Wilson Codename Ryan

1. Auflage 2012
ISBN: 978-1-62095-788-2
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 650 Seiten

It is an Action/Adventure yarn but also a deeply moving love story about two people who, despite all odds, never gave up on each other. The story spans four continents and twenty years.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Wilson, Jack

Leseproben

Chapter Two
Ray, Glen and three other pilots were being briefed on a “hunter killer “mission down around Soc Trang which was at the edge of the infamous U Minh forest, “Charlie’s heaven”. That meant two Cobras’ were to follow one OH 6, small Scout helicopter, the pilots simply called it a Loach. Every other Helicopter pilot in Vietnam was convinced that all Loach pilots were “nuts.” These guys would actually be down to less than ten feet off the ground, flying their Loach with one hand and firing an M-16 rifle through their open door with the other. They all considered themselves part John Wayne and real Cowboy! They were lunatics but they could also carry their balls around in wheelbarrows. Their Loach Driver for today was Sam Stone, a tall, quiet southern boy from Alabama and a good friend of Ray’s. They shook hands warmly. “Say Ray, good to see you pal, glad I gots me the first team today”. The other cobra pilot was Tom Seavers, a recent upgrade to PIC, (Pilot in Command) status. After receiving all of the mission requirements they walked over to one of the briefing tables. Ray, being the senior man started. “Sam, now please no heroics today huh, find them, mark them with a willy pete (A smoke grenade) then get the hell out of there. Tom and I will do the rest. Tom, I want you in a loose trail formation. Now this is important, if Sam finds something and calls us in I want you at least a klick (a kilometer) behind me. I’ll start my run with rocket fire about two klicks out as soon as we get within range Glen will cut loose with the mini-gun. Stay off the “Chunker” Glen, it’s too slow. We need fire power!” The Chunker was the 40 mm gun that was next to the mini-gun in the Cobra’s turret. Its rate of fire was too slow and it wasn’t very accurate. It was basically a grenade launcher that just sort of lobed the rounds out there at a rate of nearly four hundred rounds a minute though. It wouldn’t penetrate buildings but was deadly against troops in the open, if a pilot could actually hit anything. “You have to be ready with your rocket fire Tom to cover my break and then of course your front seater comes in with his mini-gun. If Charlie is going to get you, it will be during your break! Then I will do a steep climb and come back with a “wing over” to cover your break. If there’s anything left to shoot at after that we’ll form up at least five klicks away and do the whole maneuver again. I have to know where you are Tom and I don’t want to have to look for you. Everybody got it?” Ray looked around and everyone was nodding. Tom Seavers hesitated a minute, “what exactly do you mean if Sam calls us in, remember I’m kind of new to this.” Ray started to answer then Sam took the floor. “Tom, if Charlie sees you two Snakes behind me, hell, he ain’t goina want to fight, hell man, he’s scared shitless of you guys. I have to park you guys somewhere and get Charlie to want to take me on….get it?” Tom only smiled as he and his front seater got up to leave. As they reached the door Ray grabbed Sam’s arm lightly. “I mean it Sam; I don’t want to have to call out “Flat Iron” (the medivac helicopters all over South Vietnam were called Flat Iron.) for you, no cowboying today okay, mark the target then get the hell out of there.” “Heh, no problem brother, I gots me Darkhorse 22 covering my ass. Today, I don’t have to duke it out with nooooobody.” He said as he playfully put his arm around Ray. All Scout pilots loved to have a good Cobra pilot covering them. To many that was the difference between life and a body bag. They headed down the V Thanh Canal but like all good Scout pilots Sam kept the flight off the canal itself. Too many trees, too many places for Charlie to hide then pop up and try and bust your ass from behind you. Most times though Charlie wouldn’t dare shoot at a Loach if he saw it was accompanied by a couple of Cobras. Most Viet Cong and North Vietnamese regulars, for that matter, hated but also feared the lethal Cobra. Sam found a small burm between some rice paddies and motioned for the Snakes to sit down there. As Ray slowly pulled up to sit his Cobra on the burm he saw Tom coming in beside him. “Come on Tom, reverse your direction for Christ sake, you have to cover our rear, I don’t want someone sneaking up behind us. We’re in bad guy country out here partner, we’re only about twenty