Red Ice

by William Dietz

  Then, as Falco panned to the right he saw some colorful buildings, fishing boats, and another Buk. A cluster of cranes marked the location of the local freight terminal.

  The airfield appeared next. A number of aircraft were visible including two civilian prop planes, an attack helicopter, and two Sukhoi Su-25s—both waiting to take off.

  The jets would have been good targets had there been enough time to bring fire in on them. That wasn’t the case however. Engines roared as the fighters hurtled down the runway and took off to the east.

  Falco’s glasses skimmed the blue waters of Zaliv Bay to the settlement of Nunyamo off in the far distance. And that , Falco knew, was the western terminus of the floating bridge, and the spot where Russian ground forces were trying to stop American troops. The rumble of artillery could be heard, and clouds of smoke billowed up into the sky.

  The visual tour came to end as Falco’s binoculars came to rest on the spindly control tower that marked the east end of the airstrip. Falco planned to take that down first, because by doing so, he could disrupt flight operations and communications. “We’re ready,” Oliver informed him. “Let’s do this thing.”

  Falco turned to Purdy. The noncom was thin, wiry, and badly in need of a shave. Under normal circumstances the marine would have been part of a Naval Shore Fire Control Party, under the command of a naval Gunfire Liaison Officer.

  But these weren’t normal circumstances. Like the mission itself, the team had been thrown together on the fly, and Falco had to make it work.

  “Here’s what I have in mind, Sergeant,” Falco said. “I’ll pick the targets and pass them to you. Then, since you speak swabbie, you’ll translate what I say and give orders to the Ramage .

  Purdy looked pleased. “Yes, sir. You can count on me.”

  Falco turned to Oliver. “I’m depending on you to handle whatever air support becomes available. But pay attention to the naval stuff … I don’t want to double up on targets unless there’s a good reason to do so. And Greg …”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t let our jet jockeys bomb the airstrip. Waya will take me off at the ankles if they do.”

  “Got it,” Oliver said with a grin. “No BOOM-BOOM on the runway.”

  Falco looked at Purdy. “See what I put up with? Okay, call the Ramage . Let’s put those swabbies to work.”

  The Ramage was an Arleigh-Burke Class guided missile destroyer. The tin can had been launched way back in 1994, but Falco didn’t give a shit, so long as the Ramage could deliver the goods. That meant missiles and 5-inch shells when he asked for them. “I have the Ramage on the horn,” Purdy announced. “They’re standing by.”

  “We’re going to drop the control tower first,” Falco announced. “You have the coordinates … Request two Harpoons.”

  The Ramage was cruising fifteen miles offshore—and her arsenal included eight active radar-homing, over-the-horizon, anti-ship missiles. Except the Harpoons were going to be used against shore targets instead of enemy vessels.

  After some routine back and forth with the destroyer’s command center, the missiles were launched. Falco took comfort from the fact that the radar-homing weapons were flying just above the surface of the sea, which would make them damned hard to hit.

  The bad news was that the missiles’ relatively puny 488-pound warheads might lack a sufficient amount of punch. Accuracy would be everything. “They’re running hot and straight,” Purdy reported.

  There was no reason to wait for the moment of impact, so Falco gave Purdy a new target. “There are two Buk anti-aircraft missile systems in front of us. Let’s assume that both have active radar. Hit the one on the right.”

  Yussef had been silent so far. “The attack helicopter is spinning up, sir.”

  Falco swore. The Russian helo might be headed for the bridge, where a hellacious battle was underway, or some other destination. But what if the helicopter was supposed to locate the missing 4X4? That would put the team under the helo’s flight path as it flew south. And the MP5s would be worthless against a Mi-24 gunship. “Oliver! Put out the call … We need help, and we need it now .”

  That was when Falco heard a two explosions, and raised his glasses in time to see the second Harpoon hit the control tower. The explosion blew a hole in the column, and sent debris flying, but left the structure standing. “Tell the Ramage to use her 5-inch gun on that sucker,” Falco ordered. “Maybe that’ll bring it down.”

