Michelle was already out of her Puma and talking to her father as Russell hovered in the background. Drew pulled the lever to raise the canopy, then slumped in his seat.
‘Are you all right, Drew?’ Stig asked. ‘Do you want me to stay with you?’
Drew shook his head. ‘I’ll be fine. You go on in and join the party.’
There had been cheers from the squadron for the returning crew as they spilled from their aircraft, but the smiles began to fade as they realised that two jets were missing. There was an anxious scanning of faces and guilty expressions of relief as people spotted their particular mates among the aircrew pulling off their helmets.
Drew was still in his seat when one of the engineers scaled the ladder to the cockpit.
‘All right if we get to work on her, sir?’
Drew nodded. Bone-weary, he hauled himself out of the cockpit and walked away from the aircraft, his sweat-drenched flying suit cold against his body.
Russell hurried across to meet him. ‘Drew, by God, you’ve done the squadron proud today.’
Drew stopped and fixed him with a level gaze. ‘What happened to me and all those other guys brought down DJ and Ali’s aircraft.’
‘Now, Drew,’ Russell began, ‘you have no way of knowing that—’
Drew ignored him. ‘You keep sending us up, rather than admit that the aircraft is unsafe. How many more of us are going to have to die?’
Russell’s expression was frozen. He addressed a point on the horizon. ‘I’m not wasting any more words on this. I make full allowance for the stresses of combat and your feelings at losing your wingman. Nonetheless, your conduct is indefensible. You’re grounded and confined to base until further notice.’
Drew ripped off his helmet and stalked away.
Michelle hurried to intercept him. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘DJ and Ali went down.’
She put her hand on his arm. ‘Did they get out okay?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’m not sure.’
‘If they’re safe on the ground, we’ll find them and bring them out.’
‘They weren’t shot down.’
‘Can you be sure?’
‘I watched it happen. They weren’t hit – the jet just went out of control. It can’t have been anything else. Russell still won’t act so I’m going to force his – or your father’s – hand.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘What I should have done before.’
‘Come on, Drew,’ Michelle said. ‘Things have already moved on. Rightly or wrongly, your crash has precipitated what we all wanted anyway. The UN have finally got off their arses and authorised us to go in and sort this out. Do you really want to go back there now and say, “Sorry, my plane crashed by itself, it was all a misunderstanding?”’
She paused, searching his expression. ‘You’re dead on your feet. At least sleep on it, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.’
She stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked towards the milling crowd of UN soldiers and aircrew.
* * *
Drew went to see Michelle early the next morning. She answered the door yawning.
‘Michelle, about yesterday…’
He was interrupted as her co-pilot, Sandy, ran down the corridor. ‘Michelle, one of our aircraft has just picked up a signal on an emergency beacon. We’re briefing as soon as possible, so we’ll need to get on it right now.’
Michelle nodded. ‘I’ll be with you in one minute.’
Sandy glanced over at Drew. ‘It’s in the area where your wingman went down.’
He hurried off again and Michelle began grabbing her gear. ‘We’ll leave this until later.’
Drew was thinking furiously. ‘Michelle.’ She paused in the doorway and turned to face him. ‘I want to go with you – as crew.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a pilot on fast jets, not a crewman on choppers.’
He held her gaze. ‘Please, Michelle. I know what it’s like to be on the ground in Bosnia and it’s my fault that DJ’s there. When AWACs asked us to cover you we didn’t really have enough fuel or weapon-load for the job. Jumbo knew that and just bugged out straight away. DJ is still inexperienced, so he looked to me for a lead. I knew it was you we were being asked to cover so I agreed and DJ just fell in with that.’
Michelle hesitated. ‘Have you any idea what would happen to me if I was caught giving joyrides on a combat mission?’
‘The only ones who’ll know are Paul and Sandy, but if anyone else does find out, you can say I said I’d been ordered to fly with you. Please…’
She shook her head. ‘I must be mad.’
