"So that others may live…"
Captain Justin Christensen walked into the CP (Command Post) of FOB Irene at approximately 0600. Major William Harding, the Air Force big shot who ran the FOB, had summoned him there. FOB Irene, which was situated on the Saudi Arabia/Iraqi border, was little more than a dirt strip that was capable of landing a few planes. In some corrugated tin hangars there were two A-10A "Warthog" ground attack aircraft, a few Black hawk helicopters and some fuel and ammo bunkers. It was out of the way and was usually used as an emergency strip for planes that had engine trouble or various other problems. It was also home to a CSAR (Combat Search and Rescue) team. The team, which was headed by Captain Christensen, was composed of 8 men, mainly Air Force Para-Rescue Jumpers and a few Army Rangers. If a plane went down into Iraq they were the first ones to respond.
Harding, not usually someone for formalities was even less formal this morning. "You guys are going in, A C-130J was hit by a SAM at 0545 this morning. All the crew made it out, but look at this." Harding walked over to a bank of glowing computer monitors that showed basic real time satellite imagery. The images were of several columns of black dots moving across the desert. It took a while for Christensen to make out what it was, Infantry, suddenly popped into his head. Harding looked at him, his desert- tanned face was grim, "It looks like several companies of Iraqi ground troops are heading for the downed crew, we're in contact with the crew and they've confirmed it. The infantry will be on them in less than forty five minutes." Harding moved over to a map mounted on the while, he pointed to a particular point on the map. "The crew has consolidated here, it's about ten minute flight time from here, you have to go now!" Christensen nodded,
"Rules of Engagement?" he asked "and were gonna need a bird to get us there."
"There are no ROE, get that crew back any way you can. Hammer Four-Two is already warming up, get going. Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion of the 504th is already assembling to provide you back up but they'll be at least another forty minutes. They were on a training exercise." The 504th Infantry Regiment of the famed 82nd Airborne Regiment was in Saudi Arabia doing training exercises; unofficially they were also a show of force.
"Sir!"
Christensen popped out a salute, which Harding returned, then he turned and ran out of the CP. The other members of his team were outside the CP, they had heard about what had happened. "We going?" asked Jason Nelson, one of the two SAW gunners in the team. "We're going" Christensen hurriedly filled them out on all the details "Grab all the ammo you can we're gonna need it, Nelson, Atwater, extra ammo for your SAWs, Hendry, Clopton, extra grenades for your 203's. Fuller, Son, bring your medical bags, I don't think we'll need them but you never know."
They all raced for the armory, which held their weapons, Christensen pulled out his M-4 Carbine, he'd had it ever since he joined the CSAR team. It was sort of a good luck charm. Taking a loaded magazine he slammed it against a table in the center of the room to make sure all the rounds were seated correctly then locked and loaded it in his carbine. The others were doing the same thing. Nelson and Atwater had their SAWs out, boxes of ammo firmly locked in place. Everyone was getting into Kevlar body armor and filling Load Bearing Vests with ammo and grenades. The two medics had their Unit one bags over their shoulders. The unit one bag had syrettes of morphine, bandages, IV's, and other various medical paraphernalia. The two men in the squad who didn't have specific jobs, Gregory and Yurik, were wrapping 5.56mm ammunition belts for the SAWs around their necks, and stuffing 40mm grenades for the M-203 Grenade launchers into pouches on their LBV's.
By the time the team was finished equipping it was 0615, Christensen swore, it was going to be close. The Black hawk helicopter was revving up on the runway, kicking up dust in a circular perimeter around the helicopter. Christensen ducked his head and ran out to the helicopter, he and the rest of his team piled in. The pilot looked back at him, Christensen gave him thumbs up. "Let's get it on!" he grinned. The helicopter rose into the early morning sky. The eight pairs of feet dangling out the doors.
Christensen started to psyche himself up. He had been in combat before, so he knew what to expect, however, experience had told him to expect the unexpected. There was also always a twinge of disbelief whenever he headed into combat. Always a few moments of hesitation before your self-confidence kicked in. The Black hawk sped low over the ground, so low that everyone on the helo was required to look for telephone wires, if they saw some they were supposed to yell WIRE! And hold on for dear life as the helicopter kicked into a straight up climb.
There wasn't much to do, Christensen checked the map, searching for possible defensive positions and places to escape and evade if things went to hell. The two crew chiefs on the helicopter sat behind their electrically powered miniguns, capable of spitting out several thousand rounds per minute. They were scanning for possible targets. The pilot looked back at Christensen, "One minute" he said. He nodded and felt the helicopter make slight directional changes.
