Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 05 (30 page)

 
          
“So
that's
why the Iranians are pissed,”
Jamieson commented. “Can we blame them?”

 
          
“We
can and we do,” McLanahan said. “They were conducting surveillance only, no
closer than thirty miles to any ship, operating over international waters and
airspace.”

 
          
“So
when the ragheads said that the crew of the ship shot down two of their
fighters ...
that
was
true?”

 
          
“In
self-defense, and only after the ship was attacked by fighters from the
Khomeini
.” McLanahan said. He looked at
Jamieson. “Any more questions, Colonel?”

 
          
“Touchy,
touchy,” Jamieson said. “Just wanted to listen to you explain our mission—I
wanted to see how much of a brainless little government robot you’ve become.”

 
          
“Glad
to see you’re keeping yourself amused,” McLanahan said. He continued: “Our
intelligence says the crew members that were captured aboard the ship were
taken to Suru Prison near Bandar Abbas. The infiltration group is going right
into the prison itself. We’re going to provide air cover for them.”

 
          
“We
fly all this way, I expect to blast something apart,” Jamieson said, with mock
grumpiness. “A carrier would make a mighty big boom, for instance—”

 
          
“Stand
by, target area’s coming up,” McLanahan interrupted. With litde else to do,
Jamieson leaned over to watch McLanahan operate his cosmic equipment. It was
nothing like any of Whiteman’s Block 10 or Block 20 planes—in fact, it was
nothing like the future Block 30 planes, not yet in production, or any other
concept Jamieson had ever seen for the B-2 A.

 
          
Dominating
the right side of the B-2A’s cockpit was a huge rectangular monitor, larger
than three normal-sized multifunction displays put together. McLanahan called
this his “supercockpit” display, and the term fit. Air Vehicle Oil obviously
had had this equipment in it earlier, when it had been known as Test Vehicle
002 at Dreamland, because it had taken less than a day for engineers to reinstall
this huge screen. Instead of fixed-function buttons around the edges, the
display had function buttons on the screen itself that could be selected using
the trackball, by touching the big screen, or by using spoken commands.
McLanahan was obviously very adept at it—he used all three methods
simultaneously, which allowed him to operate his controls with incredible
speed.

 
          
For
most of the flight, the supercockpit display was configured to resemble a
normal B-2A right-side cockpit: graphic depictions of three B-2A MDUs, showing
aircraft and computer status “home” page; the Horizontal Situation Indicator
with compass, artificial horizon, and autopilot steering indicators; and
navigation displays with present position, heading, ground speed, and time and
distance to go to the next way point. Occasionally, McLanahan would call up a
graphic typewriter keyboard and use it to compose satellite messages to the
National Security Agency—heck, Jamieson mused wryly, McLanahan even used a
weird layout, called a Dvorak keyboard, that he operated with speed and
precision but would be three times as hard for anyone else to use.

 
          
Closer
to the target area now, just minutes away from the action, McLanahan still had
the three standard MDU displays on the screen, except they were about
one-fourth their normal size and relegated to the upper portion of the screen
where he and Jamieson could still monitor them. The rest of the screen showed a
digital chart of
Hormozgan
Province
of southern
Iran
, including the
Strait of Hormuz
and the city of
Bandar Abbas
. The province was fairly rural and hilly,
with only one medium-sized city, one small city, and perhaps two dozen towns
and significant villages in the entire 18,000 square-mile area.

 
          
The
city of
Bandar
Abbas
and its many military bases and military- industrial centers were protected by
modern long-range SA-10 Grumble, medium-range Hawk, and short-range antiaircraft
missile sites, along with numerous medium- and short-range antiaircraft
artillery sites. In addition, the airfield at Bandar Abbas had the largest tactical
air force in
Iran
outside of
Tehran
, with modern MiG-29, ex-U.S. Air Force F-4 Phantoms, and ex-U.S. Navy
Tomcat F-14 fighter interceptors airborne on patrol. Jamieson and McLanahan
were flying well inside the normal lethal range of the SA-10 Grumble
surface-to-air missile, hoping that their planes stealth characteristics would
keep them safe. Those thick, multilayered defenses would be deadly to any
aircraft trying to fly into Bandar Abbas, and only the B-2A Spirit stealth
bomber had the capability to approach the area and knock out those missile
sites.

Mina Jebel Ali Naval Base,
Dubai
,
United Arab Emirates

THAT SAME TIME

 
          
Gunnery
Sergeant Chris Wohl was making a final preflight inspection of his men’s
personal equipment, checking for proper survival clothing; although the CV-22
Pave Hammer tilt-rotor aircraft was safe and reliable even in harsh combat
conditions, Wohl always made sure that its occupants dressed as if they’d have
to walk or swim back to base.

 
          
As
was typical with Intelligence Support Agency operations, the men wore a
mishmash of clothing items, mostly generic military-style clothing intermingled
with civilian clothes, with all patches and labels removed and local clothing
makers’ labels sewn on. Some shaved, although it had to be done without soap or
shaving cream to avoid telltale aromas that might attract dogs or guards; most
did not shave and had short Middle East-style beards. Hair was usually cut very
short and washed with unscented soap, or shaved completely bald. Headgear
usually consisted of full-face ski masks or balaclavas worn over an extra watch
cap to better protect the ears from frostbite. Most of the unit wore thick
woolly mittens over thin wool or cotton glove inserts, with cutouts in the
mitten palms to allow them to extend a trigger finger. The men were lighdy
armed—a few had

 
          
AK-74
assault rifles, but most others carried small submachine guns like the .45
caliber Uzi or the 9-millimeter MP5. They carried a variety of favorite side
arms and two days’ worth of patrol supplies—the rest they would gather from the
land as they traveled.

