Dragon Sim-13 (36 page)

2:25 a.m. Local

Riley took a deep breath, then let it out. "Are you ready?"

"Roger that, Top."

"On my round."

"Roger that."

Riley took another deep breath and held it. He pulled back on the trigger and the SVD spoke. Immediately he started sighting in on the second target as the roar of Chong's SAW rent the night.

Mitchell swung his head and listened. He could hear the helicopter close by now, but he thought he heard more firing up on the ridgeline. He heard it again. The burst of a SAW. It could mean only one thing. Riley and Chong were still alive, and they were fighting. Mitchell looked at Olinski, who lay on the ground next to him. Olinski was still monitoring the radio and hadn't heard the firing. Hoffman and Comsky were leading C.J. to the center of the field to join up with them. As the helicopter closed in, the roar of the bird covered up any sound of firing from the hills.

Long and Lassiter spotted the strobe at the same time. It flashed brightly on and off in their goggles.

"Roger, PZ. We've got your location. Turn off the light so we can land. Over."

A second later the light was out. Jean slowed the helicopter to a hover over the open field. She could see the men clustered below as she swung the aircraft about and faced to the east. She concentrated on bringing the helicopter down next to the small party on the ground.

Lassiter's voice came over the intercom. "We've got company heading this way. I count two helicopters coming in from the northwest. About two minutes out."

2:26 a.m. Local

Mitchell closed his eyes as the four powerful blades of the Blackhawk threw loose grass and debris through the air. The helicopter settled on its wheels only eight feet from where they crouched. Immediately Mitchell, Comsky, and Hoffman ran forward. They leapt on and began hacking at the 550 cord holding the two front internal fuel tanks. They freed the right one and shoved it out the door. Comsky jumped out and ran over to C.J. He picked up the injured pilot and thrust him into the helicopter, as Mitchell and Hoffman shoved the other forward tank out the left door. Mitchell grabbed C.J. and sat him down as Hoffman and Comsky ran back, hoisted the stretcher, and carried Olinski on board. The whole operation had taken only forty seconds. Mitchell turned and gave the pilot the thumbs-up.

With their goggles and helmets on, the pilots were unidentifiable to the men in the back. As Lassiter lifted off 579, Jean Long unbuckled her harness and turned around in her seat. She closed her eyes briefly in thanks as she saw her husband right behind Lassiter's seat. She threw a headset to him.

Mitchell caught the headset and put it on as the bird lifted over the trees on the eastern edge of the pickup zone. He keyed the intercom. "We've got two more men farther up along that finger to the northwest."

"We've got company!" Lassiter yelled through the set as he accelerated the helicopter and jerked it hard to the left. Those in the back were tumbled on top of each other. C.J. screamed with pain as he landed again on his shattered arm. Two helicopters roared by out of the northwest and started to circle.

"The next one will be a gun run," Jean yelled. "They're circling to the east to come back. Turn north and dive into the riverbed."

In less than a second Mitchell took all this in: His wife was on board. They were being attacked by Chinese helicopters. And up there on the ridge, he could see the red and green tracers of Riley and Chong's firefight.

Riley had hit his first two targets before the rest could find cover. The sudden silence was deafening.

"How many did you get, Tom?"

"I'm pretty sure I got two. How about you?"

"Two. That leaves us six. We've got about five minutes before they get reinforced."

There was a burst of fire from up ahead and green tracers flew by to their right. Another burst. "Shit! We'll never make it running." Riley looked at Chong. "What do you say, wild man?"

Chong had made his peace in the dark of the previous night. He was ready. "This is as good a place as any. I'd rather take a stand here than get chased down by helicopters come dawn."

"OK then. This is it. I'll see if I can take out these six ahead. You might as well cover to the east. That's where our next visitors will come from."

2:27 a.m. Local

The lead Z-9 strained as it banked in a steep left-hand turn. Wei had only a brief glance at the aircraft as they flew by. An American UH-60 Blackhawk. This was going to be a real challenge.

Wei calculated in his mind as he completed the turn and gave chase. From what he had seen of the S-70s the transport battalion had, the Blackhawk held a great edge over his helicopter in terms of maneuverability and speed. The Americans also held a big edge at night.

