Chapter 24: Ferry Flight
Deep blue – the world above.
Colored a deep blue above the cloudy white below, I floated – weightless. Currents rushed past instead of fast flowing water. But it wasn't water that I could feel, it was the air. I could feel it against my skin, thick yet rapid. If I looked hard enough, I could even see it rushing past like wisps of grey and white. Clouds below charred a smoky black. Rumblings in the distance grew ever louder. Arcs of bluish white crisscrossed the tempestuous veil.
Something circled the clouds below billowing and pushing through the sea of black underneath. Sparks and flashes of light revealed the coiling serpent-like shape below. It was unending and massive, stretching far beyond the horizon ahead and long behind me. Glimpses of blue and white scales could be seen writhing below occasionally breaking through the smoky veil before disappearing underneath once again.
A loud boom accompanied by a flash of bright white blinded me.
"Major, Major! It's time to wake up, we're fifteen minutes from touch down!" a voice screamed in my ear.
The relentless muted chopping of the rotors and the incessant whining of the engines started to fill my ears once again. Heavy eyelids opened to see the crewman forcefully shaking me away. The skies were dark, the insides of the Chinook a deep red from the night lights. Sweat was slick against my skin as I unzipped the sleeping bag and rolled out from the cocoon. I reached out to grab my helmet with my right arm.
No more pain, I thought.
"You slept like a log the entire time!" Okuda laughed, "you that tired after a simple patrol?"
"It was anything but simple," I groaned.
Panache's lips were moving but I couldn't hear her. She wasn't hooked up to the intercom and it seemed like she slept on the fabric stretched benches. She kneaded her neck while staring at me and continuing to speak. I shook my head, rolling the mummy bag back up and stuffing it in my pack before plopping down next to her.
Growler was laid out across the bench and seemingly out of it. Rinne had curled herself around Growler's tail, the gray, white and black of his fur wrapped around her like a blanket. His fur was thicker and fluffier than that of a normal Volraden being a descendant of their mountain folk. Hasegawa was crawling out of her bed while curled around Ishihara, Sanada and Myuute. It seemed like they were huddled around each other from the frigid air. I barely felt it but there was frost forming on the portholes of the Chinook as we approached the ship.
I pulled off my boonie, slipped on my headset before leaning over to Panache, "your arm not hurting anymore?!"
Shaking my head, I slipped on my hard helmet and pushed the integrated headset against my ears. The SCAR-H sat comfortably in my hands and it felt strangely light especially with all the things I had on it. It wasn't a franken gun by any stretch of the imagination either. Like a toy, it was light enough to be a naked submachine gun made of plastic.
"You sore?" I asked Panache, the rose knight nodding, "here, let me."
She sighed as I kneaded my right hand against her back shoulder, occasionally wincing. I eased up on the firm pressing I was giving her. Her skin was soft yet there were near unnoticeable scars across them. Small little nicks here and there of healed skin that was supple against my gritty hands. I could feel how harsh they were against her skin like sandpaper against glass. She gave me a curt nod and thanked me. Panache pulled her helmet back on her head to hide her silvery hair tied in a bun and gripped the Type 89 against her vest. It made me chuckle, it looked like she wasn't about to let go of her new weapon any time soon.
"We're five mikes out, five mikes! Get your stuff squared away and prepare to dismount the helo!" the crew chief yelled into both the intercom and to the people in the bay.
"You hear that Susanowo, we're five mikes out from the boat. We're five mikes from our new home," I grinned and pulled at my pack.
The bay was alive with activity. As well-rested they could be, they were now swarming around their packs, vests, helmets and each other. Growler and Rinne had to be pried away from each other. If they weren't, they would have stuck to each other and the bench like glue. I tapped Panache on the shoulder and circled my index finger. She turned around and stared at me. Tugging on her chin strap, patting down her vest and her weapon sling, I moved my way around her body to make sure nothing was loose.
Any foreign objects falling out from the rear ramp could be blown straight into the ship or personnel. FOD or Foreign Object Damage was critical in the flight bay since the flight crew and the helicopter was going to stay with us for our trip to the Mountains. The CH-47JA was specially equipped for the mission compared to the SH-60K usually stationed on the Ashigara. With a FLIR and enlarged fuel tanks, it could fly further and under deteriorated weather conditions. It was as much as we can do without the specialized equipment offered by that of the Special Operations MH-47G.
"One minute! Sit down and strap in!" the crewman warned.
"One minute, one minute!" I yelled raising a single finger in the air.
Packs between our feet, there was nothing really to strap us into the seat except for our hands. Engines changed in pitch and timbre. The constant droning remained but you could feel the rhythm in the rotor blades change. Like a rapid beating drum, it quickened and slowed with each passing moment. I could feel the turbulent wind swirling and snaking across the smooth skin. The aircraft started to shake, rumbling in the disturbed air. Standing up, I slowly made my way towards the lights at the front of the cockpit.
