Thunderbirds and The Tracy Family are the creation of Sylvia and Gerry Anderson

Chapter 71

Scott felt sick to his stomach, unable to stop the revulsion that rose in him. To say that anger burned in him was an understatement, replacing the emotionless cold that had previously numbed his soul. That would return, when his mind would try to protect him against the horrors his eyes had seen. He fought to control his emotions, clenching his fists as he stared hard at the man who had perpetrated this heinous act, every feature of the cruel face etched into his brain; if he could he would have ripped the man's heart out, such was the emotion that overtook him right at that moment.

Scott froze. For as if the officer had sensed the hatred that was directed against him he turned and, looking out across the paddy field, appeared to stare Scott right in the face. Holding his nerve and from his concealed position Scott held the officer's gaze, recording, for all to see, the face of the man who wielded the sword. As though he felt he had 'posed' long enough the officer turned back, appeared to say something to his men and disappeared into the Head Man's now vacant hut, claiming it for his own.

Every natural instinct told Scott to leave, to get out of there. He knew now that he could not afford to let Jez and himself be captured, especially if it was known he had witnessed that barbarity and recorded it, intending to show the world; all the resistance training in the world would not have saved them from these particular soldiers, they could not expect any mercy.

If Scott thought that was the end to the cruelty, he was in for another shock. As if fuelled by the blood-lust of their commanding officer the soldiers then began on a drunken debauchery, defiling the women and young girls of the village, babies torn from the arms of their screaming mothers and atrocities, too awful to be told, committed. He fought back his body's urge to throw up, hating himself for feeling so helpless. Scott closed his eyes, unable to watch any longer, though the NVS continued to record.

When he found the strength to once more open his eyes the village appeared to have settled into a deathly stillness, save for a few mothers sobbing inconsolably for their lost children. With the soldiers having fallen into a drunken stupor and the daylight beginning to fade it was time for him to go, to leave this place of horror. Silently and quickly Scott slipped away. Hot tears stung at his once cold eyes; angrily he wiped them away and, unable to hold in the revulsion any longer as the scenes played again in his mind, he heaved into the nearest dense vegetation. He lifted his arm to his face and drew his mouth along his flight suit sleeve.

Approaching their hideout the signal was again given and once inside Scott began to hastily prepare them for moving, his face having resumed its stone-cold hardness. Jez could tell something wasn't right. "What's wrong Scott……'Charlie' was there……wasn't he?" he queried worriedly.

Without looking at his friend and intent on what he was doing he answered, "Yeah…..'Charlie' was there.…..and we're getting out of here…..now," Scott stated decisively and trying to remain cool.

Jez could tell, though, his friend was keeping something back. "Hey buddy……what'd you see out there?" he asked wearily. In truth, he was also keeping something from his friend.

Scott closed his eyes briefly then turned to face his partner. "Nothin……now don't ask me again," he replied bluntly.

"Hey Scott…..I don't think….I can go on….anymore. You've gotta…..leave me, buddy….get yourself to safety," he begged, feeling tired and beginning now to shiver.

"What are you talkin about……I'm not leaving you," Scott responded, frowning at such a suggestion but it was only now he noticed his friend was far from well. Scott recognised immediately the onset of fever. "Damn it, Jez…….how long have you been like this? Why didn't you tell me?" he added frustratingly.

"Aw buddy…..you got enough….on your plate……..keeping us both…..carryin me. Can't let you…do it anymore….just leave me…..you can go get help," Jez urged him with a faint smile but knowing help would never come.

Scott searched now frantically through Jez's Survival Vest for the one thing he needed and found the small bottle. Pulling out a bottle of water Scott gently cradled his friend in his arms and gave him the anti-fever tablets along with a swallow of water. In preparation for moving him Scott gave him another shot of morphine.

"Thanks buddy……now you'd….better get goin…..get to that LZ," Jez went on, as if it was a forgone conclusion that Scott would go.

