Regardless, his intentions were noble, and he was in this fight. He was capable, feared nothing, felt safe flying at incredible speeds, accurate with his ground support. He never hesitated, he had the reactions of a tiger. The pilot flew on instinct alone, and that’s what made him good.
“Kilo Base, this is Blackbird One. I’m nearing the valley again. Three miles out and headed over once more,” the pilot reported. Nose down, he was approaching the valley, descending from three thousand feet.
“Copy that, Blackbird One. Advise when on sight.”
“Am I to release ordinance again, over?” the pilot asked. He figured since there had been no explosion, the missile was a dud. Yet unlike the three helicopters on the ground below, the Su-25 was loaded up, hostile and ready. The pilot figured he was to line up for another shot.
“Negative, Blackbird One. Maintain circles at low altitude and report any activity.”
“Copy, Kilo Base,” the pilot responded.
The mission was simple now. He supposed whatever he fired into that cave did work. At least his superiors seemed to think so. Now, he was to keep visual contact, to provide cover and observe.
Simple.
He approached once more, this time slower, this time focused on the ground below. He crossed over the villagers, watching intently as they scrambled below, looking up again. They had gathered their rifles, amassed in groups. The pilot counted a few dozen at best. He reported it. Strangely, the villagers had yet to advance toward the helicopters. Feeling this was odd, the pilot also reported it.
He’d keep a close eye, though. If they moved toward his comrades, he wouldn’t hesitate to take them out. He would cover from above, make sure no Muj snuck up behind.
“… this is Blackbird One, I have three, maybe four dozen visuals. Possible threats, but six hundred meters out. They’re motionless at the moment, over.”
“Copy that, Blackbird One.”
“The helicopters are still stationary, the crews beside them. I see no movement near the cave. I see no sign of ambush either.”
“Copy, Blackbird One. Proceed around for another pass.”
The pilot accelerated, giving lift to his aircraft. He was close to the rising mountain, had a pair of iron balls between his legs. He raced up, looking once more at the cave.
Higher and higher, climbing and climbing.
The opening was dark. It appeared empty. No sign of Kirov, no sign of his men, no sign of life. The smoke had cleared, but the dark of nothingness was all he could see at the entrance to the cave.
Three minutes later and the Su-25 appeared once more. Again, a pass over the village.
“Report.”
“Still no threat from the village. No rifle fire. The Muj are cowards, they’re sitting this one out.”
“The ground crews?”
“Safe. I see no threat at the moment.”
“Copy, Blackbird One. What about the cave? Has the smoke cleared?”
“Affirmative, Kilo Base. We have clear skies.”
“Circle again and observe.”
“Copy, Kilo Base,” the pilot said again.
He soared from the canyon once more, engines screaming as he gained altitude. He streaked through the sky, alone, racing up to four thousand feet, banking sharp right. He’d approach from a different angle, from the western side of the canyon. It was the longest part, and he’d cover the entire valley.
He would be coming in low. And fast.
The pilot lived for this.
24
It took six minutes for the Su-25 to reach the top of the western ridge. The pilot shot down into the valley, amazed at its size. He estimated it to be five hundred meters wide, over a thousand long. The village sat near the middle, no-man’s land surrounding — giant peaks. These people were definitely alone.
He raced in low. Fast. His heart thudded in his chest, the excitement nearly overwhelming.
He flew across desert floor.
He buzzed the village.
Three seconds.
Two.
One.
He passed, looking over his shoulder. Still no movement.
Moments later, the three Mi-24s came into view. A quick glance, all appeared normal. He began to look away, ahead toward the cave, but stopped. Something caught his attention.
The pilot eased the throttle back, raised his flaps, neared stall speed. He slowed as best he could, staring wide eyed as he passed over the helicopters.
“What in the hell?” he exclaimed.
It was what all pilots feared. Even though it was mere seconds, the pilot had seen the most horrific sight, a scene that would last him a lifetime.
Utter chaos, complete disarray, the three Mi-24 gunships, the three indestructible killing machines, were torn to shreds. The helicopters were ripped apart, few large pieces could be seen. Chunks of metal, wiring, seats — everything — were strewn far and wide. The wreckage must have covered fifty meters. It was as if the helicopters had gone down.
Maybe a bomb?
A rocket?
What could do this?
He passed over, the scene no longer visible, though the image stuck with him. The pilot pulled up hard, pushing his throttle again, gaining altitude. He flew scared, would feel safer if he climbed high. Far away from this!
Free of the valley once more, he was in a near vertical climb. His engines burned hot.
One thousand meters.
Two thousand meters.
Three thousand.
He eased his angle, banked left, looking at the valley below. He couldn’t see as well, but the remains of the busted and broken helicopters were visible.
He swooped a giant arch, looking to his left, a bit closer to the valley now. He could see the Mi-24s, the pieces of what they once were. Rotor blades ripped off, engines tossed aside. Cockpits and flight equipment thrown out, scattered across the desert floor. Even the heavy metal plates that armored the helicopters had been ripped apart. Some were bent, other completely shredded. Everything was tossed aside like pieces of cloth.
“Impossible,” the pilot muttered.
Then, a haunting feeling overcame him.
They were all dead.
Captain Ivan Drago.
Weapons Specialist Alexander Suvorov.
The others.
All dead.
The pilot neared even closer, even lower, gasping as he thought he saw human body parts. He was still high up, but there was no mistaking it. A head here, a leg there.
“It must have been a bomb,” he said to himself. Then, he reported, saying, “Kilo Base, this is Blackbird One. We have a problem. A serious one. You’ll never believe it, but your helicopters are down. They’re destroyed.”
“Say again, Blackbird?”
“They’re all dead,” the pilot said, his voice not as calm and professional as he would have liked. “Your helicopters are mangled. Something big hit them, and they’re nowhere near flyable. I think I see bodies, almost sure of it.”
“Copy, Blackbird One…”
The pilot swooped over, both afraid and enraged. He wanted revenge, and anger began to overcome him. Unlike the helicopters below, he was armed. Three more air-to-ground missiles, his frontal guns. If he spotted those responsible for killing his comrades, he’d enact his revenge.
“… Blackbird One, this is Kilo Base. You are to proceed over one more time, then head back to base.”
“Negative,” the pilot said, the words slipping from his mouth before thinking. “We have men down there. We need to mobilize rescue crews at once. I can provide aerial cover.”
“Negative, Blackbird One. Your orders stand. One more pass and return to base.”
“What about the survivors?” he asked.
“Blackbird One, there are no survivors. The mission is aborted. Pass once more and return to base,” the voice said. “That’s an order.”