Charlie 12 Victor
A Sierra Warriors Adventure
By
Boyd Neisler
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Boyd Neisler on Smashwords
Charlie 12 Victor
A Sierra Warriors Adventure
Copyright © 2011 by Boyd Neisler
ISBN 978-1-4661-2998-6
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Thank you for downloading this free EBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This EBook may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this EBook, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, real events, locations or organizations is purely coincidental.
A glossary is located at the end of this story defining a few slang expressions that may not be familiar to the reader.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
* * * * *
Charlie 12 Victor
A Sierra Warriors Adventure
Faint puffs of vapor could be seen in the crisp autumn air coming from the bunched soldier’s breath. “OK, listen up!" Lieutenant ‘LT’ John Hines was saying. "Sergeant Ashe will be in charge of a squad size routine patrol this morning just to let the locals know we are still in the neighborhood. No Tango’s have been reported, but that sure don’t mean they took off for the winter. As it stands, we’ll stop at this village.” He said pointing to a location on the map. “Doc will conduct tail-gate medicine, take care of the sick-call, and treat any injuries that he can. Most of the villagers want to trust us, but they also know that when we leave, the Tango’s come back to reassert themselves and retaliate against them. Sergeant Ashe, you got the first vehicle. Any questions? Move out in three zero mikes.
Four Humvees would make up the patrol. Sergeant First Class Ashe pulled his squad together to conduct last minute PCIs and give his convoy brief. “Let’s make this a real safe trip. Drivers, check your vehicles, anyone that runs out of gas will have a long walk home. Gunners, lube the Mk-19, the 240’s and the Ma Deuce, make sure you have a full load of ammo. I don’t anticipate anything, but I don’t want to be the one bringing a knife to a gunfight. Shotgun riders, keep your eyes open for IED’s, that of course goes for you drivers and gunners, and watch for any odd behaviors from the locals. Make sure you’ve got your snivel gear and grab two MRE’s per man and a case of water in each truck; just in case we’re out overnight. I don’t plan on it, but you never know. OK, saddle up, let go!”
The men nodded with determined affirmation and began conducting their pre-convoy rituals. Each man has their own individual responsibility; checking personal gear, radios, weapons; ensuring supplies are adequate; and that the equipment is secure from being thrown around the vehicle. In the final minutes before rolling out, each man conducts one last ritual of a personal nature. Some men motivate themselves by viewing each mission as a personal test of manhood and courage; some look fondly at pictures of loved ones vowing to reunite one day, soon; and some men silently pray for either a safe return or a quick death. In every case, each man makes peace with himself with the full understanding that this convoy may be his last but with a grim perseverance, they will still go forward to do their duty without hesitation.
SFC Ashe walked around as his soldiers were preparing for the movement; he took great pride in his men as he noted the resolve in their faces. “These are hardened vets,” he thought to himself “I’ve got no slackers and no cowards; every man will do his part.” The only doubt that managed to creep into his mind is the one that every good leader confronts “Did I do my part in preparing these men for what’s ahead?”
At 34, Sergeant First Class Clifford R. Ashe had 15 years of military service. He was the old man of his platoon. By comparison, his platoon leader LT Hines was 25. Recently, he had given thought of seeking employment other than Army. Deep down he knew anything else would be unfulfilling and boring to say the least. His wife, Lois and his six year old Bonnie, would be happier with him home, but he knew after a few months they would all be miserable. His last home tour of one year really stretched their patience with each other. Whatever employment he sought, it would have to provide breaks in their family life. He never for a moment regretted married life. It was one thing that truly gave purpose to his life. He dearly loved his wife and daughter, but he also loved his men, the camaraderie. He loved getting new men into the unit and with proper rigorous training; he could see them gain confidence in themselves, becoming real soldiers. He would never tire of the good-natured kidding and squad rivalry that existed. This was what he was seeing today.
Once everyone was finished and loaded into their respective vehicles, Sergeant Ashe took his place in the lead truck. He put on his headset and unconsciously moved the microphone closer to his mouth and in a confident tone of one who’s done this hundreds of times before, he simply stated to the group “Let’s roll”.
Overhead came the occasional whup - whup of a helicopter’s blade, beating the air into submission, they could be heard as they darted around in the crystalline blue sky. From their lofty perches, they had a bird’s eye view of the small military convoy of Humvees creating a faint plumb of dust on the hard rocky unimproved road.
The morning passed quickly for the convoy, as they passed patches of farmland, now turning brown. The patrol passed small hamlets with a quick stop in each to tend to the people’s needs as best they could. Looking at his map, Sergeant Ashe told his driver. “Up ahead, about three klicks it shows an abandoned settlement, we’ll stop there for lunch.”
From atop the Humvee, the gunner yelled out. “Man running in the weeds at 10 O’clock, 50 meters out. Ashe was in the act of turning to the left to assess the new situation when a simultaneous flash of white blinded his eyes, a deafening crack of thunder filled his ears, and he felt a jarring as the earth erupted underneath him. Driving his body first into the ceiling of the truck and then slamming it down hard in the seat as if the Humvee was lifted up by a giant hand and dropped on its right side. The resulting blast of nails, screws and ball bearings contained within the IED, hit the gunner, punching through his body amour and shredding the flesh of his torso into pieces before he had a chance to drop out of the cupola. Glass from the exploding driver’s window caught the driver in the face, tearing a portion of his jaw out and sending slivers of glass into his cheeks and eyes, severely wounding him. Boyle, the gunner in the second vehicle was peppered with shards of metal in the upper arms and chest. The distance between the two vehicles was the only thing that saved him from worse damage. Ashe, covered by splattered blood of his comrades and dazed by the brutal blast, forced himself to focus even though he was surrounded by cries of immeasurable pain and confusion. He instinctively grabbed his rifle and began working his way out of the vehicle ready to confront the expected enemy attack.
