Read Online Echo Six: Black Ops 5 - Strikeforce Syria by Eric Meyer - Free Book Online
Authors: Eric Meyer
himself, first things first. He’d deploy the troops he'd been given and strengthen the defenses around Sheikh Najjar.
Yes, he'd show the President he could be both ruthless and effective when he was given the chance to act. The missiles were already positioned close to Aleppo. He'd given that order several days ago when he’d seen the danger to Sheikh Najjar, except he couldn’t give them any fire orders. That had to come from Damascus. Now he had the Presidential order, he would contact the battery commanders and order them to put the missiles on standby. He’d also instruct Third Corps to move a battalion to reinforce Sheikh Najjar immediately, and then begin planning to retake Aleppo. It was time to take off the gloves and show them the iron fist of the power he wielded.
* * *
"Commander, we've crossed the Turkish coastline, and we're heading toward the drop point. We'll be in position inside of eight minutes."
"Copy that," Talley replied to the aircraft commander, who was in fact an Air National Guard Major on assignment to NATO forces operating inside of Iraq. Unusually, there were no written orders for this mission, and the pilot had questioned it, but Brooks smoothed him over. Talley understood the need for secrecy, but even so, the entire operation had been handled in a novel way. The question was why.
He passed on the report to his men and glanced around to make certain they were ready for the jump. The Lockheed C-130 was flying close to its service ceiling of nine thousand meters, in order to keep them away from the surveillance systems of the Syrians, and give them a long glide path into the target. They checked each other's parachutes, webbing, and equipment, as always before making a drop. Their weapons and communications gear was stashed ready, and all that remained was the final safety checks. His earpiece clicked.
"Starting to depressurize in one minute."
"Copy that. Switch to oxygen.”
There was no need, but he still made a further visual check on their masks. He adjusted his own equipment and switched on the bottled oxygen supply. The motors inside the cargo hold hummed as the ramp started to lower, and the chill night air surged in, lowering the temperature to below freezing point. The bitter cold of the thinner air at altitude made him shiver slightly, although he knew the ground temperature would soar to almost thirty degrees during the day. Maybe the icy temperatures at altitude would seem more welcome then. He watched the red light come on as the loadmaster stood ready to oversee their jump. His earpiece clicked again.
"Jump off point in three minutes."
"Roger that."
He started moving toward the ramp. That was when it all started to go wrong. He never found out who shouted over cabin speaker.
"Missile launch, missile launch! We have two missiles inbound."
"Taking evasive action now. Hold on, people."
Before any of them could grab for handholds, the aircraft lurched to port as the pilot banked hard, tilting through ninety degrees to fly with one wing tip pointed up, the other pointed down. Talley grunted as a heavy body crashed into him, then another. He pulled himself clear and keyed his mic.
"Standby for emergency bailout! If that missile hits, we'll only have seconds before the aircraft breaks up. I want everybody to get to the ramp."
He heard David Beckerman shout, "I think my leg is broken!"
"If you stay with the aircraft, you'll have more than your leg to worry about. All of you; just get to that ramp and be ready to jump."
The pilot shouted a warning, "Missile impact in two seconds. We're too slow, we can't…"
The impact was massive. The radar guided missile was fused for both proximity and contact. It was the proximity fuse that caused the warhead to explode next to the port engine. Immediately, the wing began to shear off, and the racing Allison T56-A-15 turboprops went out of control, starting to shake loose from their mountings. The aircraft tilted over into a spin
Yes, he'd show the President he could be both ruthless and effective when he was given the chance to act. The missiles were already positioned close to Aleppo. He'd given that order several days ago when he’d seen the danger to Sheikh Najjar, except he couldn’t give them any fire orders. That had to come from Damascus. Now he had the Presidential order, he would contact the battery commanders and order them to put the missiles on standby. He’d also instruct Third Corps to move a battalion to reinforce Sheikh Najjar immediately, and then begin planning to retake Aleppo. It was time to take off the gloves and show them the iron fist of the power he wielded.
* * *
"Commander, we've crossed the Turkish coastline, and we're heading toward the drop point. We'll be in position inside of eight minutes."
"Copy that," Talley replied to the aircraft commander, who was in fact an Air National Guard Major on assignment to NATO forces operating inside of Iraq. Unusually, there were no written orders for this mission, and the pilot had questioned it, but Brooks smoothed him over. Talley understood the need for secrecy, but even so, the entire operation had been handled in a novel way. The question was why.
He passed on the report to his men and glanced around to make certain they were ready for the jump. The Lockheed C-130 was flying close to its service ceiling of nine thousand meters, in order to keep them away from the surveillance systems of the Syrians, and give them a long glide path into the target. They checked each other's parachutes, webbing, and equipment, as always before making a drop. Their weapons and communications gear was stashed ready, and all that remained was the final safety checks. His earpiece clicked.
"Starting to depressurize in one minute."
"Copy that. Switch to oxygen.”
There was no need, but he still made a further visual check on their masks. He adjusted his own equipment and switched on the bottled oxygen supply. The motors inside the cargo hold hummed as the ramp started to lower, and the chill night air surged in, lowering the temperature to below freezing point. The bitter cold of the thinner air at altitude made him shiver slightly, although he knew the ground temperature would soar to almost thirty degrees during the day. Maybe the icy temperatures at altitude would seem more welcome then. He watched the red light come on as the loadmaster stood ready to oversee their jump. His earpiece clicked again.
"Jump off point in three minutes."
"Roger that."
He started moving toward the ramp. That was when it all started to go wrong. He never found out who shouted over cabin speaker.
"Missile launch, missile launch! We have two missiles inbound."
"Taking evasive action now. Hold on, people."
Before any of them could grab for handholds, the aircraft lurched to port as the pilot banked hard, tilting through ninety degrees to fly with one wing tip pointed up, the other pointed down. Talley grunted as a heavy body crashed into him, then another. He pulled himself clear and keyed his mic.
"Standby for emergency bailout! If that missile hits, we'll only have seconds before the aircraft breaks up. I want everybody to get to the ramp."
He heard David Beckerman shout, "I think my leg is broken!"
"If you stay with the aircraft, you'll have more than your leg to worry about. All of you; just get to that ramp and be ready to jump."
The pilot shouted a warning, "Missile impact in two seconds. We're too slow, we can't…"
The impact was massive. The radar guided missile was fused for both proximity and contact. It was the proximity fuse that caused the warhead to explode next to the port engine. Immediately, the wing began to shear off, and the racing Allison T56-A-15 turboprops went out of control, starting to shake loose from their mountings. The aircraft tilted over into a spin
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