Ashes - Enemy In The Ashes Part 22

Jackie grinned. "Then, I'll go with the plane that's headed to Riyadh."

"Let the choppers lead the way, Jackie," Ben said. "Commander Wiley-Smeyth says the hostiles control the airport there."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Jackie drawled in her thick Texas accent.

"We'll let the whirlybirds soften 'em up while we jump on the outskirts.

By the time we hit the dirt, they should be on the run."

Ben stepped in close and shook her hand. "Be careful, Jackie. Remember, we'll still be outnumbered ten to one."

She grinned. "Those odds oughta be about right then. We wouldn't want it to be too easy."

Ben turned and climbed into the cargo bay of the big StarLifter that was headed for Iran.

When the Scout paratroopers saw who was joining them, they all broke into wide smiles. "Welcome aboard, General," one of the gunnery sergeants said, snapping off a quick salute.

"It's been a while since I jumped, Gunny," Ben said. "You may have to kick me off the plane."

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"Not to worry, sir," the sergeant said as he stepped up to Ben and gave his equipment a quick going-over. "It's just like riding a bicycle . . .

you never forget how."

"From your lips to G.o.d's ears, son," Ben said, taking his seat alongside the rest of the Scouts.

"You get a sitrep from the target zone, sir?" the sergeant said, sitting next to Ben.

"Yeah. It's gonna be a hot zone," Ben replied.

The sergeant grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way, sir."

As the StarLifter gunned its engines, readying for takeoff, six McDonnell Douglas AH-64 Apache helicopters were already in the air heading toward the targets, three to Iran and three to Saudi Arabia.

Since both Riyadh and Tehran were around three hundred miles from Kuwait City, the choppers would be at the extremes of their three-hundred-mile range when they arrived. There would be no time for refueling on the way, so the helicopters would only be able to make one or two pa.s.ses on the airports before they ran out of fuel.

Ben gave a silent prayer the six h.e.l.lfire ant.i.tank missiles and the M230 30mm chain guns each of the Apaches carried would be enough to clear the airports so the troops could land. If they weren't, the C-14s would haveto try to land on the desert, which wasn't a happy thought.

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As the C-141 StarLifter carrying Jackie Malone and her Scout paratroopers approached the airport just outside of Riyadh, Jackie made her way to the c.o.c.kpit and asked the pilot if she could be put through to the lead pilot in the Apache helicopters that were leading the way in.

"Sure, ma'am," the pilot said. He twisted a dial on the instrument panel and spoke a few words into his headset microphone. He slipped the headset off and handed it back over his shoulder to Jackie.

"You're gonna be talking to Major Juan Gomez, ma'am," he said.

"Major Gomez," Jackie said after slipping the headset over her head.

"Yes, ma'am," the pilot responded, his voice soft with the slight Mexican accent Jackie remembered from her home state of Texas.

"How's your fuel, Major?"

She heard a low chuckle. "No problem. Probably got at least a teacup left," Gomez replied.

"You have enough left for a couple of strafing runs over the airport?"

"That depends on how well this baby flies on fumes," Gomez answered.

"We'll make at least one and we can try for another. I'll try to position my birds so if we run 238.

out of fuel, we'll drop on the heaviest concentration of hostiles. How's that?" Gomez asked, only half kidding.

"Don't take any chances, Major," Jackie advised, grinning at the bravery of the man. "If you get too low, put the choppers down on the east side of the airport. That's where we're gonna be dropping, so we can give you and your men some cover."

"I'll try, ma'am, but my fuel warning light's been blinking for the past ten minutes, and these birds have all the gliding characteristics of rocks. When the engine quits, we're gonna go straight down."

Jackie shook her head. There was just no reasoning with pilots. "Roger that, Major. Good luck," Jackie said, and clicked off the mike and handed the headset back to the pilot of the StarLifter.

"As soon as the Apaches make their first run, drop us off to the east of the airport," she said. "I'd like us to be on the ground by the time they line up for their second attack."

The pilot didn't answer, but just nodded his head.

Jackie walked back into the cargo hold and pumped her fist in the air, signaling her men to get ready to jump.

