straightening. “It makes
no sense to fly them all the way to Fort Apache without enough bullets and
rockets to fend off an attack. We won’t be able to arrange for a new drop until
tomorrow night. By then, we ought to have a new C-130 cleared as a tanker. And
if not, we’ll rig something similar to what we did to get the fuel down at
Apache. The prudent thing is to wait.”
“What if they need us before then?” said Fernandez.
“I’m not going to send you up there empty,” said Klee.
Wong sighed. He glanced at the colonel, who could only
be waiting for him to point out the obvious. Surely both he and the major had
realized the solution by now. This charade could only be meant to make him feel
more comfortable and withdraw his transfer request. A worthy gesture on the
colonel’s part. Perhaps there was hope yet.
Wong walked back to the map and marked an X roughly
halfway through the course he had laid out.
“There. They can land and pump the gas in themselves.”
“And just how do we get it there?” said the major.
“That’s a hundred miles due south of Apache. Our troops have no way to deliver
it. Not to mention they’d have to go through at least one known Iraqi troop
placement.”
“Two additional helicopters with fuel drums — .”
“Unavailable,” said the major. “It’s impossible unless
we cut the supply load. The whole thing has to be scrubbed.
“Air drop it.”
“How? I don’t have any planes, Wong.”
Wong shook his head. No one could be quite this dense.
Clearly, Wilson had adopted the role of devil’s advocate.
“You could use the same method you employed for
dropping fuel at Apache,” said Wong. “Of course, you would wish to have some
redundancy, so I would suggest. . .”
“We won’t have those planes again for another two
nights,” said the major smugly.
“Then adapt other planes for the role,” said Wong.
“What? The A-10s?”
Wong shrugged. “The configuration will require
creative thought, but if we examine the. . .“
That doable, Captain?” Klee asked quickly.
“Of course.”
“I like you Wong,” said the colonel. He turned to the
lieutenant. “Jack, get the captain some antihistamines, then go find the A-10A
maintenance people and see if this can be done. Better yet, Wong, go with him.
Get as creative as you can before you sneeze your brains out.”
CHAPTER 21
AL
JOUF FOA, SAUDI ARABIA
25
JANUARY 1991
1900
T hey were
calling it Oz West, but compared to
the Devils’ maintenance area at the Home Drome, the facilities at the forward
operating area were bare-bones at best. Even without the Clyston-supplied
amenities of elaborate test benches and gourmet coffee — Sergeant Rosen
wasn’t sure which she’d rather do without — she and her “boys” could completely strip down and
rebuild a Hog in under twenty-four hours. Twelve, even, if she broke into her
stock of the Tinman’s special coffee brew. Hell, with that coffee and the
Special Ops people as inspiration, they could probably do it in under six, and
wax the landing gear to boot.
The Hogs were designed for battlefield maintenance.
Rosen had to hand it to the engineers for keeping things very basic. But it was
also true that her skeleton crew of Jimmy, Elephant and most of all the Tinman
were the best crew-dog technical expert ground wizards in the Air Force. The
fact that the Capo had put her in charge of the operation made her determined
to bust twenty more guts than normal; she was good and damned if she wasn’t
going to be better.
So if the truth be told, when the two Devil ships came
back to base looking like they’d spent the day in an auto dealer showroom, she
was a little disappointed. It wasn’t that she was looking for something to do.
They were going to be here for a while and had a ton of organizing to do, not
to mention the fact that their talents could always be used helping the base
detachment with other planes. It was just that she felt like there
no sense to fly them all the way to Fort Apache without enough bullets and
rockets to fend off an attack. We won’t be able to arrange for a new drop until
tomorrow night. By then, we ought to have a new C-130 cleared as a tanker. And
if not, we’ll rig something similar to what we did to get the fuel down at
Apache. The prudent thing is to wait.”
“What if they need us before then?” said Fernandez.
“I’m not going to send you up there empty,” said Klee.
Wong sighed. He glanced at the colonel, who could only
be waiting for him to point out the obvious. Surely both he and the major had
realized the solution by now. This charade could only be meant to make him feel
more comfortable and withdraw his transfer request. A worthy gesture on the
colonel’s part. Perhaps there was hope yet.
Wong walked back to the map and marked an X roughly
halfway through the course he had laid out.
“There. They can land and pump the gas in themselves.”
“And just how do we get it there?” said the major.
“That’s a hundred miles due south of Apache. Our troops have no way to deliver
it. Not to mention they’d have to go through at least one known Iraqi troop
placement.”
“Two additional helicopters with fuel drums — .”
“Unavailable,” said the major. “It’s impossible unless
we cut the supply load. The whole thing has to be scrubbed.
“Air drop it.”
“How? I don’t have any planes, Wong.”
Wong shook his head. No one could be quite this dense.
Clearly, Wilson had adopted the role of devil’s advocate.
“You could use the same method you employed for
dropping fuel at Apache,” said Wong. “Of course, you would wish to have some
redundancy, so I would suggest. . .”
“We won’t have those planes again for another two
nights,” said the major smugly.
“Then adapt other planes for the role,” said Wong.
“What? The A-10s?”
Wong shrugged. “The configuration will require
creative thought, but if we examine the. . .“
That doable, Captain?” Klee asked quickly.
“Of course.”
“I like you Wong,” said the colonel. He turned to the
lieutenant. “Jack, get the captain some antihistamines, then go find the A-10A
maintenance people and see if this can be done. Better yet, Wong, go with him.
Get as creative as you can before you sneeze your brains out.”
CHAPTER 21
AL
JOUF FOA, SAUDI ARABIA
25
JANUARY 1991
1900
T hey were
calling it Oz West, but compared to
the Devils’ maintenance area at the Home Drome, the facilities at the forward
operating area were bare-bones at best. Even without the Clyston-supplied
amenities of elaborate test benches and gourmet coffee — Sergeant Rosen
wasn’t sure which she’d rather do without — she and her “boys” could completely strip down and
rebuild a Hog in under twenty-four hours. Twelve, even, if she broke into her
stock of the Tinman’s special coffee brew. Hell, with that coffee and the
Special Ops people as inspiration, they could probably do it in under six, and
wax the landing gear to boot.
The Hogs were designed for battlefield maintenance.
Rosen had to hand it to the engineers for keeping things very basic. But it was
also true that her skeleton crew of Jimmy, Elephant and most of all the Tinman
were the best crew-dog technical expert ground wizards in the Air Force. The
fact that the Capo had put her in charge of the operation made her determined
to bust twenty more guts than normal; she was good and damned if she wasn’t
going to be better.
So if the truth be told, when the two Devil ships came
back to base looking like they’d spent the day in an auto dealer showroom, she
was a little disappointed. It wasn’t that she was looking for something to do.
They were going to be here for a while and had a ton of organizing to do, not
to mention the fact that their talents could always be used helping the base
detachment with other planes. It was just that she felt like there
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