First Sergeant Lucky spit a stream of tobacco juice into the Coke can he carried. "Ma'am, she's ready to go for that goddamn dog and pony show down at Tango Range tomorrow. I didn't get to tell you earlier this morning, but the colonel ordered everything put on that damn bird. This morning our armament guys wasted three hours loading that thing up with those new Stingers. They just finished about a half hour ago. It's sitting over in the secure holding area now."
"What about the internal auxiliary tanks?"
The first sergeant looked at his commander as if she'd grown wings. "Ma'am, we weren't told to put in the auxiliary tanks."
"I just got off the phone with the colonel, and he says he wants them in."
The first sergeant cursed resignedly. "Damn, ma'am! We've haven't put those things in since we deployed last year to Okinawa. That's going to waste another two hours of maintenance time."
"I told the colonel that, but he insisted. This is one of those arguments we're not going to win."
The first sergeant spit another gob into the can. "Yes, ma'am. I'll get them started on it. Make it look real purty for the colonel. You know how many hours of good maintenance time we've wasted getting 579 ready for this display? I'm surprised they didn't have us paint and wax the damn thing."
"Don't say that too loud or someone might hear. Thanks, Top."
Jean closed the door and looked at the two men who had been following the conversation without much comprehension. She explained. "We've got an aircraft going down to Tango Range tomorrow to be part of a military display for a bunch of high-ranking Korean officers. I'm going to have my people put in the four internal auxiliary tanks. Normally we don't use them."
She pulled a manual off the bookcase behind her. "With internal auxiliary tanks we add quite a bit of range. That gives us, let's see, nine hundred and thirty-six nautical miles total. Still not enough. Plus, the internal tanks fill up the entire cargo bay."
She shut her eyes in thought for a second and mused out loud. "The internal tanks are basically rubber fuel bladders in a metal frame. If we drain two or three on the way in, the people we're going to pick up could deflate the tanks and cram aboard. We'd have to get down pretty low on fuel anyway because of the weight problem. Damn! All we need is one refuel on the way in or out, and I think I could fly it."
Hossey protested. "Hold on a second there, Jean. We didn't come here to get you to fly the mission. We wanted you to go with us to your battalion commander and convince him to give us an aircraft and crew."
Jean barked a short laugh. "With all due respect, sir — bullshit! Let's be real. We have a snowball's chance in hell of convincing my colonel to give up a helicopter to violate North Korean and Chinese airspace to rescue some Special Forces soldiers trapped there. Do you think he'd believe you? What would you do if someone came into your office with that kind of story? This is the 'real army.' We don't do things without orders in triplicate. Even if he halfway believed us, which I doubt, he'd have to confer with his boss, who'd have to confer with his boss, and so on. Look at all the trouble you've been having dealing with your own special operations people.
"Besides, what's the matter with me flying? Just because I don't have a certain bodily appendage doesn't mean I can't fly a helicopter as well as, if not better than, most men. The only problem we've got is convincing someone else to be as stupid as me. Stupider actually. I've got a definite reason for flying this mission.
"I can't fly alone. The Blackhawk is a two-pilot bird. You can't reach all the switches from one seat. Besides, that's much too long a flight to try with one pilot. I'm going to have to find another fool to go along." She looked at her calculations and started doing some more figuring.
Trapp had a small smile on his face. This female captain sure was damned spunky, he thought. He'd never worked with women in the army before. In fact, he had never been particularly fond of the whole concept. But he had to admit he admired the way the captain had answered the colonel. She was right, too. He glanced over at the colonel. Hossey raised his eyebrows and shrugged at Trapp, as if to say, I'm not going to argue with her anymore.
Jean looked up. "It's roughly a five-hour flight from here to the pickup zone, then five hours back out. That means we'd have to leave early this evening to make it in and out during darkness. By eight at the latest. I've never flown that long continuously. Nobody here has."
She shook her head irritably. "None of that matters anyway if we don't find a way to refuel on the way in. Even flying over to Japan won't work. China is closer to the north and east than Japan is. I'd have to fly south to Japan and then hop north. That would add more than eight hundred miles to the trip. We'd never make it by tonight. Besides, we'd never get fuel. Once we steal the bird we won't have an authorized flight plan."
Trapp suddenly jerked forward in his chair. "I know where we can get refueled."
Three more kilometers and they'd be at the pickup zone. Going downhill was much easier. The terrain had become less steep, and the bright sun and hard walking had warmed up everyone. Riley called a rest halt beneath a tall tree. He took out Olinski's monocular and climbed up the tree to get a look around.
Looking ahead to the east from his perch, Riley tried to spot the pickup zone. As the elevation dropped, the vegetation had gotten thicker, and he couldn't tell whether there was a clearing where the map said it should be. He could see the river off to their left front, sloping down toward Yanji in the north. The unimproved dirt road was there also— Riley could catch glimpses of the brown snake crossing the undulating terrain.
Riley looked farther to the east and froze. He spotted a plume of dust. Then another. And another. He spent five minutes studying the activity, then carefully shimmied down the tree.
Mitchell was waiting for him. "What you got? See the pickup zone?"
Riley shook his head. "But I can see the river and the road, so we're only about three kilometers away from where it's supposed to be. We've got visitors coming." Riley had immediately captured the entire team's attention. "I can see dust raised by vehicles heading this way. About ten kilometers past where the pickup zone is supposed to be. They seem to be moving real slow. I'd say we've got a cordon of troops heading toward us. They must have definitely found the crash site and figured out we were somewhere around. Really didn't take any genius on their part to figure out we'd head for the coast."
Comsky was the first to grasp the obvious implication. "Do you think we'll make the PZ before them?"
"Yeah, we can definitely make the PZ before them," Riley assured him, "that's not the problem. The problem is to keep them from seeing us when they sweep by. They're moving pretty slow — I'd say about two kilometers an hour. It gets dark in about five hours, so it's going to be close."
Olinski raised himself slightly on his good arm. "They'll stop for the night. I don't think they'll keep up their sweep in the dark. They'll stop and set up a guard line, then move out tomorrow morning at first light."
Mitchell considered this. "So it's a question of whether they make it to the pickup zone before dark. If they don't, we're OK because we'll be there. If the Chinese do make it there, or farther, we're going to have to go through their lines tonight."
Riley nodded. "I think we ought to hold up here and keep watch on the search line. Wait until dark and then move down. With a little luck the Chinese will stop before the PZ."