"This is General Gunston. I'm going to patch you in to Colonel Ehrlich, who's monitoring the situation from the AWACS. It will save time,
rather than having everything relayed through me. I'll monitor on this end. He's got some news. Hold on a second." There were some beeps and clicks and then Gunston was back on. "Go ahead, Pete. General Parker is on the line."
"Yes, sir. Things are getting hairy over there. We've got the Blackhawk only a couple of minutes out from the area of all the activity. It's obviously been spotted, since we've got five Chinese helicopters vectoring in on it — two heading straight for it, two straight in from the north, and one moving to the east. They're about four minutes out from intercept and are being guided by a local radar. We've also got four fast movers scrambled out of Shenyang. They're nine minutes out."
Parker cut in. "What about our forces?"
"I've ordered the F-16s to move in to fifty miles offshore. Wildcard will be twenty miles off the North Korean coast in twenty-two minutes."
Parker considered the situation. "What do you think, General Gunston?"
"Sir, that helicopter is never going to make it out. Those Chinese helicopters vectoring in are probably armed. The Blackhawk doesn't have a chance against five of them, especially if they're being guided in. Even if it escapes them somehow, it still has the fast movers to contend with. It might dodge the jets for a while by getting low into the terrain and outmaneuvering them."
Ehrlich came back over the net. "Sir, we're running out of time. I'm also starting to get some radar signals from the North Koreans. I think all the Chinese air activity has spooked them. I'm patched in to both Wildcard and the F-16s. What do you want me to do?"
Parker closed his eyes. Whatever his decision was, the consequences would be severe.
Mitchell turned on the strobe. His eyes squinting, he scanned the skies. Out of the wood line, Comsky and Hoffman carried Olinski, who was still on the radio with the helicopter. They could hear the inbound bird now, off to the east.
Jean Long was guiding along the river. Ahead, through the goggles she could see the lighter line of the unimproved road snaking across the ground. Not far now. She slowed down further, to fifty knots.
Lieutenant Wei felt the adrenaline race through his veins. He had never felt like this before. He was piloting the lead Z-9, following the azimuth given by Yanji Control. He couldn't see much by the light of the moon. According to Yanji they were only three minutes away from the intruder, who was slowing down. Wei pressed his send button and called the second aircraft. "We'll make one pass to see what's happening and spot the intruder. Then we'll turn around to the left and do a gun run. Guide off me."
Riley took a deep breath, then let it out. "Are you ready?"
"Roger that, Top."
"On my round."
"Roger that."
Riley took another deep breath and held it. He pulled back on the trigger and the SVD spoke. Immediately he started sighting in on the second target as the roar of Chong's SAW rent the night.
Mitchell swung his head and listened. He could hear the helicopter close by now, but he thought he heard more firing up on the ridgeline. He heard it again. The burst of a SAW. It could mean only one thing. Riley and Chong were still alive, and they were fighting. Mitchell looked at Olinski, who lay on the ground next to him. Olinski was still monitoring the radio and hadn't heard the firing. Hoffman and Comsky were leading C.J. to the center of the field to join up with them. As the helicopter closed in, the roar of the bird covered up any sound of firing from the hills.
Long and Lassiter spotted the strobe at the same time. It flashed brightly on and off in their goggles.
"Roger, PZ. We've got your location. Turn off the light so we can land. Over."
A second later the light was out. Jean slowed the helicopter to a hover over the open field. She could see the men clustered below as she swung the aircraft about and faced to the east. She concentrated on bringing the helicopter down next to the small party on the ground.
Lassiter's voice came over the intercom. "We've got company heading this way. I count two helicopters coming in from the northwest. About two minutes out."
Mitchell closed his eyes as the four powerful blades of the Blackhawk threw loose grass and debris through the air. The helicopter settled on its wheels only eight feet from where they crouched. Immediately Mitchell, Comsky, and Hoffman ran forward. They leapt on and began hacking at the 550 cord holding the two front internal fuel tanks. They freed the right one and shoved it out the door. Comsky jumped out and ran over to C.J. He picked up the injured pilot and thrust him into the helicopter, as Mitchell and Hoffman shoved the other forward tank out the left door. Mitchell grabbed C.J. and sat him down as Hoffman and Comsky ran back, hoisted the stretcher, and carried Olinski on board. The whole operation had taken only forty seconds. Mitchell turned and gave the pilot the thumbs-up.
With their goggles and helmets on, the pilots were unidentifiable to the men in the back. As Lassiter lifted off 579, Jean Long unbuckled her harness and turned around in her seat. She closed her eyes briefly in thanks as she saw her husband right behind Lassiter's seat. She threw a headset to him.
Mitchell caught the headset and put it on as the bird lifted over the trees on the eastern edge of the pickup zone. He keyed the intercom. "We've got two more men farther up along that finger to the northwest."
"We've got company!" Lassiter yelled through the set as he accelerated the helicopter and jerked it hard to the left. Those in the back were tumbled on top of each other. C.J. screamed with pain as he landed again on his shattered arm. Two helicopters roared by out of the northwest and started to circle.
"The next one will be a gun run," Jean yelled. "They're circling to the east to come back. Turn north and dive into the riverbed."
In less than a second Mitchell took all this in: His wife was on board. They were being attacked by Chinese helicopters. And up there on the ridge, he could see the red and green tracers of Riley and Chong's firefight.
Riley had hit his first two targets before the rest could find cover. The sudden silence was deafening.
"How many did you get, Tom?"
"I'm pretty sure I got two. How about you?"
"Two. That leaves us six. We've got about five minutes before they get reinforced."
There was a burst of fire from up ahead and green tracers flew by to their right. Another burst. "Shit! We'll never make it running." Riley looked at Chong. "What do you say, wild man?"
Chong had made his peace in the dark of the previous night. He was ready. "This is as good a place as any. I'd rather take a stand here than get chased down by helicopters come dawn."
"OK then. This is it. I'll see if I can take out these six ahead. You might as well cover to the east. That's where our next visitors will come from."
The lead Z-9 strained as it banked in a steep left-hand turn. Wei had only a brief glance at the aircraft as they flew by. An American UH-60 Blackhawk. This was going to be a real challenge.
Wei calculated in his mind as he completed the turn and gave chase. From what he had seen of the S-70s the transport battalion had, the Blackhawk held a great edge over his helicopter in terms of maneuverability and speed. The Americans also held a big edge at night.