Again Scott felt his stony facade crumble and, consumed by frustration and what he had witnessed, hot tears stung his eyes. He grabbed his friend by his flight suit. "Now you get this…..and you get this good…..I am not….leavin you, Lieutenant…..you got that. We go….we go together….but I am not leavin you here……if necessary…..I'll do us both…..before I let them take us alive….you hear me," Scott told him sharply, forgetting himself and allowing his angry emotion to spill out.

Jez stared at his friend as the enormity of what he was saying started to sink in, despite his dopey and fevered state. "Gawd Scott……what did….you see….old buddy?" he asked, seeing the agony of soul his friend was in.

"I told you…..don't ask me…..don't ever ask me. Now we're gettin out of here and we're gettin out of here now…," Scott responded, his mind fixed firmly on one goal. "……and you are gonna make it…..you hear me…..that's an order….you are gonna make it," he repeated, as if by making it an order his friend would have to pull through, his mind unable to cope with the fact he might actually lose his friend when they were so close to being rescued.

Jez nodded automatically. When his Lieutenant made up his mind there was nothing on this earth would shift him from his purpose and once more Jez found himself being filled with renewed hope. Even if he didn't make it he would always be eternally grateful to his partner for trying his hardest.

"Hey buddy….you're one….hell of a guy….you know that…..and when we….get back….I'm gonna make….sure everybody knows that. Hey…my buddy…Scott here…he's one hell of a guy," Jez told him, his mouth quivering with emotion and his eyes a little moist as he waved his arms around, addressing an imaginary audience.

"Yeah…sure I am," Scott replied, his voice full of heavy sarcasm, though he knew his friend's 'happy' state was due to the morphine and his feeling weak from the fever.

"I mean that, buddy…..in fact…..I'm gonna name my….first kid after you…..hey…even if it's a girl. And when she asks…..Daddy…why'd you call me…Scott….I'm gonna look that kid…right in the eye...and I'm gonna tell her…..Cus hunny….that's the name of…of the bravest man….on the face of God's green earth….that's the name of my Lieutenant….my buddy. He pulled….your ole daddy's ass….out've a jungle once…..out've a whole heap a trouble….or hunny….you just wouldn't be here….that's what I'm gonna tell her," Jez laughed dopily, as if the birth of a daughter were imminent.

Scott couldn't help but give a weary half laugh as he shook his head, letting his friend ramble. He knew when he lifted him Jez would thankfully pass out. Once outside Scott summoned all his strength, grabbed Jez by his flight suit and hauled him onto his shoulder, setting off again through the dark night. "Come on stud….we gotta get you back first…so you can have all them kids. And we are gonna get back…..we are gonna get back….or I'm gonna die tryin," Scott repeated to himself to keep focused. He barely felt his legs anymore or his shoulders with the dead weight of his partner as he moved automatically through the night. Every step brought them closer, their freedom so near he could taste it.

He took a wide berth away from the village, across the knee-deep stream where he had caught the fish. After a while he stopped dead in his tracks, having come to the edge of jungle. He took a swallow of water and looked out over the clearing of another paddy field, lit by the faintest of glows from a thin crescent moon. He winced, not so much from pain but because he determined there was no way he was going to cross it and having to skirt it was going to add time to their journey. Even though it was hardly likely that 'Charlie' would be out in the dead of night Scott was still too cautious as to cross the open ground, wary that the submerged paddy field could be mined. With no other option than to skirt round it he headed off, keeping well into the trees. A raised dyke ridge ran all the way round the field, providing a natural track for the local people but their briefing reports had warned them that these were ideal for booby traps and not to be tempted to use the trails.

One such particularly gruesome device was called a 'Malayan Gate', a flat framework of bamboo with sharpened bamboo sticking out at right angles. The whole thing was pulled back on rope or vine out of sight and a trip rope laid across the track, concealed in the dirt. When the unsuspecting person tripped the rope the frame would swing across the track, impaling its victim on the sharpened bamboo points. While meant for any downed American pilots and their crews more often than not it was the local people who fell foul of such traps. It was totally beyond Scott Tracy's understanding how man could devise such cruel contraptions and have such total disregard for life. Cautiously, very cautiously he moved around the paddy field; although keeping well to the trees he didn't want to go to far out of his way since the route he needed to take lay at the far side.