Overhead one of the helicopters witnessed the ground explosion. “I see a tango running in the field.” The pilot was saying as he pointed the bird toward the visual target. “Put a hurtin’ on this sumbitch” came a reply through the headset. Making a pass, the Super Cobra jockey pressed a button and the minigun began to spew its' contents of death. A hose of fiery bullets seemed to walk toward the fleeing individual and as it caught him, he seemed to disappear into a red cloud of vapor from their effect.
While the first helicopter confirmed the threat had been adequately neutralized, and then began to scout for potential accomplices, the other was radioing the command post. “We need a MEDEVAC.” The pilot said quickly relaying the coordinates to the base.
The lead vehicle, teetering on its right side was the scene of contorted metal and bloody carnage. The remaining vehicles quickly formed a defensive perimeter surrounding the twisted mass and the men erupted from the other Humvee’s in an effort to assist their comrades. Three men ran to the lead vehicle, using the exposed underbelly for cover, immediately saw there was no incoming fire and climbed to the driver’s door calling to the men inside in an attempt to find out if any of the group had survived the horrendous explosion.
The Medic was on site before the men had been removed from the interior. As the driver was lifted out and placed behind the vehicle, Doc hastily surveyed the extent of his facial wounds and quickly applied a gauze wrap and a field dressing from his aid bag.. As he was securing the bandages, Sergeant Ashe unceremoniously sat on the ground beside him. Coughing from the heavy fumes of cordite and dust, he managed to say, “Doc, take a look at Jones, he caught the worse of the blast.”
The men lifted the lifeless body of the gunner from the Humvee, placing him on the ground, the unmoving body stared into the clear blue sky. Doc promptly pressed his fingers to his bloody neck, checking for a pulse but after a few moments, he slowly pulled his hand away, looked at Ashe and shook his head. “Sorry Sergeant. There’s nothing I can do. He’s gone”. With that, he reached over the dead man, pulling his eyelids down, closing his eyes. Turning his attention to Ashe, he pulled another dressing from his kit and handed it to Ashe to place over his torn cheek. Seeing a rip in the Sergeants pants leg, he cut away the material, exposing a long deep gash that was starting to bleed profusely. A hasty tourniquet managed to stop the bleeding and another gauze covered the ripped flesh.
Looking around, Doc saw Boyle had blood on his uniform and ran over to him. “Let’s see what we got.” He said cutting away the bloody material. “Not to bad. Light duty for a couple of weeks.” With bandages in place, he told him. “Take a seat next to the Sarge.”
Ashe’s team leader approached Doc. “We got a MEDEVAC on the way, the Blackhawks called it in”. He said looking at the still circling helicopters.
In the distance, they could hear another helicopter coming toward them. Ashe looked at Boyle and said. “Bill," referring the dead gunner, “and I was talking last night. He made a statement I thought was strange at the time.” Ashe went on with a sob in his voice. "He told me, when he got it, he hoped it would be fast. He did not want to be a cripple in a wheelchair the rest of his life. He had no one except a drunken uncle back home. No one to mourn him. He said, 'When I get it! Not if I get it but when I get it! Did he know something?" Ashe looked around, tears streaked the blood and dirt on his cheeks. With a slight shudder of his shoulders, he looked around. "Boyle, we got to Charlie Mike. Bill would want that." Specialist William 'Bill' McLaughlin was the first man in the company to die on this tour.
The next day in a mud hut not far from the IED attack
“You can see the effects of a well placed explosive device. This one device, killed one American, severely wounded two others and destroyed one of their vehicles.” Kadir, the bomb maker was saying. To his side an Imam was watching the small group of mostly foreign-born men look at photos of a recent IED emplacement. “Had Mustaf paid closer attention to my teaching,” Kadir continued. “He would be here today. As it is, he has been martyred by the enemies of Allah and is now in paradise, alas, there were insufficient amounts of him found to have a proper Muslim burial.”
One young man was looking out the small window, seemingly more interested in a female not far away, was jolted back to attention by the Imam viciously hitting him across the back with a long walking stick. “Pay attention, Allah only gives a believer one chance to prove himself.” The Imam shouted.
Quivering with fear the young man replied. “Yes mighty Imam, a thousand pardons for my momentary inattention, it will not happen again.”
“It had better be the last time. Now I need two volunteers who wish to seek martyrdom.” He said looking at the five men. Four hands immediately rose in the air. Only the young man whom he chastised moments before hesitated. “Select the two warriors you wish, Kadir.” Hiding an evil smile behind his long grey beard, he thought to himself, while looking at the hesitant one. “I have a special appointment for you young warrior.”
A few weeks later at an in-country Army Airport
Sergeant First Class Ashe and his assistant Specialist Boyle were just finishing the paper work for the eight enlisted soldiers that were waiting for air transportation to their various firebases, Forward Operating Bases and duty stations scattered throughout the country. Some were returning from leave, others returning from the hospital where various minor wounds had been treated so they could return to duty. One of the soldiers had his arm in a sling, another was using a crutch, and one man had several bandages on his neck and face plus his left arm in a sling. These soldiers would be on light duty at their unit until they were physically fit for normal duty. Two of the remaining eight were in the process of going on leave and the remaining three coming from leave, going back to there duty station.
They themselves were still on light duty status from the IED they had taken just weeks before. Ashe still had a slight limp to go along with a reddish scar along his left cheek. Boyle’s own wounds, though superficial, were incapacitating for an infantryman.
“Sergeant, it is important that I get to the Ghazni as soon as possible.” A rather out of shape officer was saying as he approached the desk.