Wei grinned. He had two aces up his sleeve, however. The first was that he was armed and the American wasn't. The Blackhawk was just a transport helicopter. The second was that there were five Z-9s and only one Blackhawk. He watched with grudging admiration as the American helicopter dove for the riverbed and fled north only a few feet above the water.

Lassiter had 579 down very low, skimming just above the surface of the river. Although he was down lower than the enemy could go, he was forced to go much slower than the other helicopters at altitude. As he took a left-hand bend in the river he glanced back. The running lights of the lead enemy helicopter were only eight hundred meters behind. In the moonlight he tried to make out what type of aircraft was chasing them. The only one he knew that had a built-in tail rotor was some sort of Aerospatiale. Maybe an SA-365 model Dolphin.

Junior Lieutenant Baibang was trying to keep up with the chase. The intruder had disappeared from his screen—probably down too low for him to track. He could see the two center Z-9s turning to the north in apparent chase. He ordered the Z-9 to the east to stay in a holding pattern. The two to the north he ordered into blocking positions along the river, which the intruder seemed to be following. The intruder would reach the blocking force in about forty seconds.

2:28 a.m. Local

Wei watched as the dark silhouette of the Blackhawk disappeared around a westerly turn in the river. Since he was flying well above tree level at three hundred feet, Wei decided to cut the corner of the bend and try to make up some of the distance between the two aircraft. He knew there was a blocking force only a kilometer ahead, but he wanted to get as close as possible before they brought down the intruder. He flew over the elbow of land and looked down into the river.

The American was gone! Wei started slowing down as he looked around. Where did they go? The second Z-9 shot past him as the pilot of that bird belatedly tried making the adjustment. Wei banked right and caught movement out of the corner of his right eye. He turned his head just as the American rose out of the riverbed. Wei sighed to himself with relief. The UH-60 must have flared to a halt and let him fly by. The American was probably going to double back toward the border. He might have made it, too, if I hadn't slowed down in time, Wei thought.

Enough of this playing around. Wei started banking hard right as he ordered his copilot to prepare to fire the miniguns. The Z-9 was only halfway through the turn when Wei saw a flash of light on the side of the Blackhawk.

"Again!" Lassiter yelled as the closest Z-9 exploded into a ball of flame. Jean Long punched the firing button and the second Stinger leapt from the side of the helicopter. The trail Z-9 was about nine hundred meters to the west and had started a long, sweeping turn to come back. The supersonic Stinger raced it down in a second and a half. The heat-seeking missile flew straight up the right exhaust of the Z-9 and the helicopter blossomed into flames.

Mitchell keyed the intercom in his headset. "Head northwest. Straight toward that ridgeline."

Lassiter accelerated. Northwest was as good as any other direction. If those helicopters had reported in, the Chinese would know that he had followed the river. It wouldn't be smart to do that again.

Riley stared to the east at the ball of fire that had been ignited in the sky. Then there was a second one. "What the hell is going on?"

A burst of automatic fire up ahead caused him to turn his attention back to matters closer at hand. Hidden behind a rock, he fired the M79, blooping another high explosive in the direction of the surviving Chinese.

2:29 a.m. Local

Baibang didn't know what to make of it. The two Z-9s in pursuit had disappeared from his screen. He couldn't raise them on the radio. He called the two hovering just above the riverbed to the north—no, they hadn't seen anything.

Baibang was puzzled. The intruder should have reached the blocking force thirty seconds ago. And where did the two in pursuit go? He ordered the two in the blocking position to move south along the river. Then he called the J-7s to give them final vectors. He gave the jets a course that would put them to the east of the last sighting of the intruder. No matter what happened, the intruder eventually was going to have to head for the coast.

"Goddamn!"

Colonel Ehrlich swiveled his head to look at the radar operator. "What's the matter?" 

"Did you say that Blackhawk was armed, sir?" "Yeah. They had Stingers on board. Why?" "Then you can splash two Chinese helicopters.

2:30 a.m. Local

"There. Ahead and to the left. Did you see those green and red tracers?" Mitchell was leaning forward, pointing between the two pilots. "The red is our people."