He followed her down to the map room, where Paul and Sandy were already planning a safe route in and out of the zone where the beacon had been detected.
‘Boys, we’ve got an extra crewman today,’ Michelle said.
‘Get off the grass, Michelle,’ Paul said. ‘We’re flying a combat mission, not taking a trip round the harbour.’
‘Nothing personal, Drew,’ Sandy added. ‘We’re hoping to pick up two passengers when we get to the site. We don’t need an extra one before we even set off.’
‘I’ll take full responsibility if there are any problems,’ Michelle said. ‘Look, you both owe me big time. Just do this for me.’
Drew followed them self-consciously into the briefing room a few minutes later and stood behind the other crews already there.
Michelle stepped up to the podium. ‘Right. We have three Pumas, with four Tempests flying top cover. I’m leading and will make the attempt to pick up the aircrew once we’ve located them. The two other Pumas will give covering fire. If anything goes wrong with me, Panther Two and if necessary, Panther Three will attempt the rescue.
‘Now because of the urgency, some of this is going to have to be seat-of-the-pants stuff. Intelligence says the Serbs have moved Triple-A into the woods south-east of Srebanj, so we’ll be approaching the target from the north, following the Traj river. No other reports of significant enemy activity in the target area.
‘The aircrew we’re looking for are broadcasting in set sequence, thirty seconds on the hour, fifteen seconds on the half hour. Apart from the Tempests giving us top cover, there are other friendlies on CAP at Jellystone and Bedrock. Weather over the target is forecast to be the same as here: visibility fair to good, light westerly winds, air temperature around zero, some local mist patches, clearing rapidly as the sun gets up.
‘Dawn is in twenty minutes. We’re therefore going to be arriving and departing in daylight, so expect some ground fire. Right. Time is 0608… Now. Let’s get to it.’
Drew slipped out of the briefing room and hurried down the corridor to the changing room. He grabbed his flying kit from his locker, bundled it under his arm and ran out to Michelle’s Puma. The ground crew were absorbed by the race to finish their own last-minute preparations for the mission.
Dawn was reddening the sky as Michelle, Paul and Sandy ran out. Drew watched as they rattled off their preflight checks in staccato bursts. Michelle got clearance from the tower and the three Pumas rose into the dawn sky and wheeled away to the east, over the Adriatic.
They flew in radio silence, dropping down to wave-top height as they approached the Dalmatian coast. They flashed over the flat coastal plain, startling the farmers already in their fields and then began the climb over the Kopuc mountains. As they skimmed down the thickly forested eastern slopes, they picked up the track of the infant Traj river, one of a thousand Danube tributaries springing from the chain of mountains sweeping from the Alps to the Black Sea.
Michelle was following a decoy course suggesting their target was well to the north of Srebanj, but, five minutes’ flying time from the target, the three Pumas swung abruptly away to the south and sped in towards the town as the Tempests quartered the sky above them, their radar warners scanning for any hostile threat.
Michelle checked her watch. ‘If they’re down t
here we should be hearing from them in the next couple of minutes.’
As they neared the area where the signal had been detected, all of them were silent, ears pricked for the first contact. Paul hunched over his direction finder, searching for any trace of the beacon that would lead them to the target.
If DJ and Ali were still alive, they would switch on the beacon on the half hour. When they heard the helicopters, they would reinforce the radio signal with flares. But the Serbs could pick up the radio signal as easily as the NATO aircraft and their ground forces would have been alerted by the same transmission that had sent the Pumas scrambling to the rescue.
Three times Michelle swept over the search area. Nothing but static came over the speakers in the Puma and Paul’s screen stayed obstinately blank.
As they began the fourth pass, there was a fifteen-second burst of noise, followed by a shout from Paul. ‘Got it! Range one and a quarter miles, bearing zero-nine-zero.’
Michelle swooped in towards the site as ragged gunfire from Serb ground troops arced upwards.
DJ’s voice came up on the radio, talking them in. ‘We see you now, come left a little. Red flare now.’
