Page 1 of True Valor
Prologue
The radio in Nic D’Onofrio’s earcrackled.
“Hey, Nic, did you find us a soft place toland?”
“Na-ah.Should I have?”Nic spoke, the mic inhis ear picking up his own voice.
Someone whined.“Joey always does.”
“Yeah, well, Joey spoils you guys.I’m thenavigator tonight.Leave the drop zone to me.”
A standing joke for several years, one BravoSquad never let Alpha forget.A member of Alpha Squad had landedwrong on a jump and broken his ankle.If that weren’t enough, he’dbeen dragged by his chute through the mud screaming in pain; all onvideo tape for the entire unit to see.It hadn’t been thenavigator’s fault but Joey took the opportunity anyway to give hima piece of sound advice.“Always look for a soft place to land.”From there, the conversation had degenerated.
On this jump, they’d have to survive withoutJoey.He was in Afghanistan for another week.No big deal.Everyman on Bravo Squad was trained to navigate jumps.
“Amigo, you think you can do thiswithout Joey?”Eric Cruz’s voice snapped with humor.Any of themcould do this stuff half asleep.
Nic mentally flipped him off.“I think I can.I think I can.I think I can.”At terminal velocity, he had toshout to be heard over the air whipping past him at one hundredtwenty-five miles per hour.Nic braced himself as he approached thecloud deck.He squinted to see the altimeter on his wrist assnowflakes pelted him, hard as bullets.
“In the clouds.”Lt.Quillen’s voice cameover the radio.Seconds ticked away.
“I’m out.”
At six thousand feet, Quillen gave the orderto separate so the team could open their chutes.One by one, theychecked in.
“Navigator okay,” Nic reported as soon as hischute deployed.The others followed suit.
“All chutes okay.”
Now out of the clouds, Nic could see thelights of town twinkle in the distance, the cold making them looklike candles.It only took seconds to find the target dropzone.
“Navigator?”Quillen again.
“Got it.Turning right to headingone-nine-three degrees.”
“Make it a soft place, Nic.”
Nic let out an evil laugh.“I’m headed forthe rocks.Suck it up.”
The unit commander, Colonel Rick McIntyre,known as Mac to his squads, leaned heavily against the north wallof the pararescue headquarters, watching Bravo Squad unload thelast of the gear from the back of the truck.Dawn would breakbefore any of them got any shuteye.
He cleared the lump from his throat thensmiled, watching his parajumpers congratulate each other with slapson the back.A jump that went off without a hitch was no smallvictory.
The snow fell in swirls almost obstructingMac’s view.Even with their faces covered in camo paint, and withlimited visibility, he knew these guys well enough to know whichone was which.Mac loved his PJs.Sure, he had to rein them insometimes but he never had to jump-start them.They were ready foranything any time.Simpliciter Paratus!
Mac caught Quillen’s eye and motioned himover to where he stood.Please, God, don’t let me choke.Hisstomach churned.Please, God, don’t let me puke.
Lieutenant David Quillen, Bravo’s CombatRescue Officer, straightened and walked crisply over to Mac.
“Sir,” he said, saluting, “you’re here late.”Mac could see recognition of his seriousness in Quillen’s eyes.
Mac slapped David on the back, smiled as besthe could.“Great job tonight, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Before your team leaves, David, I need tospeak to them.”
A momentary grimace may have chased acrosshis lieutenant’s face.But then the young man squared his shouldersand nodded.
