Salty sweat ran into Hal’s eyes. Blinding him for a moment. He wiped his face with his sleeve and watched the fragments loaded into the back of a truck. They would be gone forever if he didn’t act soon. He slammed a thumb onto the push-to-talk radio. “How copy on pursuit?”
Having spent the ammo from his own sidearm, Hal pulled the Beretta from under Lennon’s jacket and rose to his feet. It was dark enough that the enemy couldn’t see him if he didn’t fire, so he hugged the canyon wall and crept forward. Reaching the protrusion of rocks that bit off the B-2’s wingtip. The same protrusion providing the enemy with cover on the other side.
Hal leaned out around the rocks and got the drop on two enemy fighters. He was now in the realm of in-your-face close quarters. His training came back to him in a flash. Anatomical textbook diagrams of vulnerable points appeared in his mind’s eye over his enemies. Like augmented reality in an imaginary heads-up-display. Hal went target to target. The first he shot in the neck. Before either could raise their weapons, he shot the second in the head. The SEALs laid down cover fire on the sound of his gunshots — keeping insurgents in the canyon from lining up clear shots on Hal.
An enemy stormed from Hal’s left. Hal threw a jab upward with the heel of his palm, thrusting up through the man’s nose. Rifling his septum into his brain. Instantly killing him.
A crackled reply came from command. “Negative on pursuit. Stay with HVT.”
Too late now! Hal thought.
Footfalls scurried toward Hal from the canyon opening. Hal yanked the AK out of Flat Face’s dead hands, spun and squeezed off a burst into the enemy storming the canyon. Hal sprinted out of the canyon, shooting at anything that moved. One of the transport trucks, a small Toyota, took off across the desert with two men in the cab. Insurgents fired out of the canyon toward Hal. He stayed low, taking cover and firing back. Then made a break for the other truck with the mounted gun in back. He threw the door open, jumped in and turned the ignition. No keys. He looked up at the dust plume trailing the Toyota ahead of him. American air-superiority slipping through his fingers. Hal glanced around the cab and then down to the seat—at the keys. He fired it up and took off.
The frantic radio call from a SEALs sounded over his headset. “Romeo23 to Coach17. Where is evac and support? Enemy moving in fast.” Hal could hear volleys of machine gun fire over the radio.
“Coach07 to Romeo23, Stark01 five miles from LZ.”
Hal focused through NVGs on the Toyota ahead as it bounced across the scrub. The bouncing of his truck made the NVGs too erratic, so he flipped them up. Pointing his truck toward the hazy village lights ahead.
Command broke over the radio. “Coach07 to Lifter19, SITREP. We’re tracking a light truck heading back toward village and the Technical closing fast.”
Hal had to come clean before the Pave Hawks rained fire on him. “Lifter to Coach. I’m in the Technical. Pursuing other. Do not fire. Over.”
“Lifter19 Repeat.”
“I’m in the Technical, in pursuit of HVT fragments, sir.”
“Lifter19, you are in violation of a direct order. Return to canyon and mark the LZ for Stark01.”
Hal could now see the rear of the lead truck with its one working tail light. “Coach07, I can recover HTV.”
“Negative. Lifter19. KIO, Lifter19, KIO.”
The order hit Hal hard. KIO was the Knock-It-Off order. Anyone up or down the Air Force chain could utter it at any given time and the mission must be aborted. No questions asked. Hal’s glare on the truck ahead sharpened. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and stepped on the gas.
“Negative, Coach07. HVT intel is priority.”
A radio channel opened in the canyon and Hal heard a flurry of gunfire along with two Navy SEALs yelling “HOOYAH!” Hal knew he made the right call with them.
Hal closed in on the lead truck with lights off. Neither insurgent in the cab saw him coming. Hal grabbed the AK on the seat and used its stock to pound out the windshield. He flipped the rifle around and aimed on the truck driver ahead. Both trucks bounced over the thick scrub. The most he could hope for was a lucky shot. He squeezed the trigger. Holding it down for a long spray across the cab. Bullets rattled through the thin aluminum and crashed through the back window. The truck pulled hard to the right, telling Hal he hit the driver. The Iraqi beside him fired back at Hal then took the wheel. Hal raised the AK again only to hear the CLICK of an empty magazine. He would have to stop the truck the hard way.
In the canyon, the SEALs, Jonah and the crew of the Colorado hunkered behind the landing gear that shielded them from the storm of bullets. Grateful the insurgents used up all their RPGs. The Americans stayed out of the aircraft in the event of a lucky shot on one of the fuel tanks. Romeo23 was behind the wheel post at the nose of the bomber. Romeo24 was behind the right-rear landing gear with the pilot, and Jonah was behind the left-rear with the Mission Commander.
Romeo23 emptied his last M4a1 magazine and switched to his sidearm. Romeo24 had already abandoned his rifle and was about empty on his sidearm. Jonah had long fired off all his M4 ammo and was down to plinking with his Berretta 9mm.
Romeo23 yelled back to the Captain by two-four. “How much fuel does she have?”
“More than half a tank!” He yelled back.
“Two-four to two-three,” sounded over the radio. “Set demo?”
Romeo23 thought about it as Iraqi bullets pinged off the landing gear in front of him and off the aircraft itself. This won’t be another Mogadishu, he thought. The battle where Somalis shot down a Black Hawk leaving SEALs, Rangers and Pararescue outnumbered in a stand-off they couldn’t win. Resulting in dead Americans dragged on their backs and paraded through the city. “Set the charges,” Romeo23 ordered.
Hal tailed the small truck in a race to the village. He had to make a move or find himself following the beat-up Toyota into an ambush. He angled his truck adjacent to the other and gunned it. Nudging the right corner of his truck into the left rear of the other in a spin-out maneuver. Hal plowed into him, and it kicked the back of the other truck out. The driver lost control and rolled the small truck. It spun a few revolutions and came to a stop on its roof. The enemy crawled out the back window. Hal hit the brakes and turned his high-beams on the Iraqi’s face. He stood up and froze in the light with his arms raised in surrender. Now what? Hal thought. He stepped out of his cab with the empty AK and snapped the lever hard. The Iraqi heard the mechanism and dashed off into the bushes. Sprinting toward the village.
Hal removed his J5 tactical flashlight and swept the ground for wingtip debris. The fragments stood out on the light sand like coal on snow. He collected a couple pieces and backtracked to where the truck’s roll started, finding the larger fragments. Hal loaded them into the back of his truck then peered under the other truck to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
Hal leapt in the small truck and cranked it back around toward the canyon. “Lifter19, Lifter19, Stark01.”
“Go for Stark01, Lifter19.”
“HVT fragments in possession. Returning back to the DZ in insurgent truck. Do not fire. Repeat. Do not fire. I’m in the insurgent truck. Flashing my headlights now. Over.”
“Roger that. We have a visual. Landing momentarily.”
Hal killed his lights, flipped the NVGs down and looked up into the sky. He saw both Pave Hawks five-hundred feet up, approaching the LZ at the canyon entrance. Strobe lights echoed on the canyon walls. Flashes of gunfire from the raging firefight inside.
A crackle of radio static sounded over Hal’s headset and then… “THEY’VE OVER-RUN US! WE HAVE TO BLOW IT!” Hal knew it was the voice of the SEAL leader, Romeo23.