sound and the rear ramp section of the big transport swung down revealing a square of pure black space. For a moment Franklin thought he saw lights below, but he wasn’t sure.
The Air Force sergeant hooked up the SEALs to the static line, one on each side of the wide hatch. The static line would automatically pull the rip cord, and their round chutes would deploy as soon as they jumped out the door. Douglas had heard that it took a chute three hundred feet to fully deploy and start slowing a man’s decent. Then within a few seconds they would drop through the other five hundred feet to the ground.
They couldn’t use the rectangular steerable chutes this close to the ground. The round chutes would spill air on one side or the other for some control. But not much. Soon now. They were both hooked up to the static line and ready.
“Stand by,” the load master shouted against the roar of the wind behind the plane. They watched the red light on the bulkhead over the door. In a heartbeat it turned to green.
“Go, go go,” Douglas shouted.
The two SEALs ran the ten feet to the gaping hole in the back of the big transport and raced into space.
The slipstream of the big transport battered Douglas for a moment, then he felt the chute open behind him. The big round chute caught the wind with a shrilling crack. At the same time the parachute harness jerked at his legs, thighs, and shoulders. He’d been halfway upside down in the slipstream, the chute yanked him savagely upright. It was harder than Douglas had ever felt on a chute opening, even with sixty pounds of gear.
He shook his head, and looked above him. The glorious jet-black canopy billowed there, fully open, and cutting his rate of descent to a modest speed. He looked around, but couldn’t find the other chute.
The ground. He looked down, and in the faint moonlight he could see it. What appeared to be some kind of a road showed to the left maybe half a klick. That might be the highway they were to use to get to Tehran.
Suddenly there were trees ahead of him. He pulled the cord on the right side of the chute, spilling some air on that side and drifting him to the right of the trees.
Then the ground rushed at him. He took it the way he had dozens of times, with his knees slightly bent and his hands on the chute release. He hit the ground and ran, dumped the chute, and began pulling it into a big wad. For a moment he didn’t make a sound, and listened. He heard a grunt from his right.
“You okay?” he said, half aloud.
“Hell yes,” the short reply came.
The found each other a minute later. Franklin used the entrenching tool he carried to dig a hole for his chute and harness. He covered the spot with some branches and dead leaves. Douglas did the same with his chute and gear, then pushed the digging tool under the pile and looked around.
“Thought I saw a road when we came in,” Douglas said.
“To the left, half a klick,” Franklin said. “We better move.”
They found the road twenty minutes later. There was little traffic. It was paved and two lanes, looked like a main highway for this country. Half a dozen trucks sped by. The two SEALs moved down closer. The route ran generally northeast by southwest. From there they had to go northeast.
After a half hour’s wait near the road, they heard an older rig coming that had to be smaller than the others. Franklin watched it come through the darkness, then walked out near the side of the road and waved both arms in the glare of the headlights. The old, much used farm truck, with a stake body, slowed, then stopped.
Franklin chattered for a moment in Farsi with the man in the small truck, then waved at Douglas. They both crawled into the cab, They saw the rig had crates of live chickens in the back.
Franklin took some bills from his pocket and gave the farmer two 10,000 rial notes. The old man grinned, showing snaggle teeth, and then he nodded. He said something to Franklin. They both laughed.
“Told
The Air Force sergeant hooked up the SEALs to the static line, one on each side of the wide hatch. The static line would automatically pull the rip cord, and their round chutes would deploy as soon as they jumped out the door. Douglas had heard that it took a chute three hundred feet to fully deploy and start slowing a man’s decent. Then within a few seconds they would drop through the other five hundred feet to the ground.
They couldn’t use the rectangular steerable chutes this close to the ground. The round chutes would spill air on one side or the other for some control. But not much. Soon now. They were both hooked up to the static line and ready.
“Stand by,” the load master shouted against the roar of the wind behind the plane. They watched the red light on the bulkhead over the door. In a heartbeat it turned to green.
“Go, go go,” Douglas shouted.
The two SEALs ran the ten feet to the gaping hole in the back of the big transport and raced into space.
The slipstream of the big transport battered Douglas for a moment, then he felt the chute open behind him. The big round chute caught the wind with a shrilling crack. At the same time the parachute harness jerked at his legs, thighs, and shoulders. He’d been halfway upside down in the slipstream, the chute yanked him savagely upright. It was harder than Douglas had ever felt on a chute opening, even with sixty pounds of gear.
He shook his head, and looked above him. The glorious jet-black canopy billowed there, fully open, and cutting his rate of descent to a modest speed. He looked around, but couldn’t find the other chute.
The ground. He looked down, and in the faint moonlight he could see it. What appeared to be some kind of a road showed to the left maybe half a klick. That might be the highway they were to use to get to Tehran.
Suddenly there were trees ahead of him. He pulled the cord on the right side of the chute, spilling some air on that side and drifting him to the right of the trees.
Then the ground rushed at him. He took it the way he had dozens of times, with his knees slightly bent and his hands on the chute release. He hit the ground and ran, dumped the chute, and began pulling it into a big wad. For a moment he didn’t make a sound, and listened. He heard a grunt from his right.
“You okay?” he said, half aloud.
“Hell yes,” the short reply came.
The found each other a minute later. Franklin used the entrenching tool he carried to dig a hole for his chute and harness. He covered the spot with some branches and dead leaves. Douglas did the same with his chute and gear, then pushed the digging tool under the pile and looked around.
“Thought I saw a road when we came in,” Douglas said.
“To the left, half a klick,” Franklin said. “We better move.”
They found the road twenty minutes later. There was little traffic. It was paved and two lanes, looked like a main highway for this country. Half a dozen trucks sped by. The two SEALs moved down closer. The route ran generally northeast by southwest. From there they had to go northeast.
After a half hour’s wait near the road, they heard an older rig coming that had to be smaller than the others. Franklin watched it come through the darkness, then walked out near the side of the road and waved both arms in the glare of the headlights. The old, much used farm truck, with a stake body, slowed, then stopped.
Franklin chattered for a moment in Farsi with the man in the small truck, then waved at Douglas. They both crawled into the cab, They saw the rig had crates of live chickens in the back.
Franklin took some bills from his pocket and gave the farmer two 10,000 rial notes. The old man grinned, showing snaggle teeth, and then he nodded. He said something to Franklin. They both laughed.
“Told
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