Echo Six: Black Ops 7 - Tibetan Fury Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Eric Meyer
mags?"
He looked in the canvas bag. "One, you can take it. Guy, see how the rest of them are doing."
He crawled back a couple of minutes later. "They're all low on ammo. Buchmann is down to his last four grenades, and there's about a clip apiece for the HK410s. How about you?"
Talley looked down at his webbing. "Two clips for the MP7. Then we'll be using handguns." He keyed his mic. "Drew, any update on the air support?"
"Give me a few seconds." They watched, and waited. The darkness seemed to press in on them, colder, blacker, despite the brilliant white that covered the ground. The shooting had stopped, and the night was still. "Four minutes," he came back, "They want us in a tight bunch, no more than a five-meter radius. I've given them the satcom coordinates, and they'll triangulate a fire zone way outside our position."
"Roger that. Okay, men, you heard it, so keep tight around this position. We've all seen an AC-130 in action. I don't want any mistakes."
"Amen to that," Guy murmured.
They packed in close to each other, and Talley took over the satcom handset. Almost immediately, the gunship pilot called in; his voice as clear as if he was making a local rate phone call.
"This is Spooky, incoming Alpha Charlie One Three Zero. One minute to target, confirm your location and clearance to open fire."
Talley looked around. They were all squashed in tight like Eskimos huddled together during an Arctic storm. That was a good simile; the storm that was about to hit would resemble the forces of hell, as if they were conjured up by a demon. At least, it would seem that way to the people on the receiving end.
"This is Echo One, Alpha Charlie One Three Zero, location confirmed. You're clear to open fire. Repeat, clear to open fire."
"Roger that, Echo One. Hold on to your hats, and say a prayer for the other guys."
Like hell!
The Lockheed AC-130 gunship was a heavily armed ground-attack aircraft variant of the C-130 Hercules transport plane. What singled this aircraft out from its cargo-carrying sister ships was the devastating armament, a single General Dynamics GAU-12/U Equalizer, a five-barrel 25mm Gatling-type rotary cannon. Powered by a pneumatic system, the rate of fire was almost two thousand heavy 25mm cannon rounds per minute.
The electric Gatling cannon was mounted to fire from the port side of the aircraft. Typically, the gunship performed a pylon turn, flying in a large circle around the target while keeping the gun fixed on the target, which allowed it to fire for much longer than a conventional attack aircraft. The result was devastating.
The night was lit by bright pinpricks of light, sparkling fireflies that danced toward the ground. Above the AC-130, a pair of F/A 18s patrolled ceaselessly, watching for any sign of interference. The Kashmiris below never knew what hit them. The heavy cannon rounds descended like a solid curtain of satanic rain, smashing into the target and turning flesh and bone into bloody ruin. The thunder of the massive cannon, added to the roar of the four straining turboprops, was awesome. The death toll was even more awesome.
"Jesus Christ," Roy exclaimed, still clutching his wounded shoulder, "I've seen it before, but I still don't believe it."
Instinctively, they pulled tighter into the circle, as far away from that terrible rain of death as possible, from the mechanized terror that came to a small corner of the Kashmiri highlands.
Some men tried to run, but they may as well have tried to avoid droplets of rain in a monsoon. The cannon fire sought them out, tracked them, and tore them apart. And then there were no more targets left to kill. The gunship circled for a few minutes more, seeking another target but without success.
"Echo One, this is Alpha Charlie One Three Zero. You guys okay down there?"
"This is Echo One. We're good. That's a big thank you, guys. We owe you one."
"You're welcome. I just picked up some traffic over the radio. The Night Stalkers are on the
He looked in the canvas bag. "One, you can take it. Guy, see how the rest of them are doing."
He crawled back a couple of minutes later. "They're all low on ammo. Buchmann is down to his last four grenades, and there's about a clip apiece for the HK410s. How about you?"
Talley looked down at his webbing. "Two clips for the MP7. Then we'll be using handguns." He keyed his mic. "Drew, any update on the air support?"
"Give me a few seconds." They watched, and waited. The darkness seemed to press in on them, colder, blacker, despite the brilliant white that covered the ground. The shooting had stopped, and the night was still. "Four minutes," he came back, "They want us in a tight bunch, no more than a five-meter radius. I've given them the satcom coordinates, and they'll triangulate a fire zone way outside our position."
"Roger that. Okay, men, you heard it, so keep tight around this position. We've all seen an AC-130 in action. I don't want any mistakes."
"Amen to that," Guy murmured.
They packed in close to each other, and Talley took over the satcom handset. Almost immediately, the gunship pilot called in; his voice as clear as if he was making a local rate phone call.
"This is Spooky, incoming Alpha Charlie One Three Zero. One minute to target, confirm your location and clearance to open fire."
Talley looked around. They were all squashed in tight like Eskimos huddled together during an Arctic storm. That was a good simile; the storm that was about to hit would resemble the forces of hell, as if they were conjured up by a demon. At least, it would seem that way to the people on the receiving end.
"This is Echo One, Alpha Charlie One Three Zero, location confirmed. You're clear to open fire. Repeat, clear to open fire."
"Roger that, Echo One. Hold on to your hats, and say a prayer for the other guys."
Like hell!
The Lockheed AC-130 gunship was a heavily armed ground-attack aircraft variant of the C-130 Hercules transport plane. What singled this aircraft out from its cargo-carrying sister ships was the devastating armament, a single General Dynamics GAU-12/U Equalizer, a five-barrel 25mm Gatling-type rotary cannon. Powered by a pneumatic system, the rate of fire was almost two thousand heavy 25mm cannon rounds per minute.
The electric Gatling cannon was mounted to fire from the port side of the aircraft. Typically, the gunship performed a pylon turn, flying in a large circle around the target while keeping the gun fixed on the target, which allowed it to fire for much longer than a conventional attack aircraft. The result was devastating.
The night was lit by bright pinpricks of light, sparkling fireflies that danced toward the ground. Above the AC-130, a pair of F/A 18s patrolled ceaselessly, watching for any sign of interference. The Kashmiris below never knew what hit them. The heavy cannon rounds descended like a solid curtain of satanic rain, smashing into the target and turning flesh and bone into bloody ruin. The thunder of the massive cannon, added to the roar of the four straining turboprops, was awesome. The death toll was even more awesome.
"Jesus Christ," Roy exclaimed, still clutching his wounded shoulder, "I've seen it before, but I still don't believe it."
Instinctively, they pulled tighter into the circle, as far away from that terrible rain of death as possible, from the mechanized terror that came to a small corner of the Kashmiri highlands.
Some men tried to run, but they may as well have tried to avoid droplets of rain in a monsoon. The cannon fire sought them out, tracked them, and tore them apart. And then there were no more targets left to kill. The gunship circled for a few minutes more, seeking another target but without success.
"Echo One, this is Alpha Charlie One Three Zero. You guys okay down there?"
"This is Echo One. We're good. That's a big thank you, guys. We owe you one."
"You're welcome. I just picked up some traffic over the radio. The Night Stalkers are on the
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