The fruit Shuttle eased to the ground besides the stack of fruit crates. I figured Pancake’s and my cargo would be dropped there. Hopefully, fruit LZ personnel would cart them to us. As it turned out, they wouldn’t have to.
Our cargo marched from the fruit Shuttle area directly towards us. They were not as beefy as Celso’s team nor as lean and wiry as the Park Rangers. The four were solid and I recognized the type. Marines, to be sure but, they moved in a fluid motion that spoke of extensive field training. Plus, the long guns that extended above two of their shoulders were the final clues. Marine snipers and their spotters. Two scout sniper teams, one for Pancake and one for me.
But there must be some confusion in command. We’d encountered the Rebels west of west Farm so that made sense. However, the second group of Rebels were located in the mountains north of west Hacienda. Placing a scout sniper team at east Farm was next to useless.
I turned from where I was watching the long strides eat up the distance between the Marines and the landing pad and crawled into my helicopter.
“J-Pop to Base, J-Pop to Base,” I called. There was no answer. We had entered a dark period. Until Base was back online, I’d have to follow orders. From the cockpit, I watched as Pancake strutted out to meet the Marines.
He arrived at the edge of the helicopter pad just as the Marines marched up. They stopped, facing Navy Lieutenant Piero Ubaldo. He said something to them. They stared back. He said something else and began to point a finger at them. They stared at him. Finally, he leaned in and said something else. They stared at him without any expression.
It occurred to me. He expected them to salute. The issues here were many. One, Pancake didn’t have a cover on his head. Also, as far as the Marines were concerned, this was an operational Landing Zone and saluting an officer here would target the officer for any hostile snipers in the area. And finally, the Marines didn’t have any rank insignia or name plates on their camouflage uniforms. In short, the Marines didn’t care and there is nothing more stubborn then a Marine who doesn’t care.
I was tempted to let him stew for a while. After two minutes of this crazy attempt at military protocol, I climbed out of my helicopter.
“Gentlemen, good morning. I’m J-Pop and this is Pancake,” I stated as I walked up to the group.
“Morning Sir,” one of the Marines said shifting his heavy pack to a more comfortable position, “Are you our rides?”
Pancake glared at me and for a second I thought he would say something. I guess the sideways tilt of my head, like a dog hearing a fart, stopped him.
“Absolutely Marines. Where are you headed?” I asked turning from the pilot.
“West fruit Farm,” one of the snipers said.
“East fruit Farm,” replied the other.
“West fruit Farm, this way,” Lieutenant Piero Ubaldo said then turned and headed for his helicopter. Apparently the desire to exchange salutes had passed.
I looked at his back and at the big ball of a sun to the east. Looks as if I’d be flying directly into the rising sun. Yup, Pancake was a jerk.
The other scout sniper team followed me to my bird. We jumped in and I powered up.
“Three hours in flight,” I informed them, “Get comfortable.”
“Thank you, Sir,” they replied while stretching out on the cargo deck. I’m not sure, but I’d bet they were asleep before we lifted off.
“J-Pop to Base,” I tried again to no avail. I was speeding to the east when I should have been delivering the scout sniper team to the north and I wasn’t happy about it.
East Hamlet was a collection of rusty sheds along a gravel road. It appeared in the distance and was behind us a few minutes later. Surrounding the sheds and roads were fields of vines with red and purple clumps hanging from the plants. They went by in a blur, but somehow, I managed to pick out specific spots with clarity.
We touched down at East fruit Farm three hours and two minutes after leaving fruit LZ. The Marines set up a com link but couldn’t get a signal to grain Station. With both of our commands in the dark, we settled in and ate lunch. I explained to the Marines about the northern band of Rebels and, just as I thought, they were under orders and couldn’t change their area of operation. Before lunch broke into me making demands, and the Marines denying them, both of our commands came on line.
“Base to Pancake, Base to Pancake,” Dunya called, “Alright, Base to J-Pop, Base to.”
“Base go for J-Pop,” I stated before she could finish.
“Is your package delivered?” the Senior Chief asked.
