Without remorse - Tom Clancy [266]
'All ready, Captain?' Maxwell asked.
'Yes, sir,' Albie replied calmly over his nervousness. Showtime. 'See you in about three hours.'
'Good hunting.' Maxwell stood ramrod-straight and saluted the younger man.
'They look pretty impressive,' Ritter said. He, too, was wearing khakis, just to fit in with the ship's wardroom. 'Oh, Jesus, I hope this works.'
'Yeah,' James Greer breathed as the ship turned to align herself with the wind. Deck crewmen with lighted wands went to both troop carriers to guide their take-offs, and then, one by one, the big Sikorskys lifted off, steadying themselves in the burble and turning west towards land and the mission. 'It's in their hands now.'
'Good kids, James,' Podulski said.
'That Clark guy is pretty impressive, too. Smart,' Ritter observed. 'What's he do in real life?'
'I gather he's sort of at odds at the moment. Why?'
'We always have room for a guy who can think on his feet. The boy's smart,' Ritter repeated as all headed back to CIC. On the flight deck, the Cobra crews were doing their final preflight checks. They'd get off in forty-five minutes.
'snake, this is cricket. Time check is nominal. Acknowledge.'
'Yes!' Kelly said aloud - but not too loud. He tapped three long dashes on his radio, getting two back. Ogden had just announced that the mission was now running and copied his acknowledgment. 'Two hours to freedom, guys,' he told the prisoners in the camp below. That the event would be less liberating for the other people in the camp was not a matter of grave concern.
Kelly ate his last ration bar, sliding all the wrappers and trash into the thigh pockets of his fatigues. He moved from his hiding place. It was dark now, and he could afford to. Reaching back in, he tried to erase the marks of his presence. A mission like this might be tried again, after all, and why let the other side know anything about how it had happened? The tension finally reached the point that he had to urinate. It was almost funny, and made him feel like a little kid, though he'd drunk half a gallon of water that day.
Thirty minutes' flying time to the first LZ, thirty more for the approach. When they crest the far hill, I go into live contact with them to control the final approach. Let's get it on.
'Shifting fire right. Target Hotel in sight,' Skelly reported. 'Range ... nine-two-five-zero.' The guns thundered once more. One of the hundred-millimeter gun mounts was actually firing at them, now. The crew had watched Newport News immolate the rest of their antiaircraft battalion and, unable to desert their guns, they were trying, at least, to fire back and wound the monster that was hovering off their coastline.
'There's the helos,' the XO said at his post in CIC. The blips on the main radar display crossed the coast right over where Targets Alfa and Bravo had been. He lifted the phone.
'Captain here.'
'XO here, sir. The helos are feet-dry, going right up the corridor we made them.'
'Very well. Prepare to stand-down the fire mission. We'll be HIFR-ing those helos in thirty minutes. Keep a very sharp eye on that radar, X.'
'Aye, sir.'
'Jesus,' a radar operator observed. 'What's going on here?'
'First we shoot their ass,' his neighbor opined, 'then we invade their ass.'
Only minutes now until the Marines were on the ground. The rain remained steady though the wind had died down.
Kelly was in the open now. It was safe. He wasn't skylined. There was ample flora behind him. All of his clothing and exposed skin was colored to blend in. His eyes were sweeping everywhere, searching for danger, for something unusual, finding nothing. It was muddy as hell. The wet and the red clay of these miserable hills was part of him now, through the fabric of his uniform, into every pore.
Ten minutes out