Shay paused for a second, searching Wright’s expression. “Thanks, Corporal. I’m counting on you and your squad,” he replied. He patted him on the shoulder and then continued down the line of men that made up his platoon.
Turning to the man next to him, Wright said, “Shay’s a fine officer, Flowers.”
Private Nigel Flowers shrugged. “If you say so, Corporal.”
“You know his family’s rich — and I don’t mean well off, I mean like filthy rich, right? Like billionaire rich. He put all of that aside and joined the Army when the war started with Russia. He’s kind of like me. I was a program manager at Google. I was pulling down £160,000 a year before I joined 2 PARA. Of course, my wife nearly divorced me, but now she thinks I look sexy as hell in my uniform with my beret,” Wright added with a wry grin.
Flowers stopped fiddling with part of his gear to look at Wright. “You mean to tell me our lieutenant is rich beyond belief and he put all of that aside to join the 2 PARA? And you gave up a job at Google making more than I’ve made in my entire life up to this point to join the military? You two are both crazy. Me…I got drafted.”
Corporal Wright had taken a liking to Private Flowers. He reminded him of his little brother who had died his senior year of secondary school from cancer. Ever since Wright had been promoted to corporal, he had kept Flowers near him, under his wing so to speak, and the two had been inseparable ever since.
“Hey, Nigel, I didn’t quit Google, I just took a military leave of absence,” Wright said with a smirk. “And like I said before, when this war is over and we all get out of the Army, I’ll get you a gig working on my team at Google. You keep sticking with me, Nigel, and I’ll look out for you.”
Nigel smiled and shook his head. “You’re a class act, Wright. I’m sure glad you left Google to be a part of this; I never would have met you otherwise. I told my mum all about you and how you’ve been looking out for me — she thinks it right nice of you.”
Before either of them could say anything more, the plane banked hard to the right, nearly throwing them all off their feet. While they were trying to catch their balance, a loud explosion overwhelmed their senses, causing them to instinctively guard their ears. Then the plane jostled in the air, like they had hit some bad turbulence. With their hands occupied, several soldiers actually fell over; they scrambled to quickly right themselves.
“Stand by to jump!” shouted the lieutenant. One of the crew chiefs pulled the side door to the aircraft open.
Wright caught the first glimpse of what was happening outside. Strings of green tracers appeared to be flying in all directions, intermixed with small little puffs of black smoke.
Plunk, plunk, crack, crack.
Without warning, several new holes appeared on the walls of the aircraft. One of the men in Second Squad dropped to the floor limp, while another soldier grabbed at his leg and screamed in excruciating pain. Then the crew chief grabbed the lieutenant’s arm and yelled, “Get your men off the plane!”
The lieutenant nodded, but he was obviously worried about his two guys who had just been hit. The jump lights turned green. Without further prodding, the jumpmasters next to the door yelled at the soldiers who had lined up. One by one, the soldiers moved quickly down the line toward the exit. When Corporal Wright made it to the door, he paused for less than a second before launching himself off the aircraft.
Gravity took over. The wind buffeted his face and body, caressing it like a long-lost lover. His chute opened and jerked him hard as it fought against gravity’s inviting pull, slowing his descent in seconds. He looked down at his feet dangling in the air. His ruck was still attached to his drop cord, where it should be. He began to take in his surroundings. At the top of the ridge he and the other Gurkhas were supposed to capture, he spotted the radar station. Nearby, there were at least five Type 85 twin-barrel 23mm antiaircraft guns, firing away at the planes delivering the paratroopers as well as the men dangling from their chutes.
Green tracers from the enemy guns continued to crisscross the morning sky as more and more parachutes opened all around him. It was now a matter of getting enough soldiers on the ground so they could neutralize the threats for the follow-on waves.
He also spotted what appeared to be a four-engine plane, maybe a C-130 cargo plane, that had crashed a couple of kilometers away from the airfield. The thick black smoke added to the surreal scene below him. Closer to the airfield, he spotted several buildings on fire, smoke billowing out of them. On the parking ramp, a few destroyed aircraft were scattered about, and what appeared to be a Eurofighter was burning near the end of the runway.
“That German fighter was probably trying to take some of these antiaircraft guns out,” Wright thought, sad that they hadn’t succeeded in eliminating more of the incoming threats.
Corporal Wright looked ahead where the wind was leading him, to an empty field at the southwestern side of the runway. An orange X had been painted there, and a red smoke signal puffed away.
“At least the landing site hasn’t been destroyed,” Wright mused.
Pulling on the navigation cords of his chute, he angled his chute in that general direction. He suspected the rest of his platoon was doing the same.
To his right and on the opposite end of the runway was another orange X with a purple smoke signal, indicating another safe landing place for those who were closer to that location. Half a kilometer to the east, nestled between two housing complex areas, was another large field also marked by an orange X and a yellow smoke grenade. Clusters of paratroopers circled toward each of the three drop zones the pathfinders had established.
“There were supposed to be two more drop zones,” Corporal Wright thought. Things were really not going according to plan so far.
Once Wright was closer to the ground, he could make out dozens of small figures running toward the DZ from the main buildings of the airfield that hadn’t been destroyed. As he squinted, he saw that some of those figures were pointing weapons at him. The muzzles of those guns began to blink rapidly.
Zip, zap, zip, zap.
Bullets whizzed past his head and all around him. Wright did the best he could to get himself on the ground as quickly as he could. Frantically looking around for help, he spotted a couple of pathfinders shooting at the attackers, doing their best to provide some covering fire for their brethren.
With the ground approaching fast, Wright bent his knees slightly as he prepared for his landing. In seconds he was on the ground, tucking and rolling to his side. Once his momentum had stopped, he quickly unsnapped his chute and rifle case, pulling his SA80 out and slapping a fresh thirty-round magazine in place. With bullets still whipping through the air, Wright quickly found the source. Bringing his rifle to bear, he aimed at the PLA soldier shooting at his comrades. Without another thought, he squeezed the trigger, hitting the enemy soldier squarely in the chest, dropping him where he stood.
His eyes quickly scanned for more targets. The rest of his squad continued to land around him — he needed to buy his guys more time to get on the ground and organized. Running toward what he assumed was one of the pathfinders, he shouted, “Where’s the enemy fire coming from?”
The young private turned to look at him with a bewildered look on his face. “I have no idea, Corporal. I must have hit at least four of the buggers, but more and more keep showing up. I can’t find anyone else in my squad after I got the smoke grenade going.”
Corporal Wright decided it was time to take charge of the situation. He looked back to see who else was ready to move and spotted Private Flowers.