by Ted Russ
Our target sat on the north side of the notch of that L, where three small fenced fields lay. The fences were designed to contain small farm animals, and in the middle of each field stood small, cinder-block structures that served as sleeping stalls. Turtle and Ambizo’s recon had located the goat in the northernmost field. This was good because it meant we could access the northern corner of the field from Dairy Lane and the cover of the trees. We did not want to have to go up the smaller driveway and into the farm itself, either on foot or in the rental van. There was too much light and only one way out. Worse, most nights a roving rent-a-cop in a golf cart patrolled the farm on an irregular schedule. It would be too easy for him to spot and obstruct us.
The plan was for the van to cruise up Annapolis Road around midnight. It would come to a slow roll prior to Dairy Lane, and Turtle and I would jump out of the back. We would ingress under the cover of the dark tree shadows until we reached the point where the northern corner of the field abutted Dairy Lane. We would hop the fence, cross the field to the small building, and confirm that the goat was there. Once that was confirmed, we would assess how to get the goat out.
We brought everything we could think of, trying to cover every contingency: bolt cutters, a power saw, a full ratchet set, and even a blowtorch, which Zack had insisted on. Once Turtle and I had formed a plan, we would radio the van, telling Zack and Tim what we needed for the breach. The van would do another pass, and Zack would hop out at Dairy Lane with the requested tools. He would sneak up to us at the building, and we would do what we needed to do. Then we’d exfil with the goat by cutting a hole in the fence and trotting him out through the shadows to Annapolis Road, where the van would pick us up.
At that point, it would be about a two-hour drive to Ambizo’s family’s farm outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. We would drop the goat off there and then head back to West Point for the hard part: avoiding discovery until the game.
Everything began according to plan. Turtle and I hopped out of the back of the van as Ambizo brought it to a crawl just short of Dairy Lane. Zack pulled the van doors shut as we ducked into the shadows under the trees, and Ambizo gently accelerated away. After about a minute of jogging, Turtle stopped and knelt next to a tree.
“This is it.” He motioned behind himself toward the fence.
“Roger.”
We hopped the fence quickly and jogged toward the cinder-block building about thirty meters south of us. There was a three-quarter moon out, and visibility was good. I felt exposed as we jogged across the open field. We got to the building and bounced around the southern corner to peer into the doorless opening. Turtle stuck his head inside.
“Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Cows.”
I looked around his shoulder and saw two cows lying on the straw, gazing back at us indifferently.
“I thought you guys said the goat was in the northernmost field.”
“It was, the night we came out here. He must be in one of these other fields. Come on.”
This was not a good start. There were three more fields adjacent to the one we were in. Each one was a little closer to the notch in the L. We hopped the fence and jogged to the next building. It also had an open doorway without a door.
“Nothing,” I said. “Not even cows.”
We hopped the next fence and ran directly to the building. My heart sank when I looked inside.
“This one’s empty, too.”
“Damnit,” hissed Turtle. There was only one pen left. If the goat wasn’t there, we were back to square one after having come all this way. We ran to the fence and stopped. This fence was higher than the others, constructed from a combination of wood and wire. We scrambled over it and ran to the building.
We hustled up to the doorway and nearly smashed our heads into the metal grate of its door.
“I was used to there being no door on these things.”
“Me, too.”
“What’s that?”
I peered into one corner of the cinder-block stall.
“I think it’s a goat.”
“Is it a goat?”
“It’s a goat!”
A wave of relief washed over me.
Turtle put his hands on the door’s steel bars and pulled.
“This thing is pretty solid.” He heaved on it several times. “Damnit. It’s real solid.” I got out my small flashlight, and we scanned the door. The hinges were on the inside, so we couldn’t get at them, and it was secured by a keyed dead bolt. We yanked on the door in unison, and still it didn’t budge.
“This is a no-shit door.”
“Shhhhhh! What’s that?”
The sound of tires crunching on gravel approached.
“It’s the guard!” We moved quickly around to the north side of the building. I hoped he hadn’t seen my flashlight.
We lay prone behind the building, at opposite ends, each of us peering around a corner. The guard came riding up on the electric golf cart. He drove directly up to the fence in front of us and rolled slowly to a stop. He held up a large flashlight and spotlighted the building we were hiding behind. The light lingered for a few seconds and then shifted to the building in the field to our north. Then the next one. Then the last one. Then the light clicked off and the guard pulled a U-turn and drove off toward the residential area to the northwest.
“He’s just doing his patrol. He didn’t see anything.”
“We need to figure out this fucking door.”
“Let’s get back to van and make a plan.”
“Roger that.”
We ran, hunched over, to the north, hopping each of the fences in succession until we were back under the trees on Dairy Lane. We ran all the way out to Annapolis Road and then jogged a few minutes to the south before radioing the van. After picking us up, Ambizo drove a couple miles to the south before pulling into a gas station and parking. The four of us sat in the back of the van while Turtle and I debriefed the others.
“What happened to the goat being in the northernmost field?” asked Zack angrily.
