ran, I couldn’t help but second guess myself. What if this really was a rescue party? Then I dismissed the thought. There wasn’t anyone left in the world that was flying helicopters other than us and the Russians. Well, perhaps the Aussies, but they were about 12,000 miles away. The only thing I was certain of was the fact that the rotors I’d heard hadn’t been American. That was enough for me.
Reaching the strobe, I yanked it free of the rock it was tied to and began trying to open the protective cover on the base. I didn’t want to damage it, not knowing if I might need it later. But my cold, stiff fingers didn’t want to cooperate. I fumbled with the device for what felt like far too long.
Finally, I gave up and used the knife to pry the cover off. Beneath was a small switch, and using the tip of the blade I moved it to the off position. Glancing at the strobe through night vision to make sure it was really off, I shoved it into a pocket. And none too soon.
I looked up as a large helicopter passed directly overhead at no more than a couple of hundred feet of altitude. Watching it, I cursed when I recognized the shape of a Russian Hind. I stayed in place for a moment, wondering if they’d spotted me.
Did they have FLIR? Even if they did, maybe the layers of clothing I was wearing had hidden me from their instruments. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to hide from thermal imaging. The human body is almost always a different temperature than the surrounding environment.
But this was an exceptional circumstance. I was wearing several thick layers. No skin other than a thin strip for my eyes was exposed. With the wind, maybe any body heat that made it to the surface layer of my clothing was immediately cooled enough to make me invisible. Or maybe they didn’t have FLIR. Maybe.
Whatever the reason, they weren’t turning to come back to my location. Instead, the big helo came into a hover a couple of hundred yards away, the pilot fighting the gusts. Slowly it descended until the landing gear brushed the ground. The troop door opened and six figures jumped out, quickly spreading into a wide semi-circle.
I flattened my body against the frozen tundra, more worried about night vision on the soldiers than FLIR at the moment. The Hind gained altitude and began a slow orbit of the area. It passed over me once without slowing or deviating. This confirmed for me that they either didn’t have thermal sights or my theory about the layers of clothing was correct. Either way, the helo wasn’t spotting me. But that didn’t help conceal me from the squad of soldiers that was slowly walking in my direction.
They must have seen the strobe before I was able to shut it down. Not well enough to pinpoint my location, but certainly enough of a look to start searching in the right area. Shit!
Hugging the ground, I crawled a dozen yards to take advantage of a small pile of boulders. Not large enough to completely hide behind, but enough to keep my form from standing out against the ground. Peeking around the edge, I checked on the approaching Russians.
The six of them had formed up, spread out along a line of about 150 yards. That meant a 30-yard gap between each man. Not much space, especially in this unforgiving terrain. But, with their slow pace, and the aid of night vision, nothing would be able to slip between them. That left the option of going around.
I was about two-thirds of the way from the left end of the line, somewhere between the second and third man. Looking behind me, I wasn’t happy when I confirmed there weren’t any terrain features that I could use for concealment. It was no different to my front. If I started trying to crawl away, they’d spot me.
That left one option. Head towards the ocean and climb down the bluff I’d been using for shelter. The only problem with that was I’d be trapped on a narrow strip of
Reaching the strobe, I yanked it free of the rock it was tied to and began trying to open the protective cover on the base. I didn’t want to damage it, not knowing if I might need it later. But my cold, stiff fingers didn’t want to cooperate. I fumbled with the device for what felt like far too long.
Finally, I gave up and used the knife to pry the cover off. Beneath was a small switch, and using the tip of the blade I moved it to the off position. Glancing at the strobe through night vision to make sure it was really off, I shoved it into a pocket. And none too soon.
I looked up as a large helicopter passed directly overhead at no more than a couple of hundred feet of altitude. Watching it, I cursed when I recognized the shape of a Russian Hind. I stayed in place for a moment, wondering if they’d spotted me.
Did they have FLIR? Even if they did, maybe the layers of clothing I was wearing had hidden me from their instruments. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to hide from thermal imaging. The human body is almost always a different temperature than the surrounding environment.
But this was an exceptional circumstance. I was wearing several thick layers. No skin other than a thin strip for my eyes was exposed. With the wind, maybe any body heat that made it to the surface layer of my clothing was immediately cooled enough to make me invisible. Or maybe they didn’t have FLIR. Maybe.
Whatever the reason, they weren’t turning to come back to my location. Instead, the big helo came into a hover a couple of hundred yards away, the pilot fighting the gusts. Slowly it descended until the landing gear brushed the ground. The troop door opened and six figures jumped out, quickly spreading into a wide semi-circle.
I flattened my body against the frozen tundra, more worried about night vision on the soldiers than FLIR at the moment. The Hind gained altitude and began a slow orbit of the area. It passed over me once without slowing or deviating. This confirmed for me that they either didn’t have thermal sights or my theory about the layers of clothing was correct. Either way, the helo wasn’t spotting me. But that didn’t help conceal me from the squad of soldiers that was slowly walking in my direction.
They must have seen the strobe before I was able to shut it down. Not well enough to pinpoint my location, but certainly enough of a look to start searching in the right area. Shit!
Hugging the ground, I crawled a dozen yards to take advantage of a small pile of boulders. Not large enough to completely hide behind, but enough to keep my form from standing out against the ground. Peeking around the edge, I checked on the approaching Russians.
The six of them had formed up, spread out along a line of about 150 yards. That meant a 30-yard gap between each man. Not much space, especially in this unforgiving terrain. But, with their slow pace, and the aid of night vision, nothing would be able to slip between them. That left the option of going around.
I was about two-thirds of the way from the left end of the line, somewhere between the second and third man. Looking behind me, I wasn’t happy when I confirmed there weren’t any terrain features that I could use for concealment. It was no different to my front. If I started trying to crawl away, they’d spot me.
That left one option. Head towards the ocean and climb down the bluff I’d been using for shelter. The only problem with that was I’d be trapped on a narrow strip of
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