Free SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops VI - Guantanamo by Eric Meyer Page B

was no way anyone could mistake them for anything other than what they were. Trouble.
    The only US military equipment was the parachute packs strapped to their bodies. No one had asked Evers to locate Soviet 'chutes. Risking your life to fight a known enemy is one thing. Risking your life with a Soviet parachute is something else. The Marine Corps had rustled up an MC-5 Free-Fall Ram Air Parachute for each of them, together with the necessary wrist mounted GPS devices. The plan was to hide them in a deep hole as soon as they landed.
    The first problem came when Evers began to strap on the webbing.
    "You're in a hurry?" John-Wesley asked him.
    "In a hurry, I don't get it, what do you mean?"
    "It's just that you have it back to front. The big pack, the main parachute, fits on your back. The small pack is the reserve. It'll save your life, but you'll go down fast and hit the ground hard." He shrugged, "It's your choice."
    Without a word of thanks, the CIA man began to unbuckle straps.
    "You've done this before?" Nolan asked him.
    "Of course. I did the parachute course last year, and since then I've done three jumps, all free-fall."
    "I meant a HALO jump, from a helo four miles up in the sky. Using your lines and GPS system to navigate to an LZ five miles away."
    "Well, no, I haven't. But I'll be okay. It's just a parachute jump."
    "You ever jumped from an Osprey?"
    He shook his head.
    "Okay, we'll need headsets so we can stay in touch. I'll help get you down. It won't be as easy as you think."
    "No headsets," Evers shook his head, "We can't take the chance. The only communications we can take with us are civilian satphones. Nothing else, those are the rules."
    "In that case, you'll die."
    Evers stared at him for a few moments. Then he strode off, and a few minutes later returned with two headsets.
    "We have to ditch these, bury them with the parachutes as soon as we land."
    "I was considering selling them to a Cuban militiaman. Should raise a few bucks."
    His head jerked up, and then he grimaced. "Yeah, real funny."
    They looked up as the flight deck controller approached. "The crew is ready to go. You can board."
    They looked at Nolan and he nodded. "Let's get this done."

    * * *

    The flight in the Bell Boeing V-22 Osprey was long and noisy. They had to travel a distance of over a thousand klicks sitting in seats constructed of canvas riveted to aluminum frames. The enormous rotors tilted upward to enable the ungainly aircraft to take off vertically. Once in flight, the nacelles turned through ninety degrees, and the rotors became huge propellers. One thing the designers hadn't put too much effort into was noise suppression. The combination of engine noise, rotor noise, and slipstream as the craft flew through the night sky was a deafening cacophony.
    "I always fancied a vacation in the Caribbean," Brad smiled. He had to shout to make himself heard over the noise, "Dusky girls, Margaritas on the beach, salsa music, sunshine, sand, and surfing."
    "Ugly soldiers and militia with guns, poverty, squalor, and fear. That about sums up Cuba."
    "They have girls as well," he objected.
    "Yeah, and the girls have husbands, brothers, and fathers who serve in the militia. They have guns."
    Brad pulled a face and gave up.
    They'd left the deck of the USS Scott as the light was starting to fade. The journey took two and a half hours, flying at four hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, and they were mentally and physically numbed by the time the crew chief informed them they were five minutes from the drop point.
    They put on masks and switched to their personal oxygen supply, as the Osprey had climbed steadily for the past half-hour, so it came as no surprise. Each man checked the gear of his neighbor. Nolan did a check with Evers, and they moved to the ramp at the rear. The motors whined as the ramp started to lower, and the jumpmaster clipped his harness to the fuselage and waited for the order from the cockpit. Then he turned to them and