Title: "That Others May Live"
Chapter Two - These Things We Do
Author: ltcoljsheppard
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1986
Summary: This is the continued recounting of the history and back story of John Sheppard, who began his career as a young Airman in the US Air Force's elite unit known as Para-rescue Jumpers and ended up, years later,, commanding the military contingent of an intergalactic expeditionary force to the Pegasus Galaxy.
Disclaimer: I don't own the character John Sheppard, Mitch or Dex, nor anything else having to do with Stargate: Atlantis. There is no profit made by writing and sharing this story and no offense is ever intended toward the characters mentioned or the Stargate franchise owners, creators or characters.
** The characters of Mason Richter, Teddy, Oliver, Wilks and Jed Falcone and any other non-recognized supporting characters are the creation of the author and do not belong to the Stargate franchise or its affiliates.
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"It is my duty as a Para-Rescue man to save life and aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts. These things I do, that others may live."
- The PJ Creed
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August 1990 - April 1991
~ * ~
On the 2nd day of August 1990, the Iraqi Army invaded and occupied the small neighboring country of Kuwait. In response to that aggressive show of force by Iraq upon the weaker nation, the United States initiated Operation Desert Shield. This initiative called upon the resources of the United States and coalition forces to deploy to the Middle East in order to free the tiny nation of Kuwait from Iraqi forces, as well as protect worldwide interests in Saudi Arabia, just over the border from Iraq.
Jed gathered his boys around in the cool hangar. They'd been calling the large bay area home for the past four months as they waited for a new assignment out of their base in Kandahar in Afghanistan. They all appeared eager and in high spirits, certain that this was going to be the news they'd been waiting for.
Falcone stood before them and considered each and every one of his men as his eyes settled on them one at a time. Letting his gaze linger on the youngest of his team, now a Staff Sergeant at the ripe old age of 24, John Sheppard had become like a son to him and Jed gave him a slight smile as he contemplated the announcement he was preparing to make.
"Boys... we got our orders," he said simply and those five words triggered a flurry of responses as the tight-knit unit practically hooted and cheered. Dex and Teddy high-fived each other and Mitch simply smiled and nudged Sheppard with his elbow which caused the younger man to grin as well. "Okay, okay, let's settle down," Falcone requested and once he had their attention again, he shared the assignment with them… they were heading to the Iraqi border.
The PJ unit had been assigned to work with the Army's Special Operation Air Support units, jointly tagged as Task Force 3/160, which began its deployment on September 3, 1990. The unit was based at King Khalid International Airport, soon to be known as King Khalid Military City (KKMC) which sat 35 kilometers north of Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia.
This specialized unit consisted of numerous aircraft from the US Army's 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the Ranger SOARS 160 Special Air Operations units and John Sheppard would find himself, once again, right at home aboard any one of the Army's elite helicopter flights.
Young Sheppard had gained an enormous fondness for the large, thrumming aircraft and Jed often had to send Mitch or Dex or Oliver to rescue the chopper ground crews from John's constant hovering. The crew chiefs honestly didn't seem to mind the young man's enthusiasm to learn everything he could possibly learn about the helos and the science of flight in general. His bright-eyed eagerness and extreme attentiveness during the impromptu lectures from a grease-covered mechanic actually brightened the days, and evenings, for many of the crew members who otherwise found only monotony in the routine of their jobs.
When the air war finally commenced four months later, in January 1991, TF 3/160 had been assigned two missions. The first mission was two-fold, to provide air support in the form of MH-47 helicopters to support the pre-H-hour attack on the Iraqi air defense ground control intercept locations and to refuel the AH-64 Apache attack helicopters from the 101st Airborne Division Air Assault.
Their second mission was to forward deploy units to Rafha, a small town in the northern region of Saudi Arabia, close to the Iraq border. From that location their task force units were to conduct Combat Search and Rescue missions into Iraqi territories in order to locate and retrieve any downed allied pilots and injured ground combatants. It would be this forward deployment that would bring the most interest to Sheppard and his friends.
Among the missions Master Sergeant Falcone and his PJ unit performed, one in particular was a rescue of a downed F-16 pilot. The man had been located in a very hostile area of Iraq and the mission involved engaging and destroying enemy forces that were in close proximity to the survivor as well as retrieving him and bringing him home.
As was the protocol, as soon as the rescue helo was airborne the pilot, Capt. Henry Ross, contacted AWACS, the Airborne Warning and Control System. The aircraft was patrolling the area to make their presence known as a friendly unit. These SOARs units were bad-ass high-action kind of guys and John found working with them about as exciting as any job a PJ could have.
The missions aboard a SOARs Blackhawk was an adrenaline rush and, although his blood poured through his veins as they traversed the desert landscape barely a few meters off the deck at incredibly high speeds, Sheppard simply looked out the open crew door with a serious glint in his eyes. It was an exciting rush he'd learned to nurse deep down but kept his outward demeanor calm and concentrated, just as any veteran who'd borne the burdens of such dire missions before.
