Phoenix Rising: (59 page)

The call came over the small radio they were carrying. Phoenix was Jake's call sign.

“Get ready,” Deon said. “I think things are about to happen.

They heard Jake's response. “
This is Phoenix, go ahead.”

Deon painted all ten F-16s with his laser, then activated a transponder code.

“I roger alpha one, delta one, kilo one,”
Lancer replied.

“Keep your heads down,”
Lancer said.

“Get ready,” Deon said to the others.

Suddenly four F-22 Raptor jets appeared, almost as if from nowhere. They passed over Deon's head, low and fast, the sound following them so loud that Deon could actually feel the shock wave. Rockets spewed forth from the wings of the four aircraft, then laced into the parked F-16s. As the four Raptors pulled up, all ten F-16s went up in huge balls of flame, and heavy, stomach shaking explosions rolled out across the field. At the same time the F-16s exploded, there could hear explosions in two other parts of the airfield.

There were a total of six Raptors that conducted the strike, four on the aircraft and the other two on the Sam and radar sites. Now the six jets reassembled into formation and pulled into an almost ninety degree climb, roaring up on twin pillars of fire from their two F-119-100 turbofan engines. Within seconds they were so high that all that could be seen of them were the little bright points of light that were their engines.

With the roar of the raptors gone the only sounds remaining were the sounds of the many fires the attack had started.

“Ha,” Willie said. “I guess we waxed their ass pretty good.”

“Yeah, I'd say we did,” Tom replied.

 

 

At that very moment, Mike Lindell and Clipper Bivens were half an hour out over the water. Although Lindell was the command pilot, Clipper was flying.

“There's the signal,” Clipper said, seeing a flash on his screen. “We're thirty minutes away.”

Mike put his hands on the cyclic and collective. “Right, I've got it,” he said.

 

 

On the ground Jake's team had already rendezvoused at the prearranged pickup point and they were now having their breakfast of MREs when they heard the popping sound of approaching rotor blades.

“Damn,” Cates said. “I thought they were half an hour away yet. How'd they get here so quick? I'll wave them in.” He started out into the small clearing.

“Wait a minute,” Marcus said. “That's not a Blackhawk.”

“How do you know?”

“I would recognize the sound of a Blackhawk in my sleep,” Marcus said. “That's not a Blackhawk.”

Cates laughed. “You're full of crap. I'm goin' to wave 'em in.”

“Get back here, Cates, Marcus is right,” Jake said, but his warning was too late. The helicopter suddenly popped up above the tree line and fired machine guns. Cates went down, then they saw the helicopter pass overhead, stand on the tip of its rotor blades, then come back, spitting fire from its guns.

“Son of a bitch! That's a Russian helicopter!” Jake said.

The helicopter was an MI-28 attack helicopter, bristling with a weapons array. It was also known also as a Hind.

They waited until the helicopter made its second pass, then Deon darted out into the clearing, intending to drag Cates out of the line of fire. He saw, right away, that it wasn't necessary. Cates was dead.

As the helicopter came back on a third pass, Deon ran hard back toward the tree line, even as the bullets were kicking up dirt on either side of him. He barely made it in time, diving over a bush, and rolling out of the way as the helicopter passed overhead.

“Are you hit?” Jake called.

“No, sir.”

“There's no way our guys can pick us up with that son of a bitch here,” Jake said. “We're going to have to bring it down.”

“How are we going to do that, General? All we have are pistols,” Lewis said.

Tom Jack smiled and held up his finger. “Not exactly,” he said. Reaching into his equipment bag, he pulled out a short tube and rocket.

“Whoa! You brought along a Stinger?” Deon asked. “Damn, Tom, you're my man!”

“I can't get him from here, though,” Tom said. “I'm going to have to get out in the clearing.”

“Commander, that's not too smart,” Lewis said.

“Lewis, are you calling a superior officer dumb?” Tom asked.

“What? Uh, no, sir,” Lewis started, but when he saw Tom laughing, he added, “Just stupid, sir.”

Tom chuckled, then stepped back out into the clearing as the helicopter was pivoting around for another pass. He stood there with his right arm behind his back, while his left arm was extended with pistol in hand.

“What the hell is he doing?” Marcus asked.

“It would be my guess that he is suckering them in,” Deon said.

The helicopter flared to a stop, then hovered there for a moment, as if the pilots couldn't believe they were being challenged by one man with a pistol.

Suddenly Tom dropped the pistol, then brought the Stinger around, put it on his shoulder, and aimed.

Seeing that, the pilots realized they had been tricked. They dropped the nose, added power, and pulled collective as they tried to accelerate out of danger, but it was too late. Tom fired, and the missile flew forward, punching through the rotor blades and exploding in the engine compartment. The helicopter blew apart in midair, then crashed to the ground in flaming pieces.

Jake grabbed the SINCGARS (Single Channel Ground and Airborne Radio System) to respond. The radio used a transmission security key to generate a frequency hopping mode, preset by time of day supplied by a GPS receiver. This enabled them to talk in the clear, without fear of having their transmissions intercepted.

“We read, Hillclimber.”

“We just did, Hillclimber.”

“Yeah, that would be us. But if you want, I'll be a little more conventional for you.”

Jake pulled the pin, opened his hand to let the spoon pop free, then he tossed a smoke grenade to the side. Almost immediately it began gushing out smoke.

In the helicopter, Clipper was looking ahead toward the huge pillar of smoke when he saw a small, twisting rope of green smoke beginning to rise.

“Phoenix, we have green,”
Clipper said.

“Roger green, Hillclimber. Be advised, we have one KIA.”

“That's affirmative.”

“There they are,” Clipper said, pointing to a small opening ahead.

Lindell setup his approach, lowering pitch and decreasing power. As the rotor blades began to cavitate down through their own rotor wash, they started to pop loudly. Looking off to the left they saw the burning remains of a helicopter.

Lindell set them down, then waited as Jake and his team hurried toward them. Two of them were carrying a third man and the door gunner got out to help bring the body aboard.

“Everyone is in, Mr. Lindell,” the crew chief said.

Lindell pulled pitch and the Blackhawk made a very steep climb out, then turned and started home.