  Purdy nodded as the Buk launcher blew up. The second explosion was like an echo of the first. A column of dirty grey smoke twisted up to mark the spot. “Notify the Ramage, ” Falco said. “Target destroyed.”

  Purdy nodded, and was speaking into his mike, as the Mi-24 lifted off. Falco swore as the insectoid looking helicopter turned and headed towards them. “Disperse!” Falco shouted. “And take cover!” A pile of rocks offered a place to hide.

  Falco was crouched between two boulders, looking up through the crack that divided them, as the gunship clattered overhead. Keep going , he prayed, head south . But God must have been attending to someone else’s needs at that moment, because the Mi-24 entered a wide turn, and bored in. That’s when the Gatling gun in the ship’s bulbous nose opened fire. The slugs took the top of the obelisk off. And, as the large chunk of granite fell, 5-inch shells began to rain down around the control tower below.

  The helo continued to speed away before circling back. As the noise level dropped Falco could hear Purdy walking the 5-inch shells in. “Up ten! Right five! Fire!”

  “They’re coming in again!” Yussef warned. “Put your heads down.”

  The pilot fired rockets this time. One of them scored a direct hit on Purdy’s hiding place. The bright red explosion killed him. A second missile struck a pile of rocks and sent shrapnel scything through the air. Falco heard it clatter around him as Oliver uttered a joyful shout. “Hang on! A guy called Boss Hog and his wingman are rolling in from the north!”

  Falco dared to take a look, and saw that two A-10s were coming his way. The Mi-24 tried to run but that was a waste of time. There was an orange-red explosion as Boss Hog blew the Russian out of the air. Bits and pieces of fiery debris rained down as the A-10s turned north to lend assistance there.

  Shells continued to fall around the tower as Falco made his way over to where Purdy lay. He barely knew the marine. But during the short period of time they’d spent together Falco had come to appreciate the jarhead’s can-do spirit. He swore under his breath.

  “Two hits!” Yussef exclaimed. “There it goes!”

  Falco looked up to see the top half of the tower break off and fall free. The column shattered as it hit a taxiway. You did it Sergeant , Falco thought. You killed that sonofabitch . And I’m going to put your ass in for a medal .

  Most of the targets had been accounted for, but one remained. “Tell the Ramage to shift fire.” Falco ordered. “See the Buk system at the west end of the runway? Order them to put two Harpoons on it.”

  Oliver passed the word. Shortly after he did so, a call came in. “Boomerang-Five to Red-Eye-Six. Do you read me? Over.”

  Falco took the mike. “This is six. I read you five-by-five. Over.”

  The words were followed by two overlapping explosions as the Harpoons raced in from the Bering Strait to score direct hits on the Buk system. A dark mushroom cloud floated up into the air. Boomerang-Five was still on the horn. “What’s your status? Over.”

  “All of our primary targets have been destroyed,” Falco replied. “Over.”

  “Excellent. Stand down. Phase two is about to begin. Out.”

  Falco looked at Oliver. “A whole lot of people are about to fall out of the sky.”

  The noncom nodded. “That’s a good sign! Things must be going well on the bridge.”

  “Let’s pack up,” Falco said. “Our job is done. ”

  The fighters arrived first, and began to circle at 15,000 feet. Transport planes appeared next. Tiny stick figures spilled out into the air. Parachut
es blossomed, and most of the soldiers landed on the airfield. A few rangers went astray though—and Falco saw one of them splash into the bay.

  The Americans didn’t land unopposed however. Most of the Russian troops were fighting on the north side of the bay, where Waya’s forces were trying to come ashore, but the airport’s security force put up a fight. They were badly outgunned however, and the battle was over fifteen minutes later.

  Falco, Oliver and Yussef took turns carrying Purdy down the winding trail to the edge of town. Falco was on point. A waist high stone wall wandered across the hillside. It was gray and covered with lichen. Falco led the team down the path and through an open gate.

