(no subject)
March 3rd
Forward Arming and Refueling Point Texaco
Grid 9DHG20401090
0004 hours
Senior Chief Petty Officer David Baskas was known for many things.
Patience was not one of them. Especially in situations like these.
He tapped out a rhythm against the Chinook’s walkway as he gazed out onto the tarmac. They’d been here for what felt like hours, waiting on one crew after another. First it had been the repair truck (the shrapnel holes weren’t going to patch themselves, and engine two had been spouting hydraulic fluid like a geyser), then the ammo truck (Rabbit had burned up most of the tail gun’s belt giving covering fire), and now…now it looked as if they were waiting just for the hell of it.
He looked at Rabbit, who was checking his gear across from him, then over his shoulder into the cockpit. One of the pilots had a map out and would draw on it with a grease pencil every now and again, and the other was just flipping switches as far as he could tell.
“What’s the holdup, Captain?” The one with the map looked back at him.
“We’re waiting on the fuel truck, Mother. I can’t get this bird to Bagram half-empty.”
Now that was news. “Captain, we left two men on one of the most hostile patches of ground in a hundred-click radius. If you’ve got a reason for taking us away from them, I’d love to hear it.”
The pilot shrugged. “Orders. Drucker radioed me, said to bring you guys back to Bagram. Apparently General Flagg wants you to brief the Rangers in case they gotta send them in as the Quick Reaction Force.”
“Why bother? You’ve got your QRF right here.”
The pilot blinked, then set the pencil down. “Mother, I can’t. That whole mountain’s hot. We barely made it off the slopes.”
“We’re closer. We can be faster. You don’t have to land. You don’t even have to hover. Just get down low and we’ll jump off the ramp.”
“And if we take fire, this bird’ll go up like cordwood in kerosene. The fuel tank sealants are patchy enough already, who knows what an RPG’ll -”
“Do you see this, Captain?” Mother asked, patting the pistol holster on his thigh.
“…yes.”
“I don’t want you to be the first friendly I pull it on. But if that’s what it takes to get us back up that mountain, I’ll do it.” He leaned into the cockpit. “We left two men up there. We’re getting them back - tonight - if I have to fly this goddamn helo myself. Now take us back up.”
“…I hope to God you guys know what you’re doing. Texaco Control, this is Prowler One, requesting takeoff…”
Forward Arming and Refueling Point Texaco
Grid 9DHG20401090
0004 hours
Senior Chief Petty Officer David Baskas was known for many things.
Patience was not one of them. Especially in situations like these.
He tapped out a rhythm against the Chinook’s walkway as he gazed out onto the tarmac. They’d been here for what felt like hours, waiting on one crew after another. First it had been the repair truck (the shrapnel holes weren’t going to patch themselves, and engine two had been spouting hydraulic fluid like a geyser), then the ammo truck (Rabbit had burned up most of the tail gun’s belt giving covering fire), and now…now it looked as if they were waiting just for the hell of it.
He looked at Rabbit, who was checking his gear across from him, then over his shoulder into the cockpit. One of the pilots had a map out and would draw on it with a grease pencil every now and again, and the other was just flipping switches as far as he could tell.
“What’s the holdup, Captain?” The one with the map looked back at him.
“We’re waiting on the fuel truck, Mother. I can’t get this bird to Bagram half-empty.”
Now that was news. “Captain, we left two men on one of the most hostile patches of ground in a hundred-click radius. If you’ve got a reason for taking us away from them, I’d love to hear it.”
The pilot shrugged. “Orders. Drucker radioed me, said to bring you guys back to Bagram. Apparently General Flagg wants you to brief the Rangers in case they gotta send them in as the Quick Reaction Force.”
“Why bother? You’ve got your QRF right here.”
The pilot blinked, then set the pencil down. “Mother, I can’t. That whole mountain’s hot. We barely made it off the slopes.”
“We’re closer. We can be faster. You don’t have to land. You don’t even have to hover. Just get down low and we’ll jump off the ramp.”
“And if we take fire, this bird’ll go up like cordwood in kerosene. The fuel tank sealants are patchy enough already, who knows what an RPG’ll -”
“Do you see this, Captain?” Mother asked, patting the pistol holster on his thigh.
“…yes.”
“I don’t want you to be the first friendly I pull it on. But if that’s what it takes to get us back up that mountain, I’ll do it.” He leaned into the cockpit. “We left two men up there. We’re getting them back - tonight - if I have to fly this goddamn helo myself. Now take us back up.”
“…I hope to God you guys know what you’re doing. Texaco Control, this is Prowler One, requesting takeoff…”