Post by Vinnie on Jun 9, 2006 10:04:13 GMT
The Sikorsky Super Stallion helicopter purred its way over the sleeping township, keeping low to the rooftops and thrumming its way north. The phaze commanders of the carrier on which they had been stationed had overestimated the power of the wind in the area and the troop carrying helicopter had been phazed-in nearly a hundred kilometres south of its supposed strike point.
The dust and rubble of Gaza rose in front of them hundreds of metres in the air in an obscuring cloud, lit dimly from within against the black night by wreckage that was evidently still burning. The area had taken a pounding from the orbital vehicles as they had used everything but nuclear weapons to dislodge the anti-aircraft stations that were dug in so well. Ground pounders had tried in vain to secure a foothold but the defenders would not give in, drastic steps had had to be taken. Now that the area had been well and truly ‘neutralised’, Fleet Command had instructed the Ground pounders to advance once more. Unfortunately the infantry division were not with numbers or weapons enough to hold if even a few defenders had kept their bunkers. It was up to 187 Troop, Special Air Service, to drop into the zone and take what they could.
The Sikorsky’s whirring rotors whipped the dust cloud into frenzy. The helicopter plied through the debris, kicking out huge plumes of dust and ash and sweeping the ground, barely twenty feet below, clean. In the passenger compartment, all sixty-two troopers of 187 were shaken and jostled and dragged against their harnesses in the dull emerald glow of the compartment lighting as the air intakes clogged with embers.
“We have to set down now!” the pilot leant over his shoulder and yelled at the commandant in the passenger compartment. “Bird won’t take a lot more of this!”
The pilot looked earnest. The commandant nodded. With a grinding of gears the pitch of the engines lowered and the troop jumped where they sat as the vehicle lurched downward. The landing gear engaged the broken ground with a crash and immediately the engines lowered once again, lest the helicopter jump unexpectedly.
At a wave from the commandant two troopers at the rear of the passenger compartment unharnessed themselves and jumped to lower the crew hatch and unbolt the weapons locker. A moment later the rest of the troopers did likewise, unstrapping themselves, filing into a line and fastening Kevlar helmets and body armour.
“Alright, lads.” The commandant addressed his troop. “Delta advance pattern, cleanse and secure ground. Night vis, it’s pretty black; and mark each sector. Know where you are and where your second man is.” The troopers nodded, grim-faced and pulled night vision goggles over their boot-blacked faces. The two troopers that had risen first now passed SA-80 assault rifles and pouches of ammunition down the line. The crew hatch clunked to the ground outside and the roaring chaos of wind from the chopper blades through a gale of desert and smoke-hot air, spinning with dust and smoke that reduced visibility to just a few feet.
“Move out.” The commandant snapped his own visor over his eyes and cocked his sniper rifle.
The troop advanced from the rear of the chopper in waves of a dozen or so men in a great arc. Systematically they cleared the part road on which they had landed and formed a perimeter around the transport.
“Pilot, read?” the commandant said into his micro-bead over the dying whine of the helicopter.
“Acknowledged.”
“We have established a perimeter. Deploy a hand of AG-84s and we can begin scouring. Over.”
“That does affirm commandant; hold on a mo, I’ll send my boys out now. Over”
The three crewman of the helicopter scuttled out of the hatch, a bright emerald in a sea of dull green through the night vision goggles, and carrying a large, heavy container between them. The commandant followed them with his eyes as they drew toward the edge of the circle of troops. At the perimeter the crewmen dumped the container, roughly the size of a waste receptacle, on the road and stood back.
The container unfolded, petal-like and anchored itself down with screwing pins. The central cylinder unfolded in a complicated array of shifting panels and sliding grills to expose a twin turret of chain fed machine guns mounted on a swivelling gimbal, and an infrared eye and laser targeting system. The automated turret swivelled and hummed as it conducted self-diagnostics.
