positions, but realized he was falling behind Peter and it was important to be synchronized. He also knew the suppressing fire would run out of ammunition.
When they were near the barricades protecting the gunmen, Peter stopped next to a concrete abutment that provided about thirty percent cover. The other flanker was more secure in a doorway. The terrorists could not get a clear shot. Each flanking Ranger was firing. Peter signaled to stop firing. When the firing quit for a moment, the terrorists both jumped up and tried to take aim, but Peter had been waiting in firing position. He fired two headshots, side by side. The gunfight was over. They charged the position, each firing more rounds into their targets.
Behind them, Striker Two and his soldier ran to the taxi. Daylight was helping now and they could see that the taxi was empty. The Striker Two EOD team was hailed as Peter called Little Bird One for pickup.
Back in the air, Striker One continued east on Wabash against the snarled one-way traffic. The observation team was becoming adept at using their tools and was able to move their gaze up the street faster than the Little Bird was flying. After two hours of flight time, they needed fuel. Peter had allowed Striker Two to return a few minutes earlier when they finished one route. His team finished Wabash and turned toward base. It took ten minutes to fly to Naperville, with fuel below minimums at final approach.
On the ground, everyone was given thirty minutes of personal time. Peter got a bottle of water and an apple, then went back to the helicopter to use the radio. He called headquarters for information regarding casualties at the federal building. He wanted to ask specifically about Rachael, but felt it would sound too much like a personal call.
Headquarters said, “Sir, the latest info confirms three dead and roughly twenty-five seriously injured, five very critical, over.”
Peter felt a pit in his stomach thinking that odds did not favor Rachael, “Ah, roger, where are the injured now? Over.”
Headquarters answered, “Wait one. Sir, it looks like they were Medevac’ed to several suburban hospitals, but we don’t have specifics yet, over.”
“Roger that, Shields Out.”
He had a severe headache from sleep deprivation and dehydration. He needed sleep, and lots of water. Thirty minutes went by quickly.
Peter instructed his team, “All right men, you know the drill, two bad guys to go.”
The sun had risen above the horizon. This would help the observers to spot suspect taxis. Peter ordered, “All right men, mount up, let’s go get some terrorists!” Within a minute, the aircraft were spooling engines with everyone aboard.
They reached the outskirts of town flying over massive destruction and gridlocked cars, which had not been so visible in the earlier darkness. Looking at the destruction below galvanized the resolve of the Rangers.
Little Birds One and Two resumed sweeps for the next hour, without results. Frustrated, Peter decided to freelance down the arterial streets leading into Chicago, the biggest being Grand and Warren. He radioed Striker Two.
Two answered, “Two here sir, over.”
Peter spoke, “Striker Two, when you complete current sweep, turn south down Warren Blvd. I will take Grand. Maybe our boys are snarled in traffic, over.”
Stokes said, “HUA Colonel, over.”
“Striker One, out.”
Little Bird One banked left at Grand and flowed along the endless stream of cars, many abandoned, blocking the avenue. About a mile from downtown, they found their prey. Caught between other non-moving cars, the taxi could not move. The driver could be seen clearly with his head resting on his forearms against the wheel. As the helicopter approached, he looked up, saw them, and became panicky, yelling and screaming inside the car. As the helicopter past over slowly, the rear door of the cab thrust open and a gunman stepped out, taking aim. They were only one hundred feet above when bullets came through the floor. Both airmen were hit before the pilot could get the nose down to gain speed. The Rangers could not reach the EOD team while the helicopter maneuvered wildly. The pilot’s seats are armored, so they have some protection from ground fire, but the passengers were vulnerable.
The pilot dove to within a few feet of the car roofs, then pulled level accelerating through 100 miles per hour. After traveling about a quarter mile, he banked hard away from traffic. The EOD airmen were pulled back into the helicopter and battle dressings applied. Both had been hit in the legs. One was hit in both legs with arterial bleeding. Peter radioed Striker Two and ordered him to their position ASAP. He then ordered the aircraft to hover above the cars where he could jump out, sending the aircraft to medical facilities. The other Ranger was told to remain aboard to aid the wounded. He then jumped to the hood of a car five feet below. The helicopter departed immediately.