  That was when Falco heard a pop, followed by a loud bang, and a feeling of incredible lightness. This is what it feels like to fly , Falco thought, as his body was thrown into the air. Then he fell, and the ground came up hard. The world ceased to exist.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Eugene, Oregon USA

  A fter exiting the two-engined plane, and passing through the busy terminal, Parker found herself in Eugene, Oregon. The college town where Falco had been born and raised. She felt a host of conflicting emotions. Three months had passed since the Americans had taken control of the Russian made bridge, repaired it where necessary, and crossed into Russian territory. More than a thousand lives were lost in the process.

  After capturing Nunyamo, and the town of Lavrentiya, the Americans settled in. There was no strategic reason to occupy the surrounding wastelands and they didn’t. The whole idea was to score a psychological victory, create a nearly impregnable fortress, and pull Russian resources away from the war in Europe. The same strategy the Russians had been hoping to employ. And it was working.

  Meanwhile as the arctic winter set in, most of the bridge had been destroyed. Ice floes slammed into it, storms tore at it, and the Americans made no effort to intervene. Nor was there a reason to. They could resupply Firebase Waya by air, so long as American fighters kept their counterparts at bay, which they had. And Parker had been part of that effort .

  Now she was on leave. And, rather than go home to Spokane, Parker had chosen to visit Eugene instead. Why? Because of Major Dan Falco, that’s why.

  After stepping on a mine in Lavrentiya, Falco had been air-evaced to the hospital at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, and from there to David Grant USAF Medical Center at Travis AFB in California. Parker knew that, because she’d been in touch with Master Sergeant Greg Oliver, and he kept her apprised of Falco’s condition.

  And the situation wasn’t good. The JTAC’s left leg had been blown off—and seventeen pieces of shrapnel had been removed from various parts of his anatomy. That, Parker imagined, was why Falco wasn’t responding to her emails. He was going through the emotional upheaval that most people experience after a traumatic amputation.

  According to what Parker had read, a person in Falco’s situation was likely to experience grief, anger, and withdrawal. So why was Parker standing in the cold, outside the terminal in Eugene? Did she pity Falco? Had she come to provide the comfort he hadn’t requested? Or, was it because she wanted him? Maybe. Realizing that they barely knew each other. Still , Parker thought, we had something. Or the beginnings of something.

  A ride share car stopped in front of her. That was popular now … And ride share drivers could buy a larger allotment of gas. Parker opened the back door, placed her carryon inside, and slid in next to it. The driver was an older man. He eyed her in the mirror. “Yes, ma’am … Where to?”

  According to Oliver, Falco was staying with his parents, and waiting for a medical board to decide his fate. He wanted a return to full duty. To be a JTAC again. That was unlikely. But, after the upcoming bump to lieutenant colonel, the air force could utilize Falco’s talents in other ways. If he was willing. Parker read Falco’s address off her phone. “No problem,” the driver said. “I know where it is.”

  Parker watched the scenery slide by as the car left the airport. This is either the stupidest thing you’ve done, Parker thought, or the smartest. You’ll know soon.

  As the car passed through the suburbs, and continued into the countryside beyond, Parker saw apple orchards to the left and right. That was a revelation. Falco’s a country boy , Parker thought. And it fits .

  It took fifteen minutes to reach their destination, and pass under the sign that read, “Falco Farms.” A curving driveway led up to the dignified farmhouse on top of the softly rounded hill. There was a barn too … And farm equipment. Parker’s heart was beating faster. Was the visit a mistake? Would she be sorry?

  “That’ll be thirty-six dollars,” the man said. “Sorry, but gas is expensive.”

  “No problem,” Parker replied, as she handed the money over. “Do you have a card? I might need a ride to the airport later today.”

  He turned to look at her. “Are you here to see Danny?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  “Of course,” the driver replied. “Danny and my son Larry were best friends in high school. Larry’s in the marines now, serving somewhere in Africa.”

  Parker swallowed. There were so many young men and women serving overseas. And all of them were in danger. “Everyone has someone in the war,” Parker said. “I’m sure Larry will be fine.”

  “I hope so,” the man said. “As for Danny, well, he’s been down lately. A pretty face might cheer him up.”

  Parker opened the door, got out, and leaned over to get the bag. “Thanks for the ride. Maybe I’ll see you later. ”

  Gravel crunched under Parker’s feet as she made her way up a short flight of stairs to the wraparound porch. The screen door made a squealing sound as a woman pushed it open. She had carefully kept gray hair, a kindly face, and Falco’s mouth. “Yes? May I help you?”

