Calhoun heard the reply in his earpiece. He then removed the earpiece and tucked the radio back into his pack. “We’re good. The Blackhawks should be at the LZ in about nine zero mikes.”
They were all breathing heavy. Chase was covered in dirt and grime from crawling through the woods for the past few days. Sweat soaked through his camouflage utilities. He took a swig of water from his CamelBak as he walked.
Chase said, “These drones sound like they’re sticking over us, right?”
Darby said, “Sounds like it.”
“We just need to make it to the LZ,” Calhoun said.
They reached the grass cutout, and the Marines stayed hidden in the trees and brush. The landing zone was only about the size of a large backyard in the suburbs. Barely enough room for the Army helicopter to land, Chase thought.
“How much time?”
Calhoun looked at his watch. “About ten more minutes.”
Chase took out his own map. The LZ wasn’t marked, but he had memorized where it was. The nearest road was about one mile to the east. There was another road about five miles to the west, along the coastline.
Unless the Chinese had access to helicopters of their own, they would have to use the roads to get to them. And they hadn’t seen any helos on the Manta base.
The Marines simply had too great of a head start from their initial position on the hill outside Manta. He tried to reassure himself that they were going to get out of here unscathed.
Chase checked his watch again. The bird should be here any moment. Chase could still hear the damn buzzing overhead, but couldn’t see any sign of drones when he looked up.
Gunnery Sergeant Darby knelt down near Chase. “If the drone had eyes on us and you were the Chinese commander, what would you do?”
Chase thought about it. “I’d first want to make sure that we didn’t escape.”
“Right. Which means you’d want to deny air coverage and roads, right?”
“Yeah.”
The familiar whomp whomp whomp sound could be heard in the distance. It was the Army Blackhawks.
Chase said, “Sounds like our ride.”
“I don’t like it,” Darby said. “If they’ve had drones overhead this whole time, it means they know where we are.”
“If they know where we are, then why haven’t they come at us? Cuz we have a head start?”
Darby said, “I don’t think so. There are too many roads around here that they could have used to catch up.”
“So what, then?”
“Son, I like to hunt in my spare time. I’m a good ole southern boy at heart. You know, during hunting season, before I get my buck, there’s only one reason I won’t take a shot at a deer.”
“And what reason is that?”
“Because I plan to get a better shot by waiting.”
Chase didn’t like the sound of that.
The H-60 Blackhawks came into view. The first aircraft did a single pass, north to south, just above the trees, and then banked hard right, slowing itself down in the turn. The second aircraft followed. The Marines ducked down as the rotor wash blew through the field. The first Blackhawk hovered at about one hundred feet, its nose pitched up slightly. The second circled behind it.
And that’s when the hunters struck.
A lightning-fast trail of smoke shot out from the east, and into the first helicopter. The army aircraft exploded in a yellow-and-orange fireball. Pieces of shrapnel and parts rained down on the forest. The Marines underneath hunkered down, trying to get out of the way. The centrifugal force of the spinning rotors, and the violent explosion, shot out a wave of hot shrapnel in every direction.
The second aircraft began to move forward, expending dozens of bright flares. Then two more missiles shot up towards it, and it too burst into flames, falling to the ground below.
Then there was only fire, scattered throughout the landing zone.
Gunnery Sergeant Darby and Chase were up on their feet as soon as it was over. While the shock of death and destruction incapacitated most people, members of the military’s special operations were trained to compartmentalize and react.
The Raider team, which had been hidden and prepping for an air transport, sprung to life. Their heads popped up, searching for enemy threats. They broke into separate teams, fanning out and forming a protective formation based on the most likely threat vector.
Finding no immediate enemy in sight, they turned to Captain Calhoun and Gunnery Sergeant Darby for direction. Calhoun had been struck in the arm by a piece of shrapnel, but he was still mobile. Miraculously, the rest of the Marines were uninjured.
Darby said, “Check for survivors.”
A few of the Marines ran over to the helicopter wreckage to see if they could rescue anyone or recover any remains. After a few moments of inspection, the Marine next to the flaming crash site looked at Darby and shook his head. The gunny frowned and waved them to follow him.
Darby said, “We need to go west, now. Those SAMs looked like they were launched from about a mile away to the East. If we go west, there’s a road in that direction, and a small village about a mile to the north once we get to the road. We might be able to get vehicles there.”
Chase said, “I agree. The Chinese must be on the road to our east. It’s going to take forever to hump through this jungle to the west, but it’s our only option.”
Calhoun nodded, wincing in pain. “Let’s move.”
Once they were traveling, Calhoun began getting treatment for his shoulder wound. It looked to Chase like something had sliced right through the muscle tissue, about an inch deep. He looked to be hurting pretty bad. But the man working on his shoulder cleaned it and poured a clotting agent powder on it, then taped it up well enough for the bleeding to slow.
Chase said, “Even if we get vehicles, I don’t like the idea of being on the roads for too long. I’m going to activate our second option for air extraction.”
Calhoun nodded. “Good idea.” His face was covered in sweat and dirt.
Chase took Calhoun’s radio and made the call, using the code word AUDIBLE in an otherwise innocuous phrase. He repeated the phrase several times until he heard a three-tone reply transmitted back. That indicated that the NSA relay station had picked up the signal. The NSA relay team would then send a message to a US Navy destroyer, the USS Farragut.
The USS Farragut’s orders, which Chase had personally delivered to the captain only a few days ago, were to remain in a defined geographic box, a little more than one hundred miles off the coast of Ecuador. They were to loiter in that position in case they were needed as a backup transportation option for Chase and the Marine Raider team. Chase had thought the chances of them actually being called upon were less than five percent.
Turned out he was wrong. He thought about his sister, getting in her helicopter. Would she realize that her mission was to come rescue him? Probably. She’d always been the smartest of the three siblings.
Chase looked at his watch. “Now that I’ve sent that signal, we’ll have about six hours to make it to the backup landing zone.”
“We’ll have to acquire a few vehicles if we’re going to make it there on time,” the gunnery sergeant replied.
“Yup.”
Chase thought that he would never be as happy to see his sister as when she picked him up in her helicopter today. Then he thought about the chances that someone would have a surface-to-air missile near the next site.
“We’re going to have to set up a perimeter of a few miles around the next LZ, to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen.”