PART 12
TATTOO
“India? OK, keep going, Michael,” Michelle answered, rolling her eyes and wondering why her brother was bothering her about India.
“It was an interesting conversation. The villager, named Vivaan, said he found an American air force pilot that landed in the mountains. He’s apparently very sick, hot with a fever they said. And I know you work for the air force, and maybe wanted to know, since it sounded kinda weird.”
Michelle plugged her other ear with her finger and bent down awkwardly somewhat to shield the noise. Her eyes were wide open. “Michael, did you just say they had a sick air force pilot that landed in the mountains? Did they give a name over the radio?”
Michael turned to look at Rex’s logbook. “Yeah, air force pilot. Hang on, Rexy is locating it now.”
Michelle waited with the most patience she ever had shown.
“Yeah, Michelle, we have his name. Ah, Ford. Ford Stevens.”
Michelle shivered and spun around rapidly like a ballerina to look at the rest of the team in the room. Her eyes locked on Emily Livingston. “Michael, understand his name is Ford Stevens?”
“Rex, that’s his name, right? Ford Stevens?”
“Yeah,” replied Rex. “Like the car, Dad.”
“Michelle, Rex wrote it down. Yup, Ford Stevens.”
Michelle was in complete disbelief and couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Shut the front door! Michael, this is an emergency. Write everything down and email it to me ASAP. Keep listening to that conversation, and I need everything you got. Frequency, names, times, everything. I’ll call you right back.”
“Oh, OK, Michelle. Wait, we’re in the basement and not near the front door, but we’ll…”
Michelle hung up on them in midsentence and immediately walked over to the group. “Geez. Holy shit!” Michelle loudly said to the team.
“What is it, Michelle? Is everything OK?”
Michelle swallowed and stared at everyone. “He is alive. Ford is alive. Ford is alive!”
Emily dropped her glass of wine, shattering the glass all over the wooden floor. She had to lean on Robert for a moment, nearly fainting. “He is? Ford. My gosh…”
“Goddamn!” Mark said, taking his red Nationals baseball hat off and turning it around backward. “Goddamn right he is! Let’s get to work.”
“I’ve already talked with the SecDef twice, and he is very interested in this, so tell me the latest, Mark,” Cal told him.
The entire team was in their basement Ops Center, and the flat monitors had digital imagery and maps up of northern India. Another had weather on half a screen, and a feed from J-2 Operations Cell over at PACOM. Another panel had up the logo for the 11th Marine Expeditionary Unit and looked to be a secure communications link with the USS Makin Island.
“Sir, this is truly unbelievable. We’ve established good comms via the MARS radio link up on the fifth floor. We are actually talking with the village elder in Chal, India, who has Ford in his village,” replied Mark.
MARS was the Military Auxiliary Radio Station network, established in 1925, and was built for amateur radio operators. Still in use today, the Defense Department — sponsored program was a civilian auxiliary consisting of citizens interested in assisting the military with communications on a local, national, and international basis as an adjunct to normal communications. MARS has a long history of providing worldwide auxiliary emergency communications during times of need and has a volunteer force of over three thousand amateur radio operators.
“What’s his health condition?” Cal asked.
“Not sure. All we can get is that he is burning up hot, no injuries that he can see, but Robert talked with the gentleman for a while. Any other details, Robert?”
“It’s him. Village elder Vivaan says he was wearing a one-piece outfit, green, with black foot gear. Has a beard. Smelly. Was completely out of it when they picked him up,” Robert added.
“They must have crashed somehow, and he has been living in the mountains for the last… what, almost four months?” Cal commented. “No mention of Pinky?”
Emily shook her head. “Unknown, sir.”
“Got it. OK. What are we doing about it? Plan generated yet?” Cal asked.
Mark nodded. “You betcha. A few options. We have a few MH-60 Seahawks available from HSM-73 Battlecats on the Roosevelt with Carrier Air Wing-17.”
Smiling, “Nope. I know their Skipper Bick and love Seahawks, but they won’t have the speed for that distance. What else?” Cal said.
“We figured you’d say that so… earlier, we selected the Marine Corps option. Makin Island Amphibious Ready Group and her embarked 11th Marine Expeditionary Unit. They are in the US 5th Fleet area of operations in the Indian Ocean. They already had two MV-22 Ospreys doing an embassy milk-and-cookies run,” Mark said. “You know, sir, delivering the mail and admin stuff.” He pointed to the map on the screen. “They were already at the New Delhi airport getting fuel with both Marines and navy corpsmen onboard. They are now waiting for Mr. Lance Monterey from State Department to arrive. Lance is their interpreter for Hindi, plus he’ll be dressed like a local instead of a cammied up Marine,” explained Mark.
“Good. V-22’s are good.”
The United States Marine Corps had been deploying forces around the world since the year 1775. Today, their forces were organized into a Marine Air Ground Task Force, which is a team of air, ground, and support assets located on a US Navy ship. Sometimes the units were established for specific missions, while others hoped they could lend a hand to project the United States’ national security interests. Priding themselves on time-sensitive missions, the combined US Navy and US Marine Corps team was able to provide a dominant and effective force on exceptionally short notice.
“An air force C-17 is inbound to New Delhi from Qatar, rerouted in the air from their previous mission. We expect Ford to be back to New Delhi soon, and then on the C-17 to Germany in no more than three hours,” Mark said. “I’ve also called over to the hospital in Ramstein and Walter Reed at Bethesda to give both a heads-up. Once he’s stable at Ramstein, he’s off to the States. Expecting him in both intensive care units,” Robert shared.
“Excellent. Thank you, Mark. And we can watch here on the video feed?”
Jeanie nodded her head. “Hi, sir, yes, we can. I’ll pull it up live from the 11th MEU gear. Helmet cams. No issues at all.”
The two V-22 pilots, Captain Mike Zimmerman and Major Terry Haines, zoomed over the landing zone at about five hundred feet above ground level. Happy to be out of the heavy smog and pollution, the Marine pilots were pleased with the visibility to the northeast. The MV-22 was loud, and the mountain valleys made their engine and propeller noise even louder, their blades slapping the wind as they rotated to produce lift.
The MV-22 was a radical tilt-rotor aircraft that had a single three-bladed turboprop engine nacelle on each wingtip. For her takeoff and landing, the pilots could move the nacelles vertical to move like a helicopter. For in-flight operations, the nacelles on the wings could move ninety degrees forward in just seconds, making it fly like a fuel efficient, fast airplane. The Marine Corps version of the aircraft could fly over 2,100 miles, and her operational range was 1,100 miles.
The loud sounds startled the villagers of Chal, as they had never seen an airplane up close. The aircraft circled the village now at about 250 feet above ground level, ensuring the area was clear of obstacles below, especially people and animals.