He was looking right at the RPG when it launched. There was a sudden flash off to the left, and then the rooster tail of sparks heading towards him. "RPG RPG LEFT SIDE!" Christensen screamed, the pilot gave a simple, cool, roger and kicked the helo over, the RPG streaked past. There were two more flashes, and another single one; the pilot dodged these as well. The two crew chiefs let loose. The miniguns on either side of helicopter blasted away sending a stream of smoking tracers at the rocket positions. Small arms fire was starting to pop to, and Christensen heard the tell tale tinktinktnktnktnk as rounds started to poke through the skin of the helicopter. What the fuck have we wondered into he thought. The helicopter flared for a landing, the CSAR team de-assed from the helicopter.
Christensen went prone, the bambambam of AK-47's was deafening. He could see the crew of the C-130 running towards him; dust was kicking up around them. Christensen rose up, their were two men firing AK's between him and the crew, they wore simple desert fatigues and were firing as fast as the could. Bringing up his carbine, Christensen gunned them into the ground in a spray of spent shell casings. With that, the entire team opened up, the clapping pops of M-16's filled the air along with the jack hammering of the two SAW's firing short bursts. He fired single shots at anything he could see, muzzle flashes, parts of bodies, anything. He ejected the spent magazine, put in a fresh one and kept firing.
The crew reached Christensen's small perimeter, they were haggard, out of breath and one of them was limping. He was about to wave them back to the helicopter when there was a loud bang. Christensen looked back, thick, oily smoke was pouring from the Black hawks rotor assembly. Christensen's radio buzzed, "HAMMER TWO FOUR IS HIT, HAMMER TWO FOUR IS HIT, PULLING OUT" The helicopter pulled up and away, its miniguns still blazing. The helicopter shakily swung southward, rockets still swept passed it and green tracers streaked into it and around it. The radio crackled again "CSAR, Hammer Two Four, sorry about that, we took an RPG to the engine, we're down to something like 50% power, we'll be back. The cavalry is on the way."
Christensen looked to the north, he could see several black dots moving in from the north. There could only be helicopters. The Second of the 504th had arrived.
Above, the sun was just pulling over the horizon, and the sky lightened. Christensen went back to his rifle. It was going to be a hell of a day.
Captain Justin Christensen walked into the CP (Command Post) of FOB Irene at approximately 0600. Major William Harding, the Air Force big shot who ran the FOB, had summoned him there. FOB Irene, which was situated on the Saudi Arabia/Iraqi border, was little more than a dirt strip that was capable of landing a few planes. In some corrugated tin hangars there were two A-10A "Warthog" ground attack aircraft, a few Black hawk helicopters and some fuel and ammo bunkers. It was out of the way and was usually used as an emergency strip for planes that had engine trouble or various other problems. It was also home to a CSAR (Combat Search and Rescue) team. The team, which was headed by Captain Christensen, was composed of 8 men, mainly Air Force Para-Rescue Jumpers and a few Army Rangers. If a plane went down into Iraq they were the first ones to respond.
Harding, not usually someone for formalities was even less formal this morning. "You guys are going in, A C-130J was hit by a SAM at 0545 this morning. All the crew made it out, but look at this." Harding walked over to a bank of glowing computer monitors that showed basic real time satellite imagery. The images were of several columns of black dots moving across the desert. It took a while for Christensen to make out what it was, Infantry, suddenly popped into his head. Harding looked at him, his desert- tanned face was grim, "It looks like several companies of Iraqi ground troops are heading for the downed crew, we're in contact with the crew and they've confirmed it. The infantry will be on them in less than forty five minutes." Harding moved over to a map mounted on the while, he pointed to a particular point on the map. "The crew has consolidated here, it's about ten minute flight time from here, you have to go now!" Christensen nodded,
"Rules of Engagement?" he asked "and were gonna need a bird to get us there."
"There are no ROE, get that crew back any way you can. Hammer Four-Two is already warming up, get going. Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion of the 504th is already assembling to provide you back up but they'll be at least another forty minutes. They were on a training exercise." The 504th Infantry Regiment of the famed 82nd Airborne Regiment was in Saudi Arabia doing training exercises; unofficially they were also a show of force.
"Sir!"
Christensen popped out a salute, which Harding returned, then he turned and ran out of the CP. The other members of his team were outside the CP, they had heard about what had happened. "We going?" asked Jason Nelson, one of the two SAW gunners in the team. "We're going" Christensen hurriedly filled them out on all the details "Grab all the ammo you can we're gonna need it, Nelson, Atwater, extra ammo for your SAWs, Hendry, Clopton, extra grenades for your 203's. Fuller, Son, bring your medical bags, I don't think we'll need them but you never know."