“Yes Sir, this is the flight that will get you there.” Looking at the nametag on the uniform, Sergeant Ashe inquired. “Colonel Housley, could I see your orders, sir?”
”I am to attend a briefing and it is imperative that I am not delayed.” The colonel said as he handed the SFC his orders. “I have to be there no later than five o’clock today.”
Eying the colonel’s ill-fitting uniform, his unit patch and more importantly, the lack of any combat patch, he said “Sir, I know you are a reserve officer, but we really prefer the twenty four hour clock around here, it saves a lot of embarrassing moments since, as you know, we are on a twenty four hours a day schedule. So, you need to be there no later than seventeen hundred hours today?”
“Right! That’s what I said.” The colonel blustered.
“Sir, not to be disrespectful, but how many jets do you see sitting out there.”
“I don’t see any.”
“That is correct sir; our Army deemed it was unnecessary for us to have any jet aircraft, not even the small business jets. We have a couple of single engine aircraft capable of about one hundred knots, and a couple of C12 series Beech twin turbos capable of about two hundred and seventy five knots.” Looking at his Timex digital watch, he said. “It is fourteen thirteen hours now. There is no way you are going to make your deadline. Perhaps, if we were Air Force there would be a jet for your disposal, but alas, we are not, so we have not. I am sincerely sorry Colonel.”
“That is not acceptable sergeant, it is only two hundred miles from here” He said in a condescending tone. “If the turbo prop can fly two hundred and fifty knots, then I can make it in plenty of time."
With all his professional composure, Sergeant Ashe replied, “Yes sir, everything you just said is true, but at this time we have one pilot at this station and he is scheduled to transport the eight soldiers ahead of you. Would it suit you that we just leave them here, so you can make your meeting. In addition, looking at your orders, you were supposed to be here yesterday. I am trying to get you on a flight just to be a good soldier, not because I have to.”
“Well, uh, I… I decided to lay over in Germany a day to do some shopping.”
“Yes sir, I understand, but to paraphrase ‘Piss poor prior planning on your part, does not constitute an emergency on mine.’ This plane will be departing here in a few minutes and will drop three of these soldiers off at Herat, a distance of about 280 miles; it will then proceed to Kabul, a distance of about 400 miles. After dropping off two soldiers, it will continue on to Jalalabad, a distance of about 75 miles, and leave three soldiers. Then and only then will it proceed to Ghazni, a distance of about 135 miles, where it will land on the worst landing strip in the middle east and maybe the entire world. Then drop you so you can attend your meeting, and the pilot where he will spend the night with his unit and get the aircraft ready for another run tomorrow. Now sir, is there any part of the itinerary that you do not understand?”
All the time the conversation between the colonel and the sergeant was taking place, the waiting men, though appearing busy reading magazines, books or letters, were listening with great interest to the discussion just a few feet from them. When SFC Ashe explained to Col. Housley how the flight would be, they all had big smiles on their face. Not so much as to the dialog itself, but at a NCO willing to standup for them.
“Do you have a phone where I can call the unit at Ghazni?” the heavy officer finally asked.
“Yes sir, right over there. I can give you the airport’s number, but I don’t have the various units’ phone number.”
About the time the Colonel left the desk, a young Captain came through a door behind the sergeant’s desk just in time to see the colonel head for the telephone and see the grinning faces of the other soldiers. “Sergeant Ashe, it is fourteen fifteen hours, got everything ready to go? The C12 is checked, fueled and raring to bust dust from the dunes and hillsides.” He said, looking at the Breitling Chronomat watch on his wrist then out the window at the C12V sitting on the tarmac, its body bristling with antennas of various sizes.
Captain Eugene ‘Gene’ Poole, age 28, 5’10”, 165 pounds, military cut blondish brown hair, entered the Army after graduating college where he had enrolled in the Army ROTC program. He attended Officer’s basic and because of some flight time in college, and his test scores were high enough that he attended rotary wing school at Fort Rucker, Alabama. After they had pinned on his rotary wings, he sought to get some fixed wing time in both single and twin-engine aircraft. Now he was living his dream, flying, logging all the hours he wanted, which would look good once he left the service and applied with one of airlines or charter services. A little known fact about Captain Poole, was he had an appointment to the Service Academy, and turned it down. The reason he gave, he wanted to do something on his own. His Father wanted Gene to enter politics and run for public office, of which the son was having none of. He enjoyed the Army and at this stage of the game was considering making a career of it.
“Yes Sir, Captain Poole, Sir, here is your flight plan, you will have nine souls on board, eight NCO’s and one Officer, 1200 pounds of fuel, that’s enough for your roughly 900 miles plus 45 minutes reserve. If you think you are running low, you can add to it at any stop, as usual.”
Looking at the small waiting area, he saw the soldiers sitting. “Sergeant, as usual, you’ve done most of my work for me, thank you. Do you know where my Officer is? Was he the one headed toward the phone?” He asked.
“Yes Sir, he’s on the phone telling his receiving unit why he will be late for their meeting at seventeen hundred hours today. You can rest assured, what ever the reason he’s telling them, it will be our fault.”
Looking at Colonel Housley orders, he inquired of SFC Ashe. “Why didn’t he get here yesterday like his orders said?”
“Told me he decided to take the day off and go shopping while he had a layover in Germany.” Sergeant Ashe said with a chuckle.
“OK Sergeant, make the announcement, we’re heading out into the wild blue yonder, and if he doesn’t get here in about one zero mikes, he’ll have a layover in Kandahar for a couple of days. He can go shopping here while he is waiting.”