Following the course established by the plotting team, the Blackhawk passed directly over their missing man but, in the darkness of the desert night, even with their night vision goggles on, the team was unable to spot him. Of course, to be fair, they were traveling at night, at 140 knots and an altitude of twenty feet.
The team members inside the Hawk continued to scan the ground below, hanging onto the chopper's body, and bits of assemblies or netting, anything to keep from falling out of the bird. The pilot pushed and pulled on the controls, yanking and banking and literally surfing the sand dunes in the pitch black of night. Sheppard kept his eyes on the ground as best he could, his peripheral thoughts registering the exhilaration of what it must be like to be at the controls of such a craft flying maneuvers like this.
When the downed pilot on the ground watched the shadowed image of the Blackhawk circling around and realized his rescuers were having difficulty locating his position he activated his infrared beacon, which Capt. Ross spotted immediately. Giving a shout out to the rescuers sitting on the floor behind him, he maneuvered the Blackhawk in a wide lazy arc, turning back to retrace his flight path and headed straight for the downed pilot.
The flight path was diverted, however, when Capt. Ross was alerted to the fact that his aircraft had been spotted by Iraqi radar and was now being illuminated. "Son of a bitch --" Ross was heard to say over their headsets and John looked toward the cockpit just as the chopper pitched sharply without warning.
He and Wilks nearly tumbled out of the open door of the Hawk as the helo pitched hard to their side. Dex and Mitch, anchored on the bulkhead behind them, reached out to keep their brothers inside the ship. John got his butt back on the deck and threw a nod of thanks to Dex who slapped him on the back with a laugh. John took a deep breath and let it out with a smile as the relief of that near mishap was averted.
"We are lit up, boys!" Ross called back. "We got one shot at this!"
The unit sitting in the cargo area of the Blackhawk looked at each other gravely. Dex looked over Mitch's shoulder at Falcone as if asking their leader for guidance. Jed held his gaze for a moment, knowing what he needed but not wanting to say it.
"Give it up, boys! We can't touch down!" the pilot called back.
"You have to!" Sheppard called back. "We can't leave him here, he's right beneath us!"
Dex settled his hand on John's shoulder and leaned toward him so he could see him as he spoke. "That's not what he meant, Shepp. Give it up means 'make a decision'." John nodded realizing the message was make a decision quick because we need to beat feet out of here.
Falcone leaned toward his boys and shouted over the rotor noise. "We need our fastest runners!"
Dex called back to him, even though Jed already knew who his fastest sprinters were. "That's Oliver, Wilks and Sheppard!"
Falcone nodded his agreement and looked to the door where Wilks and Sheppard were already in position to leap to the ground. He had to push his personal feelings aside to make the most logical professional decision. "Sheppard and Wilks!" he yelled to Dex who gave a nod.
Dex leaned forward between the two young men and laid his hands on their shoulders. "It's up to you boys. Go get him!"
Sheppard and Wilks nodded to Dex and then shared a look before turning their attention back to the dark ground below. The Hawk banked and pitched again and pulled up its nose as the pilot rolled it slightly to the rightside to assist the jumpers in exiting the bird. Dex gave their shoulders a slight push to signal and the two young PJs vaulted from the safety of the helicopter.
They hit the ground and Wilks stumbled on a grassy covered berm that was indistinguishable from the chopper. He went down on one knee and recovered quickly to follow Sheppard as he zig-zagged through the uneven terrain. A few yards and they ran right into the pilot who had run toward them when he saw their silhouettes drop from the hovering aircraft.
"Got him!" Wilks shouted into his earpiece mike as he and John grabbed each of the man's sleeves and hauled the disoriented pilot along with them.
"Roger that. Be advised, we've got ground contact… closing in on your position," Ross informed them just as bullets whizzed past their heads.
"Thanks for the warning!" Wilks shouted and picked up speed.
Sheppard had let go of the pilot's arm and sprinted ahead to a clear area to wave the Hawk back down from its evasive circling overhead. "Let's go!" he called back to his partner and then pulled his weapon up to aim as the movement of enemy combatants looking for the downed pilot came into view.
He fired at the insurgents as Wilks dragged their recovered personnel to his position. Behind him the Blackhawk settled to hover a few feet off the ground as a team of Rangers poured out to cover their egress. Sheppard and Wilks climbed aboard with the pilot as the Rangers laid down suppressing fire on the enemy then they turned back and climbed on, continuing to fire at the ground as the Hawk made a beeline out of the area.
Onboard the helo John sat back heavily against the bulkhead opposite the open door and shared a relieved chuckle with his friends who celebrated another successful mission. Jed leaned down from his seat to grab John's shoulders and shook him in delight then gave the kid a quick heartfelt hug as he wrapped his arm around John's helmeted head.
"Kid, you're gonna be the death of me!" Jed scolded him.
John smiled with a slight flush to his cheeks that a father's pride should put there but never did. Jed Falcone was like a father to him though and John enjoyed the man's leadership and guidance as well as his friendship. He loved the military - he loved the life and the camaraderie and the missions… and he loved to fly.
One day, he thought as he looked up at the window to the dawning purplish sky, one day he'd be flying his own ship. One day.