Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Berets) (20 page)

Even with the thermal coveralls, Riley was shivering. He looked through his clear goggles at the other members of his team. He gave a thumbs-up and received a similar answer from each man. No one was getting woozy from the oxygen.

9:28 P.M.

Riley felt his adrenaline start to flow as he watched Powers unhook from the console and hook into his bottle. Party time! At Powers's signal, the rest of the team unhooked from the console and went on their personal supply.

Powers signaled with both hands to stand up. Through the helmet, Riley heard Powers's voice echo the command: "Stand up!"

Riley swayed as the aircraft slowed down to 125 knots. That slowdown meant three minutes out from the release point. He made a conscious effort to control his breathing. This was the worst part of the jump. Waiting. Knowing it's coming but not knowing what will happen.

The roar in the aircraft increased as the ramp cracked opened and the dark night sky appeared. Like massive jaws separating, the upper portion of the ramp disappeared into the roof of the aircraft while the lower section leveled out, forming a platform. The temperature inside dropped as the cold, turbulent outside air swirled in. Riley felt his stomach churn with anxiety. Looking out an open ramp was something he had never grown used to.

The last weather forecast they had received from the navigator had indicated clear skies and winds aloft of nineteen knots at 124 degrees. Almost perfect jumping weather. Riley heard Powers's voice inside his helmet: "All right. Let's tighten it up. Give me a sound check."

"One here." Riley listened as all the members checked off.

"Crack your chem lights." Each man reached up and broke the chem light attached to the back of the helmet of the man in front of him. Riley shuffled in tighter behind the jumper in front of him. They were ready to go.

The loadmaster, breathing oxygen from the aircraft system, held up one finger. "One minute!" Powers relayed over the radio.

Powers led the way to the edge of the ramp and peered out. Looking through the crack where the ramp separated from the main body of the plane, Riley could see the lights of the shoreline of Colombia. Below there was darkness, indicating they were over the ocean. He hated the waiting. He wanted to go.

"Stand by!"

Riley looked up at the red light glowing above the open ramp. Nervously he ran his fingers over his rip cord, making sure that it had not somehow disappeared in the last minute.

Riley would be the trail jumper off and the top man in the formation on the way down, so he would have the added experience of watching the rest of the team leap off in front of him. Any second now. Riley felt himself grow tense as adrenaline coursed through his veins, pushing his senses to their peak. Exhilaration was now taking over, and the fear grew more remote.

The light flashed green. "Go!" Powers yelled as he flung himself out, arms spread wide.

Riley followed the team, throwing himself out into the slipstream. He spread his arms and legs, arching his back, focusing his eyes on the chem lights below him. He had only four seconds to get stable and then pop his canopy, otherwise he'd pass through the team below. He felt his tumbling slow and stop. His mental counting finished and he yanked his rip cord.

The opening shock jerked him upright. His first priority was to gain control of the canopy. Reaching up, he grabbed the control toggles on the risers coming up from each shoulder. He pulled in his air brakes, slowing his descent. Briefly letting go of the toggles, he slid his night- vision goggles down on his helmet visor and rapidly scanned the night sky. He spotted the glow of a chem light below and to his left. He turned and raced after it.

His speaker came alive inside his helmet. "How many you got, Six?"

Looking down through his night-vision goggles he could see five chem lights, indicating the rest of the team staggered below him. "I've got five in sight in a good pattern, One."

As Riley flew through the air, he glanced at the luminous dials on the instrument board on top of his reserve and checked his altitude and direction. He forced himself to relax as much as possible in the harness and control his breathing.

After seven minutes, he was passing through ten thousand feet and heading south. The lights of Cartagena were off to his left rear now. In the reflected and amplified moonlight, Riley could make out the terrain ahead and below. So far, so good, he muttered to himself. They were on course and should reach the drop zone with no problem.

As he descended, Riley got warmer. From the freezing temperatures at thirty thousand feet he was descending into steaming, tropical air. They were starting to do S-turns now as Powers had the drop zone in sight. Riley slowed himself and twisted his head, trying to keep the man below him in sight as he banked in a tight right-hand turn. At nine thousand feet, he pulled off his oxygen mask and took a deep breath of the humid night air.

At four thousand feet, he risked a quick glance at the ground below. He adjusted his eyes slightly east of a small lake whose location he had memorized, and spotted the postage stamp of lighter green that indicated the drop zone in the middle of the vegetation. In the imagery the drop zone had appeared to be a clearing only forty meters by fifty meters. Because of its small size, the greatest danger would be landing on top of each other. To prevent that, they had decided to stagger the landing interval.

At two thousand feet Riley could see the formation spreading, as each jumper allowed more vertical space between himself and the jumper below. He turned and went into a spiral. His ears crackled as the radio came to life again. "One down. Clear for Two."

Powers was already on the ground. Riley manipulated his toggles and grabbed more air with his canopy, slowing himself further. He wanted to give the other five a chance to completely recover from their landings before he came in.

"Two down. Clear for Three."

"Three down. Clear for Four."

"Four down. Clear for Five."

"Five down. Clear for Six."

Riley released his air brakes and slid down the last two hundred feet. Just above the ground, he pulled in on his toggles and flared to almost a stall, lightly touching his feet to the ground. As his parachute settled around him, Powers was at his side, helping him out of his harness. Riley quickly gathered in his chute and shoved it into his rucksack. The thermal suit followed it. The plan was to carry out their infiltration equipment to avoid leaving any evidence of the raid.