klicks from the U Minh Forest,” Ray snapped in the radio. “Sorry Ray, I guess I wasn’t thinking.” Tom came back softly on the radio as he immediately lifted the sleek Cobra and reversed his direction before sitting down again. Ray saw him coming before he heard Sam first yell. The little Loach was heading toward them as fast as he could go. “Go gettem Ray, I marked it with a Willy Pete.” Sam almost yelled as went screaming by in his little Loach. In another second Ray was airborne and Tom was in tow. He backed off as Ray had ordered. This was his first mission as a “back seat PIC and his flight gloves and the upper part of his flight suit were already soaking wet despite the very efficient air conditioning in the Cobra. He loved every minute of it though, especially to get to fly the wing of “Darkhorse 22.” “Okay Tom, see the Willy Pete up ahead, about 6 klicks, twelve o’clock, hell there’s troops in the open! I’m starting my run, cover my break now.” Just then from the tree line someone opened up with a “51”. Ray’s thumb had already slid to the “rocket button, as soon as he saw the familiar orange tracers coming at him he reached down and changed his selection panel from two pair to four. Each pilot was flying what was called a “heavy hog,” a Cobra with four 19 shot rocket pods but no 20mm He pushed it twice! Eight pair of deadly 2.75 inch rockets were sent screaming toward the tree line. The firing from the 51 stopped as the men were probably running for cover. He fired four more pair before Glen was in range with his awesome mini-gun and he was good with it. Glen kept firing even as Ray started his break. The turret on the Cobra would traverse seventy six degrees either side of center line per second. Just as Ray made his steep break he saw Tom’s rockets start impacting, right on cue! “That boy has promise” Ray said to himself as henow confidently climbed steeply, rolled the Cobra over on it back then dive directly at the target again to cover Tom’s break. He only fired two more pair, there wasn’t much left to shoot at and he saw a small explosion near the heavy machine gun. Glen cut down about four more soldiers trying to run into the rice paddies. Ray rolled out and looking behind him he saw Tom diving at the target one last time. They formed up again about ten klicks north. Sam flew by the target area one last time to make sure they had finished the job. The Army’s version of a post mission recon. ”Damn, you dudes do good work. Now that’s what I call putting on a fire power display.” Sam said over the radio. ”Ray, no wonder everyone calls you the hottest gun in the Delta son.” Deadly tracers from heavy automatic weapons coming at an aircraft had an almost hypnotic affect on the pilots. That was why Ray would instruct all new Gun pilots not to look at the tracers, only where they were coming from. They appeared to come at you in slow motion and had a near light show affect. Slow motion that is until they went tearing by your canopy. Normally every fifth or sixth round from a heavy machine gun or multi-barreled canon would be a tracer, a bullet with some type of bright paint on it so the shooter could see where his rounds were going. Every different gun had its own unique color, thus the tracers immediately told the pilot what type of gun he was up against. The “light show” in itself was almost captivating, as long as it didn’t hit you of course but then the pilot realized that he was seeing only every fifth or sixth round. That would bring the pilot back to reality……….FAST! “Okay guys, show’s over, lead us home Sam. Tom, that was some mighty fine shooting today, I’m proud of you; you can fly my wing anytime pal. Your cover fire was Johnny on the spot,” Ray said softly over the radio. “Thanks Ray, coming from you that’s one hell of a compliment,” the young Cobra Pilot answered. “Is anybody going down to the “Ville to night” Glen asked? “Hey, hell, why not, I’ll join you Glen, I could use me a little nookie tonight,” Sam said. “How bout you Ray, couldn’t you use a little putang tonight,” Sam asked over the radio with a chuckle. “Naw, think I’ll pass tonight Sam, you guys go but leave my “darlins” alone,” Ray answered. “Which ones are yours Ray” Tom asked? ”All of the pretty ones between fifteen and forty but only if they have most of their own teeth, he said, trying to sound as serious as he could.” “Okay guys cut the chatter; I have to call us in the Can Tho tower, by the way has anyone seen Dead Eye lately,” Sam asked but at the same time you could hear the laughter in his voice. “If you do Sam throw him a bottle of whiskey,” Ray said with a chuckle. “Can’t do that Amigo, it might improve his aim,” Sam answered. After landing, as they were all walking toward Ops...