“East fruit Farm, but we need the package up north,” I complained, “Javelin can confirm.”
“Stand by J-Pop, I need to get Pancake. Base to Pancake, Base to Pancake,” she called and waited then called Lieutenant Piero Ubaldo again. He didn’t answer.
I looked at the Marine who was talking into a handset. He was doing more listening then talking. Finally, he replied, “Aye Sir, standing by.”
“We have orders to stay put until Command can reach B team,” he said to me, “They can’t raise them. Maybe they were delayed, maybe their equipment went down, in either case, Command can’t reach them.”
“I’ve got same the issue with Lieutenant Ubaldo. Base can’t reach him either,” I reported, “So we sit and wait. Like that’s a new strategy.”
“Aye Sir, its one strategy,” he replied then added, “Names Almaz call sign Diamond. My blond friend over there is Gillis, call sign Oak.”
Gillis was busy but he waved with the gun cleaning rag then went back to work.
“Sergeant Almaz, Sergeant Gillis, it’s a pleasure,” I said smiling, “Phelan Piran, Navy Lieutenant.”
Before we could continue exchanging pleasantries, Base called, “J-Pop come back.”
“Go Base,” I responded immediately.
“We have a report that Pancake passed over west Hamlet but never arrived at west Farm,” Dunya stated, “Javelin wants you there as soon as possible.”
“What about my package?” I asked looking at Almaz who shrugged.
“I’m on with Command now, stand by,” she replied.
While Base and I were talking, Almaz had gone back to his radio.
“Rodger that Sir, I agree,” he said replacing the handset on his radio, “We’re going with you Lieutenant.”
“Base to J-Pop. Take the package with you,” Dunya ordered, “Repot once you’re at West fruit Farm.
Chapter 59
A little under three hours later, I sat her down at fruit Landing Zone. I stretched my legs while the helicopter was refueled. The food truck brought us a meal which we ate quickly. It didn’t seem right lingering over brunch when three men were missing. However, we realized nutrition was important. Like sleep, you never knew, when you’d have the chance to do either, on an operation.
West fruit Hamlet looked like a mirror image of its eastern twin. The real difference was the crops. Here long rows of low green plants sprouting green and yellow fruit stretched to either side of the gravel road. I dropped air speed and altitude as the Hamlet came into view.
“This is Pancake’s last known location,” I reported to Diamond and Oak.
They had taken up stations on either side of the helicopter. The drag from having both hatches open was noticeable but necessary. The three of us were scanning the land below.
“J-Pop. What’s that hill at your two o’clock?” Sergeant Gillis asked. He was referring to a rise in the land off to my left.
“Oak. It’s a natural formation,” I responded using his call sign, “beyond it is a small forest that runs to the west river.”
“A forest and a hill on terrain that’s farm flat and cleared?” Sergeant Almaz added, “If I had to move around unseen, I’d use the forest.”
He couldn’t see the hill but his logic made sense to Oak and me. I looked back at the cargo deck and Sergeant Gillis had his sniper rifle up and was scanning.
“I’ve got smoke,” he announced, “About h
alf way to the hill.”
Sergeant Almaz added, “I suggest a combat insertion J-Pop. Cut the distance to the smoke and we’ll hoof it in and investigate.”
I was in command of this helicopter and I out ranked the Sergeant. My first instinct was to fly directly to the smoke but I was smart enough to take advice from a scout sniper. So I increased power and dropped altitude. We were screaming along just above the crops. I could see the smoke and a black mass that didn’t fit with the rows of green plants. At about half the distance to the smoke, I powered down, pulled up the nose and set her onto the dirt.
Diamond and Oak were out of the door and running as I shut down the engine. After grabbing my rifle and the away kit which held medical gear, a radio, flairs and markers, I followed the Marines.
As I feared, the smoke marked the wreckage of Pancake’s helicopter. It had gone in tail first, buckling the frame and tipping over so the engine hit first. This was a worse case situation as the blades hit first then ate their way into the fuselage. The smoke was from a puddle of fuel that led to a separated fuel tank. Like the wick on an oil lamp, the dripping fuel fed the flame. Lucky, if you could call three fatalities lucky, the helicopter didn’t burn. It’s how we could visualize the sequence of the crash.
