that made his rescue mission a costly error.
Within the humvee, just as some shards of white-hot metal fragments from exploding 20-mm rounds peppered the exposed thighs and back of Sergeant Harris, others were tearing through the casing and warhead of the TOW missile that Davis had uncovered before he bailed out. These fragments ignited the propellant of that missile that was designed to carry it 3,700 meters. This lethal combination of hot fragments and volatile rocket fuel instantly engulfed the interior of the humvee. Even before the sheets of flame leaping out the open doors and hatch in the roof reached their peak, the warhead of the TOW missile detonated, killing Harris with merciful speed.
Outside Kannen watched as the humvee hard shell was torn from the chassis while a chain reaction of explosions erupted, caused by the detonation of another TOW missile and a pair of smaller rocket launchers that had been tucked off to one side of MORE THAN COURAGE
79
the cargo compartment. The successive shock waves generated by the initial blast and subsequent detonations knocked him off his feet and hammered Davis into the ground. Mendez, already down, felt the pressure push his body deeper into the sand. Those who could see Kilo Two watched with sadness and fear as a vehicle that had served them as home and transport for six weeks became a giant fragmentation bomb.
Ken Aveno watched in stunned silence as the meaning of what his eyes beheld and his ears heard sank in. His CO and Sergeant Hashmi were missing and perhaps dead. Kilo One and Kilo Two had been destroyed and all or some, of their crews killed. While Kilo Three was safe, it was long gone and could do little to help him at this moment. Nor could Kilo Six, as Aveno listened to the echo of that vehicle's machine gun hammering away as it tried to make good its escape.
Dumbfounded and forlorn, Aveno felt despair overwhelm him. His command had lasted two minutes, perhaps three.
Lost in his grief and guilt Aveno did not hear Amer's warning about a squad of Syrian soldiers emerging from the village and moving quickly toward them. Despondent and forlorn, all Aveno could do was to stare at Kilo Two as detonation after detonation
shook the stricken humvee. Without a word, without a whimper, first Lieutenant Ken Aveno slowly squatted down onto the ground and crossed his legs. Ignoring Amer's efforts to persuade him to get up and flee, the acting commanding officer of RT Kilo settled down to await whatever fate the cruel god of war held for him.
Arlington, Virginia
13:35 LOCAL (17:35 ZULU)
The Pentagon had no need for a tocsin to alert assigned personnel that there was a crisis. The hurried pace and grim expressions worn by those considered to be the Pentagon's key players as they moved through the miles and miles and miles of endless loops and corridors was warning enough. The purposeful gait of staffers quickened as they dashed from one impromptu meeting or briefing to the next. Even if certain people did not have an active role in the crisis du jour, the heightened alertness was transferred across the entire spectrum, from top to bottom and agency to agency in a manner similar to that of an excited electron transferring some of its own energy to other electrons as it pinged madly about.
Lieutenant Colonel Robert Delmont picked up on the telltale signs as he emerged from the locker room and headed back to his office, maneuvering his way through the unusually heavy flow of traffic coursing through the hall. At first he wasn't all that concerned.
If the crisis had involved something he was responsible for he was confident that someone would have dispatched an NCO or a junior officer to find him.
This illusion disappeared the moment he stepped through the door of the Army's special operations section. In an instant his attitude changed and his pucker factor multiplied by a factor of ten. The tension in the air was palpable. Those staff officers who Were not on phones
Within the humvee, just as some shards of white-hot metal fragments from exploding 20-mm rounds peppered the exposed thighs and back of Sergeant Harris, others were tearing through the casing and warhead of the TOW missile that Davis had uncovered before he bailed out. These fragments ignited the propellant of that missile that was designed to carry it 3,700 meters. This lethal combination of hot fragments and volatile rocket fuel instantly engulfed the interior of the humvee. Even before the sheets of flame leaping out the open doors and hatch in the roof reached their peak, the warhead of the TOW missile detonated, killing Harris with merciful speed.
Outside Kannen watched as the humvee hard shell was torn from the chassis while a chain reaction of explosions erupted, caused by the detonation of another TOW missile and a pair of smaller rocket launchers that had been tucked off to one side of MORE THAN COURAGE
79
the cargo compartment. The successive shock waves generated by the initial blast and subsequent detonations knocked him off his feet and hammered Davis into the ground. Mendez, already down, felt the pressure push his body deeper into the sand. Those who could see Kilo Two watched with sadness and fear as a vehicle that had served them as home and transport for six weeks became a giant fragmentation bomb.
Ken Aveno watched in stunned silence as the meaning of what his eyes beheld and his ears heard sank in. His CO and Sergeant Hashmi were missing and perhaps dead. Kilo One and Kilo Two had been destroyed and all or some, of their crews killed. While Kilo Three was safe, it was long gone and could do little to help him at this moment. Nor could Kilo Six, as Aveno listened to the echo of that vehicle's machine gun hammering away as it tried to make good its escape.
Dumbfounded and forlorn, Aveno felt despair overwhelm him. His command had lasted two minutes, perhaps three.
Lost in his grief and guilt Aveno did not hear Amer's warning about a squad of Syrian soldiers emerging from the village and moving quickly toward them. Despondent and forlorn, all Aveno could do was to stare at Kilo Two as detonation after detonation
shook the stricken humvee. Without a word, without a whimper, first Lieutenant Ken Aveno slowly squatted down onto the ground and crossed his legs. Ignoring Amer's efforts to persuade him to get up and flee, the acting commanding officer of RT Kilo settled down to await whatever fate the cruel god of war held for him.
Arlington, Virginia
13:35 LOCAL (17:35 ZULU)
The Pentagon had no need for a tocsin to alert assigned personnel that there was a crisis. The hurried pace and grim expressions worn by those considered to be the Pentagon's key players as they moved through the miles and miles and miles of endless loops and corridors was warning enough. The purposeful gait of staffers quickened as they dashed from one impromptu meeting or briefing to the next. Even if certain people did not have an active role in the crisis du jour, the heightened alertness was transferred across the entire spectrum, from top to bottom and agency to agency in a manner similar to that of an excited electron transferring some of its own energy to other electrons as it pinged madly about.
Lieutenant Colonel Robert Delmont picked up on the telltale signs as he emerged from the locker room and headed back to his office, maneuvering his way through the unusually heavy flow of traffic coursing through the hall. At first he wasn't all that concerned.
If the crisis had involved something he was responsible for he was confident that someone would have dispatched an NCO or a junior officer to find him.
This illusion disappeared the moment he stepped through the door of the Army's special operations section. In an instant his attitude changed and his pucker factor multiplied by a factor of ten. The tension in the air was palpable. Those staff officers who Were not on phones
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