He stopped, his eyes expertly scanning the ground with the NVS. Noticing an unnaturally placed length of vine Scott immediately became suspicious and, with Jez still across his shoulder, he hacked of a slender branch from a low lying bush with his free hand. He stood well back and as he extended the branch towards the vine his eyes continually scanned the trees. Pushing the vine with the branch there was a sudden swish, causing Scott to instinctively pull back, although he was thankfully well out of reach. A twig ball, interlaced with sharpened bamboo and suspended from a vine rope came swinging down from a tree, the force of it impaling it in the tree in its path. Scott breathed out a sigh of relief for it could so easily have been him or Jez on the receiving end of that little surprise had he not been so vigilant. Why didn't he just give it a wide berth when he realised there was a booby trap? Why go to the bother of triggering it? Scott couldn't help the image of some of the local people falling foul of such a fiendish device and, worse still, what if it had been a child. He reasoned that it would be thought an animal had triggered it without having got caught.

Remaining extra vigilant now Scott eventually reached the far side of the field and continued on back into the depths of the jungle. According to his map the end was almost in sight, they had almost reached the clearing of the designated LZ and daylight was beginning to break. All he had to do now was hole up in cover, call in their Huey and get across that clearing, then they would be home free. By the time he set Jez down, hacked down some foliage and pulled it around them to act as natural cover Scott was exhausted, his strength almost gone but he was so close now, all he needed was one last burst of energy when he saw that Huey and then he could sleep for weeks if he wanted.

"Jez….Jez….nearly there…buddy…..just hang on…..just a bit longer," Scott encouraged his friend. Jez woozily acknowledged him. Scott took out the bottle of anti-fever pills and forced another couple into his friend, making him swallow. He next took out the small radio and fixing the earpiece into his ear he accessed his frequency, speaking barely above a whisper. "Wolf's Lair…..Wolf's Lair…..this is Timber Wolf…..I repeat….this is Timber Wolf…..do you copy." It was an anxious wait, hoping against hope that they had not come all this way for nothing; that Base would be waiting for his call.

"Timber Wolf….Timber Wolf….this is the Lair….we copy……you ready to go huntin…..ready to rejoin the pack," Base acknowledged.

Scott choked back the emotion at hearing the familiar sounding accent of his fellow countryman, fighting hard to compose himself to give a reply. "Sure…are. Have arrived…at the huntin grounds…need to…rejoin…rejoin the pack…real soon. Tell Momma….tell Momma….the cub is sick….the cub is sick….and wounded….need help. What's the ETA…..make it soon….can't hunt anymore…..can't hunt…..," Scott informed the base, telling them his WSO was now sick and needed that medical attention urgently and also that he could not make it to another LZ should the pick-up be changed, it was here or nowhere.

Back at Da Nang Air Base the radio room fell silent as Lieutenant Scott Tracy's pitiful and weary voice came over the comm.-link, some of the female operatives having to wipe a tear from their eyes. On first receiving his call someone had sent for their Squadron Commander who had wanted to know immediately contact had been made with his men and he had come hurriedly into the room in time to hear the end of his Lieutenant's report.

"That's affirmative on that Timber Wolf….reading you loud and clear……ETA is 0900 hours….do you copy?" Base asked.

"Yeah….that's a copy…..0900," Scott acknowledged, repeating the information so they knew he understood.

"Say Timber Wolf….you're not sounding too hot yourself…..you ok," the radio operator asked concerned.

Everyone in the room strained their ears to hear the low, whispered reply, many choking back their own emotion at how drained he sounded, mentally and physically, unable to imagine what he had been through. Squadron Commander Major Brad Hollis, a man in his mid-thirties, winced as he listened to his young Lieutenant.