As the men stood, they began to collect their gear, which included rucksacks, Kevlar helmets, AWOL bags, assault packs and weapons. “Make sure the weapons have been cleared. We have enough holes in the airplane as it is.” SFC Ashe noticed the wounded soldiers were trying to secure their luggage and the difficulty they were having. “You wounded go ahead and board, we will get your bags.” Motioning to his assistant, he was surprised to see Captain Poole pick up one man’s bags and start toward the door, with all left over luggage distributed between the able bodied soldier’s. “Sir, thank you for you help. It is really appreciated.” Ashe said. All luggage was quickly stowed aboard and secured, the remaining soldiers entered the aircraft and took a seat. As the last man was entering the aircraft, the colonel came out of the building waddling as rapidly as his bulk would allow and breathing so hard that he sounded like an steam locomotive.
“Captain, send one of the soldiers back to get my luggage!” He demanded belligerently.
Captain Poole looked directly at the plus sized officer, ensuring that eye to eye contact was made so there would be no misunderstandings and coolly replied. “Colonel, if your aide is traveling with you, then you get your baggage loaded, if not, you have 5 mikes to get it, have it stowed and get aboard. These are U.S. soldiers, not baggage handlers. Sir. If you hurry, you have time.
As the Colonel hurried off, the Captain Poole remarked to Sergeant Ashe. “I love Reservists, they are so humble.”
Moments later, breathing harder than ever, Colonel Housley handed his bags to Specialist Boyle, then boarded the aircraft and found a seat, after some minor adjustments to the harness, he was soon fastened in. Outside the aircraft, Boyle and SFC Ashe finished stowing and securing the luggage. Boyle returned to the building, leaving Ashe standing in the door of the aircraft.
On board one two Victor, the engines were warming up Captain Poole was running through the take off checklist. Once complete, he turned in his seat, looking at his new charges. Looking at his manifest attached to a clipboard, he began his usual spiel. “Gentlemen, this flight will last about four to five hours depending on weather, and other traffic. Who’s going to Herat?”
Three men raised their hands. “We will drop you first.” Looking at his clipboard, how about Kabul?” Two more hands went up.
“Whose’s going to Jalalabad?” Three more hands
“I guess that means on the last leg of the flight it will be just you and me, Colonel. Today we will be flying the Beechcraft Charlie 12 Victor aircraft. For your information, it is a twin-engine turbo prop capable on a good day of about two hundred and eighty knots. This particular aircraft has about one hundred hours on it, so it is for all practical purposes a new one. Army doesn’t allow anyone to smoke on board, but I have no heart burn about chewing or dipping. However, the first yahoo that spits on the floor, I will personally kick your butt off the plane and we may not be on the ground when I do it. Comprehend! Anyone need a spit bottle? Sergeant Ashe, can you get a couple of bottles of water for these soldiers? For today’s flight, we will be flying low to the ground in known trouble spots. If, in the event we take ground fire, those of you with weapons, please don’t return fire. It is really hard on the windows and the bang is loud enough to deafen you. Any questions? Fair enough, buckle up and hang on to your jock strap, we’re going flying. You know the best part of this job, I love doing it and they pay me to do it! One last thing, you will note, we do not have a co-pilot. Since we don’t, I sincerely hope you say a little prayer for our safety and mine in particular.”
Ashe, pulling three bottles of water from the cargo pockets of his Multi-cams and tossed them to the men who wanted them. “Captain, your good to go, have a safe trip, see you in a couple of days.”
“Thank you and thank Specialist Boyle for me, I hate to lose you guys, but I know your light duty is coming to an end. I just wanted to let you and Boyle to know, things have run so smooth since you got here. Wish there was some way I could keep you.”
“Captain, I’ll tell Boyle, it has been good duty, but we really miss our units and you know us grunts, we’re not happy unless we’re miserable.” Ashe shut and locked the cabin door and returned to his waiting room domain and the next set of situations he and Boyle would have to contend with.
“Everyone doing OK back there?” Came the pilot’s voice over the cabin speakers. “We are on final approach to Herat. We should be on the ground in about ten to fifteen mikes. If you need to use the latrine we will be on the ground about three zero mikes, so don’t stray far.”
“Charlie One Two Victor, you are cleared for runway three six, behind Ariana MD-80 on final. Wind eight to ten at one seven, altimeter two niner niner zero.” Came over Captain Poole’s headset.
“Roger, Herat, we are number one behind MD-80.”
After an uneventful landing, layover and takeoff, they were once more in the air with a heading toward Kabul. Then on to Jalalabad to drop the three soldiers.
Throughout the entire flight, no one noticed slight, barely discernable course changes were being made. Sometimes a clump of houses could be seen on the horizon, other times a barely visible face of a cliff and others a seemly innocent ravine cutting the dry rocky earth below. On board the aircraft, computers and other specialized equipment was recording any radio, cell phone or other electrical signals on hard drives and flash drives, which would upon landing at Ghazni, would be downloaded, analyzed and the results, if warranted, a mission would be planned for the type of information discovered.
While waiting clearance to take off at Jalalabad, the pilot spoke. “Colonel Housley, since it is just the two of us, would you like to ride co-pilot. The scenery really sucks, but you do get to see more of it.”
“Well, thank you Captain that is nice of you,” he said as he unbuckled and traversed the short distance to the co-pilots seat.
“Are you a pilot Sir.”
“No, but in civilian life, my law firm does lease a couple of Gulf Streams for the practice.”
“This must be a big come down after that.”
“Not to degrade this airplane, but yes it is. We travel about five hundred to five fifty knots in it.”
“I have a few hours in twin jets, but not rated, so for the rest of my tour, I’ll fly these and the rotary wings.
“Charlie One Two Victor, you are cleared for takeoff runway three one, altimeter two niner eight zero.”
“Roger Jalalabad, taxiing to runway three one, south-east to Ghazni departure, One Two Victor.” Replied as he applied throttle and began rolling down the taxiway leading to runway three one.
“Captain Poole, I like you. You stood up to me in defense of those soldiers, knowing I out-ranked you.”
