Academy (Pilot) - Chapter 1

Timothy Morris
March 2011

Academy – Chapter 1

Good Job

Thursday, September 30^th, 2010 – 1300 Local Time

“Operation Goliath Stomp”

Tigris Valley, Assyria

“It’s getting real lonely up here.” The Apache gunships’ loiter time had expired and they were pulling out. Second Lieutenant Houston and his co-pilot, Second Lieutenant Jefferson, viewed the operation from high above as their MH-60L Black Hawk circled the Assyrian village of Al-Assad.

LT Houston addressed the raiding force over the radio, “X-ray One – ground forces, you guys are going to be without air cover for about sixty seconds until the Marine’s Osprey arrive. We don’t have any guns up here.”

Looking out the side of the cockpit window he could see the Black Hawk’s ESSS stub wings holding four massive external fuel tanks which stuck out well past the doorway, making it pointless to mount miniguns or any sort of machinegun on the side.

“Roger that X-ray One, we’ll be ready for extraction by then.” An officer on the ground responded.

“Less than that George, looks like the Marines hauled ass over here.” LT Jefferson pointed forward to faint grey aircraft that were rapidly approaching the town from the East.

“Wow, that was quick.” The V-22s had already began their ninety second transformation sequence from airplane to helicopter mode, their giant propellers slowly shifted from pointing forward to pointing straight up in the air.

“Maybe this won’t be another JANFU after all” LT Jefferson quirked, referring to previous experiences of when the Federation’s Army tried to work directly with the Navy.

Green smoke marked the rooftops where the Marines and Rangers wished to be picked up. Four of the six Osprey descended quickly onto buildings while the other two circled around them opposite each other, like hawks protecting their nest.

“We got a guy with an RPG on one of the rooftops!” One of the V-22 pilots warned her wingmen over the radio.

“Where? Where?”

“North side!”

“We see him.” One of the circling Osprey opened up with its belly mounted Vulcan gun, shredding the rooftop and obliterating the RPG wielding enemy into a cloud of dust and fluid.

Houston and Jefferson could hear the faint crack of the cannon. Jefferson, who sat at Houston’s right hand, leaned over and tapped him. “Did you see that?”

Houston smirked in approval as he continued to hold their Black Hawk in orbit around the town.

“Lima One - X-ray One, we see you up there, we’re almost done here.” Marines and Rangers piled into the aircraft as soon as they touched the rooftops. Despite the concrete industrial construction, the Osprey pilots were forced to carefully hover half-on, half-off of the extraction points, their massive wingspans cutting across multiple buildings.

“All this, for a couple of hard drives and maybe a laptop or two.” Jefferson glanced at the digital fuel display. “We’ve got about three hundred miles, give or take.”

            “They must have been really worried about a protracted firefight and casualties, having us up here this long.”

            “Everything must have gone smoothly.”

            The Osprey lifted off, fully loaded with soldiers and returned to formation as they climbed, leaving Al-Assad behind in a cloud of dust and sand.

            “Lima One – X-ray One, all men accounted for, thanks for the over-watch, RTB.”

            “X-ray One – Lima One, copy, we’re out of here.”

            The Osprey began their transformation back into airplane mode and quickly moved to the edge of Houston’s sight.

            “Ok, now it’s lonely up here.” Jefferson commented on the suddenly vacant airspace around them. Their Black Hawk helicopter was by no means a slow aircraft, but with a top speed of only around 159 knots, even the army’s Chinook helicopters, which maxed out around 170, could out run them. The Marines’ V-22s and their ability to fly in “airplane” mode were no exception. It was only a matter of seconds before the Black Hawk, which still needed to turn around towards base, was left far behind the other friendly forces.

            Having adjusted the helicopter’s heading south-west, towards base, LT Houston allowed the Black Hawk to cruise at 150 knots. Within a few minutes he found himself about five hundred feet above the retreating Apaches which hugged the ground. He slowed the helicopter down to their speed and inquired over the radio.

