Kevin Miller - Declared Hostile

“Got it,” Smith answered.

They crouched and scooted through the trees, around the wounded man. He appeared delirious and no threat. They continued south, and then east toward the gunfire until one of the Marines saw a man. “Tallyho. Guy in a black shirt. See the big tree. Look about three feet up the trunk to the right.”

Jill did and saw movement. “Yep, there’s one. Sergeant Smith, take him out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With Jill keeping watch, the Marines moved behind the trunk and set up the BAR. The light was receding; they had to work fast.

“Eighty meters,” Garcia whispered to Smith as he looked through the sight at the man, who was hiding behind a tree and watching the cabin.

“Concur.”

“Take him.”

Garcia squeezed a burst, and Smith saw the man fall.

“Got him.”

“Okay, let’s move out!” Jill said.

They heard another man cry “Jose! Jose! ”

The trio moved 20 yards and crouched down, looking and listening. They heard nothing but the sound of gentle trade winds through the trees.

“Throw a rock,” Jill commanded Garcia.

He picked up a stone and threw it high into an opening between branches. They heard it fall and waited as Smith aimed his M-16. Nothing.

Light was now becoming a real factor. Then, they heard rotor blades.

From 14,000 feet, Annie backed out of the basket as Whisk 14, a Super Hornet , waited his turn with his refueling probe extended while flying on the Rhino tanker’s left wing. The pilot inside was a lieutenant and went by Woody. The sun was about 20 degrees above the horizon, and it would set in 33 minutes.

Both Annie and Macho carried two Sidewinders and bullets, plus two empty drop tanks. The Whisk FA-18Es had similar loads, and two of them had AMRAAMs left. The air-to-air missiles were all but useless in an air-to-surface attack. All of Annie’s wingmen had full drums of 20mm, and that forward firing weapon would keep the Venezuelans’ heads down until the helo could arrive, with one, maybe two, Hellfire missiles, and its own door guns. However, guns required getting up close and personal, and the Venezuelans on those boats had guns, too — and, likely, handheld SAMs.

Coordinating with Condor, Annie learned the Flintlock CSAR bird was 40 miles away and en route to the datum. With the Whisk, Lumber , and Jelly sections either on station or en route, Annie would have to manage their fuel and direct aircraft to tankers or back to Mother , all while finding and escorting the Flintlock to the scene and defending it as it moved in for the rescue. Whisk 11 reported a large flotilla of small craft were five miles away and closing fast. They would be upon Lemur in about ten minutes. The jets on scene could hold them off — they would have to.

Woody backed out of the basket with his 2,000 pounds, the basket whipping a little as it came off the probe. He retracted the probe and slid under Annie, who called Macho on auxiliary frequency.

“Macho, how you doing?”

“Another thousand to go,” Macho answered, holding her position in the basket.

“Roger, have a visual on you. When you are done, come off east, and we’ll direct your eyes on us.”

“Roger.”

Annie signaled the tanker pilot to retract the basket, and, when it was reeled into the store, signaled good stow with a thumbs-up. She then opened her hand to signal they were detaching and banked her formation away as the tanker, with no more to give, secured the refueling store prop and banked the opposite direction, heading back to Coral Sea. The pink glow to the west reflected off the aircraft’s tactical gray paint.

Annie saw Macho detach east. “Macho, we are at your right three o’clock. Two miles.”

Once Macho had a visual on Annie, all three jets took a course to intercept the Flintlock coming down from the Littoral Combat Ship off Grenada. Annie descended her formation through two columns of buildups and, with her radar, scanned the surface to find the MH-60 which was heading southwest at 100 knots. The geometry resembled an isosceles triangle, with Annie leading three jets to intercept and escort the CSAR helo on one side, then turning 90 degrees right to intercept Lemur’s position on the water.

She leveled at 10,000 to conserve fuel and picked up the Sierra at her 10:30 low, on the water heading southwest.

“ Flintlock, Lumber two-zero. Visual contact. We’re high above now.”

“Roger, Lumber. Proceeding to the last known datum.”

In a lazy right turn, Annie led the mixed section of Hornets southwest and into the sunset, a brilliant red horizon with the yellow orb still visible above it. She raised her dark visor to see inside the cockpit and adjusted the lighting. Now with 45 miles to go, she sanitized the sea below with sweeps of her radar and eyeballs from three cockpits. The puffy, scattered clouds, turning gray in the low light, could conceal a vessel, and the aviators had to look around each buildup to ensure Flintlock could ingress unmolested, even though a fully armed Sierra could take care of itself. The low light on the darkening water made it a challenge.

The fighters could make up the distance in minutes, and they would have to.

“ Lumber two-zero from Whisk zero-one. We’re approaching bingo fuel.”

“Roger, Whisk. Can you give us ten more mikes?” Annie responded and waited for an answer. It finally came.

“We don’t have much of a cushion now. The go-fasts are about five miles away, and we are going to roll in on the lead boats, one run and off. Condor from Whisk , do we have permission to engage?”

Annie sensed the answer would be a long time coming.

“ Whisk lead from Lumber two-zero. If the go-fasts are a threat, you are cleared to engage, on my authority.”

“Roger, ma’am.” The lead Rhino replied.

The Super Hornets were holding west of Lemur’s posit as they watched the boats. Lemur’s sea-dye marker aided them with relative distance, but the low light would soon obscure the growing patch of fluorescent green. Lemur would then be almost invisible in his gray raft on the gray surface.

From 5,000 feet, Whisk 11 put his flight into combat spread and tac-turned them out of the sun and toward the boats. The geometry called for a crossing shot, and each fighter had to estimate how much lead to take. The boats were coming in clusters and singles spread out over miles of ocean, and a big one was in the lead.

“I’ve got that big guy up front,” Whisk 11 broadcast to the others. “Aim for one and hit it, be sure to lead them, and save expendables until you pull off. Armstrong! ”

Annie listened as she strained to see what she could over her nose. The datum was over 20 miles away and obscured by the ubiquitous buildups.

“Lead’s in,” Whisk 11 transmitted.

Annie continued to monitor the UHF comms to try to build a tactical picture in her mind as she and Macho closed in. Whisk 12, Lemur, was in his raft and talking with his flight lead on his survival radio. If the boats heading from the south reached him, it meant certain capture. The Whisk and Lumber formations were rolling in from west to east, out of the setting sun, to strafe the boats and keep them away from Lemur. The Super Hornets were running out of fuel, too. Annie transmitted to give them some situational awareness.