Boomer threw himself to the ground as bullets tore through the carnage his team had wrought, effectively finishing the job. The survivors were caught in the open and thrown about like rag dolls as the heavy metal-jacketed bullets tore into them. The helicopter banked and flew back, doing another gun run, taking care of those who had hidden in the drainage ditch. The aircraft flared just beyond the wreckage of the bus and slowly settled down to land.
Boomer stood and stepped out into the road. He bent over the closest body. There was no doubt the man was dead, his chest was torn open and half his head gone.
Boomer checked the pockets, then quickly ran to the other bodies. All dead and most unidentifiable. The rest of his team came running down the hill toward the beckoning doors of the helicopter. Reluctantly, Boomer turned and followed them, stepping up and through the door into the waiting womb of the cargo bay. The helicopter immediately lifted and headed south to safety.
Boomer had something in his hands, a small piece of plastic. Turning it toward the red glow of the cargo bay, he read the lettering. He briefly froze and a look of anguish coursed across his face. He stuffed it back into the pocket over his heart.
Boomer spent the rest of the return trip in silence, ignoring the other members of his team. The one time Lanscom nudged him, holding out the handset of the Satcom to answer an incoming message from Thunder Point, Boomer simply pointed at Captain Martin. Lanscom took the radio over to the executive officer, who spent a good portion of the trip speaking into the handset. Boomer unhooked his FM radio and stuffed the earpiece into his vest pocket.
The noise inside the helicopter, loud enough to drown out any attempt at normal conversation, made the ride a curiously silent one. Each man was coming off the adrenaline rush of the action, and each was weighing the potential consequences.
At the airfield in northern Turkey, the helicopter landed and was immediately directed into a secure hangar where the doors swung shut as protection from prying eyes. The helicopter came to a halt. The sound of the engines decreased as the pilots began shutting the bird down.
The side door opened and a soldier stuck his head in.
“The Colonel’s Waiting for you.”
As the other members of the team stood up to exit the bird. Boomer grabbed Captain Martin’s arm and pulled him down into the seat next to him.
“What the fuck happened back there, Pete?” he asked, finally able to be heard.
“What do you mean?” Martin asked, jerking his arm out of Boomer’s grip.
“You told the pilots to strafe, didn’t you?”
Martin couldn’t meet his commanding officer’s eyes.
“Those were our orders.”
“We killed our own,” Boomer said.
“You damn near killed me.”
“You shouldn’t have gone down there. Boomer,” Martin said. The younger man shook his head.
“It was messed up, but once the shit starts hitting the fan you got to play it out as it lays.”
“That’s what you call it?” Boomer asked incredulously.
“Strafing wounded friendlies? Playing it out?”
Martin nervously shrugged.
Boomer poked him hard on the shoulder.
“You ever pull a weapon on me again, I’ll kill you.”
Martin exited the aircraft without another word. Boomer angrily got to his feet and followed. In the hangar he walked to the brightly lit corner where the communications console was set up and the maps were tacked to plywood walls. Colonel Decker was there along with Colonel Forster. Boomer’s immediate superior in Delta Force. Boomer’s hand slid into the pocket of the greatcoat he was wearing and reappeared with two pieces of cloth. He threw them down onto the folding table in front of the two senior officers without a word. A small, blood-stained American flag with a Velcro backing along with a NATO blue beret lay there, frozen in the bright glow of the overhead lights.
Forster glanced at the patches, then at Boomer. “I heard.
I’m sorry.”
Boomer’s eyes were locked on Colonel Decker’s. He ignored the other members of the team as they gathered around. Captain Martin keeping a safe distance away.
“Do you have a problem, major?” Decker asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Boomer stiffened.
“No, sir, you have a problem. The target that you identified and confirmed for destruction was a busload of NATO officers from one of the inspection teams in-country. I took that shoulder patch and beret from one of the bodies: An American body.”
“It was a mistake,” Decker said.
“We received some bad intelligence.”
“Bad intelligence?” Boomer was stunned.
“I counted at least six bodies outside that bus, and God knows how many were inside.”
“It’s done,” Forster quietly said.
“It was a mistake and it’s done. Let it go. Boomer. There’s nothing we can do right now.”
Boomer twisted his head. “Let it go? Sir, my men just killed some of our own.” His finger pointed at the patch, shaking with emotion.
“How the fuck could Intelligence get that screwed up? You were tracking that damn bus since it left—.”
“But we couldn’t tell who was in it,” Decker quickly interjected.
“That was your job on the ground.”
Boomer stepped back in surprise at the last comment.
“My job? It was oh-dark-thirty in the morning there. Those vehicles were moving about forty miles an hour into my kill zone. You gave me final authorization for a go on the mission. I tried to abort,” he said, throwing a hard look at Captain Martin, “but it was too late by the time I recognized the markings on the bus.”
“Sounds like you made the mistake, major,” Decker said. Boomer took a step toward Decker, his eyes blazing.
“Listen,” Forster said, holding both hands up and moving between the two men.
“Let’s not be getting into a pissing contest about whose fault things are. It’s done. We’ve run seven different ops here into the Ukraine and this is the first one that went wrong. I don’t like it. Nobody likes it, but our luck was bound to run out sooner or later. Let’s be glad you all made it back all right, and we’ll make damn sure something like this never happens again.”
Decker picked up the flag and beret and stuffed them into his fatigue pants pocket, then turned an emotionless gaze on Boomer.
“Your boss is right. We don’t like it, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. There are things going on that you aren’t cleared to know.
We were obviously fed false intelligence on this mission. It might even have been a deliberate setup. A lot of strange things have been going on since the interception of that Backfire. But it’s done, and we need to make the best of it.”
“The best of it?” Boomer asked.
“How can you make the best of it?”
“That’s not your concern, major.”
“It damn well is my concern,” Boomer replied angrily.
“Major!” Decker snapped.
“That’s enough.” He turned to Forster.
“I want this man relieved of duties immediately.”
Forster bristled.
“This is my command.”
“It won’t be’ much longer if you don’t do what I say,” Decker warned.
Forster glared at the other officer for several seconds before replying.
“I’ll take care of it. You,” he added, still looking at Decker, “watch what you say to my people. This was your mission and you take responsibility for what happened.”
Decker pointed at Boomer.
“I want him out of this area of operations before close of business today.” With that he turned and strode out of the hanger.
Forster waited until he was gone, then faced his subordinate.
“I’m sorry. Boomer.”
From the tone of his commander’s voice. Boomer knew what the words meant. He was stunned.