Mack Maloney - Chopper Ops

He pointed to the crude drawings under the mountain photo. One showed a cascade of vegetation coming down the side of the mountain and ending at the flattened-out area.

“All this vegetation is fake,” he said.

He pointed to the next drawing. “Behind it is this place.”

The drawing showed what appeared to be an enormous cave. If the dimensions penciled in were correct, this cavernous maw was larger inside than Hangar 2 back at Seven Ghosts Key.

“Damn, who lives there? Batman?” Delaney asked.

“Close,” Smitz replied. “Like I said, the SAS used this place as a forward chopper base during Desert Storm. Apparently it’s been around since the First World War. The Brits had enough room inside for a chopper squadron and a company of men. Just about what we’re packing. The Gomers never caught on.

“This is where we will go to first. We wait here until the right time arrives to strike, then we do the job. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be in-country for less than seventy-two hours….”

A gasp went through the room. “You mean seven hours, I hope?” Delaney said.

“No,” was Smitz’s reply.

“Here’s the reason why,” he explained. “The cave is about a hundred klicks away from where everyone thinks the disguised air base is located. But that hidden base is in a part of Iraq that is so remote and the terrain around it so rugged and yet similar to everything else in the area, it might take a few recon flights just to find it and pinpoint its exact location. Then we have to wait until we know the gunship is there. Between the two, I believe we will have to reconnoiter the target at least a few times before we go on. This means we have to be prepared to spend some time in that cave. Maybe a few nights. Maybe a week. Maybe even longer.”

A groan went through the chart room. But Smitz ignored it. He was used to that reaction by now.

“So here are the setups,” he began. “Step one, we leave here. Step two, we reach the cave. Step three, we await word from my office that the gunship might be at the base while step four, the Hinds go out and recon its location. Step five, the Hinds return. Step six, the whole unit goes out, we hit the base, recover the crew, and, we hope, the airplane itself. Step seven, we egress out, fly the AC-130 to Al-Khadi, in western Saudi.”

“The place from whence it came?” Norton asked. “Nice touch.”

Smitz looked up from the document for a moment.

“I must emphasize one thing,” he said. “Once we leave, we will be totally autonomous. We have to operate on our own, without expecting or getting any help from outside assets. That’s how secret this mission is. After we lift off from here, it will be like we never existed.”

This statement was met with nothing but grim stares and the shuffling of some feet.

Smitz returned to his missive. The scrolled paper was now totally flattened out and getting smeared from much use.

“Next item: code words,” Smitz announced. “As usual, complicated. Let’s see, the office wants the first Hind to be Delta Tango One. The second Hind will be Foxtrot Tango One. The Hook will be Alpha Tango Six. The first Halo will be Delta Tango Larry. The second Halo will be Delta Tango Curley… Jeesuz, who makes up this stuff?”

He read further down.

“The cave will be known as Target Point Zero. The objective will be known as Target Minus One Alpha. The—”

That was when Delaney interrupted him. “May I make a suggestion?”

Smitz looked up at him. “Sure, I guess…”

Delaney took the paper from Smitz’s hands and to the astonishment of all, tore off the paragraph listing the code words, crumpled it up, and threw it out an open porthole into the sea beyond.

“We’re going to have enough to worry about without trying to keep all that crap straight,” he declared.

Then he turned to Gillis and Ricco and said: “You guys will be Pumper.”

He pointed at the Army Aviation pilots. “You guys: Truck One. Truck Two.”

He pointed at Norton. “Hound Dog One…”

He pointed to himself. “Hound Dog Two.”

He pointed to the photo of the flattened mountain. “That will be the Bat Cave.” He pointed to the hidden air base. “That’s the Ranch.”

Then he looked up at everybody. “Any objections?”

They all just stared back at him. Delaney really was a nutty guy, Norton thought. But there was no one better at cutting through the bullshit.

“Fine by me,” Smitz finally replied.

A chorus from the others echoed that sentiment.

Smitz rolled up what was left of the scroll and stored it in his briefcase. He then passed out two-page sheets that he’d previously printed out of his NoteBook.

“Here’s a bit of information on some of the Arc-Light’s original crew,” he explained. “It’s very sketchy, but I thought it might be best to see who we are going in to rescue.”

Once everyone had their info sheet in hand, Smitz stood up straight and stretched his back.

“We’ll be taking off at 2100 hours tonight,” he announced. “You should all get some sleep if possible. Any questions? Comments?”

Only about a million, Norton thought to himself.

But before he could say anything, there came a voice from the back of the small room.

“Yes, sir. I would like to go on record as saying this plan is total bullshit.”

Everyone turned.

It was Chou Koo—Joe Cool.

The room was suddenly very tense. Chou was the kind of guy who had never questioned an order in his life.

And now he was speaking up.

“Something to say, Captain?” Smitz asked him calmly.

“I think what you are proposing is impossible,” Chou replied. “With all due respect, sir.”

“Why is that, Marine?” Smitz asked sternly. “Share with us.”

Chou stepped forward.

“Simple really,” he said. “What if one of the Halos develops a mechanical problem? There are no backups. With everyone who is going on this ride, the air techs and so on, there probably won’t be enough room on the other aircraft to bring everyone back home. What do we do then?”

It was a tough question, but Smitz had to answer.

“If that happens, the others continue on,” he said. His words were absolutely ice cold.

Chou’s jaw clenched.

“Well, what if we lose the fuel chopper?” he asked. “How will the entire unit proceed then? Or even get back to friendly lines? Or if we get stuck on that mountain and the Gomers get wise at some point, how will we get out?”

Smitz just stared back at him.

“We probably won’t,” he replied.

Chou stood frozen for a moment, then finally turned away.

Smitz looked at the rest of them. His eyes were narrow and absolutely dark. Yeah, he’d changed— a lot .

“Any more questions?” he asked.

There were none.

Below the steering house on Heaven 2 was a room just big enough to fit a dozen bunks stacked three on top of each other. This was where the pilots were sent to sleep before the mission jump-off.

Norton climbed up onto his assigned bunk and collapsed. The cubicle was small and stuffy, but at least he didn’t have to sleep inside his chopper as the Marines and the air techs were doing.

No sooner had he laid his head down when he heard Delaney in the next bunk over let out a burp and then a moment later, start to snore. Norton was simply amazed. Apparently Delaney could fall asleep almost anytime, anywhere, no matter what the circumstances. Norton envied him. Considering what lay ahead for him and the rest of the unit, sleep was the furthermost thing from Norton’s mind.

He pulled out the two-page information sheet Smitz had given them on the gunship’s original crew. The questions began flooding in. What had happened to them that night the plane went missing? What had they been going through ever since? Were they really still alive, as some in the CIA believed? Or had the Iraqis cooked and eaten them a long time ago?