watch McLanahan operate his cosmic equipment. It was nothing like any of Whiteman’s Block 10 or Block 20 planes—in fact, it was nothing like the future Block 30 planes, not yet in production, or any other concept Jamieson had ever seen for the B-2A.
Dominating the right side of the B-2A’s cockpit was a huge rectangular monitor, larger than three normal- sized multifunction displays put together. McLanahan called this his “supercockpit” display, and the term fit. Air Vehicle 011 obviously had had this equipment in it earlier, when it had been known as Test Vehicle 002 at Dreamland, because it had taken less than a day for engineers to reinstall this huge screen. Instead of fixed- function buttons around the edges, the display had function buttons on the screen itself that could be selected using the trackball, by touching the big screen, or by using spoken commands. McLanahan was obviously very adept at it—he used all three methods simultaneously, which allowed him to operate his controls with incredible speed.
For most of the flight, the supercockpit display was configured to resemble a normal B-2A right-side cockpit: graphic depictions of three B-2A MDUS, showing aircraft and computer status “home” page; the Horizontal Situation Indicator with compass, artificial horizon, and autopilot steering indicators; and navigation displays with present position, heading, ground speed, and time and distance to go to the next way point. Occasionally, McLanahan would call up a graphic typewriter keyboard and use it to compose satellite messages to the National Security Agency— heck, Jamieson mused wryly, McLanahan even used a weird layout, called a Dvorak keyboard, that he operated with speed and precision but would be three times as hard for anyone else to use.
Closer to the target area now, just minutes away from the action, McLanahan still had the three standard MDU displays on the screen, except they were about one-fourth their normal size and relegated to the upper portion of the screen where he and Jamieson could still monitor them. The rest of the screen showed a digital chart of Hormozgan Province of southern Iran, including the Strait of Hormuz and the city of Bandar Abbas. The province was fairly rural and hilly, with only one medium-sized city, one small city, and perhaps two dozen towns and significant villages in the entire 18,000square-mile area.
The city of Bandar Abbas and its many military bases and military-industrial centers were protected by modern long-range SA-10 Grumble, medium-range Hawk, and short-range antiaircraft missile sites, along with numerous medium- and short-range antiaircraft artillery sites. In addition, the airfield at Bandar Abbas had the largest tactical air force in Iran outside of Tehran, with modern MiG-29, ex-U.S. Air Force F-4 Phantoms, and ex-U.S. Navy Tomcat F-14 fighter interceptors airborne on patrol.
Jamieson and McLanahan were flying well inside the normal lethal range of the SA-10 Grumble surface-to-air missile, hoping that their plane’s stealth characteristics would keep them safe. Those thick, multilayered defenses would be deadly to any aircraft trying to fly into Bandar Abbas, and only the B-2A Spirit stealth bomber had the capability to approach the area and knock out those missile sites.
MINA JEBEL ALI NAVAL BASE, DUBAI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES THAT SAME TIME Gunnery Sergeant Chris Wohl was making a final preflight inspection of his men’s personal equipment, checking for proper survival clothing; although the CV-22 Pave Hammer tilt-rotor aircraft was safe and reliable even in harsh combat conditions, Wohl always made sure that its occupants dressed as if they’d have to walk or swim back to base.
As was typical with Intelligence Support Agency operations, the men wore a mishmash of clothing items, mostly generic military-style clothing intermingled with civilian clothes, with all patches and labels removed and local clothing makers’ labels sewn on. Some shaved, although it had to be done without soap or shaving cream to avoid telltale aromas that might attract dogs or guards; most did not shave and had short Middle East-style beards.
Hair was usually cut very short and washed with unscented soap, or shaved completely bald. Headgear usually consisted of full-face ski masks or balaclavas worn over an extra watch cap to better protect the ears from frostbite. Most of the unit wore thick woolly mittens over thin wool or cotton glove inserts, with cutouts in the mitten palms to allow them to extend a trigger finger. The men were lightly armed—a few had AK-74 assault rifles, but most others carried small submachine guns like the .45 caliber Uzi or the 9-millimeter MP-5. They carried a variety of favorite side arms and two days’ worth of patrol supplies—the rest they would gather from the land as they traveled.