"Shouldn't you be sitting down?" the co-pilot asked glancing briefly at me before going back to scanning the flight instruments and the bright spots of light in the darkness.
"This isn't my first rodeo, butter finger," I asked and slapped the pilot on the shoulder.
"Cut him some slack, Major," the pilot flying laughed, "he just got out of flight school a couple months ago and this is the most exciting thing the boy's got to do. I'm not going to lie, I haven't landed this thing on a ship before. It might get a little bumpy!"
We were flying through the burble created by the Ashigara. It wasn't moving at any impressive speed. Pushing through the river at the speed of a running human, the ship was big enough to create a stream of disrupted air. Streams of turbulent air flowed off the ship as the pilot maneuvered the Chinook closer towards the stern of the missile destroyer. The deck beneath my feet started to vibrate. A slight buffet combined with the slight drop in altitude and rocking. I felt my stomach drop as the roar of the engine kicked in for just a brief second. It happened all within an instant before all the vibrating and buffeting stopped just as quickly as it happened.
"Whoo wee, I think I stained my pants a bit but I'm glad that's over! Now for the actual wheels on deck!" the pilot yelled ecstatically.
I had to mention that the two weren't night vision equipped. They were using their naked eye to look into the darkness and between the break in the clouds and the limited moon light, they were trying to put an eleven-ton helicopter onto a pad no bigger than a small parking lot. It was like reversing a truck into a parking space barely big enough to fit the truck and being unable to see anything but just the vaguest outlines. All they had was one light placed solely at the rear of the ship and changed according to their position relative to the ship. It was amber – right on profile.
"A little left, I still see choppy water underneath us," the young co-pilot murmured, glancing over the front right of the cockpit's dashboard.
We were in the calm winds right behind the destroyer and just above the pad itself. There was a pocket of still air, and we were right inside it. Any deviation from that and we would be experiencing the turbulent air along with all the fun consequences that came with it. There was a slim room of error with an aircraft that big unlike the usual SH-60K that usually accompanied the destroyer.
I've had my fair share of butt-clenching moments, this wasn't one of them. The 160th SOAR pilots and the Sohei had my heart racing accompanied by the fear of imminent death for each trip but not these guys. I watched the Captain jostling the control stick and feet negotiating the rudder pedals in exaggerated motions while his left hand was almost inactive.
A jerk shook the entire aircraft – an uneventful touch down.
"And we're here folks, standby while I shut the aircraft down," the pilot flying explained as his hands moved across the dashboard.
"Ashigara, Raba 4-3, we're on the deck and shutting down," the co-pilot spoke into the radio and pulled out a flashlight.
He turned on the light and slid back and forth at eye level before turning it off just a couple moments later. A shape barely visible in the light scrambled underneath the helicopter with wedged blocks. The whine of the turbines disappeared, and thumping of the rotors slowly died down. No more vibrations, no more rumbling, everything was still save for the mesmerizing swaying of the boat. Light shifted beneath the unhurried clouds as a glowing disc hovered above in the chilling sky. Exposed skin stung with the chill and eventually became numb. Acrid smell of burnt jet fuel filled the air as the ramp dropped with an audible thud.
No one was in a hurry.
Lugging the pack of magazines, ammunition, clothes in various conditions and equipment, I was first off the of the Chinook and on to the missile destroyer. Just two more steps and a mesh wire were all that kept me from falling into the freezing foamy water below. The rear of Ashigara was dark except for the helicopter bay. Bright white lights flashed on temporarily blinding me as we strolled towards the shelter.
The Ashigara was big, far bigger than any of the destroyers I was ever on in my entire career. Three and a half football fields long and seven stories tall from the water line, the Atago-class guided missile destroyers were the second largest in of its type in the entire Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force. The words 'destroyer' and 'cruiser' used were interchangeable.
"Sir," the mechanics snapped a salute as I walked past.
"Sailor," I nodded back.
A small crowd of people stood just behind the doors of the shelter. All save one were dressed in the familiar pixelated blue, black and grey camouflage uniform. Accompanying the uniform were collars all adorned with one single chrysanthemum leaf and multiple bars. The other was simply dressed in cargo shorts, flip flops and a tee. A long grey beard and deep sunken eyes were instantly recognizable even from far away. Standing taller than the rest and fairly chunky, the older man exhaled smoke before raising up a hand in greeting.
"How you doing, kiddo?" he grinned.
"I thought you were going to be a no show, Pops," I laughed and embraced the older man.
