Turning to his copilot, Mr. Pile, he asked, “You want to take this first run?” Mr. Pile was new in-country, and this was his first experience with the Night Hawk mission. He was rather tall and had lowered his seat so he was mostly hiding behind his side armor plate and barely able to see above the forward console.
“I have the aircraft,” Mr. Pile indicated.
“You have the aircraft,” Jeffery responded. Jeffery also launched into instructor mode. “As you start your descent, remember you’re going to be following the contour of the vegetation, which will be high trees on the sides of the valley and cleared fields on the valley floor. Need to be extra alert not to run into a tree as you get towards the south end of the valley. Our navigation lights will help illuminate the treetops a bit so don’t overrun your field of vision. May have to slow down so you don’t. Can you see above the console?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Got it,” Pile responded as he concentrated on flying the aircraft towards the valley floor. At two hundred feet above the ground, he stopped his descent and slowed the aircraft back to fifty knots. It almost felt like they were at a hover moving this slow. The valley floor was a combination of open fields interspersed with tree lines. The one road through the valley was to the left side of the aircraft, the side with the starlight scope and searchlight.
“Truck!” screamed Specialist Morton, and he turned on the searchlight, which blinked twice before a steady light painted the truck on the road. The truck appeared to be a two-and-a- half ton truck covered in tree limbs and brush to camouflage the truck. Instantly, Specialist Dunbar, the crew chief manning the M2 .50-caliber machine gun, opened fire. He was very accurate with this weapon, having had extensive practice over the past month. His first rounds hit in front of the truck, moving in the opposite direction of the aircraft, and then began chewing through the engine and cab. Mr. Jeffery took the controls almost immediately.
“I got it.” He executed a tight left turn, keeping the truck in the searchlight beam.
“You got it,” Mr. Pile indicated, and he grabbed the 40-millimeter grenade launcher that he carried, which had been on the seat back next to him. He began scanning outside the aircraft on his side. His door had been removed earlier just so he could add fire to the right side if necessary.
“Lobo, Masher, you see this?” Jeffery asked on the radio.
“Roger, am I clear to roll hot?”
“Roger, Lobo, breaking north, keeping him on my left. I got you covered,” Jeffery said as a flare was dropped from fifteen hundred feet and turned night into day.
Lobo nosed over into a one-thousand-foot-per minute dive and unleashed two 2.75-inch air-to-ground rockets along with a stream of 7.62 minigun fire. Both rockets impacted next to the truck. One might have even hit, as the next instant, the truck exploded in a massive fireball.
“Holy shit! It must have been full of ammo,” Mr. Waldrep said as he pulled out of his dive, and Masher One-Five opened fire around the truck with the M2 to cover Lobo’s climb. Then the
ground lit up. Green tracers from the tree line across the fields concentrated on the aircraft. Mr. Pile was firing his single-shot 40-millimeter grenade launcher as fast as he could reload the single-shot weapon. The M60 machine gun on the right side was at its maximum rate of fire, stitching the tree line, while the M2 on the left side was doing the same on its side. Lobo executed a tight diving pedal turn at one thousand feet, directing his fire at the tree line. More flares were turning night into day and both M60s on the flare ship were engaging wherever enemy fire was coming from, which at this point was almost the entire valley floor.
“Masher One-Five, get out of there!” screamed Mr. Waldrep as he punched off the last of his inboard rockets.
“Roger, One-Five is exiting to the south,” Jeffery said as he nosed the aircraft over to one hundred knots, pulling power to increase speed but not altitude.
“We’re taking hits!” Dunbar, the crew chief, said, trying to control his voice. Small hammer sounds could be heard on the side of the aircraft. Too many, dammit, Jeffery was thinking. With each sound, his eyes flashed to the engine and transmission instruments to make sure they hadn’t been seriously hit. A helicopter had a lot of hollow space but also critical components that couldn’t withstand a bullet. The enemy fire was inaccurate, but the intensity was so great that some rounds were going to find the aircraft. Lobo continued to cover Masher’s escape, launching his remaining flechette rockets and expending the remainder of his minigun ammunition. Finally, Masher was out of the valley and climbing to altitude.
“Sabre Six, Masher One-Five,” Jeffery called, attempting to raise the brigade headquarters operations officer.
With a slight yawn in his voice, Sabre Six India responded, “Masher One-Five, Sabre Six India, over.” Sabre Six India, the Operations clerk, had come on shift at midnight and things had been boring and quiet for the evening. So boring that he had been alone in the TOC for the past half hour.
With excitement in his voice, Jeffery said, “Sabre Six India, many, I repeat, many enemy gun positions…” And Jeffery indicated the location. “One truck destroyed with multiple secondary explosions. Estimate five to ten heavy weapon positions and numerous automatic weapons. How copy? Over.”
“Masher One-Five, wait one.” There was a bit more attention in Sabre Six India’s voice.
A few minutes later, Jeffery heard, “Masher One-Five, Sabre Six, sitrep, over.” Sabre Six was the brigade commander.
“Sabre Six, Masher One-Five. We flew the ridges around the valley earlier with negative contact. At oh four hundred, we flew the valley north to south. One truck on the road was engaged with small arms and rockets. Secondary explosions occurred and truck destroyed. Multiple automatic weapons engaged from almost every tree line in the valley. Estimate five to ten heavy automatic positions and numerous small-arms positions. Over.”
“Masher One-Five, say position now.”
“Sabre Six, we are at twenty-five hundred just south of the target area. Lobo is expended. We have fifty percent flares and fifty percent ammo on my ship.”
Turning to Pile, Jeffery said, “God, I hope he doesn’t ask us to go back in there.”
“Masher One-Five, are you in a position to adjust artillery fire?” Sabre Six asked.
“Roger, Sabre Six. I have one hour of fuel left.”
“Roger, Masher One-Five, adjust artillery fire until you have to break station. Notify us when you do. Sabre Six out.”
Jeffery turned to Pile. “You ever adjust artillery fire since you’ve been in-country?”
“No, this’ll be a first.”