“Actually sir, as long as you are in my plane and I am in charge, you don’t out-rank me, you just have more rank. Like on a ship, I am the Captain, commander and master of the vessel.”
“Well whatever, when you get out of the service, please look me up. I think my firm could spring for whatever training you would need to become a co-pilot and later pilot one of my Gulf Streams.” He said handing him a card. W. Earl Housley, Attorney at Law, Housley Law Associates, read the embossed card. “Why thank you sir, you can be sure I will be giving you a call in a year or so, when my time is up.” Lining up on runway three one, Captain Poole advanced the throttles and within moments, Charlie 12 Victor was airborne.
Flying toward Ghazni, the air was smooth and in no time, he had the aircraft trimmed out and flying itself. Sitting back in the seat, Captain Poole relaxed for the first time in the entire flight. He had no course deviations to make, just a straight shot to the airport. Looking toward the Colonel “Colonel, would you uh…” A sudden heavy thump caused the aircraft to buck, a light flashed on the control panel and looking out the window, he could see the right engine suddenly came to a sputtering stop. Poole immediately applied full throttle to the left engine to help compensate the loss of the other one. Feathering the engine, he saw a blade was missing, and quickly surmised they had been hit with a missile of some sort or a RPG. Poole quickly ruled out the RPG because of the altitude. But why had it not exploded, taking the wing off the airplane the way they were supposed to work? Looking around the surrounding country, he noted they were close to a range of low mountains.
“Mother Mary! What the Hell was that, Captain?”
“Well, sir, I think we were hit by a defective SAM or a bad Stinger.” Poole calmly said while straining to keep the aircraft aloft. Years of training had taught him to keep a level head, not to panic. “If you remember when we were helping out against the Soviets, we sent truck loads of Stingers to use against the Hinds. Not all have been accounted for. We were lucky, the remaining had not been serviced in several months and in most cases, years, the batteries are low and sometimes they don’t explode.”
All the time he was looking around for an emergency landing area. The aircraft was still in a level flight attitude running on the one engine. The POH claimed the aircraft could fly very well on one engine, though one had to compensate the lack of power on one side by use of the rudder. Turning from the mountain range, they suddenly felt another object slam into the aircraft, spinning it back toward the mountain. Pressing the left rudder pedal, the plane would respond in an almost normal fashion. Trying the right rudder yielded a very different slow response. “I think another one just took out the rudder and probably the vertical stabilizer.”
Turning the yoke to the left caused the plane to tilt to the left, when he applied full left rudder, the airplane slowly began to move from toward the mountains and ever so slowly did the desolate rocky plains come into view.
“We’re losing altitude!” The Colonel cried. “How long can we stay in the air?”
Unable to contain the classic comedy line as he busily began to run through a checklist and at the same time dialing the radio to a designated frequency. “Oh, I imagine we will fly all the way to the scene of the crash.”
“Red Rover, this is Red Rover two four, over.” Poole called over the radio.
“This is Red Rover, over.” Came the reply.
“Red Rover, we have been hit by something, I suspect a defective missile. Anyway, it took out the right engine then another one took out the rudder and vertical stabilizer. We are descending at about three zero zero feet per mike. Will impact ground in less than one five mikes. If able, will destroy hard drive and flash drive, you should have all transmitted data.”
“Roger that. Do you have anyone on board two four?”
“Yes, last passenger on list.”
A brief silence then. “Roger, we have ID’d. You are to low for radar, will attempt to get your location on satellite or predator drone two four.”
“Send a Blackhawk, he should be able to see the smoke from the wreckage because the ground sure looks rough.”
“Roger, we will try to get a couple airborne two four.”
“Try hell, do it, this is not a Club Med beach where we are going to land, Rover. In the words that Cable Guy, ‘Git’er Done.’ That’s it from this end, I am down to about one five zero zero feet and will be real busy for the next few minutes, out here.”
“Roger two four and good luck. If possible, contact us once on ground. Red Rover out.”
“Tighten your seat belt Colonel, this don’t look good at all.”
“Oh God, we’re going to die, aren’t we.”
“Hey, Colonel, we are all born to die, it is just sometimes like this, where we have a good idea of when it will be.” Poole said as he began lowering the flaps until they fully extended. Reaching over he cut the power to the engine fuel pumps. Let the engine burn the fuel in the lines would lessen the chance of a fire in the event the landing went wrong. The remaining engine sputtered and began wind milling. About fifty feet above the ground their speed had bled off until the stall warning horn began to blare; he turned the master electrical switch off. At twenty feet, he began pulling the nose in the air when the aircraft began to drop.
“Hang on Colonel, the pucker factor is going to get real tight!” Poole shouted. They were still traveling about 100 knots per hour when the aluminum belly of the aircraft contacted the rough earth. The aircraft bounded into the air and bounced off the hard rocky earth like a bucking bronco. Each time it made new contact with the ground; more antenna arrays tore loose, being strewn along the path of travel. During the wild ride inside the cockpit, Poole was thinking to himself “This is a hell of way to treat a seven million dollar airplane.” With a final bone shaking ground contact, it slammed to the earth, sliding right side up toward a shallow ravine. Finally coming to a halt it teetered on the edge for a moment, the lip of the ravine began crumbling from the unexpected weight as the aircraft succumbed to the effects of gravity. Slowly it slid down the side of the gully among an avalanche of loose dirt, gravel and rocks, landing on the now flattened remains of the nose of the aircraft. The sudden stop at the bottom caused a large radio to break loose from its mountings and plunge forward, stopping just inches short of the co-pilots seat and its occupant.