  “My name is Parker, Kathy Parker, and I’m a friend of Dan’s. We served together in Alaska. Please excuse my unannounced visit. I tried to contact Dan by email, but couldn’t reach him.”

  The woman nodded. “I’m Nancy, Danny’s mom. What you really mean is that Danny didn’t reply to your messages. He’s been moody lately. Please come in.”

  As Parker followed Nancy into the house she half expected to see Falco sitting on a couch with his prosthetic leg up on a hassock. He wasn’t there. The living room was furnished with a carefully conceived mix of old and new items. The result was both stylish and comfortable.

  A tall, rangy man entered the room from the kitchen. He was in excellent shape, and something about the way he moved, reminded Parker of Falco. “This is my husband, Ralph,” Nancy said. “Ralph, this is Kathy Parker. She’s a friend of Danny’s.”

  Ralph had piercing blue eyes, and a firm handshake. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you Kathy … Are you a JTAC?”

  “No,” Parker replied. “I’m a pilot.”

  Ralph’s eyes lit up. “A pilot! What do you fly?”

  “I fly F-15s right now.”

  Ralph nodded. “Danny wanted to fly, but he didn’t make the cut. He took it well though, and we were proud of him.”

  “Are proud of him,” Nancy put in pointedly. “They gave him a silver star for what he did in Alaska.”

  “And he deserved it,” Parker said. “Dan is a brave man. He saved my life.”

  Nancy eyed her. Parker could see the wheels turning. And could imagine what the other woman was thinking. Who is this woman? A friend? Or something more? And how will her visit impact my son?

  Parker forced a smile. “Is Dan around?”

  “Yes, he is,” Ralph assured her. “Danny’s supposed to do exercises, and walk as much as he can. He’s out in the orchard. Follow me … I’ll point you in the right direction.”

  The sky was clear, the sun was up, and the air was crisp. Falco had completed his morning exercises, and was bent over, peering into the shallow creek that trickled through the orchard. It was something he’d done countless times as a child. Crayfish lived in the cold water, and he liked to watch them scuttle around.

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p; Falco straightened up. The stump hurt, the way it always hurt, but less now. And that was a good thing. The medical board was coming up, and he needed to show progress in order to reclaim his life. More than that his identity, and his reason for being.

  Falco’s combat honed senses were still quite acute. He heard a twig snap and turned. He was looking east, into the sun, and it was difficult to see. Was that his father? Coming out to check on him? No, this was someone shorter. A person wrapped in a halo of orange-yellow light. Then the truth dawned on him. “Kathy? Is that you? ”

  Parker stopped. “Yes, it’s me. Hello, Dan … It’s good to see you.”

  Falco felt a surge of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Kathy. I got your emails, and I read each one of them at least twenty times. But I didn’t know what to say. I have drafts though … Lots and lots of drafts.”

  “It’s okay,” Parker replied. “I understand.”

  Falco limped forward. “Do you? I don’t want to be your friend. I never did. And I don’t think that’s what you had in mind either. Not then. But now, with this , I’m not the same man. ”

  Parker smiled. “Oh, I get it … You were planning on a career as a ballet dancer.”

  It was hard edged humor, military humor, the kind common to every branch. And there was no pity in it. Falco laughed, and it felt good. He moved closer. “I dreamed of you.”

  Parker looked up at him. Her eyes were big. “And I of you. That’s why I came. I want you to buy me to dinner. I want you to tell me about everything and nothing. And I want you to kiss me Wombat … Now , on the lips.”

  Falco took Parker into his arms and felt her hands touch the back of his neck. Their lips met and seemed to fuse. The moment was accompanied by a sense of completion, as well as an abiding hunger, which was waiting to be satisfied.

  Suddenly, in place of what had been lost, Falco had something of even greater value. Their lips parted and their combined breaths fogged the air as they smiled. “Come on,” Falco said, as he took her hand. “I’ll give you the tour. I hope you like apples. Dad would be pleased.”