In the Nick of Time

"Sir, I'm going to have to turn back."

"Dammit, man! Stay on course!" shouted Captain Reynolds. He glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes. Twenty minutes out. Will we make it? He was bracing himself in place behind the empty copilot's seat with one arm against the ceiling as he argued with the pilot.

"Sir, I have orders to turn this bird around. I'm afraid I can't continue," the pilot tried to reason. He was barely old enough to drink; this kind of thing wasn't supposed to happen to him.

"Do not deviate from your course, Sergeant! Ignore those damn desk-jockeys; they're too far away from the action to know what they're doing!"

"I'm sorry, sir. I have my orders. I'm heading back," the pilot said as he began easing the stick over. The helicopter began banking over, starting a 180^o turn.

Reynolds closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He then opened them and drew his sidearm at the same time. "You will stay on the course I gave you until told otherwise." He hadn't raised his voice, and it remained level. But there was an indefinable edge to it.

Garcia was sitting in the main troop compartment. He just stared, wide-eyed, as his Captain pointed a .45 at the pilot of the Blackhawk. "Jesus Christ, sir," he almost whispered. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"Yes, God-dammit! I do! Those are American boys out there. I will not leave them to die! Not again. I don't give a shit what those pencil-pushers say, we're going to get that team out. No way are we abandoning them." His voice had grown softer toward the end. However, his aim never wavered. "I'll take the heat for this Jeffries. You just keep us on course and get us there. Don't do anything stupid."

The captain knew he wasn't being entirely honest. yes, he'd take the brunt of the heat for this, but everyone else would get plenty enough as it was. He was breaking nearly every reg in the book, and he didn't care. He knew exactly what he had to do and something as simple as a rule wasn't going to stop him.

Sergeant Matthew Jeffries pulled the helicopter back on course with shaking hands. The Captain was right, they shouldn't abandon their comrades. But he also had orders from command. Then again, orders from a man with a gun were a bit more persuasive.

The Blackhawk sped through the night a hundred feet over the ground below. All the occupants were quiet, thinking over what they were doing. It was the right thing to do. It had to be. Didn't it?

Lieutenant Hudson hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him as another burst of gunfire was directed his way. Chips of rock peppered his back as he lay on the ground. Shit, that was too close.

It was getting pretty dark out, the sun had gone down some time ago; he couldn't remember exactly when. Now the shadows were almost as dark as everything else. That made seeing the enemy difficult. He hoped it meant it was just as difficult for the enemy to see his men.

He crawled behind a group of rocks and brought himself into a crouch. From where he was, he could only see two other Americans. No wait, make that three -- parts of Jacobs' dead form could be seen about thirty yards away. The other two were also crouching behind scant cover and returning fire at the enemy.

They'd been fighting now for almost an hour. It had been just after dusk when they destroyed the enemy communications site. With their objective accomplished, they had headed to their extraction point. Unfortunately, some enemy commander had decided that it was a good place to bivouac his company. He had cursed their "intelligence" report as they called in to command to say that they were proceeding to the alternate site. Halfway there was when all hell had broken loose.

Hudson didn't know exactly what had happened. Somehow they had stumbled upon an enemy squad. Either it was camped in the middle of nowhere or they had been on patrol. It didn't matter, though. As soon as they got engaged, the enemy had called for reinforcements. His squad had retreated as fast as they could, hoping to break contact and get away. That hadn't happened, though. They had been engaged with an ever-increasing number of enemies off and on for the whole time.

He didn't even know how many of his people were still alive. He'd seen at least two die, one right in front of him; Johnson had caught a burst as he was heading for cover and almost had his head ripped off. Then there was Jacobs. That made at least three. Three out of ten. This is a nightmare!

Hudson saw some movement down-slope and to his left. He turned toward it and fired a 3-round burst, emptying the rest of his magazine. He couldn't tell if he'd hit or not. Ducking behind the rock, he slapped a fresh clip into his rifle. That only left him three more.

Sergeant Gareth rushed in and hunkered down near his Lieutenant. "Ruggerd's down, sir. Chang is with him trying to stabilize him, but I don't know if he'll make it or not. 'Course I don't know if any of us will make it unless we get some help soon." Both men thought of the ruined radio they had left behind soon after the fighting began. They'd sent out a call for help, but nobody knew if it had gotten through, much less if any relief could be expected.

