and so it continues. As long as there is movement, there will be such a thing as time.
“Jack, don’t do anything foolish. Come back to me,” Lynn says quietly. She continues to look out to the soldiers loading the last of the gear.
“I’ll be back,” I say glancing to the side at her. “I enjoy you too much to rush into a departure from this life although I’ve never quite figured out why you stay with me.”
“Because you’re a dork, but you’re my dork. Remember the first time we met?” She asks with a chuckle.
“How could I forget that?” I answer.
“You could have gotten us killed you know,” she says with a sigh.
“That’s not true. Well, not entirely. Those guys were horrible shots. Besides, if I would have run into the tree line right away, I wouldn’t have gotten your number,” I reply. Lynn responds with another chuckle and shakes her head.
She pauses a moment. “Of all the ways to meet. It’s pretty clear we were meant to meet but at the time, I thought, ‘Who the fuck does that?’ It wasn’t until later that I fully realized that only you would do something like that. I’m glad you asked and actually called though,” Lynn says looking up at me.
“Me too!” I say as the memory of that time takes me back to the moment of our meeting.
The sudden gunfire as the door gunner test fired his weapon startled me and garnered my attention. The helicopter flashed over the lush green canopy just a few feet under the wheels and wind poured in the open door bringing the muted roar of the rotors overhead. During the occasional jink and turn, I spied the chase Black Hawk behind and slightly above. I sat close to the door watching all of this and thinking about the mission ahead — to locate and take out a small rebel training facility. I looked at the rest of the team sitting in the shaking interior. Some were looking outside like me and some at the floor, all lost in their own thoughts.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I looked at the crew chief with his helmet on and the tinted visor down. The reflection of my face showed clear on the dark, polished surface; the streaks of my applied camo blending with my boonie hat. Having caught my attention, the crew chief held up two fingers. I then alerted the other team members and mimicked the action of the crew chief letting them know we were two minutes out. We checked our gear one last time and chambered rounds.
The second Black Hawk hung back as we proceeded forward. The tops of the trees abruptly gave way to a small field filled with tall grass; the grass transformed to clumps of bushes closer to the trees. The abrupt change, though startling, was expected. The helicopter sank below the tree line and settled quickly into the grassy field with the rotor wash laying the grass on its side. We were out of the door with the skids just above the fields’ surface and made our way quickly into the trees.
The bright sun quickly changed to the murky depths of the jungle as we proceeded a few meters in; our transport already out of sight and sound. Finding some dense foliage, we laid up for twenty minutes to ascertain whether our infil was detected. The chirps of birds and sounds of the jungle became normal after a few minutes. We released the helicopters and began our slow progress under the triple canopy toward the suspected training camp location with the oppressive heat and humidity tracking our every step.
After about an hour into our slow, quiet approach, my radio crackled in my ear piece with an incoming call — I always carried my own radio.
“Viper, Steel Rain, standby for an incoming message,” a voice from our overwatch said.
Steel Rain, Viper Six, standby one,” I replied.
I caught up with and tapped our slack man telling him to have our point find a secluded space to hold up in. We made our way into another dense patch of leafy bushes and set ourselves in a circular perimeter.
“Steel Rain, Viper Six, go ahead with transmission,” I said once we were settled.
“Viper, your mission is an abort, repeat, your mission is an abort, acknowledge,” the radio operator said.
“Steel Rain, copy abort,” I replied.
Another voice came on the radio, “Viper Six, you are being redirected. Proceed to your infil landing zone for pickup. Assets will be on station in thirty mikes. Will you be able to comply?” The new voice said.
I thought for a moment looking at the map. We’d be able to make it but we wouldn’t be as quiet on the way out as we were on the way in. “Roger that, Steel Rain, we’ll be there,” I answered.
“Viper Six, you are being redirected to assist an Army unit that has come under fire. You’re the closest. Further instructions and material will be provided upon pickup, out, acknowledge.”
An Army unit? What the hell is an Army unit doing out here? I thought as I pressed the mic button, “Copy. Viper Six, out.”
“Okay guys, we’re turning it around. Apparently we have to go rescue an Army unit that has strayed too far from home. We’ll have more info enroute,” I told the team and directed the point to take us back to the infil landing zone for pickup in thirty minutes.
We made it to the field with only minutes to spare. “Viper, Eagle inbound for pickup, five minutes out,” the radio crackled as we laid up in the surrounding trees.
“Eagle, copy, we’re on the north side and all is quiet,” I responded.
A minute passed. “Viper, Eagle, pop smoke.”
I readied and tossed a smoke canister into the grassy field. A hiss and then purple smoke began streaming up into the still air. “I’ve got grape smoke,” our pickup pilot said.
“Copy grape, Eagle,” I verified.
The faint sound of a helicopter entered the area and it soon flashed over the treetops to settle onto the field. We dashed out of the tree line and boarded quickly. The Black Hawk lifted off immediately.
I settled in next to the crew chief. “What’s the skinny?” I asked shouting at the helmeted chief.
“Sir, an Army squad was ambushed and forced into a clearing. You’ll be landing here,” the crew chief said pointing at a map which he then handed to me. He then showed me where the unit was under fire. “We’ll be landing your team a few klicks to the north in another open field and make your way south.”
“Assets?” I asked meaning what assets would we have available or were on their way.
“None, sir,” he replied. “Other than the assets for your insertion and subsequent pickup that is. We have more transport units on the way.”
I looked at the map and then the chopper we were in. “We can’t go in for a direct pickup. The LZ is too hot,” the chief said seeing where my thoughts were going.
“What about using the door gunners for support?” I ask as we gained altitude. The roar of the wind through the open door was forcing us to shout.
“No can do, sir. ROE — rules of engagement. We can’t directly support with helicopter assets,” he answered.
Stupid fucking rules! Engagement is engagement. Apologize later, I thought looking over the map again. Well, nothing I can do about it so might as well get the info we need.
“What’s an Army unit doing out here?” I asked.
“They’re apparently a squad training indigenous folks. They were ambushed while conducting a patrol with their trainees,” he answered.
“Casualties?”
“Unknown, sir,” he answers passing me another piece of paper. “Contact call signs, freqs and authentication codes. Exfil assets will be on standby.”
“Okay, thanks, chief,” I said and proceeded to brief the team on the mission, insertion, and route of march.
“We’ll head south from our infil and make a plan once we get there and ascertain the situation. No firing unless we’re spotted or fired upon. I’d rather not make our presence known right away,” I said as the helicopter dropped down to nap of the earth flying. Our insertion was to be a field in a small valley several klicks north of the entrapped unit.
We were inserted into the field and made our way south through the double canopy jungle with open areas in the next valley. As we neared the last ridge between us and the trapped unit, we began to pick up gunfire on the other side of the small ridge line. It sounded like all hell was breaking loose on the poor unfortunate souls trapped in the open. The gunfire sounded mostly like AK-47’s but we hear the occasional sound of an M-16 drift in.
“Okay, slow and steady,” I told our point and we headed quietly up the ridge.
The sound of gunfire increased dramatically when we neared the top. Cresting the ridge, the faint smell of