He rolled off the car and crouched between the rows. No people were visible. He began running toward the taxi. In the distance, he could see Striker Two approaching fast at low altitude. They needed to get closer for the headset communicator to work. He ran about a hundred more meters and began calling Little Bird Two.
Peter yelled, “Striker Two, abort! Abort! Over.”
Next, he saw the underbelly of the helicopter as the pilot yanked up and rolled left gaining distance from the car. They were no longer among the tall Chicago buildings. Little Bird Two moved a quarter mile away awaiting contact with Peter.
Over the radio he heard, “Striker One this is Striker Two, over.”
Peter complimented, “Good move Two. See the bogey at your four o’clock? I’m 100 meters south in the line of cars, over.”
Stokes said, “Ah, roger that One, I have visual of bogey and your position, over.”
“Okay Two, I need you to flank with a strafing run. Have M4’s firing with a fast pass at two hundred meters standoff range. Fire high to avoid other cars. You’ll be a decoy, over.”
“Roger One, we’re the lamb. Will begin strafing run on your mark, over.”
He could see activity in Little Bird Two moving the EOD men behind the shooters and the Rangers outboard.
“Okay Two---Mark!
The Little Bird dove downward and forward gaining speed. The pilot went south of his position before turning parallel along the line of cars. Peter began running toward the taxi, farther up the line of cars. At full speed, someone threw open his car door ahead of him. An angry man jumped out of the car, yelling something hostile. Peter could not stop to banter with the man. His M4 barrel hit him squarely in the abdomen sending him down like a brick. Peter slammed the door, which pinched the fellow’s chest viciously. He’d lost about three seconds and ran at full speed. Little Bird Two sped past him with carbines blazing as instructed. While still three car lengths back, the gunman in the taxi opened fire on Little Bird Two, which jinxed right and left to thwart his aim. The shooter tried to aim again at Little Bird Two as they maneuvered, when Peter stopped and fired. His shot was perfect, and the man’s head exploded like a watermelon. The body jerked forward onto the trunk of another car. Peter fired twice again into his back.
There was another fanatic face in the car. He wasn’t in the driver’s seat, but sprawled across the back wildly trying to pull out the rear seat. With the mercury switch, he could detonate the bomb with a violent thrust. His eyes appeared in the rear window as he looked up to see Peter behind the car aiming at his face. In desperation the man raised his arms and shouted something in Arabic as he tried to surrender, “Sorry man, no prisoners today.” Peter fired three rounds into his face. “Enjoy your seventy virgins friend.”
Peter called Stokes, “Striker Two, copy?”
Stokes replied, “Roger One, we’re fine. Ready for EOD? Over.”
“Good to hear, let’s get this thing secured, out.”
The EOD team was on the ground in a few seconds after the Little Bird Two landed beside the road. The Rangers huddled along with the pilots allowing them the work. Within minutes the bomb was secure and the car locked. They
were getting the routine down--one bomb to go!
Taking to the air again, they continued the grid-based search throughout the morning, returning for fuel every two hours. At noon, there was quiet resolve that the last bomb was well hidden. This discouraged the teams that had had such great success earlier in the morning and the bodies showed their weariness. Peter called headquarters and requested that the Governor send all available Guard and state law enforcement to the area to do a ground search, including inside parking areas.
Late in the day, they needed fuel and food. Peter also knew the men needed sleep, so he declared a six-hour rest. The pilots had rotated every fuel stop, but they were also handling constant stress flying in close quarters. For safety, Peter knew they all needed rest.
At base in Naperville, some cots had been setup in a military frame tent. During his gulf assignments, Peter had lived in these tents; and right now, they looked like home. He removed his armor vest and utility belt, and crashed onto the cot, sleeping for about four hours, despite the daytime noise surrounding them.
Sleep wasn’t completely restful. Fatigue forced him into moments of deep sleep, but most of the time visions of his comrades at the federal building kept him from peace. In high-intensity conflicts, combatants bond closer than siblings. These people had become his kin in the hours leading up to