Page 66 of Confessions of an Apache Pilot

Today it stretched out in front of me like a horizontal version of vertigo. I couldn’t run it fast enough. It was like that dream that everyone had at one point in their life, where you were running from some kind of monster and you may as well have been running through quicksand. You couldn’t make any progress, and all the while the monster that scared you kept getting closer and closer.

Everything around me was moving in slow motion. There were people to the sides of the path that seemed to be standing still. There wasn’t time to acknowledge them. I could be running past the President of the United States himself and I wouldn’t give a fuck. The only thing I could hear was the thundering of my heart slamming against my chest and the thumping of my boots hitting the pavement. Fear choked me as I sucked in breaths and pushed my body harder, faster. Nothing else mattered but getting to Mark and Artie.

As fast as I ran, the road only seemed to stretch out farther. It expanded out before me like a never ending mountain path that had to be traversed. My thoughts were a jumble. I couldn’t seem to focus on what needed to be done. The only thing I could think about was what could happen while they were vulnerable, on the ground, in enemy territory. They were in trouble. He was in trouble.

My lungs burned with the effort, but I wasn’t slowing down. I wanted to scream, to cry out at this damned base for being so big, at my body for being too slow. It may have only been a matter of a minute to get to the aircraft but I couldn’t waste a single second. My whole life was practically a montage of running—running from my past, from my happiness, running from Mark—and now I couldn’t run fast enough.

I rounded the corner to the entrance to the flightline. I could see my helicopter. My other helicopter, the HH-60 we had for exactly this. I was almost there. The thundering silence was replaced by the APU powering up. Nick was already there. I could see Karolyn standing next to my door, grabbing my flight vest and holding it out for me.

Pride was pushing its way through the terror. When they had gotten the news they hadn’t wasted time looking for me, or asked what to do. I knew I’d trained them well, but now, when it counted, they proved they knew what to do and did so automatically. I couldn't have better people under my command. I couldn’t be more grateful to them.

All at once the world sped back up to real time. I skidded to a stop, grabbed my vest from Karolyn, and threw it over my shoulders. Jumping into my seat, I tugged my helmet on. Nick was already next to me, finishing the engine start sequence so we could get in the air. He gave me a brief look, then said, “Finish strapping in, I’ve got this.” Sarah was still home. It would be nice to have her with us right now, but we would make do.

He had it under control, so I buckled up, then grabbed the piece of paper that was next to the GPS. It had coordinates written down, so I started putting them in. I caught movement in my peripheral. Looking up, I watched as two Polaris ATVs careened across the flightline toward the Chinooks. The Green Berets must have gotten the message, too. They were pushing their vehicle to its max speed, but I wouldn't be waiting on them. The faster someone got out to where Mark and Artie went down, the less likely it was that they’d be attacked.

The engines were at full power; I took the controls and started to taxi us out.

“Oh shit!” Karolyn squeaked. I quickly glanced into the back to see someone jumping through the open cargo door. “Uhh... We have a visitor,” she said. It was Ricochet.

“Strap him in,” I said. I spared a glance long enough to see he must have stopped by the armory before bee-lining out to our helicopter. He had a rifle and enough rounds to fend off a small army on his person. We might end up needing all the help we could get.

“Ma’am?” Karolyn asked for clarification.

“Just do it!” I yelled. There was no way he was getting out of this aircraft. I understood that all too well. Plus, he could be extremely useful to us. I knew from the little I’d heard the day we met, the man could handle himself in a fight. The look on his face was grim determination, but when our eyes met there was appreciation there. There was no doubt he’d see it reflecting in my gaze as well. I turned back around and focused on getting ready to go.

I moved us to the end of the flightline, then lifted into the air. We weren’t supposed to take off from here. We should have gone to the runway, but I wasn’t wasting the time. Fuck protocol. I’d happily take an ass chewing from the Colonel after I had our men, my man, safely back on base. Knowing the Colonel, he likely would never ask.

As we got into the air, I pulled max power and turned toward Mark’s last known position. I looked at the gauges, we were right on the edge of the redline. Nick looked at me but didn’t say a word. He knew I wasn’t pulling back, wasn’t slowing down. The steely look on his face told me he’d take over controls himself if I’d been playing it safe. Every person inside this aircraft was ready to run it into the ground as long as we got out to our men in time. Nick called the Ops Center to let them know we were en route.

The radio came alive with chatter.

“Operations, Rage one-six is en route from Bagram, estimated time of arrival forty-five minutes.” That was the A-10s we’d met the night they landed on our base.

“Ops, Godfather Seven, redirecting. estimated time of arrival twenty-five minutes.” The UAVs we’d worked with all year.

The calls continued, one after the other, informing the Ops Center of their location and arrival time. There wasn’t a pause in between. The moment Vasquez acknowledged one unit, another jumped on.

It felt like the whole theater was coming to a stop and redirecting to Mark. It didn’t surprise me. He would drop everything for them. They were down, but they wouldn’t be alone—at least not for long.

Hang on, Mark.

The whole theater was coming to a stop for him. It was a never ending sea of voices, wave after wave stating their intention to help. That’s how it worked. Everyone would be converging on his position now. One of us was in need of help. That was enough. The fact that it was Mark and Artie, the fact that so many of us owed our lives to them, just meant that an overwhelming number of people were rushing to their aid. It was a testament to the two men. They’d risked themselves countless times to help each and every one of us.

My throat burned with unshed tears. Pride was overpowering the fear for the moment. It would return. There was no way I would be able to relax until the men were in the back of my helicopter and I saw the shape they were in. I tightened my grip on the controls and pulled in more power. The gauges jumped into the red.

Nick placed his hand on my shoulder. “We won’t get there at all if we burn up the engines.”

Fighting back tears of anger and frustration, I lowered the power slightly and brought the gauges back to the green. He was right. I had to keep my head in the game if we were going to find them.

“Get on the radio,” I barked at him, “see if his wingman has any new information yet.” Thankfully, Nick did what I asked without comment. He knew my curt mannerisms were from worry and nothing to take personal. Still, I made a mental note to apologize later.

“Archer flight, Dustoff. How do you read?”

“Dustoff, Archer two-nine.” It was Laura’s voice. “Have you loud and clear.”

“We’re six minutes out from the last coordinates given, update?”

“We still haven’t found the aircraft. Their last transmission was broken, not sure if they were shot, or had some kind of electrical issue. We’re searching the canyons, going in concentric circles. Trying to find which valley they landed in.”

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