After he slid behind the steering wheel, Goose found the seat belt and strapped in. Rainier had trouble managing the feat with one hand and Goose had to help. The fact that the interior was shot to pieces didn’t raise any hopes.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Goose glanced back at Danielle. “Did this van have this much damage done to it when you found it?”
“No.”
“You got lucky.”
“Maybe I was just that good.”
“Yeah. That was probably it.” Goose couldn’t believe she hadn’t been killed or wasn’t a nervous wreck at the moment. He rapped a hand against the wire mesh that separated the cargo area from the cab. It bounced a little but felt secure enough. “Hang on.” The van snorted and backfired, then got underway. The heady aroma of the fuel-rich carburetor flooded the vehicle’s interior.
“Carb’s overloading,” Rainier said.
“Yeah,” Goose said. “I’ve been meaning to fix that.”
Rainier hesitated a minute, then looked over at Goose. “That was a joke, right?”
“Yep. Probably not much of one, but I figured we needed it.”
“It’ll be funnier when I tell it later.” The corporal paused. “I’ll be telling it later, won’t I, Sarge?”
“Yeah,” Goose said with more confidence than he felt. “You’ll be telling it.” His eyes swept the streets constantly.
“Goose,” Remington said.
“I hear you, Captain.”
“We’re only going to get the one chance at this, and it’s going to be dicey.”
“Yes, sir. I understand that. I’d also understand it if you chose not to risk a helo. One of those birds is worth a lot more than a handful of men.”
“Do you believe that?”
Not for a minute, Goose thought. But I’m not you, and you haven’t been you in a long time.
“If you were me, you’d move heaven and hell to make this happen.”
Remington’s sentiment surprised Goose. For a moment there, the captain sounded the way he had back when they’d come up through boot and the noncom ranks together. The feeling of friendship touched Goose deeply, though it was extremely confusing after spending the night in a basement under house arrest.
“He’s being broadcast live on television,” Danielle said from the cargo area.
Goose glanced at her in the rearview mirror, which sat crookedly on the broken windshield.
“I don’t mean to burst your bubble,” Danielle said. “I just wanted you to know what’s going on.” She indicated the earpiece she wore, letting him know she was still tied into OneWorld NewsNet’s broadcast. “They’re staying with us.”
“There are the helos.” Rainer pointed with his good hand.
The Black Hawks roared over the city. Outfitted with an External Stores Support System, a stubby wing protruding from each side of the aircraft designed for carrying weapons, the choppers looked a lot like mechanical birds of prey. With the weapons the ESSS carried, the helicopters were aerial dreadnoughts. Rockets and machine- gun fire strafed the Syrian armor south of Goose’s position. He headed north as fast as the van was able.
The helos drew fire at once, but they ducked and wove as gracefully as dancers. Door gunners manned M240H machine guns and blasted the Syrian helicopters that flew spotter support for the tanks and APCs.
“Pedal to the metal, Goose,” Remington urged.
The false note in the captain’s voice rankled Goose somewhat. It wasn’t like Remington to constantly use his name or provide cheerleading.
“The Hawks are loaded up with VOLCANOs,” Remington said. “They’ll buy you some breathing room, but not much.”
“Understood, sir.” Goose hauled on the wheel and cut a corner sharply. The transmission whined more than the bald tires did.
“What are VOLCANOs?” Danielle asked.
“They’re designated the M139 Volcano mine system, ma’am.” Goose shifted again, willing the van’s engine to summon more speed. “They can be outfitted to the helos. Those Black Hawks can lay down a minefield a kilometer long-that’s almost a thousand mines-in seventeen seconds. They’re antitank mines, but they’ll slow the Syrians down.”
“They’re not all antitank mines,” Remington said. “I had them mixed special. Every sixth one is antipersonnel. Just like back in the old days.”
“That’s not normal?” Danielle asked.
Even fleeing for her life, the woman’s curiosity seemed to consume her. Goose couldn’t believe it. “No, ma’am. Not since the first Iraqi war. In 1993, the decision was made not to use antipersonnel mines.”
“It wasn’t my decision,” Remington said.
“No, sir.”
“I’m giving you over to Corporal Reilly, Goose. He’ll feed you directions on where to make your evac.”
“Affirmative, sir. Thank you, sir.” From the corner of his eye, Goose saw the Black Hawks jettison their deadly cargo. The BLU-91/B AT and BLU-92/B mines were flat cylinders that tumbled for just a moment, then stabilized. A series of detonations sounded.
“Are they blowing up?” Danielle asked.
“No, ma’am.” Goose took another corner. “The mines come down in aeroballistic shells. When they hit the ground, they trigger.
The antipersonnel mine fires a squib that throws out eight trip wires.
Like a spiderweb.”
“Won’t they be seen?”
“They’re thin wires, ma’am, but, yes, they can be seen if they’re looked for.”
Fresh explosions sounded nearby.
Goose took one of the turns Corporal Reilly told him to take, again heading north. “But soldiers in a hurry- either running from a fight or running to one-won’t take time to look. Those Syrian boys, they’ll figure out what’s what in just a little bit, and they’ll ease up on the throttle.”
“You got a hiccup coming up here, Sarge,” Reilly said. He talked fast and sounded like an Easterner. “The Syrian line bulged ahead of you. You’re going to encounter stragglers.”
“No way around it?”
“Not at the rate the Syrians are coming in. That group is tracking the Black Hawk I’ve got coming to you.”
“Or they could be headed north, operating on old intel from the jets’ flyby. That’s where we had our helos stashed.”
“Roger that, Sarge. Either way, you’re in for a rough ride.”
Goose looked back over his shoulder at Danielle and the cameraman. “Get down. Flat as you can. Lie beside Private Johnson.”
“Why?” Danielle asked.
“You ever watch Western movies?”
“Occasionally.”
“Ever see Tombstone?”
“Val Kilmer. Kurt Russell.”
“Yep. Just imagine we’re them and headed into the O.K. Corral and the Clanton boys are already set up and waiting.”
“Oh.”
“You know,” Rainier said, “until now I always liked that movie. I don’t think I’m ever going to watch it the same way again.”
At the next intersection, Goose glanced down the street to the right. Syrian troops hovered around a pair of T-62 battle tanks. One of the tanks fired its main gun. The shell wobbled through the air in front of the van, and the