"Just can't….hunt anymore….gotta get here…..," Scott replied.

Before the radio operator could reply Brad Hollis snatched his headset from him and put it on. "Eh…Sir.. you can't just…..," the young operator started to say, only to receive a frosty glare from the Squadron Commander.

"These are MY boys, son…..so don't you tell me what the hell I can and cannot do….understood!" Major Brad Hollis snapped, still angry from his previous encounter with the Base Commander over this situation.

"Eh…yes Sir," the young man obediently replied, being well out-ranked by the irate Squadron Commander.

Brad Hollis paced up and down, holding the mic connector of the headset between his fingers as he searched for how he could encourage his young pilot. "Timber Wolf…..Timber Wolf…..this is Momma...you listen to me son…..you hang in there….you hear me…..we're comin to get you….we're gonna pull you outta there….I know you can't hunt anymore, son…..you don't need to…you've done enough……done a damn good job gettin that far……we're all proud of you, son….and we're bringin you home….both of you….now you just sit tight….you hear me…..we're comin for you."

Scott was fighting to keep his eyes open and panting for breath. "That…you Momma…..good…to hear you….hear…you've been….snappin and snarlin," he responded with a faint laugh. With exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him Scott momentarily found his mind wondering. "Momma….Momma….I miss you….I've missed you so much…..I'm so tired….just let me sleep a little longer, Momma…….promise…I'll get up……don't leave me Momma….don't leave me again…..Momma…."

There wasn't a dry eye among the female staff, in fact, even some of the guys found themselves having to clear their throats and take a deep breath in order to keep their composure. Major Brad Hollis was no exception, recognising that Scott was slipping into despondency and possible delirium. He knew, of course, of his young Lieutenant's family background, that his mother had died when he was 12 years old and it didn't take a genius to guess he was no longer referring to his Squadron Leader's code name.

"Listen to me Lieutenant….," Brad began.

"Sir….security Sir….you have to use….," the young radio operator interrupted before he himself was cut dead.

Brad Hollis rounded angrily on the young man, pushing the mic of the headset up. "Security! We've got a secure channel haven't we!"

"Y..yes Sir….but….," the operator stammered.

"Gawd dammit….that boy's in trouble out there….he's goin under and I am…NOT…gonna let that happen….do you understand…. he needs encouragement….he needs to be told not to give up," Brad spat angrily. "You ever been out there, son….in the jungle….having to carry your buddy through the night……you ever ejected from an F-16 when she's been hit by a missile, son," he added, knowing full well the young man hadn't but wanting to emphasise his lack of knowledge at just what combat entails. Of course, no one knew the full extent of what Lieutenant Scott Tracy had endured.

"N..no Sir," the young man acknowledged.

"Then do NOT….in any way, shape or form give me that security crap….is that understood….Airman," Brad thundered, not in any mood for any more red tape, to which the young man gulped and nodded. Brad pulled the mic down to his mouth, determined not to let his Lieutenant give up. "You listen to me Lieutenant….Momma is not gonna leave you….we are comin to get you….now you do whatever you have to do and you stay awake….is that understood…..that is an order, Lieutenant…..gawd dammit, talk to me," he said, trying whatever he could to get Scott to draw from his reserves of courage.

Scott snapped his eyes open and drew a deep breath. "Stay awake….that's a copy Momma…..that's a copy," he acknowledged.

Elsewhere on the Base news of the contact had just reached the Base Commander, who breathed a relieved sigh. Colonel Lauren Adams was an astute and professional woman in her mid forties and the first woman to hold command at Da Nang Air Base, given to her, she suspected, to stretch her capabilities with the expectancy of failure since it was a pretty tough assignment. She had proved many of her male colleagues wrong though and went on to prove she was as tough as any man when it came to decision making, up until now that is.

