kilometer, a 6-digit grid is accurate to within 100 meters, etc. What had happened with the new grid coordinate was that the end of the 10-digit grid coordinate had changed, and someone had misinterpreted a 2-meter change as 2 kilometers. The LZ hadn’t changed at all.
As they neared the mountains, the cloud cover got heavier. The moon was not up, and the clouds were obscuring any starlight, rendering the pilots’ and crews’ night vision nearly useless. The AC-130 on station was supposed to illuminate the LZ with its IR floodlight, commonly known to the men on the ground as “the Eye of God.” This IR flood, invisible to the naked eye but incredibly bright on night vision, is usually used to mark targets for the gunship’s weapons, including a 25 mm chain gun, a 40 mm Bofors cannon, and a 105 mm howitzer. As they neared the LZ, however, they received a call from the AC-130, “Halo, negative burn, negative burn.” The AC-130 had to stay above the clouds and couldn’t burn through them with the floodlight. The LZ remained shrouded in pitch darkness. The pilots were already having to use their FLIR cameras to navigate, because the illumination was so poor.
On the ground, the Rangers and Special Forces were waiting with Marcus, watching the lights of the Taliban moving on the opposite slopes, as Ahmad Shah’s men tried one last time to capture the wounded SEAL. Based on his recollections and observations from the previous few days, Marcus helped the Rangers call in air support on the enemy positions. Spanky recalled the muzzle flashes and rocket strikes flickering over the mountainsides.
The problem still remained that the LZ was completely shrouded in darkness and invisible to the pilots. Unless they could get some reference to get a fix on it, the rescue was going to be a no-go.
At the last moment, one of the A-10s flying above dropped down through the clouds and briefly illuminated the LZ with his targeting laser. That was enough. Halo 43 started in toward the LZ.
Skinny went first, though he was flying top cover, swooping in low enough for the crew chief to toss a chemlight onto the LZ before climbing back into the sky, hoping to draw fire while getting into a better position to cover Spanky’s bird as it landed on the LZ. The chemlight provided Spanky with a visual reference on the LZ.
The LZ itself proved to be a narrow shelf among the village’s agricultural terraces, with a sheer rock wall on one side and a drop of 1,500 to 2,000 feet on the other. The level ground was actually narrower than the HH-60’s rotor disc.
As Spanky took his helicopter in, at about 10 feet above the ground, they found themselves in a complete brownout. A brownout happens when the helicopter’s rotor wash has kicked up so much dust and debris that it becomes impossible for the pilot to see the ground, or just about anything, for that matter. It is an extremely dangerous situation at the best of times. On the side of a mountain, in the dark, trying to land on a tiny shelf, it is much, much worse.
In those conditions, without being able to see the ground, especially with a 1,500-foot or longer fall on one side, there is a high risk of rollover. If one tire rests on something higher than the other, it acts as a pivot point. Even hovering under brownout conditions becomes hazardous, as the pilot has no references to keep the hover stable.
For some time, which seemed like forever to the pilots and crew, they hovered in the dust, trying not to crash. Gonzo, Spanky’s copilot, told the crew in the back that if they were of a praying disposition, now would be a good time. The PJs and crew lay down in the back, which they hoped would reduce the damage if they did crash.
Through the dust, Gonzo could catch glimpses of the rock wall to their left. He later estimated that they were 15 or 20 feet from the wall. One of the PJs in back saw the tail rotor come within 6 feet of the trees.
Spanky was trying to hold the bird level,