The cockpit was pried open as if a giant can opener had run around the nose of the helicopter. Although it was flattened from the impact, the unmistakable characteristics of a rocket strike were evident.
“It hit him head on,” Gillis said pointing to the jagged edges, “They didn’t have a chance.”
“High too, the impact tells me they came down from altitude,” I added.
I looked around for Almaz. He’d stacked rocks as a base for his rifle and was scanning the hill through his scope. It makes you feel safer when you have a Marine scout sniper team covering your backside.
“J-Pop to Base, J-Pop to Base,” I called on the portable.
“Base for J-Pop, go J-Pop,” Dunya replied.
“We have a helicopter down, no survivors,” I reported sadly, “A Navy pilot and two Marines identified and confirmed, permanent routine medivacs.”
“Javelin is in bound with the Park Ranger quick reaction team,” Base advised me, “Hold your position and signal him in. ETA two hours.”
It didn’t take long to remove the remains of the Marines and place them into body bags. Lieutenant Piero Ubaldo, as he’d told me to do, had a stack of them. We peeled back the twisted metal and secured three bags. As I said, the Marines came out whole and we zipped the bags shut. Ubaldo was a different story.
He was a mess of parts. I made sure the arms and crushed torso made it into the bag. The legs and smashed head as well. The last thing I placed in the black plastic bag was his comb.
Gillis spelled Almaz on the rifle so we had constant security. I used the time to dig out the voice recorder and the central processing unit from the wreckage. These I placed alongside the body bags.
Then I sat down to wait for Captain Gesina, Sergeant Celso and his team. None of us spoke. We preferred to be alone with our thoughts. Unfortunately, while I was saddened by the death of Lieutenant Ubaldo, I couldn’t forget he was a jerk. Bad thinking. I’ve got to adjust my attitude.
“Javelin to J-Pop,” the call from Gesina came through before I heard the beat of his blades.
“Go Javelin, popping smoke,” I replied letting him know I was marking my position.
“Rodger, I see yellow smoke. What’s the situation at the LZ?” he asked.
“The LZ is secure,” I answered after getting a thumbs up from Gillis.
Gillis was on a spotter scope and Almaz was on the sniper rifle. They’d been scanning the hill and surrounding area the whole time.
Javelin came in fast with no extra hover time. It was a textbook combat landing. Low and fast to the deck, Celso and his team jumped out before the skids touched the ground. They spread out to provide additional security.
“Bring your bird in and load the bodies and equipment that you secured from the wreckage,” Gesina ordered as he looked over the destruction, “Get them to Base. I’ll stay on site with Celso’s team as a backup for the scout snipers.”
“One thing is bothering me,” I said as I turned to leave, “What are the chances that the Rebels had a missile set to launch on the morning when Ubaldo flew into range?”
“Not much of a chance,” he replied, “Except they did and he was, so give the recorder a listen when you get to Base. See if you can figure out some kind of time line.”
A few hours later, I dropped out of the clouds and touched down at Base. A graves registration team arrived and removed the body bags. I snagged the recorder and the CPU and carried them to the radio room.
“Rough day, Sir,” Dunya said as I pushed open the door.
“That’s an understatement Senior Chief. We need to listen to this,” I said holding up the recorder.
“Sir, we have a reflection on that hill,” one of the Marines on the tape said.
“Yeah, yeah I see it,” Ubaldo replied sharply, “We’ll just fly over and have a look.”
“Sir, I suggest a combat insertion. Drop us and we can leg from here.”
“Nonsense, why walk when you can fly,” the dead pilot said.
The recording ran for another minute before we heard the last words of Lieutenant Piero Ubaldo.
“I see activity. It looks like, oh damn, it’s a”, and there was screeching then silence as the recording ended.
‘Missile,’ I thought finishing Pancake’s sentence.
“Senior Chief, who else knew what our packages were?” I asked Dunya then added, “Ubaldo and I only knew we had a load at fruit LZ. It was never stated over the radio that scout snipers were the load.”