The National Assembly had become increasingly edgy and nervous, all the time tying the hands of the Americans in carrying out their role and Colonel Adams had, on this occasion, bowed to their diplomatic demands, even though it went against her military instincts. It was a decision she had come to bitterly regret on first hearing their pilot and his WSO had been forced down and she well remembered that rather heated confrontation when Major Hollis and Lieutenant Scott Tracy had stood in her office just over two days ago, arguing for the military necessity of being able to defend themselves. Of course she had agreed with them but had argued that her hands were tied. Looking back with hindsight she was sorry now she had not taken a tougher stance and went with her gut instinct, for after all, she was in command here and had the finally authority, the American Base having the same status as an Embassy therefore, in effect, this was a little piece of the United States on foreign soil. She remembered, too, the even more heated confrontation when Major Hollis had burst into her office when the news had first broken. The Base had been awash with the news and then the mood had become sombre after the initial relief that they had ejected and landed safely but all knew what a tough journey lay ahead of them before they would be rescued. It had not escaped Colonel Lauren Adams notice that a decidedly frosty chill hung in the air whenever she was present.

She was brought sharply from her reverie by a distinct and familiar sound from outside. Rising from her swivel chair behind the desk Lauren frowned as she looked out; the wind has risen and driving rain now lashed against her window. That was the nature of this place; tropical storms rose quickly and could last for days. With the rescue of the two airmen about to get under way this spelt big trouble.

In the next moment there was a knock at her door and the troubled Aide from the outside office entered looking rather pale and agitated. "Excuse me Ma'am…..we've just got word….there's a typhoon moving in from the south….we're already experiencing its effects. The thing is, Ma'am….the Huey's…they can't take off….we're socked in by bad weather….that means we can't get this rescue underway…Ma'am!" the Aide informed her.

Lauren Adams swore silently under her breath. There was no way she could leave Lieutenant Scott Tracy and Lieutenant Numann to survive another day out in that jungle surrounded by hostile forces. There had to be a way, there just had to be. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead, deep in thought. "Just let me think." A thought occurred to her. "Have we anyone out in the South China Sea at the minute?" she asked, the glimmer of a hope beginning to appear.

The Aide hastily punched in the code, accessing the information on the datafile he had brought in with him. "Yes Ma'am….the USS Liberty…..she's a Nemitz Class Carrier…..arrived in the South China Sea just four days ago to begin exercises……her Commander is…..," the Aide informed her excitedly.

"Commander Dale Stockton," Lauren Adams mused with a wry smile, finishing off his sentence.

"Y..yes Ma'am, that's correct…..you know Commander Stockton!" the Aide ventured curiously.

"Oh…let's just say our paths have crossed once or twice," she replied with a faint smile, as though she were recalling some memory then, remembering the importance of this information, she gave a little cough and returned to a serious, professional manner. "All right….pull me the map…show me just where she is."

"Yes Ma'am," the Aide acknowledged. A projection screen was lowered from the ceiling down one wall and within seconds a map of the South China Sea and the Vietnam coastline flashed up. Scrolling down his information for the co-ordinates he then pinpointed her position. "She's lying…right here…Ma'am."

Colonel Adams pondered thoughtfully and nodded as she studied the map. "Good….now get me Commander Stockton immediately."

"Right away Ma'am," her Aide responded and disappeared into the outer office.

Returning to her chair behind the desk Lauren Adams waited for the call to come through. Within minutes the Vid-link blinked into life and the cheery face of a distinguished and handsome man with graying hair at the temples appeared on screen.

"Well, well…..Colonel Lauren Adams….how are you…..you still sitting down there in Da Nang?" the cheerful voice of Commander Dale Stockton spoke over the link and sounding genuinely pleased to see her.

Lauren wished this had been a more sociable call but, as it was, she was finding it hard to deal in pleasantries. "Hi Dale….it's good to see you again….yes I'm still here……I hear you've just arrived out there."