All of the men in the unit were experienced professionals, so this was just a quick safety inspection, not an instructional one, but Wohl began a short briefing and a special mission topic during his quick inspections. “Listen up,” Wohl said, as he continued his inspections, “just to bring you all up to speed: Our target area tonight is the naval prison medical facility at Suru, a few klicks south of Bandar Abbas. Our route of flight will take us northwest around Abu Musa, feet-dry at Bostaneh Point, twenty klicks west of Bandar-e Lengeh, then terrain-following across the Laristan range, along the Kot River, and touchdown just outside Bandar Abbas.
“This is our second infil into this area, and as you all know, we got creamed over the Tumb Islands the other night, so stay heads-up tonight. We’re checking three different exfiltration points tonight outside Bandar Abbas. If our guys are out there, I want them brought back on board the Pave Hammer without a scratch.
You all know the code words and code signs. Anyone who doesn’t return a recognition signal is a hostile. We’re not going in to slaughter civilians, but you will protect your own sorry butts and those of your fellow grunts to the maximum extent.
“Assignments: Monroe will be the wheel; Bennet is port guard; Reid’s on starboard guard; I’ll be the ramp guard. Guards, remember, don’t go out too far or your gunners watching your back will lose sight of you, and he’s likely to blow your ass away.
Guards, use your recognition signals; flash them whenever you see the aircraft, since a gunner probably has you in his sights and his finger’s tightening on the trigger. Schiff is tail gunner, Morgan is port gunner; Andrews, you’re starboard gunner. Gunners, radio out for signals before you open fire, and wait to get a return signal—but if you don’t get one, shoot first, then call out your hostile’s position. You don’t get extra credit for shooting off a whole can of ammo—make your shots count. Our call sign tonight is ‘Japan.”
“You got the standard escape-and-evasion plan memorized, I hope, but the basic plan is head west and stay away from everyone and everything. You should all know where our backup and emergency pickup points are; I’m going to ask all of you to point them out for me on your map on the way out, and if you miss even one, you’ll be on KP for a week. “I remind you that we’re going into the area with the Iranian military on high alert, which means a very likelyhood we could see action and might even get shot down,” Wohl continued, scanning each Of his men’s eyes to try to gauge their readiness for this mission. “if we’re shot down, remember to evacuate out the back of the aircraft, not the sides. Grab a buddy or a crewman or extra gear, but don’t waste time evacuating the aircraft if things are going to shit. Get as far away from the crash site as possible after the crash. Most guys who get captured after a force-down are captured near their aircraft within ten minutes, so the farther you can get away from your force-down point in the first ten minutes, the better.
“Move only at night, avoid all contact with civilization as much as you can, and move during daytime only long enough to get oriented, then get back into deep hiding,” Wohl went on. “Make your way to a pickup point, but stay away from roads, railroads, rivers, or streams—that’s where the bad guys will be looking for you. Trying to blend in with the locals is a Hollywood stunt, not a valid escape-and-evasion technique. Don’t make contact with anyone unless You’re hurt, but I goddamn guarantee that you better be hurting real bad, because if you ask someone for help you’ll likely be captured and tortured and then the pain will be unlike anything You’ve ever experienced.
“When you get to a pickup point, don’t just march right into it—take a few hours and check it out first. If you’re able, backtrack and check your rear—we don’t want the ragheads setting up any ambushes for Your rescuers. And remember to preserve the pickup points for other unlucky saps who ‘night need it in the future. Don’t just bolt out of a spider-hole when you see the angel coming down for you if the bad guys aren’t on your tail, police your area and recamouflage everything before the pickup to make it tougher for the ragheads to find the hiding Spots. Okay.
What are your questions for me?” No responses.
“Good. I got one more thing to say,” Wohl went on. “We got three guys hurt on the last sortie, including the FNG, Major Briggs.
They’re all right, but they’ll be out of action for a few weeks. I wanted to remind all you swinging dicks that sometimes no matter how much you shake your snake, that last drop can still roll down your pants. The latest prelaunch intel had the antiaircraft stuff moved off the Tumb Islands onto Abu Musa; we didn’t know they had put more stuff on Lesser Tumbs until it was too late. Shame on us. Shit happens.
Forget about the last mission and concentrate on this one. Don’t let it get you down. We’re here to find Colonel White and our shipmates and bring ‘em back alive.
