“Satellites leased by the Romanian government,” Cody said. “Other satellites that Nicolae Carpathia owns and has offered for your use.”
Remington knew the name. Carpathia was an international figure, and part of the reason the U.N. peacekeeping forces and the United States Army Rangers were presently in-country. Carpathia had taken his own country by storm, becoming the darling of the population over the last few years after getting off to a less-than-sterling beginning. Yesterday, the president of Romania had stepped down and suggested that the legislature appoint Carpathia as their new president. In a surprising turn of events, both houses had unanimously done just that.
Before becoming a member of the House of Deputies in Romania, Carpathia had been a shrewd businessman who had his fingers in many international business ventures. He’d gotten rich. Remington wasn’t surprised to learn that Carpathia had invested heavily in communications, and satellites would have been one of the most natural investments.
“Why would Carpathia offer satellites he controls?”
“Because he believes in the stand the United Nations and the United States are making here,” Cody said.
“Why doesn’t he make the offer to the Department of Defense or President Fitzhugh?”
“How long do you think it would take them to make a decision regarding using Carpathia’s satellites?”
Remington took in a breath. The truth was, he knew it would take the president, both houses of Congress, and the Pentagon much longer than it would take him to make such a decision.
“You can make this happen?” Remington asked.
“I’ve got a satellite phone out in my Jeep,” Cody said. “Nicolae is waiting for your answer.”
Blind and deaf as he was in the current operation, Remington knew he was a sitting duck waiting to be picked off by Syrian troops who would no doubt storm across the border within hours—maybe even minutes. To keep that from happening, the Ranger captain knew he would make a deal with the devil himself if he had to.
“All right,” Remington agreed. “Let’s see what Carpathia has to offer.”
20
Turkey
37 Klicks South of Sanliurfa
Local Time 0842 Hours
“Is anyone still inside?” Goose jogged toward one of the helicopters that had landed more or less intact. The rescue operation of the stricken Marines arriving from USS Wasp was only minutes old. Flames still claimed several of the Sea Knights, and Marine aircraft lay in thousands of pieces. This helicopter’s rotors had been broken and the aircraft canted over to the left. Someone had opened the tail cargo hatch, allowing easier egress from the CH-46E.
A Marine staggered out of the tail section while partially supporting a fellow soldier. Blood tracked the faces of both men. “I don’t think so, Sarge. Me an’ Kelly, I think we’re the only ones that came down in the Bullfrog that made it alive.” He glanced at his companion. “An’ Kelly, he ain’t doing too good.”
Goose pointed out the tents that were going up on the northern side of the ridge. “There’s a triage station up on that hill, Marine. I’ve got some of the medics from my unit up there that will take care of you till we get transport units set up to medevac you back to Wasp.” At least, that was the plan. Goose still had no idea if he could make it happen. Communications with the Ranger command post hadn’t happened yet.
The Marine nodded.
“Do you need help?” Goose offered.
“No thanks, Sarge.” The Marine shifted his buddy’s weight against him, offering more support. “Me an’ Kelly walked into this op on our own two feet, an’ I reckon we’ll finish up our bit of it the same way.”
“Fair enough.” Goose turned from the two Marines and stepped into the Sea Knight. There were plenty of soldiers who needed help and immediate rescue. And there was a lot of information that needed to be assembled. His boots rang hollowly against the helicopter’s metal deck.
Five corpses lay stretched out inside the helicopter. All of them were young Marines. Normally, the sight would have staggered Goose. But now, after seeing the immense landscape of death and carnage laid around him, he was too deadened inside to react. He prayed for them, for God to take their souls into his loving embrace, more out of habit than conviction.
Two uniforms and piles of gear sat near the corpses. They were stark reminders that Goose still didn’t know what had happened to Bill.
Goose took the small notebook and pen he’d been using from his combat harness. Working quickly, he jotted down the presence of weapons, ammo, and medical supplies that the Sea Knight carried and noted the two FAVs that occupied much of the cargo space. The Marine fast attack vehicles, built like dune buggies with wide tires and stripped bodies, were armed to the teeth. Both vehicles inside the helo looked salvageable and were still locked into the tie-downs securing them to the deck. Tanaka and Dewey were already coordinating salvage operations from the helos that could be entered and were using every available man who could be spared from the rescue efforts to assemble weapons and supplies. The FAVs would be additional transport as well as prizes in their own right.
Only one of the RSOVs the Phoenix squad had taken for their mission had survived the unexpected aircraft fallout. The other had been buried under tons of flaming helicopter. The surviving vehicle was presently being used to ferry the more gravely injured from the arriving Marines. Other RSOVs were on their way from the front line, but they were bringing wounded from the front lines. Goose had already assigned some of them to help with moving the Marine survivors to the triage and others to help salvage the weapons, ammo, and gear the helos had carried.
Goose also jotted down the names of the dead men, and the names of the two missing men, copying the information on their dog tags. Lieutenant Colonel Troy Folsom had been the commanding officer of the battalion landing team designated BLT 2/6. Three rifle companies—Echo, Fox, and