 
          
All
of the men in the unit were experienced professionals, so this was just a quick
safety inspection, not an instructional one, but Wohl began a short briefing
and a special mission topic during his quick inspections. “Listen up,” Wohl
said, as he continued his inspections, “just to bring you all up to speed: Our
target area tonight is the naval prison medical facility at Suru, a few klicks
south of Bandar Abbas. Our route of flight will take us northwest around Abu
Musa, feet-dry at Bostaneh Point, twenty klicks west of Bandar-e Lengeh, then
terrain-following across the Laristan range, along the Kol River, and touchdown
just outside Bandar Abbas.

 
          
“This
is our second infil into this area, and as you all know, we got creamed over
the
Tumb
Islands
the other night, so stay heads-up tonight.
We’re checking three different exfiltration points tonight outside Bandar
Abbas. If our guys are out there, I want them brought back on board the Pave
Hammer without a scratch. You all know the code words and code signs. Anyone
who doesn’t return a recognition signal is a hostile. We’re not going in to
slaughter civilians, but you will protect your own sorry butts and those of
your fellow grunts to the maximum extent.

 
          
“Assignments:
Monroe
will be the wheel; Bennet is port guard;
Reid’s on starboard guard; I’ll be the ramp guard. Guards, remember, don’t go
out too far or your gunners watching your back will lose sight of you, and he’s
likely to blow your ass away. Guards, use your recognition signals; flash them
whenever you see the aircraft, since a gunner probably has you in his sights
and his finger’s tightening on the trigger. Schiff is tail gunner, Morgan is
port gunner; Andrews, you’re starboard gunner. Gunners, radio out for signals
before you open fire, and wait to get a return signal—but if you don’t get one,
shoot first, then call out your hostile’s position. You don’t get extra credit
for shooting off a whole can of ammo—make your shots count. Our call sign
tonight is ‘
Japan
.’

           
“You got the standard
escape-and-evasion plan memorized, I hope, but the basic plan is head west and
stay away from everyone and everything. You should all know where our backup
and emergency pickup points are; I’m going to ask all of you to point them out
for me on your map on the way out, and if you miss even one, you’ll be on KP
for a week.

 
          
“I
remind you that we’re going into the area with the Iranian military on high
alert, which means a very good likelihood we could see action and might even be
knocked down,” Wohl continued, scanning each of his men’s eyes to try to gauge
their readiness for this mission. “If we’re shot down, remember to evacuate out
the back of the aircraft, not the sides. Grab a buddy or a crewman or extra
gear, but don’t waste time evacuating the aircraft if things are going to shit.
Get as far away from the crash site as possible after the crash. Most guys who
get captured after a force-down are captured near their aircraft within ten
minutes, so the farther you can get away from your force-down point in the
first ten minutes, the better.

 
          
“Move
only at night, avoid all contact with civilization as much as you can, and move
during daytime only long enough to get oriented, then get back into deep
hiding,” Wohl went on. “Make your way to a pickup point, but stay away from
roads, railroads, rivers, or streams—that’s where the bad guys will be looking
for you. Trying to blend in with the locals is a
Hollywood
stunt, not a valid escape-and- evasion
technique. Don’t make contact with anyone unless you’re hurt, but I goddamn
guarantee that you better be hurting
real
bad, because if you ask someone for help you’ll likely be captured and tortured
and then the pain will be unlike anything you’ve
ever
experienced.

 
          
“When
you get to a pickup point, don’t just march right into it— take a few hours and
check it out first. If you’re able, backtrack and check your rear—we don’t want
the ragheads setting up any ambushes for your rescuers. And remember to
preserve the pickup points for other unlucky saps who might need it in the
future. Don’t just bolt out of a spiderhole when you see the angel coming down
for you—if the bad guys aren’t on your tail, police your area and recamouflage
everything before the pickup to make it tougher for the ragheads to find the
hiding spots. Okay. What are your questions for me?” No responses.

 
          
“Good.
I got one more thing to say,” Wohl went on. “We got three guys hurt on the last
sortie, including the FNG, Major Briggs. They’re all right, but they’ll be out
of action for a few weeks. I wanted to remind all you swinging dicks that
sometimes no matter how much you shake your snake, that last drop can still
roll down your pants. The latest pre-launch intel had the antiaircraft stuff
moved off the
Tumb
Islands
onto Abu Musa; we didn’t know they had put
more stuff on Lesser Tumbs until it was too late. Shame on us. Shit happens.
Forget about the last mission and concentrate on this one. Don’t let it get you
down. We’re here to find Colonel White and our shipmates and bring ’em back
alive.

 
          
“We
got some help tonight—apparently some other ISA cell is going to stir up some
shit for us tonight,” Wohl said. “Maybe it’ll keep the ragheads off balance,
maybe it won’t. Forget about them and concentrate on your work tonight. Our job
is to go in, check the escape-and-evasion areas, rescue anyone that might be
out there waiting for us, and come back alive. Let’s get loaded up.”