Poole awoke in a daze and with a horrendous headache. As near as he could determine, he had been unconscious for about ten minutes. It was quite dark, or appeared to be. The darkness ruled out the ten minutes of unconsciousness then. He must have been out for about two hours or more. Of course, he could have injured his head or eyes and was not seeing well. Raising his arm, he could see the luminous hands his watch very clearly; it showed twenty one fifteen hours. Looking to his right, he saw Colonel Housley, shaking his head side to side as if he was emerging from water and had to remove the water from his hair.
“Well, so much for this JAG job.” Colonel Housley thought to himself. “Why am I worried about a job? It’s my life that is hanging in a thin thread.” He said aloud to the still aircraft.
“Colonel, you OK?” He asked.
“I think so.” The Colonel said as he began checking his arm and legs to make sure everything still was in working order.
“Follow my lead and let’s see if we can get out of here. We don’t have much time before Rover sends a drone to obliterate the airplane.”
Both men had their entire weight supported by the seatbelt and shoulder harness restraints. Poole raising his legs, felt a pain in his side as he placed them against the instrument panel, he then put the weight on his legs, raising himself enough to ease the tension on the harness. Finally, in position, he unfastened the harness and for the first time pondered his escape from the aircraft. Reaching over to open the window, he experienced pain in his chest and side as before, except this time it was excruciating. Feeling no blood, he realized, he must have broken or cracked his ribs when the harness stopped him.
Taking a deep breath confirmed his suspicions. “OK, we will take it real easy then.” He said to himself. After a few moments, he was able to open the window enough to stick his head out to enable him to look around. He could truly appreciate the predicament the landing put them in. If there was any good news, it was he was only about three feet from the ground. The bad news, that was as far as he could see from his present vantage point.
“Colonel, can you open the window on your side and get out?”
After a few moments, the window opened. “Yes, I can get out. What do we need to take with us?”
“Everything we need is in the rear of the aircraft. I don’t see a way in the world we can get to it. I think I’ve some busted ribs, so climbing up and over these seats is out of the question for me. Rover is supposed to be sending a Blackhawk, so, let’s get out, try to get to where we can signal it and get out of here.”
“Colonel, my flight bag is just behind my seat, it contains a flashlight, can you reach it? If you can, shine the light in the insides so I can see what we got.”
“OK, here I go.” The Colonel said. Turning, he climbed the cramped cockpit until he was standing with both feet on the instrument panel, he then reached behind the seat retrieving Poole’s flight bag. Reaching in he felt around until he secured the flashlight. “Got it, now what?”
“Shine it up in the fuselage, around where the radios are.” A brilliant beam of light swept through the aircrafts interior showing the damage and the miracle of one secure bolt that saved the colonel’s life. It also showed no radio intact and that spelled out, no radio rescue. “OK Colonel, you got everything we can get, so get out the window, I’ll see you on the ground.” Working his way out the window, he fell the final three feet to the ground. The shock of hitting the hard ground caused him to pass out for a few moments. Coming to, he looked at his watch again noting the time elapsed since he checked the time just prior to dropping from the window. Looking around he saw the Colonel was standing next to him.
Extending his hand the colonel said. “Give you a hand?” Grasping Poole’s extended hand he pulled him to his feet.
He didn’t remember what time he called in the missile strike, but he knew the mission he was flying, a drone would soon be overhead with the sole intent of destroying the aircraft to prevent any information leaving the area. If he or any survivors are in or around the aircraft when it showed up, well, they had better make sure they paid for their life insurance policy’s premium.
“Colonel, we have got to get out of this area, a drone or fast mover will soon show up and destroy the Charlie 12 Victor. They will not let an abandoned one fall into enemy hands.”
Moving down the ravine, Poole knew he had to find a way out of it. Once on top, he stood a better chance of being spotted by friendlies, but he also realized he had the same chance of being found by the bad guys.
Poole and the Colonel had traveled down the ravine for about fifteen minutes when they heard an explosion and could see a plume of smoke rising from the destroyed aircraft.
“As nearly as I can tell, we are about one hundred klicks south of Ghazni, and as the man said, we are between a rock and a hard spot. We could head north back toward Jalalabad, but it looks like the mountains to the east is where we came under fire. Those folks wouldn’t be very friendly toward us. Personally, I recommend going southeast to the road that lead to Khost. There should be coalition troops that we can hail. My busted ribs aren’t going to let me get very physical about climbing around the countryside.”
Col. Housley was doing his best to put up a brave front. “I have never been in a situation like this. The worst was a time in a court room, when a client attacked a bailiff.”
“Colonel, I don’t mean to steal anyone’s thunder, but why do you think you are drawing the big combat pay for?”
“Big Pay? Don’t mean to brag, but we make a hundred times that amount preparing a will for a client. A DUI is ten thousand minimum.”
“Man, ten K, what do you get for that?”
“When we get through, the client will have no points deducted, no trace of an arrest and the subsequent investigation. It’s as if it never happened. High profile people use us all the time. In state and out.”
“So, why are you in the National Guard?”
“They needed a JAG, I was offered a Lieutenant Colonel rank. I had always considered taking a pro bono job that supported the troops. I’m a very patriotic person.” He said without a hint of sarcasm.
Nearing the end of the ravine they were traveling, Captain Poole motioned for Housley to stop. Rising about the rim, he carefully scanned the bleak desert for signs of habitation or movement. Seeing nothing, he motioned to the Colonel. “I don’t see anything, but that don’t mean there’s nothing there. In the event any tango’s find us, do not make any fast moves especially as if you are reaching for a weapon. That will get you killed faster than anything. Understand? I know you are the ranking man, but this is my third tour and I have had some dealing with the people. From here on, we look for low areas to help conceal ourselves. It is almost dark, so we travel as fast and far as we can. Fact is, we have no water, I’ve only got two magazines of ammo for my sidearm, and we’ve got no radio because it was busted in the crash.”