"Yes….four days ago…..we're here on exercises….a three month stint this time. Say…maybe we'll get around to having that dinner this time," he grinned, the smile lighting up his handsome features. Commander Dale Stockton was in his late forties and had been in command of the USS Liberty for five years. They had first got to know each other when the USS Liberty had come to the South China Sea last year on manoeuvres and, rather embarrassingly, Colonel Adams had to call on the Navy's help to fish some of their aircrews out of the ocean after they had developed technical problems. It had been a source of amusement for Commander Stockton and Lauren Adams just had to grit her teeth and grin.

"As I recall….you ran out on me," Lauren reminded him, just the faintest of smiles creasing her troubled face.

"Yes…I'm sorry about that…we were called away," Dale apologised but he was beginning to sense now she wasn't quite as happy to see him as he thought. "I gather this isn't a social call, Lauren….to welcome me back…is it," he queried thoughtfully then a grin broke out as he thought maybe she was having trouble swallowing her pride in having to ask for his help again when they'd only just arrived. "Let me guess….you've lost a couple of your boys again…..and you want the Navy to go fish them out of the deep blue for you…..well all you've got to do is ask…..the Navy is only to glad to pull the Air Force out of a bind….you know that!" he added with obvious delight, never losing the opportunity to have some good-natured banter over who was the better Service.

Lauren Adams winced. "I wish it were just that, Dale….but yes….we have two airmen down….they were forced to eject when their aircraft was hit by a ground-to-air missile. They were on a recon and came down in the jungle just north of the old DMZ. That was two days ago, Dale…..and they're in pretty bad shape…..the WSO, Lt Jerry Numann, is wounded and his pilot, Lt Scott Tracy, has been carrying him for two nights now to get to the LZ….he's pretty much exhausted. Dale….I need your help," she confided, giving him a brief run-down on the situation.

From his laidback, relaxed position the cheerful face of Commander Stockton now became serious as he leaned towards the Vid-link. "Shoot……..what can we do to help," he offered, his face now that of concern and all jovial banter put to one side in the face of this serious situation.

Lauren Adams smiled and nodded gratefully. "We were going to launch a rescue Huey this morning but we're socked in by bad weather….came out of nowhere….we have promised him an ETA of 0900 hours. Dale…..I can't let him down….can you go in and get them for us…..we have got to get them out of there," she stated concisely, though her voice almost took on that of a plea.

"That shouldn't be a problem, Lauren…..I think our boys can manage that….but why is it so important you don't let him down?" Dale queried, noticing her show of emotion at that point.

Lauren sighed deeply and explained her caving in to diplomatic pressure. "…..so you see, Dale….if I hadn't ordered him up without their Sidewinders they could have defended themselves and they may not be in this mess now……and that's why I've just got to get them back."

Dale Stockton nodded in understanding and tried to encourage his colleague and friend, knowing the burden of command was never easy and some decisions would prove difficult. "…..give me the co-ordinates……and do we know if the LZ's hot?" he asked, both now total professionals as they discussed the finer details of the rescue mission.

"Not that we're aware of, Dale….but that could change…..Lt Tracy has informed us 'Charlie' is in the area," Lauren replied.

"All right, Lauren….leave it with us….we'll do everything we can to get your boys back," Dale Stockton promised. "And we will get around to having that dinner," he added, with an encouraging smile.

"Thanks Dale….I know you will," Lauren Adams responded giving him a faint smile. The link was cut and Colonel Lauren Adams rose from her chair and going to the window stared out at the abysmal weather that was preventing them from carrying out their own rescue. Now, all they could do was wait. Wait and hope.

Aboard the USS Liberty Commander Dale Stockton activated the inter-ship communications. "Now hear this….all helicopter pilots report to the briefing room……I repeat….all helicopter pilots report to the briefing room immediately."

Down in the recreation room a pair of long legs pulled themselves of the top of the table where they had been stretched out and the chair rocked back onto its four legs. A hand of cards slapped down onto the table accompanied by a mild swearing. "Dammit."