They all raced for the armory, which held their weapons, Christensen pulled out his M-4 Carbine, he'd had it ever since he joined the CSAR team. It was sort of a good luck charm. Taking a loaded magazine he slammed it against a table in the center of the room to make sure all the rounds were seated correctly then locked and loaded it in his carbine. The others were doing the same thing. Nelson and Atwater had their SAWs out, boxes of ammo firmly locked in place. Everyone was getting into Kevlar body armor and filling Load Bearing Vests with ammo and grenades. The two medics had their Unit one bags over their shoulders. The unit one bag had syrettes of morphine, bandages, IV's, and other various medical paraphernalia. The two men in the squad who didn't have specific jobs, Gregory and Yurik, were wrapping 5.56mm ammunition belts for the SAWs around their necks, and stuffing 40mm grenades for the M-203 Grenade launchers into pouches on their LBV's.
By the time the team was finished equipping it was 0615, Christensen swore, it was going to be close. The Black hawk helicopter was revving up on the runway, kicking up dust in a circular perimeter around the helicopter. Christensen ducked his head and ran out to the helicopter, he and the rest of his team piled in. The pilot looked back at him, Christensen gave him thumbs up. "Let's get it on!" he grinned. The helicopter rose into the early morning sky. The eight pairs of feet dangling out the doors.
Christensen started to psyche himself up. He had been in combat before, so he knew what to expect, however, experience had told him to expect the unexpected. There was also always a twinge of disbelief whenever he headed into combat. Always a few moments of hesitation before your self-confidence kicked in. The Black hawk sped low over the ground, so low that everyone on the helo was required to look for telephone wires, if they saw some they were supposed to yell WIRE! And hold on for dear life as the helicopter kicked into a straight up climb.
There wasn't much to do, Christensen checked the map, searching for possible defensive positions and places to escape and evade if things went to hell. The two crew chiefs on the helicopter sat behind their electrically powered miniguns, capable of spitting out several thousand rounds per minute. They were scanning for possible targets. The pilot looked back at Christensen, "One minute" he said. He nodded and felt the helicopter make slight directional changes.
He was looking right at the RPG when it launched. There was a sudden flash off to the left, and then the rooster tail of sparks heading towards him. "RPG RPG LEFT SIDE!" Christensen screamed, the pilot gave a simple, cool, roger and kicked the helo over, the RPG streaked past. There were two more flashes, and another single one; the pilot dodged these as well. The two crew chiefs let loose. The miniguns on either side of helicopter blasted away sending a stream of smoking tracers at the rocket positions. Small arms fire was starting to pop to, and Christensen heard the tell tale tinktinktnktnktnk as rounds started to poke through the skin of the helicopter. What the fuck have we wondered into he thought. The helicopter flared for a landing, the CSAR team de-assed from the helicopter.
Christensen went prone, the bambambam of AK-47's was deafening. He could see the crew of the C-130 running towards him; dust was kicking up around them. Christensen rose up, their were two men firing AK's between him and the crew, they wore simple desert fatigues and were firing as fast as the could. Bringing up his carbine, Christensen gunned them into the ground in a spray of spent shell casings. With that, the entire team opened up, the clapping pops of M-16's filled the air along with the jack hammering of the two SAW's firing short bursts. He fired single shots at anything he could see, muzzle flashes, parts of bodies, anything. He ejected the spent magazine, put in a fresh one and kept firing.
The crew reached Christensen's small perimeter, they were haggard, out of breath and one of them was limping. He was about to wave them back to the helicopter when there was a loud bang. Christensen looked back, thick, oily smoke was pouring from the Black hawks rotor assembly. Christensen's radio buzzed, "HAMMER TWO FOUR IS HIT, HAMMER TWO FOUR IS HIT, PULLING OUT" The helicopter pulled up and away, its miniguns still blazing. The helicopter shakily swung southward, rockets still swept passed it and green tracers streaked into it and around it. The radio crackled again "CSAR, Hammer Two Four, sorry about that, we took an RPG to the engine, we're down to something like 50% power, we'll be back. The cavalry is on the way."
Christensen looked to the north, he could see several black dots moving in from the north. There could only be helicopters. The Second of the 504th had arrived.
Above, the sun was just pulling over the horizon, and the sky lightened. Christensen went back to his rifle. It was going to be a hell of a day.