Minutes later, the StarLifter turned to the east and the loading ramp at the rear of the plane began to open. When the light changed from red toyellow to green, Jackie and her troops simply ran out of the back of the plane and dove into thin air.

The pilot had them at the very lowest possible alt.i.tude for a regular jump so as to minimize their time in the air, when they would be helpless against ground fire.

After instructing his fellow pilots to try to avoid doing any damage to the runways, Major Gomez tilted the nose of his Apache down and increased his throttle, going in low and fast along the edges of the runway. Through the 239.

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Plexiglas winds.h.i.+eld, he could see numerous vehicles and even some foxholes the enemy troops had dug in the desert along the runways.

Taking the eastern side first to give some protection to the paratroopers, Gomez triggered his M230 30mm chain gun, and watched as thousands of slugs tore into the enemy troops and shredded the vehicles parked alongside the runway.

Major Billy Thornton, in the second Apache, concentrated his fire on the buildings and control tower on the west side of the airport. He could see many hostile troops on the roofs and as he began his run saw the glittering red dots of their guns as they fired at him.

Deciding against using his chain gun on the first run, Thornton instead fired his 2.75-inch rockets at the bases of the buildings. He pulled up over the buildings just as the rockets exploded, sending up huge billows of smoke and flame.

As he pa.s.sed over the buildings, a line of holes st.i.tched across his winds.h.i.+eld, shattering it and sending razor-sharp shards rattling against his helmet visor.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!" he yelled, and jerked the nose of the Apache around for a second run over the ruined buildings.

As his engine coughed once and then caught again, Thornton could see dozens of enemy troops scrambling to get away from the buildings and out of his line of fire.

He bared his teeth in a savage grin and opened fire with his chain gun, decimating the running troops and mowing them down like so much wheat.

Just as his engine faltered again, Thornton caught sight of a tank coming out from behind one of the buildings. He had time to fire one h.e.l.lfire missile before the rudder became heavy in his hand and he began to lose control of the Apache.

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It took all of Thornton's strength to hold the rudder and collective as he auto-rotated down to a rather hard landing next to the runway.

He grabbed the Uzi off the floor next to his feet and bailed out of the c.o.c.kpit, crouching next to the rocket tubes as several bullets pinged off the fuselage next to his head.A group of eight or ten hostiles were running across the tarmac toward him, firing Kalashnikovs as they ran.

Thornton raised the Uzi and triggered off a burst that dropped three of the men, but the rest kept coming, driving him back behind cover with their fire.

Thornton reached up and wrapped his fingers around the cross that hung around his neck on a silver chain, figuring it was his time to die.

A roaring whup-whup-whup sounded overhead and Major Gomez's chopper zoomed by, not more than twenty feet off the ground, and cut the men down with his chain gun before they could get to Thornton.

Thornton stood up and watched helplessly as Gomez's Apache tilted crazily to one side and dropped onto the desert sand, crumpling like it was made of tin instead of reinforced t.i.tanium.

"Crazy son of a b.i.t.c.h," Thornton growled as he ran toward the wreckage.

He knew Gomez had used the last of his fuel to save his life rather than landing safely.

Luckily, the lack of fuel in the Apache kept it from bursting into flames. By the time Thornton arrived at the crash site, Gomez had kicked his door open and was dragging himself out of the c.o.c.kpit. Both his legs were at funny angles, but he was alive.

Thornton pulled him free of the helicopter and laid him back up against one of the wheels. Then he reached inside 241.

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the c.o.c.kpit and took out the medical kit strapped to the sidewall.

Popping it open, he took out a morphine syringe and stuck it in Gomez's thigh.

"Thanks, Juanito," he said as Gomez's eyes slowly closed in blissful sleep.

Thornton grabbed his Uzi and whirled around as a roaring, coughing sound came from behind him. He relaxed when he saw it was only Jack Ashford, the pilot of the third Apache, landing a dozen yards away. He'd timed it so close that his engine quit just as the wheels touched down.

Ashford jumped out of the helicopter and ran over to Thornton. He too had his Uzi in his hands. "Thought you boys might like some company," he said as he took up position next to Thornton and Gomez.