“You are a fountain of good news Captain,” the Colonel halfheartedly replied.
“Just want you to know, our predicament is not a good one. This is a vast and tractless land where we own the sky, but as you may have noticed, we are on the ground. I hope the drone got a fix on us and they are mounting a rescue mission. Well, Colonel lets make tracks while we can. We’ll probably have to find a hidey hole come daylight.” Nursing his injured side, the Captain and his cumbersome companion moved off into the darkness.
In a well-concealed cave at the foot of the mountain ridge, Abdul had just replaced the radio microphone in its cradle. “Sayeed, take one man and check out the smoke plume, see if the pilot is alive. If he is not, bring his body and all papers here, if he is alive, do the same. Any questions?” He asked.
“It is almost dark; will it do any good to search for anyone now, would it not be better to try in the morning when we can see?”
“You will go out and search tonight! Allah will guide you. Do you understand?”
“Understood.” He said picking up his rifle, yelling as he went. “Saif, meet me at the vehicle with your rifle, now! We are going hunting.”
A few minutes later, the two men threw extra canteens of water in the bed of the beat-up Japanese made pick-up. The engine turned protesting at first then with a cough it began a labored weak whining roar. “We are to look in this area, are you familiar with it?”
“La” stated Saif. ‘I am not, but with your expertise and Allah’s guidance we can not fail.”
“Yes, when we capture the infidel, we will be looked upon with favor by the Imam.
“Turn your lights on high, you stupid son of a camel driver. How do expect to see anyone out there.”
“A thousand pardons, I was not thinking.” He said flicking the lever of the light switch from low to high beam. As he worked the lever, he was thinking to himself, if we can see them better, could they not see us better also? After years of battling with the Americans, Saif was well aware martyrdom can come without warning from the skies.
As the hours passed, the driver spoke up. “Sayeed, we are dangerously close to running out of fuel and I added the last extra can we had during our last stop, as you remember.”
“Very well, turn back toward our station. It should not be more than twenty kilometers away. We will get an early start tomorrow.” Making a wide turn in the dark landscape, their vehicle's headlights sweeping the barren, rocky plains, they began the trek back to the makeshift headquarters located in the cave
.
Not far from where they turned around, the two Americans picked themselves up from the ground. “That was close. The only bad thing, it may have been tribal people who are friendly, but it may have been Taliban or Al-Qaeda troops just as easy.” Captain Poole was saying. “It is 0400 hours, and will be getting light very shortly. Start looking for anyplace we can hole up Colonel.” Both men were shivering in the cold of the desert night.
“I don’t know what I want most, a jacket or a drink of water.” Colonel Housley replied. The Colonel was pointing to a rock formation in the distance that appeared to be the start of the ever-rising terrain leading up into the mountains. “Looks like a place to lay low about two or three klicks off to the left just a little.”
“Looks good Colonel lets head over that way.”
The sun was breaking over the mountains, when the two men found themselves climbing into the rock formations. “Captain, look over there, is that a pool of water?”
Looking where Colonel Housley was pointing, he said. “Yes it is.” Holding his side, he climbed down into the small valley in the rocks to see the source of small pool. Looking around, he saw tracks of small birds and animals. “It’s safe to drink.”
“How do you know that?”
“Animals don’t drink bad water.” He said pointing out the tracks.
Sating their thirst, they sought the security of the rocks, taking up positions from they could see the surrounding area without being seen. One could safely serve as lookout while the other could sleep.
“Get up! You have slept long enough, or do you want night duty like those two over there?” Sayeed was telling the conscript.” Get some breakfast and then I want to put an extra can of gas in the vehicle and get ready to hunt the American pilot. We know about where the aircraft crashed, that will be our starting point. We should be able to see where he headed from there.”
“I will take care of it right away.” Saif said as he was hurrying away from the senior Mujahedeen.
“These new fighters are so worthless, they would be better off back herding goats.” He said to the two sleeping forms.
Fifteen minutes later the vehicle pulled to the front of the cave. “If you are ready, this worthless individual is at your disposal.”
“What supplies did you bring?”
“As you requested, I have loaded an extra twenty liters of gas, four canteens of water and food for the day.”
Surprised at the properness of the fresh fighter, he said nothing. “Well, what are you waiting for, let’s go!”
Without further words, the young Mujahedeen put the pickup in gear and began the long drive to the area where they had seen the smoke plume the day before. As they traversed the rough trail along side the towering mountain, the senior soldier kept a sharp eye toward anything unusual in the area. At last, they came upon the area where they thought the aircraft had crashed. “Stop here fool; this is where the airplane is.”
Stopping the pickup, the young man thought to himself. “You are mistaken, the site is about five kilometers further north. “Yes Sayeed, would you have me wait here or accompany you to the crash site?”
“Wait here, but be alert. I will return with the American dog in a few moments.”
“Na’am, I will keep alert.”
“OK Colonel, let me sleep about three or four hours. I haven’t seen anything moving. You may see a pickup or two, but just let them go by. It is too risky to flag one of them down. Here, take this pistol, don’t use it unless it’s an absolute emergency.” Still favoring his side, Captain Poole tried to make himself more comfortable. Watch the sky for a drone, helicopter or aircraft, higher up’s know where the crash site is, so they know we are not far from it. If I am thinking right, they will guess we headed southeast toward the road and will be looking it this area. If you see a drone or aircraft, try to signal them with something shiny, don’t expose yourself, wave your arms and hope they see you.”
“I never thought I would find myself in the sort of predicament.” Housley said.
“Everyone needs a little excitement in their lives every once in a while.”
“Yeah, this sort of excitement can get you killed graveyard dead.” Housley remarked tartly as he took his place on the rocks, trying to stay in the shade as much as possible.