“That’s where it was that night,” said Turtle. “It’s not there tonight. We just have to deal with it.”
“Well, I’m glad I brought the blowtorch. Everyone made fun of me, but it doesn’t seem so stupid now.”
“That’s not going to work, Zack,” I said.
“Why not?”
“It will be noisy, slow, and highly visible. The guard will be all over us.”
“I can handle the guard.”
“I know we can handle one guard. But I’m sure he’s got a radio, and when he sees us he’ll call for backup or whatever his procedure is, and then we’re finished.”
“I don’t know how I feel about damaging navy property anyway,” said Ambizo.
Zack almost jumped to his feet at the comment, but I quickly put my hand on his shoulder. The last thing we needed right now was for Zack to beat the shit out of our exchange cadet.
“Look, Tim,” I said. “We don’t want to do any more damage than we have to. But unless you have a key to that door, there is going to be damage involved in our next step.”
Ambizo looked at me earnestly and then looked at Zack. “I understand, Sam. Let’s proceed.”
“Any ideas that do not involve blowtorches?”
“Take the door off its hinges?”
“Nope. The hinges are on the inside. I checked.”
“Sledgehammer to the lock?”
“No. It was a dead-bolt setup. Would be loud and take too long if it worked at all.”
“I think we have another problem,” Turtle said. “I don’t know if you noticed. But we’re not going to be able get the goat through that fence to the north like we planned. The wood slats run horizontally and are too close together.”
“That’s not good.” Our plan called for getting the goat to the road on foot, without having to go through the L. “That road is so well lit, the guard will be all over us.”
“
That would be a long run with a pissed-off goat,” said Zack.
We stared glumly at one another for a full minute as we tried to figure out a solution. As we did, a kernel of panic took hold in my gut. I felt it whenever I drew a deep breath. I forced myself to ignore it, but it dug in and began to erode my thought process. I tried to think of options, but I only saw myself telling the Guru we had failed.
Ambizo spoke up: “Look, guys. It just might not be feasible tonight. There’s no shame in doing the smart thing. We could always—”
“Shut the fuck up,” growled Zack. “We’re getting this done tonight.” He sounded sure. It snapped me back.
Zack turned his head and talked to me only: “There is only one way to get this done now.”
“How’s that?”
“Use the van to pull that door off its hinges.”
“That’s insane,” said Ambizo. Turtle put his hand on Ambizo’s shoulder and shook his head.
“Go on, Zack,” he said.
“That’s it, guys. We drive the van up to the door, tie the door to the van with the rope, and then yank the door off its hinges.”
We all grimaced. The plan violated three principles we had tried to stick to during our months of planning: do no damage, don’t bring our escape vehicle all the way into the constrained farm environment, and don’t expose all of us at any one time. It was bold, though. It took the initiative back.
“What about the guard?”
“If we’re fast enough, he won’t have time to do anything about it,” I said. It was starting to seem less crazy.
“That could work. As long as someone went in first and rigged the door prior. We’d also have to get the fence open so that the van could get into position.”
“That will be easy,” I said. “It’s held shut with a chain.” I had noted the chain while watching the security guard. My panic was subsiding.
Turtle nodded his head as I laid it out: “This will work. Turtle and I can get back in and rig the door. When we’re ready, we’ll radio for you guys to bring the van in. We’ll cut the fence at the last second and guide you in. Ambizo, you’ll have to back the van in. Then we yank the door, grab the goat, and get the hell out of there. The van should be in and out in under a minute.” I was nervous as I went through the plan, but it could work.
Zack and Turtle were smiling. I didn’t care what Ambizo thought as long as he drove the van. I looked at Zack. “Thanks.” I had been stuck. He had saved us.
“Cooperate and graduate.”
Five minutes later, the van rolled to a crawl, and Turtle and I hopped out again. I had the rope and a leash and collar for the goat. He carried the bolt cutters for the chain on the fence. I chuckled loudly as we hopped the fence.
“What’s so funny?” asked Turtle.
“Hey diddle diddle, straight up the middle, baby!”
FORTY-FOUR
0232 HOURS, 2 AUGUST 2015
I tried to steady myself and, by extension, the aircraft. I shut out everything happening around me and focused on a high-speed cross-check. I flashed back and forth from the hover display imagery to my view out the right window. Lashing her engines, I tried to get 458 to take advantage of the available ground effect. Help me out here, baby, I thought to 458. Give us just a little more.
Miraculously, she stopped sinking.
“That’s it!” called Crawford. “Bring her up five more feet!”
“Get a medic up here!” I yelled.
“Fly the fucking aircraft! I’m fine!” Pete yelled back.
“Up two more!”
“There are a lot of these guys over here. Looks like a whole squad!” yelled Thomas.
“Okay. Good altitude. Now bring her back ten feet!”
I heard a strange thump from the back of the aircraft.
“What was that?”
There was a flash to the right of the aircraft.
“That’s Weber and his grenade launcher,” yelled Thomas. “Nice shot!”
