Call to Treason - Tom Clancy [97]
The SWEAT unit found one of those enemy bands. Or rather, the Iraqi band found them.
It happened in the foothills, at midnight, shortly after the Marines had landed. It was a cool night, in the mid-fifties, with a dry wind blowing down from the mountain-top. Because of the wind howling through their helmets, it was difficult to hear but not to see. All of the men were wearing khaki-and-green mountain camouflage uniforms and night-vision goggles. Four Marines were on parachute detail, burying the shrouds. The other six had formed a perimeter secure line. The PSL, which was actually a circle, sought to establish the outward parameters of the safe zone. They had landed on a gently sloping hill, with clear visibility below and short bluffs and boulders above. The high sites would need to be examined and secured before the group could proceed. Their target was on the opposite side of the mountain. Access was along a narrow dirt path, two thousand feet up, which girdled the peak. Satellite reconnaissance had revealed a cave toward the end of the route, near the tower. The men had until sunrise to reach it. The plan was to wait there until dark, then go out and set up the compact satellite dish. When the men were finished, they would retrace their steps, radio their base in Kuwait, and wait for an Apache to extract them.
The plan was changed by the United States Air Force.
The men had secured the area by 0027 hours. They were able to walk up the peak rather than climb, and moved in a relatively tight formation known as the flying geese. The point man of the wedge watched the ground for mines, the next two watched the terrain ahead, the next two watched the sides, and the next pair kept an eye on the skies. The two who followed covered the group, and the last man hung back to protect their flank. If they were attacked, they would drop and crawl in opposite directions to widen the wedge. It would be easier for the enemy to pick them off if they stayed in their close ascent phalanx.
The hogs were on the dirt path when Breen heard a whistle. It sounded like the wind. In fact, the noise was coming from a Sukhoi Su-7, a single-seat ground attack aircraft that was a standard tactical fighter-bomber in the Soviet Air Force for nearly forty years. Saddam had thirty of them in his air force, each armed with two 30 mm NR 30 guns, seventy rounds per gun. Pylons under the wings carried two 742 kg or two 495 kg bombs or rocket pods.
This particular aircraft had been on patrol in what would later be known as the southern no-fly zone. The fighter was screaming toward the ground, illuminated by its own flames after taking a hit from a United States Air Force F-15E Strike Eagle. The F-15E had been searching for mobile Scud missile launchers and had not been informed about the Marine presence. Breen ordered the hogs to drop and cover, which was all they could do before the fireball ripped into the mountainside. It impacted well north of the Marines, about a quarter of a mile, but it sent flaming debris and rock in their path. Worse, the crash was sure to attract Iraqi troops.
Breen sent two men ahead to check the route, to see if there was some way to get around the wreckage. There was, but they would have to go back down the mountain and around the base. According to the topographic map, that would take them twice as long. They would be moving around in daylight.
Breen decided to try to complete the mission.
The mountain was steep in their present location, so they backtracked a half mile to a point where the map said they could walk down. Breen double-timed the unit, keeping the wedge formation as they descended.
They slowed as they reached the base of the foothills, partly to conserve energy and partly to watch for shepherds or fanners who might be up early. Unfortunately, they were stopped by something they did not anticipate: the hogs found the mobile Scud for which