The crewmen now inserted a pair of smaller containers into the base of the Automated Gun-84 and the turret bleeped in acceptance of the ammo crates. Satisfied, the crewmen went back to the now stilled chopper and returned a minute later with another container and started off towards the opposite side of the perimeter.
The dust and rubble of Gaza rose in front of them hundreds of metres in the air in an obscuring cloud, lit dimly from within against the black night by wreckage that was evidently still burning. The area had taken a pounding from the orbital vehicles as they had used everything but nuclear weapons to dislodge the anti-aircraft stations that were dug in so well. Ground pounders had tried in vain to secure a foothold but the defenders would not give in, drastic steps had had to be taken. Now that the area had been well and truly ‘neutralised’, Fleet Command had instructed the Ground pounders to advance once more. Unfortunately the infantry division were not with numbers or weapons enough to hold if even a few defenders had kept their bunkers. It was up to 187 Troop, Special Air Service, to drop into the zone and take what they could.
The Sikorsky’s whirring rotors whipped the dust cloud into frenzy. The helicopter plied through the debris, kicking out huge plumes of dust and ash and sweeping the ground, barely twenty feet below, clean. In the passenger compartment, all sixty-two troopers of 187 were shaken and jostled and dragged against their harnesses in the dull emerald glow of the compartment lighting as the air intakes clogged with embers.
“We have to set down now!” the pilot leant over his shoulder and yelled at the commandant in the passenger compartment. “Bird won’t take a lot more of this!”
The pilot looked earnest. The commandant nodded. With a grinding of gears the pitch of the engines lowered and the troop jumped where they sat as the vehicle lurched downward. The landing gear engaged the broken ground with a crash and immediately the engines lowered once again, lest the helicopter jump unexpectedly.
At a wave from the commandant two troopers at the rear of the passenger compartment unharnessed themselves and jumped to lower the crew hatch and unbolt the weapons locker. A moment later the rest of the troopers did likewise, unstrapping themselves, filing into a line and fastening Kevlar helmets and body armour.
“Alright, lads.” The commandant addressed his troop. “Delta advance pattern, cleanse and secure ground. Night vis, it’s pretty black; and mark each sector. Know where you are and where your second man is.” The troopers nodded, grim-faced and pulled night vision goggles over their boot-blacked faces. The two troopers that had risen first now passed SA-80 assault rifles and pouches of ammunition down the line. The crew hatch clunked to the ground outside and the roaring chaos of wind from the chopper blades through a gale of desert and smoke-hot air, spinning with dust and smoke that reduced visibility to just a few feet.
“Move out.” The commandant snapped his own visor over his eyes and cocked his sniper rifle.
The troop advanced from the rear of the chopper in waves of a dozen or so men in a great arc. Systematically they cleared the part road on which they had landed and formed a perimeter around the transport.
“Pilot, read?” the commandant said into his micro-bead over the dying whine of the helicopter.
“Acknowledged.”
“We have established a perimeter. Deploy a hand of AG-84s and we can begin scouring. Over.”
“That does affirm commandant; hold on a mo, I’ll send my boys out now. Over”
The three crewman of the helicopter scuttled out of the hatch, a bright emerald in a sea of dull green through the night vision goggles, and carrying a large, heavy container between them. The commandant followed them with his eyes as they drew toward the edge of the circle of troops. At the perimeter the crewmen dumped the container, roughly the size of a waste receptacle, on the road and stood back.
The container unfolded, petal-like and anchored itself down with screwing pins. The central cylinder unfolded in a complicated array of shifting panels and sliding grills to expose a twin turret of chain fed machine guns mounted on a swivelling gimbal, and an infrared eye and laser targeting system. The automated turret swivelled and hummed as it conducted self-diagnostics.
The crewmen now inserted a pair of smaller containers into the base of the Automated Gun-84 and the turret bleeped in acceptance of the ammo crates. Satisfied, the crewmen went back to the now stilled chopper and returned a minute later with another container and started off towards the opposite side of the perimeter.
