Using a large body of water greatly increased the chances of hitting the right location for two reasons: First, the MC-130 Talon navigated by reflected radar images. The smooth, flat surface of the lake would give an excellent radar image to the Talon's navigator, allowing him to zero in on it, as opposed to a land drop zone, which would give off the same image as the surrounding terrain. Second, Riley, as jumpmaster, would now be able to do some spotting from the aircraft; the team wouldn't jump unless he was positive that the plane was over the lake. From bitter experience, Riley knew that there were few things worse than landing not knowing where you were.
Riley thought about another aspect: The water drop zone would be more secure. There was much less chance of running into unfriendlies on a lake late at night than in an open field. Open fields usually had houses next to them. Riley looked over the operational area (OA) on the map. There didn't appear to be any open fields suitable for a drop zone within five kilometers of the target anyway. A second aspect of security was that the parachutes could be hidden by simply sinking them in the lake, precluding a repeat of the great digging exercise they had just conducted.
Riley felt very comfortable with Mitchell's choice. "What about exfil? Had any time to look at that?"
Mitchell scratched his jaw. "Well, Dave, that's another story. There are several places we can use for PZs. That's not a problem. What worries me, though, is that the warning order said we were going to have two MH-60s take us out. Now, I may not be the brightest guy in the world, but I do know a little about the Blackhawk. Jean is rated on that aircraft and I know from her that it doesn't have the range, even with external tanks, to make it from here to the target area and back. Not even close. I'm curious how they think they're going to do this, and who's flying the mission. Especially considering our track record in training with helicopter exfils."
"I couldn't agree more. I'd like to meet the pilots before we go. Makes it a little more personal for them if they see who their passengers are beforehand. And it will make me feel better to look into their eyeballs."
Mitchell smiled. "Yeah. I understand. Some of those fly-boys are too high up in the clouds and need to come down to earth. I'll hit the colonel up and see if I can't get us a meet with someone who can talk to us about exfil. Hopefully we'll get an answer on that today, along with the request for more time."
Lieutenant Colonel Bishop was the duty officer on the night shift for the USSOCOM SFOB exercise staff. He read the message from the FOB requesting an additional twenty-four hours in isolation and another twenty-four on the ground to surveil the target. He considered waking the general, who was sleeping in the billet area in Tunnel 1, to get his opinion, then decided against it.
Bishop looked at the calendar on his desk. If he OK'd this request, the whole exercise would last forty-eight hours longer than it was presently scheduled for. Bishop had no desire to be away from home an extra two days for the sake of a game. Then, he reasoned, Olson would have to relay the request and the "computer chief of staff would probably disapprove it anyway. Bishop sat down at the keyboard and typed out a denial.
Riley and Mitchell were both unhappy with the short amount of time the team would have on the ground prior to the target hit. Twenty-four hours of surveillance was not sufficient to establish a valid pattern of guard patrols and other security measures. Despite that, Riley had expected the denial from SFOB. This whole operation was so tightly organized that he had doubted there would be any latitude built in.
Something even more important was bothering him. He grabbed Mitchell and took him out into the corridor, where they couldn't be overheard.
"What's the matter, Dave? Worried about the time line?" Riley shook his head. "Not really. It's tight, but we can do it. What's bugging me is whether this is real or not. The whole thing is kind of crazy, don't you think?"
Mitchell obviously felt the same way. "Yeah, it is strange. I've got a lot of questions about this whole setup. My primary concern, if this isn't just an exercise, is why the hell we're doing this. I mean, what's the purpose? As far as I know we aren't at war with China and they haven't done anything against the United States to warrant such an action by us."
Mitchell had keyed in on just what had been bugging Riley. The whole operation had the ring of an exercise about it. But it had a disturbing hint of reality too. The intelligence and imagery were top-notch, much better than what they normally received for training missions. The presence of the MC-130 aircraft in the hangar on the base said that it was very likely they were going to go somewhere at the end of isolation. From their meeting earlier in the day with the Talon crew, Riley and Mitchell knew that the aircrew was really planning an infiltration into China.
The air force navigator and the pilot, Lieutenant Colonel Riggins, had been happy with the choice of drop zone when Mitchell pointed it out to them. It would be easier than land for them to find. The crew of the Talon had not been told the reason the team was jumping into China; they just knew they had to get the team there. In another part of the building, in their isolation area, the aircrew was working just as hard as Team 3, plotting possible routes and examining the potential air defense threats along the way.
Riggins had told them that the Talon would fly to the target following the terrain at 250 feet above ground level and at 250 knots. (Riley had been on that type of gut-wrenching flight before, and he planned on not having anything in his stomach prior to takeoff.) One minute out from the drop zone, the plane would slow down to a safe jump speed of 125 knots and the ramp would be opened. Thirty seconds from the drop zone the plane would climb to 500 feet, which was the minimum safe jump altitude. The pilot had insisted that this was his maximum altitude, based on the radar threat in the area. At 500 feet, Riley knew that they would not even bother wearing reserve parachutes. If the main didn't deploy, the jumper wouldn't have time to pull his reserve anyway. Immediately after the last jumper was out, the plane would close the ramp, go back down to 250 feet, and head for home.
Mitchell voiced a new concern. "What about the weapons and other gear? That worries me."
They both knew that Sergeant Major Hooker had gone up to Yongsan to draw sterile equipment from the detachment's war stockage. The authorization had come direct from the SFOB. Hooker was also drawing live ammunition and explosives. They had never seen that done before.
Riley took a deep breath to clear himself of all these worries. "I don't know if this thing is real or not, Mitch. Most likely it's just an exercise, but we need to make sure everyone treats it like it's real."
Mitchell nodded his agreement to that philosophy. "Let's stay on top of everyone and make sure they do their best."
They both looked up as Hossey came down the hallway. "What are you two plotting?"
Riley held up his hands. "Nothing, sir. Just needed to clear our heads."
Hossey held out a sheet of paper. "You'll get a briefing on the helicopters, but it won't be from the pilots. They're over in Japan right now, and the powers-that-be have decided not to fly the pilots over here for security reasons. Some staff officer from the helicopter unit flying will be here at 1000 tomorrow morning."