They could all see Gillis and Ricco getting fidgety.
“Where the hell do we come in?” Ricco finally asked. “Why are we even here?”
Smitz turned to the tanker pilots.
“You’re here because you will perform the most crucial aspect of the raid,” he told them.
Both men brightened immediately—a small coup of diplomacy for Smitz.
“Now, depending on how it goes, you two will have either one of two missions,” he went on, turning everyone’s attention back to the satellite photo of the raid site.
“If the ArcLight is not airworthy, you will have to refuel the air assets once everyone has lifted off for the flight back to the ingress site. If the ArcLight is flyable, but is low on fuel, or if its tanks have been drained, then you will land and the fuel in your chopper will be pumped into the airplane. I’ve been assured it will be compatible. Now there’s a list of other contingencies, but there’s no question that fuel is the key to this whole operation. And you guys will have all the fuel.”
Gillis and Ricco were smiling so widely, it was as if they’d won the Medal of Honor already. Delaney glanced at Norton, who did a mile-high eye roll. After all their bitching, now the tanker pilots were happy?
Smitz moved the pencil pointer further down the piece of scrolled paper.
“Now for the ingress site,” he began again, pointing to another hazy photograph. This one was accompanied by several crude drawings. The photo showed a lone mountain at a location very different from the disguised air base. This mountain was a giant, so high there was even a wisp of snow at its peak. Yet it was a solitary place, surrounded by vast open desert. And it had an odd geological quirk to it. About halfway up on its southern side was a long, flat overhanging cliff. Looking from the south then, the mountain actually appeared to be half mountain, half mesa.
“This place is called Ka-el,” Smitz said, rolling the Arabic name off his tongue with some aplomb. “It was last used as an advance base by British SAS prior to the Gulf War.”
He pointed to the cliff. “You can see this area is flat as hell and long. We believe it’s long enough to accommodate a moving chopper takeoff.”
“You ‘believe’ or you’re sure?” Delaney asked.
Smitz looked up at him. “We believe we’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, leaving Delaney to scratch his head.
Smitz went on: “We ingress to this site, set down, and wait for the Hinds to recon the gunship’s base. Once we’ve determined the most opportune time to go in—that is, when the gunship is actually on the ground—then we saddle up and do the raid.”
Norton studied the photo of the oddly shaped mountain.
“Won’t we be very exposed up there?” he asked. “Anyone flying overhead will see us for sure. They’ll have to think it’s a bit strange that five choppers are sitting in the same place halfway up a mountain, even if we are painted like Iraqis.”
Smitz just shook his head. “That’s the beauty of this place,” he said. “We don’t have to be exposed at all.”
He pointed to the crude drawings under the mountain photo. One showed a cascade of vegetation coming down the side of the mountain and ending at the flattened-out area.
“All this vegetation is fake,” he said.
He pointed to the next drawing. “Behind it is this place.”
The drawing showed what appeared to be an enormous cave. If the dimensions penciled in were correct, this cavernous maw was larger inside than Hangar 2 back at Seven Ghosts Key.
“Damn, who lives there? Batman?” Delaney asked.
“Close,” Smitz replied. “Like I said, the SAS used this place as a forward chopper base during Desert Storm. Apparently it’s been around since the First World War. The Brits had enough room inside for a chopper squadron and a company of men. Just about what we’re packing. The Gomers never caught on.
“This is where we will go to first. We wait here until the right time arrives to strike, then we do the job. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be in-country for less than seventy-two hours….”
A gasp went through the room. “You mean seven hours, I hope?” Delaney said.
“No,” was Smitz’s reply.
“Here’s the reason why,” he explained. “The cave is about a hundred klicks away from where everyone thinks the disguised air base is located. But that hidden base is in a part of Iraq that is so remote and the terrain around it so rugged and yet similar to everything else in the area, it might take a few recon flights just to find it and pinpoint its exact location. Then we have to wait until we know the gunship is there. Between the two, I believe we will have to reconnoiter the target at least a few times before we go on. This means we have to be prepared to spend some time in that cave. Maybe a few nights. Maybe a week. Maybe even longer.”
A groan went through the chart room. But Smitz ignored it. He was used to that reaction by now.
“So here are the setups,” he began. “Step one, we leave here. Step two, we reach the cave. Step three, we await word from my office that the gunship might be at the base while step four, the Hinds go out and recon its location. Step five, the Hinds return. Step six, the whole unit goes out, we hit the base, recover the crew, and, we hope, the airplane itself. Step seven, we egress out, fly the AC-130 to Al-Khadi, in western Saudi.”
“The place from whence it came?” Norton asked. “Nice touch.”
Smitz looked up from the document for a moment.
“I must emphasize one thing,” he said. “Once we leave, we will be totally autonomous. We have to operate on our own, without expecting or getting any help from outside assets. That’s how secret this mission is. After we lift off from here, it will be like we never existed.”
This statement was met with nothing but grim stares and the shuffling of some feet.
Smitz returned to his missive. The scrolled paper was now totally flattened out and getting smeared from much use.
“Next item: code words,” Smitz announced. “As usual, complicated. Let’s see, the office wants the first Hind to be Delta Tango One. The second Hind will be Foxtrot Tango One. The Hook will be Alpha Tango Six. The first Halo will be Delta Tango Larry. The second Halo will be Delta Tango Curley… Jeesuz, who makes up this stuff?”
He read further down.
“The cave will be known as Target Point Zero. The objective will be known as Target Minus One Alpha. The—”
That was when Delaney interrupted him. “May I make a suggestion?”
Smitz looked up at him. “Sure, I guess…”
Delaney took the paper from Smitz’s hands and to the astonishment of all, tore off the paragraph listing the code words, crumpled it up, and threw it out an open porthole into the sea beyond.
“We’re going to have enough to worry about without trying to keep all that crap straight,” he declared.
Then he turned to Gillis and Ricco and said: “You guys will be Pumper.”
He pointed at the Army Aviation pilots. “You guys: Truck One. Truck Two.”
He pointed at Norton. “Hound Dog One…”
He pointed to himself. “Hound Dog Two.”
He pointed to the photo of the flattened mountain. “That will be the Bat Cave.” He pointed to the hidden air base. “That’s the Ranch.”
Then he looked up at everybody. “Any objections?”
They all just stared back at him. Delaney really was a nutty guy, Norton thought. But there was no one better at cutting through the bullshit.
“Fine by me,” Smitz finally replied.
A chorus from the others echoed that sentiment.