The nervous voice continued. “We’ve sustained heavy casualties and have chosen to break communications blackout. We are low on ammunition and need Medi-Vacs. Can we get assistance?”
Brodie paused, then answered hesitantly. “Listen to me, soldier. We’re doing all we can, but our resources are limited right now, and we’d pay dearly to try to break in to get you. Are you still located at Paris?”
“Paris,” Wright repeated. “That was the code name for the compound you were being held at.”
The nervous voice answered, “No, sir, we’re about ten clicks north.”
“How far is that from our position?” Rob asked.
“About twenty miles,” Wright answered. “Why?”
“Can you effect a rescue?” The nervous voice was pleading.
Wright took Rob’s shoulder. “There are only seven of us, counting you and me.”
“Make that eight,” Logan added.
Rob shook his head. “I’m not leaving them here. Now give me a bearing, Captain.”
Wright looked at the map and then to the heading. “Come left to zero one four and begin slowing and descending.”
Once again, the nervous voice spoke. “I don’t think we can hang on, sir. We’re about to be overrun as we speak. How long will it be before you can evac us?”
There was a long pause before Brodie answered, “Not before tonight.”
The nervous man was obviously trying to control his desperation, but his voice just could not hide his urgency. “Tonight! We’ll be all dead by noon! Sir, we can’t hang on that long! You have to come now!”
Again there was only a long silence before Brodie responded. “I’m sorry, soldier. We’ll do what we can, but you’re just going to have to hang in there.”
Rob could take it no longer and keyed his microphone. “Soldier, we’re going to try to effect a rescue.”
The nervous voice sounded relieved but skeptical. “When?”
Brodie was surprised to hear another voice on the frequency. “Who’s this?”
“We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Who are you?”
“Colonel Anderson. To whom am I speaking?”
“Lucky.”
“Well, Lucky, hang in there. You should see us over the area any minute.”
Rob brought the aircraft in low and slow as they searched the surrounding area for the battle. Then, just ahead, the battle became visible. About a dozen trucks were surrounding a group of soldiers who were ducked down in a small rocky ravine.
“There they are.” Rob pointed ahead.
“I see them, Colonel,” Wright replied. “Now how do we get them out?”
Rob keyed his microphone. “Lucky, can you see us?”
“Yes, sir, a couple of miles out due west of here.”
“Listen, Lucky, we’re about to blanket the area with fire. You all get your heads down, and keep them down.”
Rob pointed the aircraft at the trucks and flipped the forward lights on. The Concorde shook violently as the cannon pods spewed three pound thirty millimeter rounds out at a rate of sixty per second. The tracer rounds seemed to draw a solid red line in the ground as they tore up the earth like a volcanic eruption. He quickly rotated the aircraft’s nose around the soldier’s position and then turned off the cannons.
From their altitude, they could see plainly the damage they had done. As the dust settled, they could clearly see that the cannons had carved a road around the trapped soldiers, blasting apart the trucks and sending the surviving Iraqi attackers fleeing into the desert. Rob brought the Concorde in close and circled the group of soldiers until they were so close he could make out their hands waving in the air. Now came another challenge: to land the aircraft and take off again.
He chose his landing spot and lowered the landing gear. He held the nose up slightly and continued to slow the aircraft. He was coming in perfectly, and everyone was braced in a crash position. Ahead and off to the right, the rocky crest where the soldiers were gathered was clearly in view. The wheels of the Concorde hit the ground with a bang, followed by the familiar bouncing and jarring as the Concorde rushed across the uneven terrain. He gently reversed the thrust of the turbojet engines, bringing the Concorde to an abrupt halt.
“Go get them, Captain,” Rob commanded. “I’ll set the table and keep the food warm.”
Wright laughed as he unfastened his seatbelt and rose to leave. “And I’ll bring home the bacon.”
The Concorde’s door opened, and the soldiers leaped out onto the ground. Rob continued to taxi the airplane closer as the Marines ran on ahead.
Of the two dozen Special Forces soldiers who started on this mission, only eleven were left alive, two of whom were badly wounded. Both their commander and their second-in-command had been killed in the opening moments of the battle. The highest ranking soldier now was Master Sergeant Sol “Lucky” Mattson. He was standing on top of the highest rock as the Marines approached.
“Is that supposed to be some top secret gun ship?” he asked, motioning toward the approaching Concorde.
Wright smiled. “Sergeant, I’ll have you know that the Air Force has run out of gun ships. What you see here is a chartered flight, just for you.” He leaped down to the ground. “Tell me about your wounded.”
“Sir, we have two needing attention. The rest of us will be all right.”
“Are you Lucky?”
“That’s what they call me, sir.”
Wright looked around at the group of men before him. They were beaten and knew the humiliation of defeat. But their faces were hard, and their hearts were still full of confidence.