"Well, I was traveling the world getting the team back together and getting your equipment ready, son. You know how the top brass are with sticks up their asses about regulation and paper work," the explained and patted me on the shoulder.
My glance went over to the other uniformed body and gave a quick but sloppy salute, "Major Anderson Ryu, Advanced Force Operations Susanowo, Special Operations Group."
"Welcome aboard the JS Ashigara Major Anderson," the equally old man said with a slight smile, "Captain Tobe Yusuke, I'm the elder running the ship. That's Commander Miyata Rai my executive officer and Lieutenant Nakata Shunichi the tactical operations officer."
"Well met, gentlemen," I replied back and shook each of their hands.
"You can call us by our nicknames. We're going to become a tight family either ways in the next months to come," Captain Tobe smiled, the crows eyes beside his eyes creasing.
Four others in flight suits strode out from the interior of the ship, stepping over the small lip of the watertight bulkhead. I could figure out the pair immediately. One old and with experience, the other young and reckless. Another wise with age and whiting hair, the other curious and thirsty for knowledge. There was a nod between Captain Tobe and the two eldest.
"Lieutenant Commander Okazaki Yataro, I'm the lead pilot of this motley crew. That's the youngling that I'm in charge of Butter Bars Furuta Junpei. Second in command and lead of the second crew, Lieutenant Commander Ashikaga Kobo and his protégé Lieutenant Fujiwara Yumi," the old man introduced himself and his charges, shaking my hand in the process.
"Major Anderson Ryu, Advanced Force Operations Susanowo, Special Operations Group," I replied.
"That's a mess of words I've never heard from the mouth of a Japanese soldier. 'Advanced Force Operations', that's usually something Americans utter," chuckled the pilot.
"Neither is 1st Special Operations Aviation Wing. Am I right, Viper?" joked the younger boy next to Okazaki, the older pilot only sighing and shaking his head in disapproval.
"Well, we've had to switch postures when we came to Range Sierra. Can't always be defensive," I smiled back.
"Let's take this inside shall we?" Captain Tobe suggested, rubbing his hands together, "Lieutenant Fujiwara will be show your team their quarters. They'll join us in the wardroom when they're settled in."
"Sounds good," I smiled and glanced back to wave the rest of the team onwards.
The next few hours were a blur. It took me a bit to memorize the layout of the ship. Like a maze, there were narrow, steep stairs going up and down the entire length of the ship. Tight bulkhead doors with lips that would trip a person unaware. Growler was barely large enough to squeeze through where two sailors could. From the red-lit combat information center filled with top brass planning the upcoming operations to the well-lit and secure armory, we went nearly everywhere.
Berthing space was barely available to accommodate the team. Everyone except Ikeda and I were bunking in one of the berthing spaces assigned to us. Stacked three high and six deep, there was more than enough space for us and my old man's team. Ikeda gave up his life of comfort and instead of sleeping in the in-port cabin, Panache would sleep in his stead. The in-port cabin was built to accommodate one person. To save space, another bed was added to where a couch would have been and the coffee table at the center was cleared out. All the lavish decorations were removed with the entire place becoming quite utilitarian.
All that remained was a desk, a bunk and a very nicely polished wooden floor.
Captain Tobe had sacrificed his comfort for the sake of the mission. The man already had my respects as a senior officer.
Weapons were about to overflow the large destroyer's armory. My father had been hard at work requisitioning arms from all over the world. Everything from AK-patterned rifles to Israeli Tavor 7s could be found. Even strange heavy arms like the Javelin fire-and-forget anti-tank missile was on board. There was enough ammunition stocked away to supply a small guerilla army for months.
After a much needed shower and a cup of standard bitter sour coffee, I strolled back out alone towards the officer's wardroom. Navigating the maze alone was daunting. Signs and labels were close to non-existent along the entire ship. With all the similar looking hallways, pipes and stairs, it wasn't easy to get lost. Sailors crossing my path did a double take before hesitantly saluting me. Dressed in just simple crumpled tee and camouflage trousers, there were no rank insignia nor the usual markings of a soldier. Eventually I found the wardroom after hunting down what seemed to be a directory of the ship and making my way to the fabulous oak door.
Knocking on the door and opening it was like opening Pandora's Box. Sound seemed to explode as the packed dining room was bursting with activity. All the seats were closed to filled and the stewards attending the wardroom were buzzing around, narrowly dodging the rowdy crowd. Captain Tobe sat at one end of the table with my father flanking one side and Okuda the other. The rest were spread around the table with fizzy drinks in their hands.
"Don't even bother requesting for permission, Major!" Tobe yelled over the sound of conversing soldiers and sailors, "you don't need to do that here and I doubt present company will mind either! Come and take a seat!"
Today was a special day.
