Cut Out Read Online Free Page A

map. He spread it on the ground, pulled a poncho liner out of his rucksack, and threw it over both Murphy and him. Shining his red-lens flashlight on the map, he pointed at the location where they had made the snatch.
    “We took off from here. What direction was the initial leg of the exfil route?”
    “South-southwest.”
    Riley drew a dirty finger along the map. “How long were we in flight?”
    Murphy pushed the button on his watch and glanced at it. “Twenty minutes.”
    “What’s a Caribou’s cruising speed?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “A hundred and eighty knots,” Riley said immediately. “How far is that in twenty minutes?” As he waited for the reply, Riley rolled his right shoulder in a circle, trying to work out the ache that had been bothering him for the last two hours.
    “About sixty miles?” Murphy replied.
    “About,” Riley confirmed. “So where are we?”
    Murphy looked at the map. His finger tentatively poked at an airstrip marked in black. “Here?”
    “Right.” Riley waited a second. “Well? What do we do now?”
    “Call for emergency exfiltration.” Murphy didn’t wait for a confirmation. He threw aside the poncho and grabbed the handset for the radio. “Bear Base, this is Bear Six. Over.”
    The reply was instantaneous. “This is Bear Base. Over.”
    “Bear Base, this is Bear Six. We are down and request emergency pickup. Over.”
    “Roger, Bear Six. What is your location? Over.”
    Murphy turned to Riley and grabbed the map out of his hand. “Wait one.” The team leader turned on his flashlight and checked the lines on the map. “Uh, Bear Base, our location is—wait one.” Murphy looked around, then pulled out his compass and shot an azimuth to the control tower. He calculated for a few moments. “Bear Base, our location is grid Uniform Sierra one six eight three four seven. I say again, Uniform Sierra one six eight three four seven. Over.”
    “I read Uniform Sierra one six eight three four seven for emergency pickup. Is that correct? Over.”
    “Roger. Over.”
    “What is your status? Over.”
    Murphy frowned as he considered the question.
    “Do you have any casualties?” the voice asked, more plainly. “Over.”
    “Negative. Over.”
    “Chopper on the way. Mark PZ with IR. Out.”
    Murphy gave the handset back to the commo man and stood. “Potter, mark out an LZ with IR chem lights.”
    “Who’s got the chem lights?” Potter yelled. Riley winced as he glanced around the airfield. They were more than half a mile from the darkened control tower and the hangars at the base of it, but Riley was still very uncomfortable with the lack of noise discipline. They were inside enemy territory. He looked over at the Caribou. The pilot was working on his plane.
    Riley was surprised to hear the distant chatter of a helicopter so quickly. The aircraft must have been on station, not far from the border. Potter was standing about fifty yards away, in the open field where he had laid out his chem lights. Riley grabbed Murphy’s shoulder. “Tell the chopper not to approach from the south.”
    “What?”
    The bird was close, no more than a half mile out. Riley pointed to Potter. “Tell the bird not to approach from the south. You see that tree there?” A lone thirty-foot pine tree reached up into the night sky less than forty yards from Potter’s PZ. If the helicopter came in on a glide path from the south—which it most likely would—it would hit the tree.
    Riley reached past Murphy and grabbed the handset. “Inbound helicopter, this is Bear One. Over.” A relaxed voice came back, the sound of the blades close in the background. “This is Stalker Four Three. Over.”
    “PZ marked by IR chem lights. There’s a tree—thirty feet high—on the south side of the PZ. Otherwise your approaches are all clear. Over.”
    “Roger. Tree on south side. We’re coming in from the west and we’ll stay on that. We’re about thirty seconds out. Over.”
    Riley turned to face