‘Anything yet?’ Paul asked anxiously over the intercom.
‘Not yet… not yet… tally now,’ Sandy called. ‘Got it, Michelle? Just left of the nose, three hundred yards.’
‘Tally,’ Michelle said, as she spotted the flash of a flare and red smoke began to drift upwards. ‘We see you, boys, we’re coming in.’
She slewed the Puma into a turn and put it down in a clearing as close as possible to the site. Paul threw the side door open and manned the Puma’s gun as Drew peered out into the forest, straining his eyes for any sign of DJ and Ali.
The seconds ticked by as they waited, rotors idling, occasional bursts of gunfire echoing through the trees. The other Pumas made strafing runs to keep the Serb heads down, but the gunfire was getting steadily closer.
Then DJ and Ali suddenly appeared, sprinting out of the trees. Paul began firing the machine gun over their heads into the forest. A hail of small-arms fire was now ricocheting through the clearing as the Serbs closed on their quariy. Drew could see the muzzle flashes from their guns.
Michelle was winding up the engines ready to lift off as DJ and Ali wove from side to side across the clearing. They had almost reached the Puma when Drew saw Ali clutch at his arm, his mouth open in a soundless scream. DJ turned and ran back, dragging him to his feet and pushing him towards the helicopter. Propelled by DJ, Ali half fell and half dived through the door. He rolled across the floor, gasping for breath, as a thin trickle of blood appeared between his fingers.
As DJ took hold of the handle by the doorway, Paul yelled, ‘Go, go, go!’ into the intercom, still firing bursts from the door gun into the trees. Above the deafening rattle of the gun Drew heard the rotors thunder and the Puma began to lift, the downwash flattening the grass and lashing the trees, sending broken twigs and branches cartwheeling through the air.
As he tried to pull DJ inside, blood suddenly splashed across Drew’s face. DJ’s head jerked back and his arms were thrown wide. He stood framed in the doorway for a moment, then toppled over backwards and fell to the ground.
As he wiped the blood from his eyes, Drew screamed to Michelle to put the Puma down again. As she did, she swung the helicopter around, bringing the nose guns to bear on the main concentration of Serb troops. The guns blasted, the sound reverberating inside the steel cab as the smell of cordite filled Drew’s nostrils.
He peered down at DJ’s crumpled body and saw a dull red stain spread outwards from the base of his spine. Ignoring Paul’s warning shout, Drew leapt from the door when the Puma was still a few feet above the ground and sprinted across the clearing, throwing himself flat alongside DJ as bullets ripped at the ground around them.
He rolled DJ over on to his back. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Drew tried not to look at the hole in DJ’s stomach. He glanced back towards the Puma. He heard a ‘whooomfff!.’ above his head followed by a series of massive explosions in front of him as one of the circling helicopters fired a salvo of rockets into the edge of the forest.
Mud and debris rained down on him as he pushed himself upright and scooped DJ into his arms. He screamed in agony as Drew began to run with him, ignoring the bullets whining around his ears.
Drew staggered the last few feet, then fell against the Puma and heaved DJ in through the doorway. He dived after him and lay gasping on the cold metal floor as the engines howled and the helicopter lifted into the air. It shot away from the clearing, skimming the treetops, pursued by sporadic shots from the Serb troops.
Paul fired a last burst from the gun, slammed the door and ran to examine DJ. He cut the flying suit away and Drew saw him wince at the sight of the gaping hole in DJ’s stomach. Paul felt for a pulse in the neck, then frantically cut the jacket away. He pinched DJ’s nose and blew into his mouth twice, then began heart massage, banging his chest with a dull, double-thud that Drew could hear above the noise of the rotors.
Paul kept alternating between bursts of mouth-to-mouth and heart massage, grunting with the effort. Sweat dripped from his forehead on to DJ’s face as the pool of dark blood spread wider around his body.
Despite the feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed him, Drew’s eyes never left DJ, staring intently at him, searching for some sign of returning life.