"h.e.l.l, yeah!" Thornton yelled back. "There are never enough rednecks around to suit me."

Ashford grinned and took a couple of long, fat cigars from his flight suit. It was a tradition among the chopper pilots to light one up after a successful mission.

He flicked his Zippo lighter and they both puffed clouds of evil-smelling smoke as they watched for hos-tiles.As Jackie Malone and the other 167 paratroopers floated to the ground, they came under some small-arms fire from terrorist troops, but it was slight, and ceased as soon as the Apaches began to strafe the enemy positions along the runways.

Once on the ground, the Scouts jettisoned their chutes, formed into a wide line, and began to jog toward the enemy positions, firing as they advanced.

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When they arrived at the foxholes of the enemy troops, they found hundreds of bodies torn asunder by the murderous fire of the Apaches'

chain guns. The few enemy troops left alive threw down their guns and rifles and held up their hands in surrender.

Jackie a.s.signed a couple of men to take charge of the prisoners, and led the rest in a frontal a.s.sault on the ruined, smoldering buildings on the other side of the runway.

The slight resistance they faced was soon overpowered by the ferocious fighting of the Scouts, and in less than half an hour, they had complete control of the airfield.

Jackie motioned her radioman to her side and called the other C-14's and told them it was safe to land. She spread her men out along the runways as a guard until the big birds had landed safely.

As the troops poured out of the StarLifters, Jackie began to get them organized for an a.s.sault on the enemy troops that were laying siege to the city in the distance.

Appropriating every vehicle that wasn't damaged too much to be operative, she loaded her troops into the jeeps and Bradleys and tanks, and had them lead the way toward the city.

Some of the troops were a.s.signed to carry fuel to the two Apaches that were still functional so they could aid in the counterattack on the city.

In Riyadh, Bartholomew Wiley-Smeyth had his meager force of men spread out among the city buildings, on rooftops and top stories so they'd have a good line of fire at the enemy troops that were attempting to enter the city.

As the Apache helicopters, with full fuel tanks, flew 243.

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toward the city, Bart had his men pop green gas grenades to show the pilots where the friendly troops were.

Jamal Ahmed's troops, caught between the pincers of several thousand SUSA troops and Bart's men, were no match for the Apaches' withering fire and h.e.l.lfire missiles.

By mid-afternoon, it was all over. Jamal Ahmed had been killed when his HumVee was blown to splinters by a h.e.l.lfire missile. Lieutenant SohailShaeen, seeing there was no hope of victory, had surrendered the few enemy troops remaining alive to Jackie Malone's Scouts.

Of the ten thousand troops El Farrar had sent toward Riyadh, only three thousand remained alive, many injured severely. The prisoners of war were gathered in a large, open field and surrounded by guards.

Bart climbed down out of the building he'd been fighting from and walked up to Jackie. He saluted and then stuck out his hand. "Thanks for coming so soon, ma'am," he said, not able to ascertain Jackie's rank from her battle fatigues, which were without an officer's ranking on them.

"Glad to oblige, Commander," Jackie said, taking his hand and gripping it hard enough to make him wince. "And the name's Jackie."

"What's the status of the oil fields, Jackie?" Bart asked, his face blus.h.i.+ng at the informality of the American.

Jackie shook her head. "We haven't cleared them yet," she said. "I figured they'd be b.o.o.by-trapped, and we might want to let the ranking officer of the terrorist forces try to get the hostiles there to give up without destroying the oil wells."

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Bart nodded. "Good idea. Any idea who that might be?" he asked.

Jackie motioned to a small group of men behind her, and they moved aside to reveal Lieutenant Sohail Shaeen standing there, his wrists restrained by a plastic restraint.

She waved her arm at him. "Be my guest, Commander. You are still the officer in charge of this city."

"Thanks," Bart said, moving to stand in front of Shaeen.

"Do you speak English?" he asked.

Shaeen nodded. "Of course, Commander," he answered with a heavy accent.

Bart waved his arm at the numerous forces around them. "As you can see, Lieutenant, we have more than enough troops to take the oil fields back from your forces."