"You actually winning this time Jack," a laughing voice said.

"Yeah….first good hand I've had in a long time too," he replied with mock indignation as he chewed a stick of gum.

"So…whatdaya reckon we're being called for, huh…..think it's serious….or just part of the exercises," his fellow card player asked.

"Chances are it's one of those fancy flyboys goin for a swim again…..and they want the good ole Navy to go fish their asses outta the deep blue," he quipped, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

The cocky grin belonged to the laid-back personality that was Lieutenant Jack Flannigan, Aircraft Commander and pilot extraordinaire of one of the Hueys based on board the Aircraft Carrier, USS Liberty, a veritable self-sustained floating city. She was one of the latest of the Nemitz Class Carriers, capable of remaining at sea for six months at a time without the need of touching port. On board, along with the fighter aircraft attached to the Air Wing that deployed with the Carrier, the Hueys, which were part of the Carrier's own compliment, were invaluable in the versatile role they played. It could involve anything from transporting, to allowing the Marines to practise their drops from rapelling lines onto the deck, to vital search and rescue and of these Huey pilots the most experienced and certainly the most colourful character was Lt Jack Flannigan.

At 26 years of age Jack was already a veteran, having joined the Service at 18 when he left college. His ambition had always been to fly but, unlike a lot of young men who went for the seemingly glamorous role of being a fighter pilot, Jack had always been fascinated by helicopters; seeing them as infinitely more versatile. He soon proved he had an uncanny natural ability and could make the Huey, which he had made his speciality, do what was otherwise thought impossible. At the age of 22 Jack Flannigan was posted to the USS Liberty and had only one year left of his 7year obligation to serve.

His laid-back, cocky personality, although it made him popular with his crew and colleagues, often infuriated his superiors and coupled with a strong opinion, which he was prone to let loose, made him something of a maverick. His unorthodox methods and seeming total disregard for authority often saw him at odds with his superiors and more than once in his career had seen him on the carpet with threats of disciplinary action if he did not adhere to the proper way things should be done. But Jack Flannigan was the best there was, an instinctive pilot who went with his gut feeling and it was, perhaps for this reason, that Commander Dale Stockton couldn't help but like and secretly admire the cocky, self-assured young pilot.

"Well…guess we'd better get goin……see what the old man wants," Jack mused as he pushed himself up of his seat. Something, though, didn't sit quite right, like if it was just a simple pick-up of a couple of flyboys deciding to go for a swim why call all of them but, grabbing his datafile, he headed off to the briefing room with the rest of the pilots.

The room was abuzz with curiosity while they waited for the Commander and they didn't have long to wait, the room coming smartly to attention as they sat up straight in their seats when the CO, along with the Master Chief and Captain of the Huey Squadron entered. All except a certain laid-back young pilot at the back of the room, who remained casually stretched out, his arm resting on the side table they used for taking down their briefing notes and chewing his usual stick of gum. He thoughtfully studied the Commander as he entered, trying to gauge why they had been called and so early in the morning.

"Good morning gentlemen…..thank you all for attending so promptly," the Commander started, addressing his pilots. "Well I guess you're all wondering why I have called you together so early……Gentlemen….we've had an urgent request from the Air Force down at Da Nang."

"They want us to fish some of their guys outta the deep blue again, Sir," an amused voice called out, causing a ripple of laughter around the room, to which Commander Dale Stockton responded with a wry smile. Although he was the Commander, Dale Stockton enjoyed a good rapport with his men and they obviously felt at ease enough to make such a quip. Jack Flannigan, too, let out an amused laugh and nodded, though he couldn't get rid of the feeling that was bothering him, a feeling, due his many years experience, that told him it wasn't quite that simple.

"Gentlemen…it's a bit more serious than that," Commander Stockton informed them, his face now that of intent professionalism. He went on to inform them of the grave situation and the room fell into a hushed and respectful silence.