Their outlook wasn't promising. They had at least two or three squads after them, if not a whole platoon. They'd taken down well over a squad, but at what cost? At least four good men down. All of them were running low on ammo and they were exhausted.

"What do you think, Sergeant?"

"I think we need to pull back and regroup, sir. If we keep this spread out they'll pick us apart. That formation of rocks back there looks fairly defensible."

"We'd also be trapped there. I don't know if I like that."

"One thing at a time L.T. First we worry about surviving. Then we worry about being trapped."

"Okay. Let the others know what we're doing. We'll start pulling back in two minutes. I'll cover you." With that he turned around and peered over the rock; his gun ready. He saw a darkened form darting for a rock and put a burst into it. "Get going!" he yelled as he covered his friend.

Gareth sprinted off toward the other men, his Lieutenant alone and pouring fire into the enemy.

Reynolds had finally holstered his gun. Jeffries had decided he was going to go along with the plan. He wondered how much the gun had had to do with the decision and how much Jeffries' conscience factored in.

They were now only ten minutes out. His team in the back was making a final check over their gear. There were only seven of them, including the Captain. It was all he could assemble in time. They were good men though, some of the best. He only hoped it would be enough. He only hoped they would be in time.

Hudson began pulling back toward the rock formation, diving from cover to cover. He paused to take a shot, but missed. Twenty yards to go. He rushed back trying to get behind a boulder.

Suddenly he felt a searing pain in his right leg. He staggered and fell down. He tried to get up, but pain lanced through his body as he put his right foot down. Abruptly, he felt someone grab him under his arms and drag him to cover. Hudson looked down at his leg and saw an ugly wound. The bullet had caught him in the back of the calf. Luckily, that meant it probably wasn't as bad as it looked.

Gareth pulled up the BDU pants leg and peered at the wound. He ripped the compress off of Hudson's left shoulder and pressed it over the wound, causing Hudson to wince. "Shit, L.T. That was close. You okay?"

"I'll live," he said through clenched teeth. "How's everyone else?"

"Ruggerd didn't make it, sir. Neither did Appens; he took a hit while coming back here. The SAW's with him too. We can't get it either. That leaves us five here, three of you wounded. It doesn't look good, sir."

"No shit. What else is new?" He propped himself up and peered out at the enemy. They're advancing again. Figures.

"Incoming!!" A grenade arched through the air toward them. Everyone dove for cover, several exposing themselves to gunfire in the process.

Hudson picked himself up and put a burst into an advancing soldier. He hit him square in the chest with all three rounds, knocking him back. He crawled behind some cover and inserted his second to last clip. Chang lobbed one of their precious grenades toward a clump of enemies. They all dove for cover, but one didn't make it. Gareth's right, this doesn't look good.

"Okay, we're a minute and a half from their last known position. You guys know what to do. Garcia and Wilkens: once we locate them, you go get those troops back to the helo. The rest of us will lay down covering fire. I don't give a damn if you hit anyone, just keep those bastards' heads down long enough to get our guys out. Any questions?"

No one spoke, the only sound the beating of the rotors. They all knew what they were getting into. They were all disobeying orders, even if the Captain said he'd take the heat. They could all be court marshaled for this. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that there was a team out there that was getting chewed up and the brass didn't give a damn. They weren't going to let that happen. Not to their countrymen. Not on their watch.

The squad was holed up in the rock formation. It wasn't really a "formation" as much as it was a grouping of large boulders and smaller rocks. Right now they were only defending the southern arc. However, it wouldn't be long before the enemy started to spread out and encircle them. Once that happened they were as good as dead.

"Movement on your right!" The shout came from Private Dobbs. Hudson was prone behind scant cover. He shifted to his right and flinched from the pain. His rifle was at his shoulder when he saw the enemy form. He aimed at it and carefully fired a three round burst. The form went down; either hit or diving for cover. Another form appeared out of the darkness coming towards him about twenty yards in front of him. He shifted his aim and depressed the trigger. Click.

Shit! I'm out of ammo! That had been his last clip. He dropped his rifle and fumbled for the pistol at his side.

