Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star Read Online Free

desert east of Midland Station was again disturbed by the pounding reverberations of military helicopters passing overhead.
    Eight Blackhawk general-purpose helicopters flew in formation, each carrying 11 infantrymen outfitted for airmobile assault. The transports vectored toward the open desert, their destination a patch of flat sand not more than 100 meters away from the parking lot full of trucks. Their trucks. The trucks they intended to take back.
    The empty field of scrub and loose soil had been chosen for the landing zone due to a variety of reasons. First and foremost, up to four birds could land and disgorge their troops at the same time. It wasn’t any secret that aircraft were the most vulnerable while on the ground. Everyone from the lowest private to the pilots themselves dreaded that brief amount of time they would be earth-bound.
    In addition to the close proximity to their target, the other primary justification for using open desert was the curtain of dust kicked up by the rotor wash. The US Army had been fighting in desert environments for most of the past three decades, and the shroud created by the cloud of sand and soil was deemed well worth the loss of visibility suffered by the pilots. If there were any shooters out there brave enough to risk the wrath of the covering Apache gunships, the planners hoped the manmade dust storm would at least throw off their aim.
    In they came, low to the ground and moving at over 100 mph. The first flight of four Blackhawks approached from the east with the rising sun behind them. Appearing as if they were controlled by a single mind, all four flared their noses and slowed dramatically at the last moment.
    When the wheels were a foot off the ground, experienced sergeants and officers started screaming at the huddled troops to hit the ground. Men poured out of the wide bay doors in a seemingly endless stream.
    Of the seven Alliance teams, only five had a clear view of the landing zone. Most of the nervous men manning the long rifles had military experience, some even having performed similar assaults in Iraq and Afghanistan. High-powered scopes, already zeroed in for their respective ranges, centered on their targets. Sweaty fingers began to squeeze triggers.
    The first shot from the Alliance snipers shattered the bubble glass on one of the troop transports. The second hit the GE turbine engine powering the rotor. Shot after shot began to impact men and machines.
    The damage suffered by the landing force probably wouldn’t have been that great were it not for one bullet that killed a pilot just as he was taking off. The warrant officer’s final convulsions caused his craft to accelerate, listing hard to starboard and flipping vertically just a few feet above the ground. One of the rotors slammed into the earth, spinning the fuselage into a missile in its own right and propelling it directly at another nearby Blackhawk.
    The collision and resulting explosion generated a huge fireball and plume of black smoke, showering the surrounding area with deadly fragments of both airframes. Fourteen men lost their lives in that moment.
    Chaos had erupted outside of Midland Station, Texas.
    One of the Apache pilots spotted the muzzle blast of an Alliance defender. Within moments, the deadly chain gun mounted under the gunship’s nose began to spit 20mm rounds into the sniper’s hide. Slaved to the pilot’s helmet, the bird didn’t even have to change course. Wherever the pilot looked, the gun followed. Nick’s two-man crew was killed before they realized they had been spotted.
    Despite Nick’s instructions to avoid engaging any gunships, one of the Alliance teams found themselves with no option. The lead Apache detected them and began moving in a slow hover toward their position. It would be only a matter of moments before they were exposed. Concluding they were dead anyway, the shooter centered his crosshairs on the front windshield of the approaching gunship and fired a 700