Finally Paul stooped again to feel the pulse in DJ’s neck and search for the faintest breath. He straightened, shook his head slowly in response to the question in Drew’s eyes and hurried to begin treating Ali’s wound.
Drew cried silently, cradling DJ’s head in his lap, as the blood ebbed slowly from his body.
* * *
As soon as they landed back at Gióia, the medics swarmed into the Puma, helping Ali to an ambulance and carrying DJ’s body away. Ali’s eyes met Drew’s for a moment, but neither could find any words.
Michelle watched Drew staring from the shadows inside the helicopter as the ambulances drove off across the airfield, their red lights flashing. Her face was drawn and tired as she hugged him, ignoring the blood that covered his face.
* * *
When Drew got back to his quarters, he found Russell waiting for him, flanked by two military policemen. He led Drew to a brightly lit, windowless room, then took up station by the door. After a long wait the door opened and Air Vice-Marshal Power walked in.
He sat down facing Drew and they studied each other across the table for a moment, neither speaking. Then Power pulled a sheaf of notes from his briefcase, glanced briefly at them and cleared his throat. ‘I came here specially to see you today, Flight Lieutenant.’
‘I’m flattered,’ Drew said.
Power ignored the sarcasm, continuing in the same cool, even tone. ‘I owe you a debt of gratitude.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I believe you saved my daughter from an enemy helicopter.’ Drew inclined his head but said nothing. ‘Please accept my thanks for that and my congratulations for your bravery in action. It was in the very highest traditions of the Royal Air Force.’
He paused for a few seconds, his pale, almost colourless, blue eyes staring straight at Drew. When he continued, his voice was emotionless. ‘However, what is not in accord with any reputable traditions of the Air Force is your continued insubordination and your obsessive, amateur investigations in open defiance of orders.’
He waited for Drew’s response.
‘I believe there is sometimes a duty higher than that due to a superior officer, sir.’
‘And what might that be – a duty to God?’
‘If you like to call it that, but I’d rather think of it as a duty to human life.’
Power’s tone was neutral but the anger was visible in his face. ‘I don’t need any lectures from you on the sanctity of human life. I did my front-line service while you were still in nappies and I saw good friends take off in the morning and nev
er come back. There were twelve men in my training group; only four of them are still alive. My best man was killed in a training accident three weeks after my wedding. So don’t you ever presume to lecture me about the value of human life.’
He stared across the table until Drew dropped his gaze. ‘Unlike you, however, I need to have something a little broader than tunnel vision. The Air Force is fighting for its own life. We’ve been downsized by fifty per cent since the end of the Cold War, yet we’re still expected to meet an expanding range of commitments, including Bosnia, without harming our prime duty, the defence of the airspace of the United Kingdom.’
‘And how does having a dozen Tempests falling out of the sky for no apparent reason help that particular objective?’
‘Why don’t you grow up a little, Flight Lieutenant? We lost more than that in twenty seconds on the first day of the Somme. You’ve been around the Air Force long enough now to realise that there are more important things than individual lives.’
‘When they’re lost in combat, yes,’ Drew said, ‘but not when they’re tossed away like chaff.’
Power ignored the interruption. ‘When the fault first became apparent we faced two choices.’
‘So you now admit that there is a fault?’
‘We could have grounded every Tempest until it was discovered and rectified – a process which might have taken years, during which time our country would have been rendered virtually defenceless against air attack. The second option – the one we chose to follow – was to press ahead with an investigation with all possible speed, but to keep the Tempests airborne, accepting the losses of equipment and aircrew as a necessary price to pay for our continued national security.’
‘Let’s not forget the backhanders from Barnwold to keep the lid on the problem while they flog a few more defective Tempests to gullible Middle Eastern governments.’
‘I’m sure you’re not as naive as you appear,’ Power said. ‘I act in the interests of the Royal Air Force and Her Majesty’s Government. Where those interests coincide with those of Barnwold Industries, we work together. Where they conflict, my loyalty is solely to HMG.
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