"We're at their last position Captain. I don't see anyone here. I'm going to circle around a bit."

"Damn," Reynolds muttered. He hadn't really expected them to still be here, but he had hoped. "Be on the lookout, men. I want our guys found quick!"

The men slid open the doors on both sides of the helo. Wind rushed in stinging their eyes and howling in their ears. They held onto the door frame or seats and peered out into the darkness, searching for their comrades.

Suddenly, Jeffries tensed up in the cockpit. "Captain, I've got something on radar north of us. I can't make out what it is for sure, but I think it's another helo; it's too slow for a fixed-wing."

"Sir! To the right. I see something; looks like a firefight!"

"I've got it sir," Jeffries called. "I'm heading there now!"

Hudson was just bringing the pistol to bear on the enemy when he was caught by fire in his left shoulder and arm. His head exploded in pain and he crumpled to the ground behind the rock, screaming through gritted teeth. He struggled to get up, but his arms and legs collapsed under him, leaving him lying with his back propped against the rock, fighting to remain conscious.

The helicopter raced with it's engines red-lined toward the distant flashes. It was a black shape streaking across the ground at only a few dozen feet.

Reynolds was looking through the cockpit windshield. He could see the rock formation and a few human shapes on the ground a short distance from it. Someone was holed up in the rocks, but who? He didn't have time to wait and find out. Our guys must be in the rocks, there's no reason they'd be assaulting anything.

"Bring her in as close as you can and land to the left of those rocks. Got it?"

"I'll do my best, sir." Jeffries was sweating with concentration as he maneuvered the helicopter perilously close to the earth.

Reynolds turned around and regarded his men. "We'll be hitting the ground in a moment, troops. You know you're mission. We've got to get in there and get out quick. There's no --"

Jeffries interrupted him with a shout. "Sir, that was definitely a helo I picked up earlier! It looks to be one of their attack variants, too. It's heading for here, we're only going to beat it by maybe five minutes at the most."

"Well, it looks like we have even less time, then. Good luck, soldiers!"

The helicopter began settling toward the ground.

Pain clouded his vision and pounded his head. He saw someone come around the rock to his right. Wrong uniform; bad guy. His brain was working on automatic. However, that was enough for him to raise his arm and fire before the enemy could shoot him. He kept pulling the trigger, almost emptying the clip. Most of the rounds impacted in the enemy's chest, but the last several climbed their way up. The last bullet entered the man's throat and exited the back of his head along with a sizable portion of brain matter.

Hudson blinked. When he opened his eyes, Sergeant Gareth had materialized in front of him. "Shit sir, you don't look good! You're loosing a lot of blood. I think we may..."

Gareth stopped in mid sentence as his brain caught up with what his damaged hearing had been trying to tell him: there was a helicopter landing nearby. Enemy reinforcements. This is it then, Gareth though. We can't hold out any longer. We just can't...

Hudson was barely aware of some kind of commotion near him. He tried to bring his good arm and pistol to bear on it, but his strength gave out. He thought he heard something just before he lost consciousness.

"Force Recon, sir. We're here to get you out."

Captain Reynolds jumped through the door of the helo just as the landing gear left the ground. He was the last one aboard. Above him, Garcia and Wilkens were firing out the door, laying down a suppressive fire. They continued firing until the helicopter turned enough to cut off their angle.

"Glad you made it on time, Captain. I didn't want to leave without you!" Jeffries tried to grin, but it didn't come out quite right. "I don't think that other helo can catch us sir."

Reynolds stood up and looked around the compartment. They had gotten four of the men out. Four men and two dead bodies. Those would be given the proper burials they deserved, Reynolds would see to that. God, I only wish we could have gotten them all out... alive.

All of the men they had recovered were wounded. The lieutenant was hurt the worst, he had taken at least three shots. The corpsman said he'd pull through, though. Reynolds sure hoped so.

"Sir?" Jeffries called from the cockpit.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"I think we're going to make it, sir." Jeffries voice held relief in it. There was also something else in it too, though. It took Captain Reynolds a moment to realize what it was: Pride.

By Chris Curtis (curtis@thepentagon.com).

Copyright © 1997, 1998 Chris Curtis. All rights reserved.

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