the old days in Vietnam.