“Thanks for coming for us.”
Wright looked again at Lucky, knowing the competitive history between his Marine Tactical Units and those of the Army Green Beret. “Boy, I’ll bet that hurt!”
Lucky smiled. “You’ll never know just how much.”
By this time, the Concorde was pulling up close and the sound of its engines was deafening. Lucky pointed at the Concorde. “Isn’t that...”
“Don’t ask. Let’s just get everyone on board.”
Main Operations Center, USS Roosevelt
Persian Gulf
“Who’s Colonel Anderson?” Brodie asked, looking around the Ops Center.
“I think I know,” Miller replied.
“Let me guess. He’s the one you were trying to get out of Iraq. Now it’s beginning to make sense why he’s so important to you. Let’s see. You sent him in to steal the warheads, and that’s why it’s so important to get him out. So what is he? A colonel in the Special Forces?” He stared at Miller, waiting for a response.
“Well, yeah. Well, no, not really. Actually, he’s not military. And we had no idea Iraq had nuclear warheads.”
“What is he, then?”
“He’s a computer programmer.”
“Come again?”
“He’s a rather talented computer programmer with a fertile imagination.”
“Well, Agent Miller, our tracking units tell me that the aircraft that flew in to rescue the Special Forces was a Supersonic Transport. Can this computer programmer fly jet aircraft also?”
Miller shook his head. “I have no idea what’s going on in there, Captain. But we must help them however we can.”
“Do you really expect me to believe that his man is just a programmer? What kind of fool do you take me for? Whoever this man is, he has broken out of prison, stolen Iraq’s nuclear weapons, left in a supersonic aircraft, and now is rescuing our stranded soldiers, the soldiers we sent in to rescue him. Do I have that right?”
“That’s the way it looks.”
“You’re telling me that you don’t know anything about this operation?”
“I’m telling you, Captain, that it doesn’t matter. He’s got our men and their weapons. We must do everything possible now to help him escape. Everyone’s going to be looking for him. Can you agree to that?”
“Yes, I can. Let’s get up to the bridg
e.”
Concorde Flight
Maysan Territory, Southeast Iraq
Lucky followed Wright to the forward cabin to be introduced to Rob. “So tell me, Sergeant. What were you doing so deep in Iraqi territory?” Rob asked.
Lucky’s mouth dropped open slightly as he recognized Rob’s face from the slides Agent Miller had shown. “Sir, we were sent here to rescue you, only I didn’t realize you were a military officer.”
Wright rolled his eyes. “You, too.”
Lucky didn’t understand the comment and looked at Wright, confused.
“My team was sent in here, also. We were apparently ambushed by the same forces that ambushed you.”
Lucky was trying to understand. “But sir, we were assured that there were no hostile forces in the area.”
“Sorry, Sergeant. I can’t help you with why they sent you in blind. You’ll have to take that up with your superiors.”
“We lost thirteen men, sir. They were waiting for us.”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant.”
“Well, with the losses we took, it’s for sure that our first mission will be now be scrubbed.”
Rob throttled the giant turbines up, and once again the aircraft was beginning to jolt and jar as it raced ahead faster and faster across the rocky terrain. At a hundred miles per hour, he pushed the throttle all the way forward and engaged the afterburners. Then, as if finding quiet in the midst of a storm, the shaking ended as the aircraft swiftly rose upward. The Concorde reached for the sky.
Wright lifted his head and looked around while the Concorde steadily climbed. “One more takeoff like that, and I’m going to ask for my money back.”
Rob laughed. “How far are we from the coast?”
“Two or three hundred miles.”
Rob turned the aircraft until he was facing east and kept the altitude at two thousand feet. “Tell me, Sergeant, what do you mean by ‘first mission?’”
“Sir?”
“Your first mission. You said you’d have to scrub your first mission. What was that?”
“We’d been a month in training for a specific mission when the orders came in for us to attempt to rescue you.”
“What was that mission?”
“Sir, you know I can’t tell you that!”
“Of course. But if there’s anyone else out here, I want to know about it. We’re not leaving anyone behind, soldier. We’re either all going home, or none of us are. Is that understood?”
Lucky stood motionless, deep in thought.
“Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir. It is understood quite clearly.”
Rob looked out his side windows. “Get everyone looking out the windows. I suspect we’ll have visitors soon, and I don’t want to be surprised.”
Logan looked out the right side windows. “Well, it looks like you won’t be.” Far off in the distance, four MIG fighters were racing up on them.
“It’s no secret now where we are.” Rob kicked in the afterburning engines and aimed the nose upward. But the MIGs had too much momentum for them to escape and quickly pulled up behind the Concorde. Two were on the right, and two were on the left side. One of MIGs pulled up along the Concorde next to Rob’s side and motioned him to turn the airplane around.
“Get me two machine guns,” Rob ordered.