"Who's up there, Mitch?" Jean asked as Lassiter swooped in toward the firefight.

"Dave Riley and Tom Chong."

Riley heard the rotor blades coming toward them. He arced another high-explosive round toward the Chinese, then looked south, while Chong continued to cover their front. At first Riley didn't see anything. He was expecting to see the searchlights of a Z-9 coming at them. He quickly pulled up his goggles and turned them on.

Riley blinked. A Blackhawk. He pulled up his SVD and took aim at the cockpit. The goddamn Chinese were trying to land troops right on top of them! He started to squeeze the trigger when something occurred to him. Every other helicopter they'd seen tonight had searchlights on— this one didn't. Riley remembered Olinski's words in the briefback about the Chinese pilots—that they didn't fly blacked out because they didn't have night-vision goggles. Riley figured they had nothing left to lose. He'd take a chance.

2:31 a.m. Local

There it was. The intruder was back on his screen briefly. Off to the north. Baibang called the two Z-9s and redirected them to the new location. He called the inbound J-7s.

"Tiger Flight leader, this is Yanji Control. I have you with an ETA of one minute. Change heading to three three zero zero mils. The intruder is heading north from last reported location. Over."

"Roger, Yanji Control. Activating our tracking radar now. We should pick up something soon. Decreasing altitude to one thousand meters."

"Get your harness buckled, Tom!" Riley yelled out. Chong turned in surprise. "We've got a Blackhawk inbound." Riley turned on his infrared strobe and held it up.

On board 579, Comsky slid open the left door while Hoffman slid open the right. Each man held a 120-foot nylon rope in a deployment bag. Lassiter flared the Blackhawk to a halt eighty feet above the ground by the IR strobe. The two bags were thrown out and hurtled to the ground.

"I've got this one," Chong yelled as he ran forward. He pulled the deployment bag off the rope and hooked the end loop through the two snap links in the shoulders of his vest. Twenty feet away Riley did the same. The two ran together and linked arms.

No shots had yet been fired by the Chinese soldiers. They probably assumed that the helicopter was one of their own, but Riley knew they'd soon wake up and take action.

"We've got them!" Mitchell yelled as he peered off the deck of the cargo compartment. Lassiter snatched in collective and quickly pulled the helicopter over onto an easterly heading.

Riley and Chong felt their vests tighten around them as the rope became taut. Their feet came off the ground and they were savagely swung out to the west by centrifugal force. Riley gasped for breath as he and Chong held onto each other, momentarily forgetting where they were. A line of green tracers stitching the night air quickly reminded them.

As he straightened out the Blackhawk, Lassiter keyed his intercom. "Two more helicopters coming out of the east."

"Find someplace to land. We've got to get them in." Mitchell watched tracers make a pattern around Riley and Chong and pass by the helicopter.

"We can't. There's no time. Pull them in!" Lassiter responded.

Mitchell was astonished. "How the hell are we going to pull them in? I've got only two healthy bodies back here!"

Long turned to Lassiter. "I'll take the controls. Go back and help them."

Lassiter unbuckled and climbed over the seat, back to where Hoffman and Comsky were struggling with the left rope, pulling it up inch by inch.

Chong felt his rope jerk. He looked up and saw someone hanging over the edge of the deck, signaling him to separate from Riley. He tapped Riley and pointed up. Riley let go.

Long glanced to her right and saw the Chinese helicopters closing rapidly. She was flying at only seventy knots with the two men dangling below. She also had to stay 150 feet above ground level to keep from slamming the men into the earth. She looked around, trying to think of something to do.

2:32 a.m. Local

Baibang was running out of airspace. He now had the intruder on his screen heading east. Two Z-9s were closing rapidly on it from the east. He ordered the third Z-9 to also start an intercept vector to the north. As he finished giving that order, his radio crackled again.

"This is Tiger Flight leader. I've got the intruder on tracking radar. Preparing to fire."

"Those fast movers are on top of our bird. We need to do something now."

The young operator who had been tracking the action looked up at Colonel Ehrlich. "I can do something, sir. Give me a few seconds."