off into the dark totally ignorant of what was going on out there. Crushing the push to talk button on the small hand mike, Burman frantically repeated his call to his subordinates. "Kilo, Kilo, this is Kilo Six. Sitrep, over. I say again, give me your sitrep, Now!"
While someone with each of Kilo's scattered detachments heard Burman's call, all were busy responding to the same threat that had sent Burman to ground, whether they could see it or not.
The members of the air liaison team in Kilo One were the last to catch on to the acute danger that faced them, or, more correctly, was rushing up at them from behind. As was his habit, Airman Jones had turned down the volume of the tactical radio net that linked all of Kilo's humvecs so that Lieutenant Ciszak could better monitor those nets upon which the AWACs and strike aircraft were operating. It wasn't until Jones noticed the frenzied activities of Kannen, Harris, and other members of Kilo Two's crew, punctuated by bright orange flashes streaking through the MORE THAN COURAGE
53
night sky, that the airman turned to Ciszak. "It, we've got a problem."
Jones's statement took several seconds to cut through Ciszak's mental haze. Confused, the air force officer was about to ask Jones what he was talking about when the sharp pow-powpow of the BRDM's 20-mm cannon provided the answer. Startled, Ciszak looked over to where Kilo Two sat. In a scene that reminded him of an old silent movie, the flash of the BRDM's cannon lit up the night, illuminating the army humvee and its crew. Ciszak watched as Harris frantically swung the TOW missile launcher around to face the threat barreling down on them. Two other men, whom Ciszak couldn't identify, had thrown themselves on the ground and opene'd up with their individual weapons. That they were having no effect was obvious as the unseen intruder continued to hammer away with a slow, steady pow--p ow--p ow.
"Lieutenant, shouldn't you be calling for support?"
Ciszak turned to face Jones, who repeated his plea almost as an order. "Sir, you need to inform Rainbow we're in trouble."
Rainbow was the call sign for the AWACs. The code word for
"team in trouble, send immediate air strike" was Cherokee.
Unfortunately, Ciszak found he wasn't able to recall that particular code word. The ones he used day in and day out were on the tip of his tongue. Those that he had no need for during the course of normal operations such as Cherokee had been stored away somewhere in his memory and quietly forgotten. Completely rattled by what was going on outside, Ciszak didn't think to ask Jones if he remembered what the call for assistance was.
Instead the harried officer flicked on his small penlight and looked down at the sheet where all the code words, call signs, and frequencies for that evening were listed.
Already shaken by the surprise enemy attack, it took Jones a moment to catch on to what his officer was doing. When he did he yelled at Ciszak. "Cherokee, for Christ sakes! The word is Cherokee."
54
HAROLDCOYLE
Embarrassment added to his befuddlement as Ciszak fumbled with his hand mike while he attempted to make the call. Unable to hold back any longer, Jones snatched the mike, mashed down the push to talk button, and screamed repeatedly into it, "Cherokee, Cherokee, Cherokee."
Two hundred fifty miles away the word "Cherokee" had the same startling effect on the crew of the E-3A AWACs that the fire from the BRDM had had on Ciszak and Jones. Caught totally off guard the AWACs controller asked to confirm their requests for assistance.
The controller's call for confirmation was heard by a number of other aircraft throughout the region as well as the operations center responsible for monitoring the day-to-day activities of Razorback in Turkey. But neither Ciszak nor Jones heard or responded to the call. By then events on the ground had spiraled out of control and overwhelmed the crew of Kilo One.
The BRDM that had initiated the frantic call for
While someone with each of Kilo's scattered detachments heard Burman's call, all were busy responding to the same threat that had sent Burman to ground, whether they could see it or not.
The members of the air liaison team in Kilo One were the last to catch on to the acute danger that faced them, or, more correctly, was rushing up at them from behind. As was his habit, Airman Jones had turned down the volume of the tactical radio net that linked all of Kilo's humvecs so that Lieutenant Ciszak could better monitor those nets upon which the AWACs and strike aircraft were operating. It wasn't until Jones noticed the frenzied activities of Kannen, Harris, and other members of Kilo Two's crew, punctuated by bright orange flashes streaking through the MORE THAN COURAGE
53
night sky, that the airman turned to Ciszak. "It, we've got a problem."
Jones's statement took several seconds to cut through Ciszak's mental haze. Confused, the air force officer was about to ask Jones what he was talking about when the sharp pow-powpow of the BRDM's 20-mm cannon provided the answer. Startled, Ciszak looked over to where Kilo Two sat. In a scene that reminded him of an old silent movie, the flash of the BRDM's cannon lit up the night, illuminating the army humvee and its crew. Ciszak watched as Harris frantically swung the TOW missile launcher around to face the threat barreling down on them. Two other men, whom Ciszak couldn't identify, had thrown themselves on the ground and opene'd up with their individual weapons. That they were having no effect was obvious as the unseen intruder continued to hammer away with a slow, steady pow--p ow--p ow.
"Lieutenant, shouldn't you be calling for support?"
Ciszak turned to face Jones, who repeated his plea almost as an order. "Sir, you need to inform Rainbow we're in trouble."
Rainbow was the call sign for the AWACs. The code word for
"team in trouble, send immediate air strike" was Cherokee.
Unfortunately, Ciszak found he wasn't able to recall that particular code word. The ones he used day in and day out were on the tip of his tongue. Those that he had no need for during the course of normal operations such as Cherokee had been stored away somewhere in his memory and quietly forgotten. Completely rattled by what was going on outside, Ciszak didn't think to ask Jones if he remembered what the call for assistance was.
Instead the harried officer flicked on his small penlight and looked down at the sheet where all the code words, call signs, and frequencies for that evening were listed.
Already shaken by the surprise enemy attack, it took Jones a moment to catch on to what his officer was doing. When he did he yelled at Ciszak. "Cherokee, for Christ sakes! The word is Cherokee."
54
HAROLDCOYLE
Embarrassment added to his befuddlement as Ciszak fumbled with his hand mike while he attempted to make the call. Unable to hold back any longer, Jones snatched the mike, mashed down the push to talk button, and screamed repeatedly into it, "Cherokee, Cherokee, Cherokee."
Two hundred fifty miles away the word "Cherokee" had the same startling effect on the crew of the E-3A AWACs that the fire from the BRDM had had on Ciszak and Jones. Caught totally off guard the AWACs controller asked to confirm their requests for assistance.
The controller's call for confirmation was heard by a number of other aircraft throughout the region as well as the operations center responsible for monitoring the day-to-day activities of Razorback in Turkey. But neither Ciszak nor Jones heard or responded to the call. By then events on the ground had spiraled out of control and overwhelmed the crew of Kilo One.
The BRDM that had initiated the frantic call for
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