“Why?” Wright asked. “What do you have in mind?”
“Just do it.” He slowed the aircraft down and extended the landing gear. Wright handed him two machine guns as he placed the aircraft on auto-pilot. “Seal the cabin. It’s going to get real windy in here when I open this side window.”
“You’re going to what?” Logan was astonished. “We’re going a hundred and sixty miles per hour!”
“Seatbelt yourself in tightly.” He placed the two guns together and reached for the small sliding window beside him.
The window was only four inches by four inches, but it felt as if a door had blown open when he slid it open. He shoved the barrels of both guns out the small opening and aimed at the cockpit of the nearby MIG. The pilot saw the guns and tried to react, but he wasn’t quick enough.
Rob emptied sixty 7.62 millimeter rounds into the canopy of the jet fighter in just under three seconds. The canopy shattered, and the pilot shook from the impact of the bullets as the jet rolled away in a twisting dance of death. Rob closed the window, pulled in the landing gear, and kicked in the afterburners. The Concorde leaped forward with the other MIGs quickly following.
He pushed the steering wheel down, then back, then to the right as hard as he could. The Concorde responded by diving, then rising up quickly and turning right in the path of the first MIG on the right-hand side. That MIG was too close to get out of the way, and the pilot desperately tried to pull up and over the path of the Concorde. He was obviously unprepared for the speed at which the Concorde could travel. The MIG accelerated quickly trying to escape the Concorde’s path, but its speed was not quick enough.
The Concorde’s wing sliced through the rear of the MIG like it was made of butter. It shook and rolled to the right, and Rob nearly lost control as they spiraled downward, still picking up speed. The MIG exploded into flames as it tore apart in the air above them.
Rob pulled up hard to recover from the spin, while the other two MIGs tried to move into a good firing position behind him. He rocked his aircraft to the right and to the left, allowing them to pull in closer, and waited until they were directly behind him.
The MIGs were flying in formation, unaware what the pods under the Concorde’s wings were. They allowed Rob to line up directly with their line of flight before he turned on his landing lights. The Concorde shook violently as more than two hundred three pound cannon rounds sprayed out behind it, and within those few brief seconds, the trailing MIGs disintegrated in flames and explosions.
Wright’s fist went into the air. “You got ‘em!”
Rob smiled. “I’ll bet this is the first time that a passenger jet ever took out four MIGs.”
Lucky sat with his mouth open. “I’ve seen it, but I still don’t believe it. Sir, what do you do for an encore?”
“Button it up. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
Rob had barely finished speaking when Logan spoke up. “Here they come again. Behind us at twelve o’clock.”
Rob twisted the Concorde back and forth as the MIGs speeded in from behind.
“Why aren’t they firing missiles?” Wright asked.
“These aircraft were probably fighter bombers,” Logan answered. “They were already up here, probably on their way back from a mission, when they were ordered to intercept us. Most likely, all they have left are cannon rounds.”
“Let’s see if we can use that to our advantage.” Rob kicked in the afterburners and lifted the nose into the air. The MIGs responded by increasing their thrust to catch up with him. He then reduced engine power and opened up the air brakes.
Huge flaps, functioning like parachutes, lifted on each wing, and the Concorde’s airspeed dropped swiftly as the aircraft stalled. The lead MIG could not slow quickly enough and found itself flying under the Concorde’s wings. Rob immediately increased full power and pointed the nose downward.
They were flying under three thousand feet, and the MIG was increasing speed to get away. But the Concorde’s four huge turbo-fan turbines refused to give way for the MIG that was desperately streaking downward under the Concorde trying to pull out in front. Seconds later, Rob pulled the nose of the Concorde up barely missing the ground at just over a hundred feet, while the MIG slammed into the surface, exploding into flames.
The other MIGs had pulled up and were keeping pace with the Concorde at two thousand feet. The Concorde’s dive had added five hundred miles per hour to its velocity, so it was now traveling considerably faster than the MIGs.
Rob pulled the Concorde’s nose up, pointing it toward the distant MIGs. “What’s the range?”
Wright looked at the panel. “About one mile.”
&nbs
p; “What’s the range of these thirty millimeters?”
“About one mile.”
Rob kept the throttle completely open as he shot toward the MIGs. They split off, two diving to the right and two to the left. He followed the ones on the right while the ones on the left circled around to his rear. The MIGs in front were about a half mile away when those behind pulled up into firing position.
He flipped both the front and rear lights on, and all four gun pods exploded into action. He moved the nose from side to side and watched the cannon rounds blaze across the sky into the paths of the distant aircraft. There were flashes, smoke, and then the aircraft simply fell apart, the pieces drifting lazily down toward the ocean below. Behind him, the front aircraft was hit by both rear pods and disappeared in a violent explosion at almost point blank range. The last MIG pulled up and away.
Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt Page 33