“Me and Captain Gesina,” she replied, “Other than Command on grain Station, no one had privy to the real mission.”
“Maybe a mechanic or a clerk passed through?” I ventured trying to help her remember.
“Well, Lieutenant Sade was here for part of the conversation. But she didn’t stay long,” Dunya said. Her eyebrows were screwed down in concentration, “She said she had a request from protein LZ and was needed there. I wasn’t paying attention but now that I think of it. It was strange because she had just flown in from there.”
“Probably nothing, but be sure to put that in your report for the Captain,” I suggested, “I’m off to the mess hall. And after getting you my report, I plan on a good night’s sleep. In a bed, that’s higher, and softer than a cargo deck.”
“Aye, Sir,” Senior Chief Dunya mouthed but her mind wasn’t on me. She seemed to be thinking hard about something else.
Chapter 60
The radio room was crowded when I walked in from my quarters. Two of 49th Air Wing Security Sergeants were standing over Senior Chief Dunya’s shoulder. I knew they were security as they were armed with assault rifles, had on flak jackets, and wore Shore Patrol arm bands over their bulging biceps.
“What’s up Dunya?” I asked.
She responded by waving a wait a minute finger in the air. The two security personnel ignored me and continued to watch the radio. A picture came into view as I crossed the room.
It was an active map showing the location of Javelin’s helicopter, Celso’s team, a good way away, and finally the Marine scout sniper team, even further out. Red dots with question marks were spread out to the front of the Marines.
“They got attacked last night, Sir,” Dunya said acknowledging me by looking up from her station, “Three teams of zappers got in close, but the Marines and Rangers drove them back before the Rebels could damage the helicopter. Javelin flew her back, but stayed in the area.”
“Does he need me there?” I asked hoping to get into the fight or at least help them out.
“No Sir. Javelin wants you at protein LZ. He said if the Western Rebels were going aggressive then the northern pack, his words not mine, might get frisky,” she replied.
“I’m on the way. How long before we
go dark?” I asked realizing Captain Gesina had been on with Base for a while.
“This is the long window,” Dunya advised, “We’ve got a couple hours more of communication before we go dark.”
The morning was bright and sunny which was the opposite of my mood. There was combat to the southwest and I was headed due north. I felt as if I was running from the sounds of the guns and that didn’t sit right with my inner Marine.
A thought hit me and I called Base to clear up my thinking, “J-Pop to Base.”
“Go J-Pop.”
“Where is Princess? At fishery?” I asked figuring Gesina would place his three remaining helicopters north and south of his position.
“I haven’t been able to raise Princess for a few hours,” Dunya said with a hint of frustration in her voice, “Her last orders were for her to fly to fishery LZ and stand by.”
I was right about Javelin wanting his flight elements station on either end of the 49th area of operation. But where was she?
“What’s her last location?” I asked.
“She reported leaving East grain Farm at dawn,” the Senior Chief sounded as if she doubted it, “Javelin said to get to protein LZ as soon as possible.”
“Rodger that Base. J-Pop on route,” I reported.
I pushed the engine and seven hours and forty-five minutes later the Landing Zone came into view. It appeared as a dim yellow haze in the wide vista of grazing land. As the haze became a pocket of light, I saw a helicopter lift off. Although it didn’t have running lights on, I could make out the unmistakable shape of the fuselage. Figuring it was Princess, I called.
“J-Pop to Princess, J-Pop to Princess,” but I received no answer. We were in a dark period but I was line of sight to her and she should have been able to copy me.
The strange dark aircraft broke wide and disappeared to the southeast. I continued on to protein LZ and troubles of my own.
Protein LZ was crowded. A ring of armed workers stood around the landing pad and every one of them pointed their mismatched assortment of weapons at my bird. I set down gently and unharnessed. Lieutenant Bryndís, her right arm in a bloody sling, stood at the hatch. Her left arm held a big pistol. The weapon was steady and pointed directly at my chest.
Galactic Council Realm 1: On Station Page 32
