Slade and James each carried an additional piece of gear — a razor-sharp machete. Sat images and maps indicated the terrain they'd be crossing was heavily treed, and if it were anything like Vietnam, they expected hanging vines and vegetation in places too thick to walk through.
Adler tapped Grant's shoulder, then leaned toward him. "Lieutenant Gore's got the pedal to the metal! He must think we're on a bombing run!" Grant responded with a grin and nod. No sooner had Adler said it, when the chopper banked starboard.
Grant heard Milton in his earpiece: "We're getting ready to start flying NOE! I'll advise when we're close to LZ!"
Grant gave a thumb's up, then looked at his men, signaling with a hand motion. They were going lower.
Gore and Feith, adjusting their NVGs one last time, were ready for the risky maneuver: flying NOE (Nap-of-the-Earth). All navigation lights had been switched off. Small lights inside remained red.
Remaining at the same speed, Gore adjusted the altitude, skimming over treetops. With a clearing ahead, he dropped even lower, flying with the wheels a few feet above the ground, leaving a whirlwind of brown dust and dirt in the chopper's wake.
"Power poles," Feith reported.
"I see 'em," Gore responded, as he pulled back on the stick, opting to fly over the structures. Wires, strung between the poles, were nearly impossible to detect, and could snag a chopper in a heartbeat. Once clear, he aimed for the ground again.
Just as quickly as the maneuver began, a sudden change in engine noise and vibration throughout the cargo bay indicated it was decelerating.
Milton checked with Gore, then reported to Grant. "We're coming up on the LZ, sir! It's a go for landing! Ramp lowering in one," he added, holding up a finger. An automatic loading and unloading system could be operated even when the helicopter was in flight.
Grant gave a thumb's up, then looked at the Team. He pointed toward the ramp, help up one finger, then crossed his wrists in front of him, the signal for landing. A.T. pulled rucksacks closer.
A motor whined as the ramp started lowering. Wind and rotor noise increased dramatically throughout the cargo bay.
The crew chief requested, "Verify extraction time as 0730!"
"Affirmative!" Grant answered, before handing the helmet to Milton. He shook the crew chief's hand. Putting on his black watch cap and pulling it low on his forehead, he immediately picked up his NVGs, and rested them on top of his head.
Grabbing their rucksacks and hoisting them over their shoulders, the men adjusted mikes and earpieces. Slinging the MP5 straps over their heads, they lowered the NVGs. A recon of the target area was imperative, and well before sunrise at 0600.
The chopper came in low, hovered briefly, then descended. A.T. snapped open seat belts, then scooted near the edge of the seats, ready to haul ass.
Just as wheels touched earth, the seven men sprinted down the ramp. Within seconds they disappeared in the darkness.
Chapter 10
Shrill sounds from masses of insects, rustling branches, birds and monkeys, all sounds of the rainforest, continually filled the night. The humidity was nearly 90 percent, making pungent smells more intense.
The men moved stealthily, even as they crossed small bubbling creeks. Slade and James were in the lead with machetes in hand, ready to slice through dense underbrush that might block their path.
Sweat poured from their bodies, making replenishment critical. One full canteen wouldn't be enough. Iodine water purification tablets were secured inside chest vests.
Grant pressed the PTT, whispering, "Water break." He took a reading on the compass, then looked ahead into the dark, calculating time and distance. Team A.T. was ready to move again.
A quarter mile from their target, they heard Slade in their earpieces, "River ahead."
They cautiously advanced through the brush, until they reached the clearing. Kneeling together, they drank from their canteens, trying to replenish their bodies.
Grant checked the map, then pointed south. "Target should be 200 yards, west side." He folded the plastic-coated map, and stashed it in his vest. "We'll take another look at the halfway point. Let's go."
Conversation between the men was non-existent, as they followed the waterway south. Even with noises from the jungle so familiar to each of them, they remained on high alert. Their eyes stayed focused on the surroundings, their minds and bodies prepared for the slightest, unusual sound or movement.
Finally, Grant pressed the PTT. "Hold it." Everyone gathered around him. "There's the hill," he whispered, as he pointed across the water, moving his hand in an arc toward the south. "Height's about 100 feet behind the target." He raised his NVGs and took a Starlighter scope from the rucksack. "Joe, get another scope."
He and Adler knelt just inside the tree line. Adler started moving the scope, beginning at the southern most point, while Grant started along the ridge, directly across the waterway.
"Anything?" Grant whispered.
"Negative."
"Still can't see target."
Adler motioned with his hand, "There's a bend in the waterway, curves right; must be on other side."
Grant tapped Adler's shoulder. They backed up, joining the Team.
"Anything?" Diaz whispered.
Grant shook his head. "We've gotta get on the other side of that curve up ahead, then take another look."
Ten minutes later, they stopped, finally able to see the pole houses. A rope bridge crossed the waterway.
"Everybody," Grant said, "start lookin'."
"Smoke, but can't see where it's coming from," Diaz whispered. "Possibly from inside number four."
"Lights in three, four," Slade confirmed.
Adler whispered, "Guard on roof, shack two, smoking."
"Got him," Grant confirmed, before redirecting his scope along the hillside. "There's gotta be somebody on that hill."
"Eyes on one," Stalley reported. "Coming down dirt path toward shacks."
Grant looked overhead. Stars were beginning to break through passing clouds. If it cleared, moonlight could be a problem. They had to hustle. "Everybody back," he whispered. They moved farther back into the forest, then he diverted his eyes to Novak. "Mike, find a spot to set up." Novak gave a quick nod, then started looking for a place that'd give him clear views with the scope — and a clear field of fire.
Grant continued, "Doc, DJ, take care of the guard on the hill, then recon the area. Will wait for your all clear."
James and Stalley positioned the MP5s behind their back. K-bars were secured in their leg straps. Stalley had his medical bag. They made haste toward the curve in the waterway, adjusted earpieces, then silently waded into the slow-moving, murky water.
Grant turned toward Adler. "Joe, once we're across, we'll take the first three shacks, Frank and Ken the left three. In the meantime, Frank, Ken, do a recon that way," he motioned with a hand, indicating south." The two men took off, quickly disappearing within thick growths of trees and brush.
Fifteen long minutes later, they heard Stalley in their earpieces, "Five-Two and Six-Eight proceeding south. Copy?"
"Copy that," Grant replied. He and Adler stretched out on their bellies, then continued scanning the area north and south of the pole houses. Grant whispered, "Shack two is main target. Antenna." Adler moved his scope briefly, then returned to scanning his area.
Stalley called in again. "Zero-Niner. Five-Two. UF permanently disabled."