A hand went up from the back of the room, which Commander Stockton acknowledged. "Why didn't they just shoot that sucker outta the sky….they're armed with Sidewinders, aren't they!" Jack Flannigan asked as he lazily chewed his gum; a question obviously on everybody's mind as the buzz of agreement went round the room.

Dale Stockton nodded. It was a perfectly logical question and it didn't surprise him in the least it came from Jack, who as an astute pilot and aware, as all the Huey pilots are, of the operational capabilities of the fighter pilots. "They were…..uhhmm….ordered to fly….eh….without their Sidewinders. Political beaurocracy. They had no way of defending themselves….they evaded as long as they could but were eventually brought down," he replied, clearing his throat in almost embarrassment at having to admit it.

"Geez….poor guy….bet he's pissed at that," Jack responded, his forthright exclamation being just his way of expressing himself, always one to speak his mind. The fact the Commander of the most powerful vessel afloat was present made no difference to Jack Flannigan. The rest of the room murmured in agreement.

Commander Dale Stockton tried to remain the consummate professional as he suppressed a wry grin. "No…I don't believe he was too happy about it. Now gentlemen….down to business. We've been called in to initiate a rescue…..Da Nang has been socked in by bad weather….they can't get their Hueys operational…..and what I need is a volunteer," he replied, looking about the room hopefully. As this was a request from the Air Force he did not want to have to go to ordering someone out there but he knew his men and knew he would not have to go to those lengths, knowing that, as pilots they all respected each other despite the friendly rivalry and banter between the two Services. "The fact is gentlemen…..these guys are in pretty bad shape now…..the WSO is wounded and has a fever…..his pilot is about all in…..Lieutenant Tracy has been carrying him for two nights to get to the LZ…..they need our help….," he added, hoping the information would carry extra weight. As he looked around his men Dale could see they were clearly moved by what they were hearing.

"Cuse me Sir….did you say Lieutenant Tracy!" a very interested voice spoke out, so interested he stopped chewing his gum. Jack Flannigan's ears pricked up and he immediately sat up straight. It seemed that Scott Tracy's reputation had extended as far as the Naval Huey pilots and certainly among the fighter pilots aboard, for who hadn't heard of his daring do exploits against the MiG's. The world of flying and pilots is a close-knit community and word often spreads of infamous acts of courage and daring. He wasn't the only one as the interested buzz spread around the room.

"Yes, that's right….Lieutenant Scott Tracy," Dale Stockton answered, a little surprised that his name was already known to them, although it shouldn't have surprised him that much.

"I'll do it Commander…..I'll go pick him up," Jack Flannigan offered without any hesitation. In fact, such was the esteem for the guy held by Jack and the enormous respect he now had for Scott Tracy, as Jack thought about his ordeal in that jungle and the circumstances that put him there, that Jack deemed it a privilege and an honor to be the one to go and get him.

The Commander nodded his appreciation; he should have known it would be Jack who would volunteer. The rest of the assembled pilots were dismissed then the details and tactics of the mission were discussed with all those concerned. As Lieutenant Jack Flannigan left the room to make his way down to the Huey that was being prepped Commander Stockton wished him luck and made a point of telling him not to take any unnecessary chances or try to be a hero, if they couldn't get to the two airmen then they couldn't get to them, at least they tried. Dale Stockton breathed a resigned sigh and shook his head. Now just why did he think that Jack Flannigan had no intention of listening to any such order. It could be the fact, that on his way out, Jack gave his Commander a huge grin, a wink and a cocky salute that said, 'Yeah Boss, sure Boss but I'll do my own thing'.

Within a short time the rescue Huey was on its way, keeping low over the ocean to avoid radar detection as it headed for the coast and the jungle beyond. ETA 0900 hours.

Undercover and near the LZ two exhausted airmen awaited their salvation. Scott Tracy looked up through the trees and blinked his weary eyes as the first large drops of rain began to fall on his face. In minutes the heavens would open, adding to their misery once again and in the distance, irate shouts could be heard.