With his gear stowed, Riley readjusted his helmet and goggles. He felt like a creature from a science fiction movie, with the short snouts of the goggles poking out in front of him. The interior eyepieces were lit in a hazy green glow. On the small screens, Riley could see almost as well as he could in daylight. The major drawbacks were that everything was a shade of green, his depth perception was distorted, and his field of vision was limited.

Riley adjusted his night-vision goggles as comfortably as he could and motioned for the team to follow him. With every man wearing the light-enhancing goggles, the team moved off in a northeasterly direction. Their target stood 3.4 kilometers away through the tangled vegetation.

Partusi was in the point, with Riley right behind him, navigating. Lane, Marzan, and Holder followed in line, with Powers pulling up the rear. Partusi's job was to keep all his senses attuned to the terrain out front, with Riley directing him with small nudges, keeping the team on azimuth. They moved slowly, taking care to make as little noise as possible.

Partusi eased through the thick vegetation, followed closely by the other five men. Riley counted every right footfall, slowly adding up the distance as they moved. He checked his azimuth every ten steps. After eight hundred meters, according to Riley's pace count, Partusi signaled a halt by holding up his left fist. He drew his fingers across his throat and pointed ahead—danger area. Riley passed the signal back.

Riley crawled next to Partusi and peered ahead. Ten meters in front of them was the coastal highway, a two-lane hardtop road.

Riley had been taught in Ranger school to cross a danger area by setting out flank security, sending across far-side security, and then having the main body cross. However, if he followed that method with only six men, he would use up almost the entire element in security and not have a main body left. Riley wanted to spend as little time as possible near the danger area. He turned on his knees, grabbed Lane, and pointed ahead. Lane grabbed Marzan and the two low-crawled to the edge of the road. With their goggles, they would be able to see the glow of headlights from a vehicle long before it came into sight. The two stood up and quickly ran across the road.

Riley waited in the tree line until he spotted a brief flash of the IR light on a pair of flashlights from the far wood line, indicating that the far side was clear. Riley looked left and right down the road and then tapped Partusi to go. Partusi got to his feet and jogged across the road. Riley then tapped Holder across. Powers slid up next to Riley. Riley was about to tap the team sergeant to go when he spotted a glow in his goggles off to the left. Grabbing Powers, Riley sank down into the grass at the edge of the woods and lay still. A minute later, a car flashed by and roared off to the south. Riley waited a minute for the car to get clear and then got back up to his knees. He checked both directions and then tapped Powers. Once the team sergeant disappeared into the woods on the far side, Riley followed him across the hardtop and slipped into the wood line.

A pair of hands immediately grabbed him. Marzan pointed him in the right direction and he quickly came up next to Partusi. Ensuring that he had all six team members, Riley gave the signal to move out and they continued their trek.

In planning, Riley had allowed the team four hours to reach the target. In actuality it took only three. The team moved steadily and without any further interruptions through the unpopulated swampland until the men finally reached their destination at the observation point on the edge of the small dirt runway.

The team settled into a tight security perimeter. Riley dropped his ruck and lay down next to Lane. He scanned the compound seventy-five meters away on the far side of the airstrip using the special night-vision telescope Lane had carried in for the Haskins sniper rifle. The scope not only enhanced the ambient light like the goggles but also gave him a ten-power magnification. He could see two guards walking about the four ramshackle buildings that made up the laboratory. The sentinels were a good sign. It meant there was still something here to guard. One of their greatest concerns had been that the factory had moved.

Riley could also see barrels stacked around the buildings. Heavy plastic sheeting covered the doors and windows of the largest shed, which, according to their briefing, was where the actual processing was done. Another shack appeared to be a storage area, and the last two were probably living quarters. From what he was seeing, Riley was confident that this was indeed one of the major labs.

The guards were armed with Ml6s and walked about the camp in a random manner. Riley had a feeling there were probably more than just the two guards on duty. He continued scanning. After thirty minutes, he spotted two more. These two "gave themselves away by lighting cigarettes, which showed up in the night-vision scope as if they had fired off a flare. One was just off the airstrip that abutted the compound, only fifty meters from Riley's present location. That guard appeared to be armed with an M60 machine gun. The other was on the far side of the compound, adjacent to the dirt trail that pointed toward Cartagena and the north.

Having seen what he needed to see, Riley handed the scope to Lane, who remounted it on the Haskins. Riley pointed out the four guards and whispered instructions to Lane. Then he slid back farther into the woods, to where the rest of the team was waiting.

Gathering the other four team members around him, Riley proceeded, in a hoarse whisper, to update them on the situation. "We've got four buildings just like the imagery showed. All the signs are there that this is a currently working laboratory—ether in barrels and plastic sheeting around the largest building. So I'm going to call in a go on this target.

"There are four guards—two walking around the camp armed with Ml6s, one stationary just off the dirt road leading out of the camp. That guy has what looks like an AK-47. Then they have a fourth guy hidden on this side of the camp overwatching the airstrip with an M60. He's only about fifty meters from where I left Lane.

"Here's what I propose." Riley reached out and tapped a team member. "Frank, you lase the target at 0425 as we coordinated. When the first round from Spectre impacts, Dan, you take out the guy closest to us with your AK. Lane will hit the guy on the far side of the camp and keep that way out under surveillance. He'll shoot anyone trying to leave by the road. I'm figuring the two guys on guard in the camp will get wasted by Spectre. If not, then, Dan, you take them down." Riley looked at Powers. "How's that sound?"

The team sergeant gave a ghostly smile in the dark. "Sounds good to me."

"Additionally, the small plane we saw in the imagery isn't there anymore, so we don't have to worry about that. If anything tries to come in during the hit, we'll let Spectre deal with it." He turned to Marzan. "Hosea, go ahead and get the radio set up."

"Right, Chief."