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If he only had a stinking gun.
“Coyote AWACS—this is Bronco. Get that helo off the ground! Now! They’re going to get roasted. Go. Come on. No time to be a hero. Go! Take off. Jesus,” said Mack, still talking as he rolled back north.
“Bronco. There are two MiGs headed for you,” answered the AWACS controller. “Get out of there!”
“Hey, screw yourself,” said Mack, though he didn’t press the send button. “Think I’m a wimp or something?”
On the ground in Iraq
2057
DANNY COULD SEE WHERE THEY WERE FIRING THE MORTAR
from. He had a fragmentation grenade and thought he might be able to reach the mortar if he could get any sort of weight behind the throw. But that would expose him to the Iraqis in the ditch.
Stand up, toss the grenade as quickly as he could, duck back down, he told himself.
That would leave him with two smoke grenades. Use one to cover his retreat up the hillside. Use the other to deke them, give him a clear toss at the mortar.
A fresh burst of AK-47 bullets kicked through the nearby dirt. As the mortar whizzed again, Da
His knee buckled with the throw. The grenade sailed only about twenty yards. As he fell his arms sailed out, spread-eagle, a rush of pain coming over him.
Da
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
down to slits, compressed by a fresh wave of pain at the top of his head. He felt as if someone had taken a nail gun and plastered a dozen spikes through the top of his helmetless skull. He heard a sound like a vacuum, thought it must be the mortar, and fired wildly. He saw an Iraqi as the smoke wafted clear. The man turned toward him with a pistol, and Da
The mortar lay on the ground, beyond another body.
The Pave Hawk roared above somewhere. Other helicopters, other planes, gunfire—the noises jammed together. Da
Someone was behind him.
Da
Da
As Da
A prisoner was the last thing he needed now. But he couldn’t shoot the SOB. Just couldn’t.
“Go,” Da
The man didn’t move.
“Go!” he shouted. He shot a few rounds into the air, yelling and screaming. “Go! Go! Go!”
The Iraqi, terrified, finally began to move.
“Get the hell away from here!” shouted Da
The man finally seemed to understand. He began to RAZOR’S EDGE
395
run, looking over his shoulder after a few steps, ducking his head a bit as if in thanks. Then he put everything he had into his stride, ru
Okay, Da
POWDER REACHED GUNNY AS GUNFIRE ERUPTED A FEW
yards farther away, down near the road. There was too much smoke to see anything, but he figured Captain Freah had just taken out the mortar. He turned the Marine sergeant over as gently as he could, staring at him until he saw that he was definitely breathing.
“Hey,” mumbled the sergeant. “Didja get the fucker?”
“Who?” asked Powder.
“One of those bastards tried to flank us.”
Powder craned his neck up. There was a body maybe ten yards across the slope.
“Any others?” Powder asked.
“Du
“Probably around here somewhere.”
“Water?”
Powder gave the injured Marine a drink and looked over his wounds. He had been hit in the side and the arm and lost a lot of blood. How serious the wounds were was hard to tell, but it’d all be academic if they didn’t get the hell out of there ASAP.
Aboard Wild Bronco , over Iraq 2059
MACK TRIED TO SORT ALL THE COMMOTION OUT OVER THE
common radio circuit as he shadowed the highway. The 396
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
MiGs had their afterburners lit and were two minutes away. Two F-15s had moved up to intercept but hadn’t gotten radar locks yet, the amateurs. The MH-60 had been hit but was still flying; its pilot proceeded to argue with the AWACS controller about what he should and shouldn’t do.
“Wild Bronco, you have your orders. Break ninety!”
“Bullshit. I’m not leaving guys there.”
Mack passed the mortar area, saw that it had been neutralized. One of the Iraqis had even been captured.
Hell, he could put down, pick them up, and get the hell out of there before the Eagles even found the stinking MiGs.
So why not?
Why not indeed.
“Wild Bronco to Coyote—send the Blackhawk home,”
said Mack. “I’ll pick up the rest of their passengers for them.”
On the ground in Iraq
2104
THE STACCATO POUNDING IN HIS SKULL GAVE WAY TO THE
steadier drone of jackhammers as Da
What the hell was he saying?
“Duck, Cap! Duck!”
Da
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Smith yelled something but it was drowned out by the whine of the motors. Da
They had to get the Marine out, give him a decent burial at least. He started back, then heard someone yelling behind him—Mack Smith maybe, telling him to get the hell into the aircraft.
“I can’t leave a man, even if he’s dead.”
“Ain’t no one dead, Cap,” shouted Powder. Da
Gu
Da
“You saved my sorry ass again,” said Gu
“Who?”
“The Iraqi that tried to flank us. Now I owe you again, huh? I thought I evened it out.”
“It’s all even,” said Da
“SERGEANT, YOU TOUCH ANYTHING ELSE BACK THERE AND
I’m hitting the eject button. You got that?”
“You can eject me from up there?”
“Damn straight,” lied Mack. “You touch anything, no shit, boom, you’re outta here.”