In a darkened room, among several banks of monitors, eyes were watching one screen in particular. The scene was from a high vantage point looking obliquely from a slow flying drone. “There they are.” came an excited voice. “Hold the camera on them. Do they appear to be alright?”
“It looks like one is keeping watch and the other sleeping or at least resting.”
“Can you zoom in anymore?”
All of a sudden, the image of the man on the rock filled the screen. “That must be the Colonel that was the remaining passenger. Where is the pilot?” Watching as the image decreased in size and began panning the area for the other man.
“How long before a Blackhawk can get to them?”
The question was left unanswered as the surrounding area filled the screen and as the camera panned a complete circle and lone Japanese made pickup came into view approximately seven kilometers from where the men were hiding.
From his vantage point on the high rock, Colonel Housley could see for several miles to the west and to the south. Higher rocks blocked the view to the north, the same direction the pickup was coming from. Had he continued to look at the edge of the northern rocks he would have seen the vehicle as it came into view. At that time he caught a glimpse of reflected light in the sky to his front. He knew at once it was either a helicopter or drone and immediately stood up, waving his arms and yelling as loud as he could. ”Were down here!” He cried. “Help, we need help!” Captain Poole awoke with a start and climbed toward where the Colonel was jumping up and down and still yelling.
“Damn it Colonel, shut up and sit down! If there are any tango’s around here, they know exactly where we are?”
“But, that’s a drone’s attention I’m trying to get.”
“The drone can see, but not hear.” The way it is circling, I’m sure you were seen.”
“Stop the vehicle, and hand me the binoculars!” Said Sayeeed, taking the glasses, he trained them on the object he had seen on the rocks far to his left. He had just focused on the individual when he dropped out of sight. “Quickly, that way.” He said pointing to the distant ridge of huge boulders. “I got you now infidel!” He growled to himself.
“Whoever is in that pickup just spotted the person jumping around. “ The man guiding the drone from his remote location many many miles away was telling his boss.
“Good guy, bad guy? Can you take out the pickup before they get to them?”
“Probably a bad guy, this area is hot. I might not be able to swing around in time to acquire the target and take them out, but I can try.” He told the senior officer standing beside him, as he began turning the drone from its present course in an attempt to intersect the fast moving pickup truck before they could reach the men in the rocks. Just as he was acquiring a lock-on of the pickup, the monitor they were watching became a streaked maze of hissing lines.
“What the Hell is happening? Where’s the picture?” The officer demanded. “Get the link back up …now!”
“Pull up to that trail leading up into the rocks.”
“Yes Sayeed,” The driver replied. He pulled the vehicle up to the rocks and stopped.
Grabbing his AK-47, the Sayeed quickly opened the door and ran to the cover of the rocks. “You, hiding in the rocks, come down; we are here to help you.” Sayeed said in his broken English.
“He is sticking his head up trying to see where you are.” came from Saif, where he was hiding behind the pickup.
“Come out at once.” repeated the man, waving the AK-47 at the individual hiding in the rock formation.
Raising his hands into the air, the colonel stood up among the rocks, forgetting he had the pistol in his hand, he started down toward the man on the ground. He was only about 50 meters from the man, when he stumbled, tripping over the rough ground, falling forward. His hands instinctively came down to catch himself, accidently discharging the pistol in his hand into the rocks at his feet. Startled by this action, the senior holy warrior pressed the trigger on the AK-47 sending a spray of 7.62 rounds toward Colonel Housley. Three rounds of the first burst fired struck the rocks at his feet and ricocheted harmlessly into the air. The next five struck the Colonel starting at his lower legs and began climbing up his body. The last bullet struck the man in the chest, punching a hole through the heart and exiting out the back. As he was stumbling back, Sayeed took new aim and sent another blast of fiery death into the sliding body. Streaking rounds slammed in his upper back, working their way down to his hips, causing him to jerk as if still alive.
Just moments before in the darkened room a picture reappeared on the monitor. “Quick, find the pickup and men.” yelled the officer.
“Yes Sir, I’m scanning as fast as the cameras with let me.”
Finding the pickup, they began scanning toward the rocks, only to find the motionless body of a figure lying on the ground and a blood trail marking his descent.
“Sir! That’s one of ours! Do I target the tangos?” Questioned the operator.
“I don’t know I don’t have the authority to make that call.” The Officer said begrudgingly.
“Major, you had better shit or get off the pot, because the crap is hitting the fan! The man with the rifle is heading up into rocks and when he gets there, the other guy has had it!” The operator was saying excitedly and at the same time wondering to himself, “If you don’t have the authority what in Heaven’s name are you doing in this room? Also, what happened to the authority you had just before the screen went blank?”
Sayeed yelled to his fellow warrior beside the pickup. “Cover me; I am going to see if the infidel left any documents where he was hiding.”
“ I’m watching.” He said picking up the rifle he had never fired before and had no idea how it was supposed to work. “Please don’t let there be another man up there, or if there is let him be unharmed.”
Causally walking around the boulders, the senior Mujahedeen found himself staring into the eyes of the downed pilot sitting on the ground. “You, come out with your hands over your head.”
Complying with the man holding the rifle pointed at him, Poole resisted the urge to hold his ribs to ease the pain while trying to rise, he managed to get to his feet after a few moments of struggling. Standing before the rifleman, he waited to see what was to be his fate.
“You thought you were too smart for me, didn’t you American dog.” With that statement, he quickly forced his prisoner out of the rocks toward the pickup and its driver.
“If I’d had my pistol, you would be speaking to Allah right now.” Poole was thinking to himself.
To Saif, Sayeed was saying. “Search him for anything.”
Holding up the Captain’s military identification card. “He has no weapons, this I. D. is all I found.”
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-29 show above.)