Riley turned to Chong. "They're putting troops in ahead of us, up there, with those helicopters."
Chong wearily rested the butt of his SAW machine gun on the ground. "What now, Top?"
"We keep heading into the mountains. That bird can carry only ten troops on board. The net's thinner that way. We have a better chance of fighting our way through by going up." Riley looked up into the darkness. "They're only about two klicks away, so we'll find out soon enough. I'm tired of running."
The pickup zone was clear. Mitchell sat with his back against a tree at the edge of the small clearing. The other members of Team 3 were crowded close around. They were all exhausted. Mitchell hated to think of what would happen if the helicopter didn't come and he had to get everyone moving again to find a hiding place before dawn.
Mitchell couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good night's sleep. Ever since the phone call to Jean's quarters had started him on this mission, he'd been running down on energy and sleep. No matter what the danger or situation, the body needed rest. Adrenaline could keep you going only so far. They were all cold, hungry, and tired. While they were moving, the physical exertion and fear kept the cold away. Now that they had stopped Mitchell could feel the night's chill penetrating his bones. He shivered briefly, the movement initiating pain in his cut that was beneficial in a perverse way — the pain kept him awake. He thought briefly of his wife in Korea, imagining her safe and asleep in her bunk. He wondered if he'd ever spend another night with her.
He tore his attention back to the present. There hadn't been any firing up in the mountains for quite a while. Mitchell wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He assumed that Riley and Chong were still running. The overflights by the S-70s indicated that the Chinese were probably airlifting troops into the mountains, which was bad news for the two men on the diversion team. Mitchell tried to accept that situation — they'd taken a chance on running the diversion. If an exfiltration helicopter didn't come tonight, he wasn't sure any of them would make it out. The Chinese now knew that there were people alive. Even though they were through the picket line, there would still be extensive troop operations throughout the area. The guard Olinski had killed would point the search back toward the border once the body was discovered.
Comsky was checking Olinski's and C.J.'s injuries in the dark, doing what little he could for them. Olinski was doing fairly well. Both breaks appeared to be clean. He was alert and monitoring the FM radio. C.J. was in worse shape now. The fall and subsequent movement had further aggravated the shattered arm. The man had lapsed into a sleep that was closer to unconsciousness. It was going to be very difficult to get him moving again. Mitchell knew he would have to, though. They couldn't carry another man.
Mitchell held his strobe light in his left hand. He checked to make sure that the infrared cover was firmly on. He was prepared to run out into the field and turn it on the second they had an indication that a helicopter was inbound. The IR cover on the strobe would prevent it from being seen by the Chinese helicopters. Only someone wearing night-vision goggles would be able to see the bright flash.
The lift birds continued to fly by every eight minutes on either side. The two gunship Z-9s had flown by three minutes ago. Riley and Chong had easily hidden from the helicopters' searchlights. Now they were moving cautiously through the dark. Somewhere ahead enemy soldiers were working their way down toward them. The terrain along the ridgeline was broken and jagged, with a few stunted trees growing amid the jumble of rocks that crowned the long finger of high ground heading into the mountains.
Riley and Chong moved from boulder to boulder. In the bright moonlight they both removed their night-vision goggles and hung them around their necks. Getting into a moving firefight with goggles on was not a good idea — the muzzle flashes from weapons at the closer ranges would temporarily blank them out. The illumination provided by the moon would be more than adequate. Riley held his SVD at his waist, slowly panning the muzzle from left to right as he scanned the terrain ahead. His M79 grenade launcher was ready at his side. Chong followed closely behind and to his right, leaving himself an open field of fire for his SAW. Both had unsnapped the covers on the holsters of their 9mm pistols. They were as ready as they could be.
21
"When the strike of a hawk breaks the body
of its prey, it is because of timing."
Both pilots were awake and alert despite being tired. They'd been in the air almost six hours. The two had been switching off every thirty minutes, with one flying under goggles and the other resting. It had been an exhausting regimen. Now the two pilots would have to be at their peak. Jean and Colin both had their goggles on as they wound their way through the foothills of the Changbai Range.
Lassiter concentrated on reading the map and ensuring that they were on the correct heading, while Long kept watch ahead, flying the terrain. In two minutes they crested the first ridgeline.
"That was the border," Lassiter called out. "We're over China now."
Anxiety churned in their stomachs as Long slowed the helicopter to eighty knots and started flying west, only twenty-five feet above the treetops. They knew the risks they were running now. Not only the Chinese but the terrain could be their enemy: a power line strung across in front of them, a radio tower, a microwave relay station, a tall hill coming up suddenly out of the dark. Any such obstacle could spell disaster.
Long headed west ten kilometers and then turned to the northwest, searching the ground for the small river that was to be their guideline. Lassiter continued to call out the instrument readings to her. They had agreed that she would fly the leg in. He would fly the leg out.
Long concentrated on flying. For the whole flight she had not allowed thoughts of what they would find on the pickup zone interfere with her performance, and she wouldn't now.
There was a quick intake of breath through the intercom. "Jesus, Colin. Take a look ahead."
Lassiter looked up from the instruments and scanned the night sky. It was obvious what the captain was referring to. He counted four aircraft in the sky ahead, higher in the mountains. Helicopters with their searchlights on.
"We're in for fun and games now."
Long took another view. "But it's also a good sign, in a way. It means the Chinese are looking for somebody too. It means there are people alive."
At Yanji the radar operator in the mobile unit again counted the number of blips on his screen. It still wasn't right. One had entered his screen at the eastern edge, almost looking as though it had come out of North Korea, and was now intermittently appearing and disappearing. The radar image did not have an identifier code.
Junior Lieutenant Baibang called on the radio for the second time, asking the helicopter to identify itself. Again no answer. It was also flying too low to the ground. Supporting the 3d Aviation Regiment on numerous training missions, Baibang had never seen a regimental helicopter fly that low during the daytime, never mind at night. Baibang picked up the radiophone to army headquarters.