Brown heavy sauce with diced vegetables and generous cuts of meat were plated along with rice in accordance with age old Imperial Japanese Navy tradition of eating curry on a Friday. And since it was just a couple hours into the new day, it was Friday after all. I grabbed a seat next to Okuda and was quickly given a white-card to order from. There was the usual to order from, Kastudon, rice with chicken and even a vegetarian option. But on a day where it was common to order curry, why not?
The steward quickly disappeared after pouring me a glass of water and I joined mid-conversation about the monotony of the operation. While at the table it was usually forbidden to talk about work, but we were just fresh in from the middle of nowhere and playing catch-up was a must. This was one of those rare exceptions where work intermingled with food and JGSDF soldiers of all rank along with liaison personnel occupied the officer's dining facilities.
"You hear that the op's been pushed back three days yet, Ryu?" Okuda asked taking a sip of his fizzy beverage and leaning back against the beautifully crafted wood chair.
"No," I answered back tersely.
"Your operations guy fucked up boy-o, it's a lot harder planning a lightning raid than it seems," my father replied back with a full-belied laugh.
"You know the pathfinding team that scouted out the landing area? Well team comes up with three sites and they're a fair distance away. The new brass that rotated in said, nah, we found a better place closer towards the village. Their vehicle's stuck in frosted mud and they're trying their damnedest to get them out," Okuda explained as the started digging into the curry placed before me.
"The Ashigara is in optimal position to provide precision land attack and artillery fire. We have the senior staff in the CIC coordinate with air assets across the river. Apaches had problems getting fuel and ammunition to their forward base due to mud and ice. Fighters have started tripling their flights over this area with tankers and AWACS to provide close air support. The men upstairs are pulling out all the stops for this one," Captain Tobe continued as the two other men nodded in agreement.
There was a dissatisfied grunt from my father as he sipped the bubbly pale amber, "gotta make it look good for the tax payers back home so they can increase the defense budget even further and change the constitution."
"I wouldn't mind a larger defense budget," sighed Captain Tobe as he pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, "at least that means there's some money being spent on housing and benefits."
The night wore on with gossips of the operations, military politics and aimless banter. It wasn't long before the command crew of the Ashigara called it a night. My father sat in with his small team of four. They would become pillars on which we leaned on throughout the deployment to the new continent.
Four experts all retired too early before their prime. Frank Castle was the other only American in the group. Lanky, tall and skinny, he looked like he belonged at a lab in a university somewhere with his thin wire frame glasses. Coincidentally, his nickname was "Punisher" even though he looked like the antithesis of the comic book characters. He was always calm, calculated and openly friendly. Believe it or not, the skinny man made it through Jump School, Ranger School, Special Forces Q Course and the Unit's selection in one fell swoop. The was the brightest and toughest out of the bunch.
Burly, gruff and equally as large as any of the Volraden we saw was Uncle Mike. With a brown beard and sharp blue eyes, the retired German KSK assaulter and team leader had seen action across the entire world. Uncle Mike had brush-ins with my father all across both of their careers. They had often butt heads before coming a mutual understanding late in their careers that it would get them nowhere. A great close quarters fighter and martial artist, Uncle Mike had connections throughout the European Union's Armed Forces. His legendary status earned him the nickname "The Bear" due to his size and presence on the battlefield in a gunfight.
The shortest out of the bunch and the last, Boris Vladimirovich was originally a spook with Russia's FSB. Boris or Spook was from the countryside. A small-town boy, he had a thick Russian accent but was extremely open minded. He grew up with the skill to psychoanalyze people just from a few minutes of looking at them from afar. This saved the angsty teenager from further bully due to his small size. Boris was an invaluable human intelligence resource so much, so the Vympel Group invited the stocky country boy to try out for the unit. It took a few tries but, the group didn't want to lose Boris to the other units or his talents. An intelligence specialist, Spook was the one stop shop for all advice on intelligence or out-drinking anyone on the ship.
All four had retired to join the same Private Military Company with almost a century and a half of experience between all four of them. They were all here with their strong ties to different militaries and with the ties comes favors and benefits. Equipment and vehicles were easily sourced or leased but how they managed to get the Japanese High Command was unknown to me as was the world of military politics.
I was, nevertheless, grateful.
I retired to the in-port cabin and shuffled in with Panache. There was no time to talk in bed, cuddle or any of the sort. We were both worn out from the helicopter ride to the Ashigara. Constantly shaking and vibrating the ship drained me even if I was asleep. Instead of the rumbling of the Chinook, we traded the constant vibrating for the gentle rocking of the ship. Eyes shut and arms around the petite form, the constant hum of the electrics and the abnormal swaying from the water made it hard to sleep. The embrace of slumber came soon, but the morning alarm would come right after and in the upcoming days we would go from zero to one hundred really quick.