“Coach07 go for Lifter19.”
“How copy on Stark01 and 02 ETA?”
“Ten minutes. Be advised, enemy at five-hundred meters bearing one-eight-zero.”
“Copy, Coach07.” Thanks, he thought. Wanting to tell them it was closer to two-hundred meters. Hal raised his M4 to a concealed position, leaning behind the rocks. He watched the light trucks avoid the mouth of the canyon, each pulling off to a side of the canyon for cover.
Command radioed Hal their real-time assessment form the AWACS flying overhead. “Lifter19, enemy personnel dismounting. Fifteen to twenty PAX approaching on foot from your southwest.”
“Copy Coach07,” Hal said in a calm voice. Then shouted into his radio to his fellow PJ… “Lennon! I need you here with the 203 on the west wall!”
“Roger. On the way.”
Hal flipped up his NVGs, peering through the EOTech night vision scope on his M4. Waiting for the hostiles to arrive in his line-of-fire. If they get in, it’s CQC, he thought. Pondering Close Quarter Combat with Iraqi insurgents. Hal imagined George Washington in battle, remembering a story he read about the General. Wondering if he would have the same kind of bravery, the way Washington strode on horseback across the front lines, unafraid of enemy fire. Hal now realized Washington’s bravado wasn’t about the man, it was about his care for his men — his willingness to risk his life for them.
PING! The first shot from the insurgents ricocheted off the canyon wall. No need to worry about Rules of Engagement, Hal thought. It was all self-defense now and the unit was clear to fire. Hal spotted the Technical creeping in reverse toward the canyon opening. Far enough to give the gunner in back room to fire the tripod-mounted machine gun into the canyon. Hal squeezed off a burst. Exploding the truck’s back window. The gunner swung the heavy gun toward Hal, who fired another quick burst, taking the man out.
Hal heard a scuffle across the canyon and saw movement from the corner of his eye. It was the arriving Lennon, taking cover on the opposite canyon wall. He readied his M203, a grenade launcher with a 40mm projectile. Lining it up on the bold insurgents rushing toward the mouth of the canyon. Lennon fired and the explosion hit the dirt at the feet of three insurgents, sending them flying. The others held fast at the opening. Adjusting their strategy. They took cover and entered more slowly with caution.
A few who ducked for cover from the 203 unwittingly opened themselves up to Hal. He fired, dispatching one while the others backed up to more secure cover. Hal gave up his location by firing, and the insurgents riddled the solid boulder with bullets. The rounds ricocheted off like BBs. Forming a dust cloud that provided a natural “smoke” cover for Hal. He dropped down lower, changing firing position from behind the giant rock.
Hal heard shouting in Arabic and the enemy fire ceased. A sign they were bringing in something more powerful than their AKs. Hal peered around the base of the boulder — observing an Iraqi shouldering an RPG launcher, aiming it on the boulder. Hal squeezed off a quick burst from his M4, striking the man in the torso. His pain response caused him to pull the trigger on the rocket-propelled grenade. It skipped off the canyon floor and bounced up into the solid rock guarding Hal. EXPLODING.
The boulder broke apart into chunks, shielding Hal from the bulk of the blast. The concussion was so strong it sent Hal to his hands and knees. The detonation sound amplified off the canyon walls, giving Hal temporary deafness. With ears ringing, his world was now in “slow-time.” Hal rose up to see another Iraqi fire an RPG on Lennon’s position. Lennon dove behind a small cluster of rocks. The RPG hit it, blasting it to dust and jarring Lennon, who floundered out into the open like he was lost. Easy picking for the insurgents. They fired, striking Lennon in the ribs.
The SEALs unloaded with cover fire over the top of Lennon. Pushing the Iraqis back to the mouth of the canyon. “Two-three to Lifter one-nine, request permission to advance.”
“Negative,” Hal replied. Their primary objective was to protect the HVT — the stealth bomber. If the SEALs advanced, it would put them at risk and expose the B-2.
Hal’s cover was now reduced to rubble, but the SEALs were keeping the Iraqis at bay with their suppression fire. Hal knew he had to move. “Two-three and Two-four, cover me,” He ordered. Hal rose to a low crouch and darted across the canyon, out in the open. Strafing the Iraqis on the fly. If the Iraqis had NVGs he would be a goner. Hal grabbed Lennon by the collar on the run, dragging him to cover on the west wall. Hal checked his pulse. He was alive but unconscious. Hal staunched the bleeding from Lennon’s chest and keyed the radio. “Lifter19 to Coach07, how copy on CSAR? Man down. Condition alpha. Gunshot wound to the torso.”
“Coach to Lifter, five minutes out. Looking for a safe LZ.”
The Iraqis plotted outside the canyon. Even with numbers dwindled to under a dozen; they were emboldened knowing only a few armed Americans remained. They knew air support would be arriving soon and their best hope for cover was inside the canyon. The Iraqis moved in using cover-and-fire tactics copied from American urban assault teams. Half of them made it all the way in and took cover behind rocks on a far wall. Firing on the Americans inside. Hal hurled both his M67 grenades, one after the other. Taking out a couple Iraqis. The others kept coming.
The SEALs threw everything they had, but couldn’t stop the insurgent advance. Hal picked up the 203 and fired, holding them off — for a moment. The insurgents were getting the upper hand. More of them crept into the canyon. All the kicked up dust from the firefight rendered Hal’s NVGs useless. He emptied the last clip of his M4 into the dust cloud. One insurgent would drop and another would appear from outside to take his place. How many are there? Hal thought. It seemed like they had already killed the twenty PAX reported by command.
Just inside the canyon, a few insurgents gathered with a flashlight, shining it at the ground. Hal watched them pull the B-2 wingtip that broke off when it clipped the canyon wall in the forced landing. The insurgents brushed dust off it. A bullet ricocheted off the wall next to Hal and he ducked down. Why didn’t the pilots pick it up? He thought.
The Al Qaeda rebels celebrated. Yelling in Arabic. Passing the wingtip pieces around. Keenly aware of the financial and strategic value of the highly-secretive stealth fragments. They could trade the pieces for an arsenal of weaponry with Russia or China. Countries more than happy to get their hands on stealth fragments they could reverse engineer to improve their own stealth aircraft. Or to create better defenses against American stealth fighters and bombers. Either way, the fragments were worth a lot to them. A troubling development for Hal. He keyed his radio. “Lifter19 to Coach07.”
“Go for Coach, Lifter.”
“Enemy insurgents have HVT fragments. They’re taking them from the canyon. Over.”
“Lifter19, please repeat last.”
“They have HVT pieces. A wingtip. How copy on pursuit?”
There was no response.
“Lifter19 to Coach07,” Hal continued. “They’re getting away with an HVT Boomerang component. How copy on pursuit? Over.”
Hal waited for the answer. He was sure they heard him and they were just mulling over options. A petrifying thought occurred to Hal… These fragments could end the Air Force’s tactical advantage over the entire world. We may never again hold the title of Owner of the Night.