Hal instructed his unit to prep for a free-fall (non-static) jump. They each climbed into their chute-pack harnesses. Fastening belts around their chest and waist and pulling straps snug and comfortable. The rectangular free-fall canopy and chute had controls and brakes to enable a precise landing on the DZ.
The pilot radioed back with the six-minute warning to jump. The JSRC commander, Coach07, broke in over the radio… “Coach oh-seven, Coach oh-seven, Zeus one-five…”
“Zeus, go for Coach19,” the Herc pilot replied.
“Be advised, enemy activity near the DZ. HVT has no comms. Repeat no comms. Look for IR on DZ.”
“Copy that.”
Hal and his men got the message. It would be a tight jump and aim for an infrared chemlight to mark the drop zone.
The HC-130 ramp lowered like the jaw of a massive steel dragon — opening a chasm that sucked the compressed air out while freezing-cold air flooded in. Hal checked the chutes of his men, making sure they were properly prepped and ready. He also gave a quick inspection of each man’s rifle, sidearm, radio and grenades. Ensuring they were secure for the drop.
“Follow the leader!” Hal yelled over the propellers and the blast of cold air at his back. Giving the standard jump instructions to his men. He spoke with emphasis to the men he had never jumped with before to remove any confusion or doubt from the jump. “Count to one after I jump then go, you count to two, three and so on. Stay on the man in front of you. We may use S-turns to bleed altitude. If you land off target, head to the canyon opening.”
Hal stepped to the front of the line, eyeing the jump light, waiting for the green to jump. The navigator’s transmission to the base erupted over their radios, “Zeus one-five to Coach oh-seven, Inserting SAR now.” The jump light flashed green. Hal flipped down the Night Vision Goggles (NVGs) on his Mich helmet and leapt off the ramp into a star field, plummeting to a pool of crisp blackness below. The first SEAL counted a beat, ran two steps and sprung off the ramp.
Hal plummeted toward the black earth. Wind blasting him in the face as he eyed the ground for the IR chemlight. It wasn’t visible with the naked eye, but the infrared sticks glowed in high contrast through Hal’s NVGs. Hal spotted the light, its glare producing a soft glow on the canyon walls beyond. Hal aimed straight for the chemlight, steadied himself and pulled his chute.
Once safe under the chute canopy on a direct line to the DZ, Hal looked skyward for the rest of his unit. Confirming the popping of their chutes and that they were trailing him to the target. All four men were accounted for, drifting at staggered altitudes, right above him.
Hal saw the desert scrub coming up fast from a couple hundred feet. He pulled the toggles — the chute brakes, and released his seventy-pound ruck so it slid beneath his legs. It hit the ground first and he landed ahead of it in a jog. Coming down on the DZ so close to target that his ruck covered the chemlight. He tugged the ruck away. The next to land were the SEALs followed by Jonah and Lennon. The spark chaser hit the ground and rolled in a Parachute Landing Fall. Lennon stuck a clean landing behind him. Hal ordered Jonah to stay on his side, thinking he may be a combat liability. It was an order welcomed by the electronics specialist.
Hal called in the safe landing to command while the men removed their harnesses and gathered up their chutes. Hal scanned the mouth of the canyon. Towering rock walls rose from the ground, forming the canyon. They appeared ominous at ground level, much different than at twenty-thousand feet. A glimmer inside the canyon caught Hal’s eye. It was a twirling chemlight, swung on a string. A sign from their HVT. Hal waved his men up and radioed command that the target was in sight.
Crackly static burst over the radios. “Coach07 to Lifter19, Stark01 and Stark02 are in transit for exfil. ETA thirty minutes.”
“Copy that,” Hal replied.
Command continued, “Escort called off due to low cloud deck. Unfriendly activity at ten miles. Two vehicles bearing one-eight-zero. One Technical. One transport. Approx twenty PAX. Over.”
“Roger, Coach07,” Hal replied. Concerned about the Technical — a light, improvised vehicle with mounted machine gun in back. Typically, small Toyota trucks from the 90s. PAX was the total number of enemy passengers in both trucks. They must have seen the parachute canopies, or one of them had NVGs to see the chemlights, He thought. Stark one and two were the code names for the Pave Hawk helicopters heading toward them to provide air support and care for any wounded. The helos would also be their ride home. “Lifter19 to Coach07, how copy on additional air support?” Hal asked. “Anything in the area? Over.” Hal waved his team up. Double-timing it to the canyon opening, waiting for the reply from command.
“Negative, Lifter19” the reply came. “We’ve got nothing in the area.”
Hal copied the transmission as he reached canyon opening. He stared in awe at a massive camo-net draped over the form of what appeared to be a Luftwaffe Flying Wing, deep in the canyon. Operation Outback, he thought. It all made sense—Boomerang.
Beneath the desert camouflage net was not a German airplane, but the most lethal fighting machine in the Air Force arsenal — a B-2 Stealth Bomber. Boomerang, as the USAF airmen nicknamed them.
The B-2 achieved near radar-invisibility through many classified methods: a design with a low radar cross-section, reduction of heat-signatures, and the Radar-Absorption Material (RAM) forming the outer layers of the craft. The RAM consisted of blended radar absorbing polymers coated with Iron Ball paint. Iron Ball alone reduced the Radar Cross Section (how it appeared on enemy radar) by seventy to eighty percent.
The pilot, Captain James Rodgers, rushed over to greet Hal and his team with grateful handshakes. “Welcome to the Spirit of Colorado! We had an electronics failure and had to set her down. We tried to guide her into the canyon for cover and scraped a wing on the way in. She’s still air-worthy though. My Mission Commander got a little jammed up on the landing and he’s resting under her now. He’s conscious. Not much pain, but may have some internal damage.”
Hal nodded to Lennon, and the PJ took off for the B-2 with his med-kit. “We’ve got enemy moving in fast. Two trucks with ten passengers total,” Hal said to the others. “Two-three and two-four, cover the bird while Jonah works inside. I’ll be on the east side of the canyon opening. When Lennon finishes with the Mission Commander, send him to the west side of the canyon.”
The SEALs copied his order and hustled into action with Jonah following behind.
“Lifter19 to Coach07,” Hal radioed command, “Update on HVT status… One bravo, minor injuries. Conscious. How copy on enemy movement?”
“Enemy at three miles and closing. PAX armed with AKs and RPGs.”
“Copy that,” Hal said, flipping down the NVGs on his Mich helmet as he crossed the canyon opening. Realizing it bottle-necked to the entrance. Not good. A perfect ambush point for the enemy. If they drive the Technical into the canyon, we’re all in trouble, he thought.
Hal scanned outside the canyon through his NVGs — watching green-tinted dust plumes trailing both trucks as they wound toward the canyon, dodging sagebrush and blazing their own trails across the desert. Hal took cover on the eastern wall behind a three-foot outcropping of solid rock. He took an inventory of his gear: M4 carbine rifle, Beretta M9 9mm sidearm, two M67 frag grenades and a SRK VG-1 fixed-blade knife.
Hal thought about his SRK and how it had never seen combat. He realized only his M4 had, and that was from wild strafing as he fired out of a Pave Hawk on a couple missions. He had never been in close quarter enemy contact. He hoped the helos would arrive with their .50 cal’s before the enemy trucks did and save the day. Hal keyed his radio. “Lifter19 to Coach07…”