“Everybody shut the fuck up!” yelled Crawford. He was trying to get flying instructions to me. “Bring her back five more. Three. Two. WHOA!” There was a severe jolt and a loud crunch as the aircraft ramp jammed into the building.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!”
Again I willed myself to steady up. The aircraft rose a few feet and got stable.
“Ramp severely damaged. Losing hydraulic fluid!” shouted Crawford.
Pete lurched toward the overhead panel. With his good hand, he flipped the ramp power switch to Off. This isolated the ramp’s hydraulics from the rest of the system. Otherwise our utility hydraulic fluid would bleed out of the damaged ramp and we would lose power to the brakes and other key systems.
“Now back two and down two, sir!”
Chinook 458 seemed to know what I was trying to do. She sank down and back. The two aft wheels planted themselves on the roof.
“Good! Now just hold us there, sir!” Crawford yelled. “Last two approaching the aircraft.” I heard another thumping report from Weber’s grenade launcher, followed by the flash of an explosion to the right of the aircraft.
“Enemy on the roof!” called Crawford. “They’re on the fucking roof!” The sound of machine guns firing erupted from the back. Zack and his team opened up from the ramp. The smell of fresh gunpowder flooded the cockpit.
“RPG on the roof!”
I swallowed hard. If they had gotten onto the roof with an RPG, we were done. “Get those guys on board so we can get out of here!” I yelled.
“One on board now, sir. Other one still shooting!”
“Goddamnit!” screamed Zack. “It’s Turtle!”
“He needs to be on this aircraft now!”
“Shit! He’s hit! He’s down!”
There was a bright flash and a shock wave traveled through the aircraft. Chinook 458 bucked forward, and I felt her tires scrape across the roof as if she were trying to hold us in place.
“Hold her steady! They’re grabbing him now.”
“Go, Sam,” yelled Zack. “Go! Go! Go!”
“What about Turtle?”
“We got him. Go!”
I yanked power, stomped on the left pedal, and leaned her forward. Chinook 458 was as eager as us to get out of the area, and she accelerated quickly toward the dark of the river valley. Both miniguns continued to spit rounds at the enemy. I kept us at rooftop level until we were clear of the buildings and then dove sharply to about twenty feet above the ground. The miniguns stopped firing and soon we were flying at 130 knots. Tal Afar fell behind us.
FORTY-FIVE
DECEMBER 1990
We ran the full course of the L bend in the road to the gate. Turtle quickly cut the chain, and it rattled to the ground as we swung the large gate open.
“I hope the van can get through this,” Turtle said. “Does it look too narrow to you?”
I didn’t answer. I sprinted through the gate, quickly covering the twenty feet to the stall. I wrapped the end of the rope several times around three of the bars and began to tie my best knot. Turtle made the call on the radio.
“We’re set. Come get us.”
I heard Ambizo pull the van off Annapolis Road and floor it. It roared up Dairy Lane and squealed as it turned toward our location. I finished my knot and walked the other end of the rope back toward the open gate. The van skidded to a stop and then awkwardly lunged backward as Zack hopped out and helped Turtle guide Ambizo back. I tossed Turtle the end of the rope.
“Tie it to the chassis, not the bumper!” I yelled and then headed back to the building. Zack joined me as I shined my flashlight into the stall.
“There you are, you little fucker,” he said gleefully. The goat was nervously crouching in the corner, facing us.
“Ready?” Turtle yelled from the back of the van.
“Do it!”
Ambizo gunned the engine. The steel gate resisted for a few seconds, but before I could get nervous, it gave up loudly. It came off its hinges as the bolt ripped out of the str
ike plate. The goat, terrified now, rose up and began to shuffle back and forth.
“Get him!” yelled Zack. He blocked the door as I dove toward the animal. He resisted, but I got the leash on him and started dragging him toward the van. At that moment, the security guard’s golf cart came speeding down the hill from the residential area.
“Zack!”
“Roger!”
Zack sprinted toward the oncoming golf cart while I wrestled with the goat, who had decided that he preferred not to get into the van with the army cadets. He was strong and heavy enough to make it difficult for me. Turtle saw me struggling and rushed to assist. The goat was in full tantrum mode now, and it took both of us to get him hoisted into the back of the van. His rapid-fire kicks connected with both of us several times, nearly knocking the wind out of me.
“Let’s go!” said Ambizo.
Turtle and I jumped in after the goat.
“Wait!” I screamed.
I reached into my right cargo pocket and pulled out a baseball cap. It was printed in a camouflage pattern and had a “D2 Dragons” patch sewn onto it. I tossed it out the back, toward the goat’s stall, and yelled at Ambizo: “Okay! Go! Go! Go!” Turtle held the goat’s leash as Ambizo gunned the van through the gate. I nearly fell out as we lurched forward.
“What is he doing?”
Zack was about fifty feet in front of us, sprinting toward the security guard and his golf cart, which was headed directly at us. The guard drove with one hand and was gesturing wildly at us with his other.