A tap on his arm pulled Grisha away from the window. The burly, black sergeant major put his mouth to Grisha’s ear to be heard over the stultifying roar of the engines. “They want you on the comm system, Colonel.”
Grisha nodded. “Thank you, sergeant major.” He went back to his seat and plugged his headset into the comm box. “Grigorievich here.”
“Colonel, this is the pilot, Major Verley. We are within ten minutes of a major battle between your people and the Russians. We were going to have our people jump on Fort Yukon to act as ready reserve. But if you want, we can let you out behind your battle line.”
“How large is the attacking force? What’s the situation right now?”
“Our intelligence captain with your forces says the Russians have broken through your first line of defense and are advancing on Chena Redoubt itself. Your casualties are high and your people are heavily outnumbered.”
Wing was at Chena—commanding his troops! “Can you drop us between the fight and the redoubt?”
“Jesus! That would be dicey, Colonel. The whole drop would be in range of the Russian advance.”
“Then let me out there and you drop the rest behind our lines.”
“Whatever you say, Colonel. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Major Verley. And thanks for the ride.” Grisha took off the headset and moved next to the sergeant major, who stood by the ramp controls.
The sergeant major listened intently to something on his headset. He replied and pulled the set off his head. He plucked a microphone off its wall mount and flipped a switch.
“Lissen up, people! We’re on top of a firefight. The Dená are losin’ their butts. The skipper said we was gonna jump at Fort Yukon, way behind the lines, and get fed in where needed.”
Grisha turned to gauge the interest of the paratroopers. Every man stared at the sergeant major, hanging on his words.
“Now that’s all changed. Colonel Grigorievich here, is gonna jump into the battle and the rest of us are ’sposed to jump behind the lines.” His eyes moved across them, challenging them.
“The skipper says anyone wants to volunteer to jump with the Colonel has his okay. Who’s goin’ besides me and him?” He snapped his rip cord onto the cable running the length of the cabin.
All one hundred twenty men stood, hooked up, and began checking the gear of the men in front of them.
Grisha felt a lump swell in his throat. He turned back to the sergeant major. “You honor me and my people, Sergeant Major. Thank you.”
“Ain’t every day a troop runs acrost a straightleg colonel with balls, sir. We’re the ones proud to be jumping with you.”
The red light over the ramp winked on. The sergeant major worked the controls and the ramp in the back of the plane yawned open. Grisha stepped forward and snapped his cord onto the cable at the front of the growing line.
He grinned around at the serious young faces. “I got the most rank, so I get to go first.”
They laughed and roared their approval.
The green light snapped on with a buzz.
“Go!” shouted the sergeant major.
Grisha ran the few meters to the end of the ramp and threw himself into space. The parachute snapped open with a loud crack and the harness jerked him upward, the straps cinched tighter on his thighs. Relief rushed through him.
The damn thing really opened.
He had never liked the idea of parachutes.
He looked around. Chutes blossomed above him in increasing numbers. Off to his right and left flew two of their companion aircraft. Men poured out the ends of both filling the air like giant dandelion seeds in a stiff breeze.
Something snitted past his face and he looked down on a scene of chaos. A firefight raged at close quarters at the front of the tree line. Russian tanks fired at pockets of soldiers who weakly returned fire.
Destroyed armor littered the meadow. From the woods around the battlefield small-arms fire winked up at the paratroopers.
Grisha unlimbered his AR-15 and returned fire. The ground rushed up at him.