As the aircraft began to descend, Zachary figured they were getting close. He unfastened his seat belt and stood to look out of the window. Sure enough, he could see bright city lights below. It was an enchanting sight, reminiscent of flying into Honolulu International Airport and seeing the bright yellow lights twinkle from below. The song “Honolulu City Lights” played briefly in his mind until the aircraft took a sharp dive. The movement threw Zachary back against the stanchion supporting the webbing. He held on to the red strapping tightly. It seemed that they were almost in a delta dive, in which a free-fall parachutist tucks his body to achieve maximum aerodynamics.
Suddenly the aircraft leveled with a jerk, and Zachary could see out of the window that they were no more than 200 meters off the ground. The plane then banked sharply, turning its wings almost perpendicular to the ground. By now, all of the troops were awake and wondering what in the hell was happening. The aircraft shot up into a steep pitch and banked hard to the right, pinning Zachary against the frame. As soon as he could, Zachary sat down again and refastened his seat belt. The aircraft reverberated as the pilot was obviously stressing it beyond its design capacity. Another steep drop made Zachary’s stomach fly up into his throat. The subsequent leveling slammed it back down into his stomach. Zachary smiled grimly and shook his head at First Sergeant Washington, who seemed to be enjoying the ride. The plane’s turbo propellers whined and craned, trying to carve into the night air and defy gravity.
Zachary’s silent thought was a humorous one, not reflected on his furrowed brow. He envisioned the C-130 in the middle of a Blue Angels or Thunderbirds aerial show. Perhaps the pilot was a frustrated fighter jock. He did not care as long as all the wheels touched the ground safely.
The aircraft jolted, causing a loud bang underneath, and Zachary could hear the familiar sound of all of the engines going into reverse. More jolts followed until the plane rolled to a hot landing, using nearly the entire runway. Regardless, they were on the ground safely. One of the pilots came into the back of the aircraft wearing night-vision goggles, smiling broadly. It suddenly occurred to Zachary that they had been doing nap of the earth, or NOE, flying where the pilots follow the contours of the ground. If the pilot used night-vision goggles, the technique was especially dangerous. Well, Zachary thought, looking at the pilot with a wide grin, half of my troops puked in the back of your airplane, so we’re even.
The ramp dropped, giving way to an eerie darkness as a blast of warm, sticky air rushed into the hull of the plane. The men poured into the dark expanses of the runway and surrounding scrub grass. Zachary, Rockingham, and Washington were immediately making things happen. The airfield was deserted except for the two C-130s, a forklift, and a lone white Chevy Blazer with U.S. government markings on it. Inside the Blazer, Zachary presumed, was his contact. The forklift was to unload the pallets of duffel bags.
Meanwhile, the troops had taken up security around the airfield. Each platoon leader had a green metal can full of 5.56mm ammunition locked and stored in his rucksack only to be issued on the personal direction of the commander. Those were the rules of engagement that had been wired from the JUSMAG to the Twenty-fifth Division headquarters. Zachary was not happy with it and had every intention of distributing the ammunition once he got settled.
He walked over to the vehicle to meet his contact, his boots cracking the crusty shell of dried lava from the Mount Pinatubo eruption several years earlier. He had never seen anyone play it so close to the vest, thinking the guy would at least come and talk to him. Looking through the window from a distance, he saw a lone man wearing Army battle dress uniform. On the dashboard was his black beret with the silver oak leaf cluster indicating that he was a lieutenant colonel. Beret meant one thing to Zach; that the U.S. military in the Philippines was in administrative mode rather than combat focused.
Zachary walked around to the driver’s side to talk to the man, who had not yet looked at him. In fact, the colonel was motionless. The closer he came to the window he instinctively began to raise his M4. Something was definitely wrong. The colonel was leaning against the door, and as Zachary began to reach for the door handle to open it, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him away.
“Sir, don’t touch that,” Washington said, urgently, pulling his captain away from the vehicle and turning his glistening black face from side to side. He saw for the first time the bullet hole in the center of the colonel’s forehead.
“See these wires, sir?” Washington said, pointing through the windshield at a taut silver wire connected to a small credit-card-like object that was clamped between the teeth of a metal clothespin. Zach got it immediately. Open the door, the wire pulls the card out, and the clothespin snaps shut, completing the electrical circuit, which would then trigger whatever explosives had been assembled. Someone had shot the man, then rigged the Blazer with explosives. “Jackson from First Platoon had a report of a local running fast along the other end of the runway. I got suspicious and came over here and saw this shit. Improvised explosive device — IED. Sir, this is some spooky shit,” Washington said.
Zach took control immediately. “Might be remote-controlled as well, so let’s move out. Top, find someone who can run a forklift. I’ll come back over here with our engineer after we’ve secured the perimeter. You can get the forklift moving the pallets to those buildings back that way.” He pointed in the direction of some white barracks huts about three kilometers across the runway. There were a few operational streetlights around them, and he figured that would be the safest place for the equipment in the interim.
As they jogged away from the vehicle, Zach continued. “Have the loadmaster roll the pallets off the planes now and tell the troops to make sure they have all their crap off the aircraft because I’m sending them away from here. Then we will cover the airfield until we can secure the buildings over there. Get the ammo issued out immediately and put out a net call for everyone to stay away from the Blazer.”
Zachary quickly pulled his night-vision goggles out of his rucksack, snapped them onto his helmet mount, and flicked the metal on switch. It was a deep black night with ample starlight to give the goggles adequate illumination. As Zachary scanned his surroundings, he came to the grim conclusion that his troops were in a valley. There was high ground to his north, east, and west. Obviously, the water must be to the south.
He heard the pallets slide off the back ramps. Zachary explained to the pilots that it was not safe for an airplane in that location. They agreed and said that they still had enough fuel to make it to Andersen Air Force Base on Guam. Zachary thanked the pilots for their concurrence, because he felt the aircraft would only make them a bigger target.
The equipment was unloaded, the forklift had safely cranked, and Slick, the commander’s radio operator, handed him the radio handset, saying, “Let’s get down to business, sir.”
With that, Zachary began controlling the movement of his platoons, leaving Kurtz’s platoon to cover to the north, while Taylor’s platoon provided flank security to the east. The XO led the headquarters platoon, while the first sergeant floated between platoons, keeping the men alert. Second Platoon led the way for the company as it followed the beacon of the streetlights. The Air Force crewmen did a good job of turning the aircraft.
As they were maneuvering the ancient beasts, images of the disaster in Iran at Desert One popped into Zachary’s mind. He had mixed emotions as he watched them quickly turn, bump along the runway noisily, then float into the silent night sky. In a sense, he wished that he and his men could be flying away with them. On the other hand, he had a mission to do, and the soldier in him thrived on situations like these. With the deafening roar of the two aircraft gone, the silence was enhanced. Ears rang, unable to hear the more subtle noises.