            “X-ray One – Gunfighter Three-Three, hope you don’t mind if we tag along.”

            “Gunfighter Three-Three – X-ray One, we’re bingo on fuel, if we start getting shot at don’t expect very much fireworks from us…” Although the Apaches wouldn’t be able to retaliate for long if at all, there was safety in numbers and the Apache pilots welcomed another large chopper to spread out incoming small arms fire.

            Houston settled the Black Hawk down into formation beside the six AH-64Ds. He turned to Jefferson who looked bored with watching the various digital displays before him, “Take control for a sec.”

            Jefferson nodded and grabbed his control stick, checking out the window to make sure the Black Hawk didn’t encroach on the Apaches. Houston used this opportunity to take his feet off the pedals and stretch his legs out. He then looked over to the right of his seat, feeling with his hand past the M-4A1 assault rifle he had wedged in-between his seat and the center console. Able to feel its smooth plastic, he pulled up the 20oz soda he had been searching for, unscrewed the cap and took a drink. “You’d think they’d have installed cup-holders?”

            “This ain’t the Air Force.” Jefferson smirked. “Besides, I’d end up spilling hot coffee all over the damn place with the way you fly.”

            Houston smiled and nodded as he screwed the bottle cap back on.

            “Gunfighter Three-Three – X-ray One, Gunfighter Zero-Seven has a question for you.”

            “X-ray One – Gunfighters, go ahead Zero-Seven.”

            A young female pilot came over the radio, “Yeah uh… Zero-Seven - X-ray One, were you the guys who rolled your Black Hawk the other week; about two weeks ago, outside Quiddar?”

            “X-ray One, yeah, that was us.”

            “We were taking AA fire, I swear.” Jefferson interjected.

            Gunfighter 07 could be overheard talking to her co-pilot, “See, I told you.”

            Gunfighter 33 chimed back in, “I heard you guys got a ton of shit for that.”

            “Command wanted to remind us that we weren’t flying an attack helicopter.”
            “So no guns?” 07 looked out her window to the external fuel tanks that hung on the ESSS of Houston and Jefferson’s pacing Black Hawk.

            “Sucks the fun out of my job.” Jefferson, who often controlled the forward firing weapons, had been frustrated with the punishment. “He flips the bird and command flips me the bird.”

            “Sounds like some regrets?” 07 questioned Jefferson.
            “No, I would have probably done the same thing. But when they questioned us about it we should have just pretended we didn’t know what they were talking about.”

            “There was no hiding that.”

            “Yeah we all saw it.” 33 and many of the Gunfighters had been on the scene that day. “The Kiowa pilot was screaming over the radio ‘Didyouseethat? Didyouseethat!?’ I was just in shock.”

            Laughs from the Apache pilots filled Houston’s headset. He chuckled at the memory. “Well, we took out that friggin’ ZSU.”

            “I don’t know if you guys saw, but it actually stopped firing for a sec, like the gunner couldn’t believe what he had just seen.” 07’s voice cut though the laughter.

            “The last thing he ever saw, I made sure of that.” Jefferson boasted his kill.

            “That was the best thing I’ve seen since I’ve been here.” 33 continued, “Does anyone know if somebody got that on video?”

            “I hope so, but I’m sure they’ll confiscate it…”

            The light atmosphere of the radio chatter was suddenly shattered by a stern voice from command overriding. “Base Command – Gunfighter Three-Three and X-ray One, urgent please respond.”

            33 took command, “Gunfighter Three-Three – Base Command, X-ray One is here as well, go ahead.”

            “Base Command – Three-Three, we have a priority support call involving allied forces about twenty five clicks north of your current position. Are you able to intervene?”

            “Three-Three – Base, we are bingo on fuel, it’s going to be a number of minutes until we are able to refuel and return to the fight. I can’t speak for X-ray One.”

            “Base Command – X-ray One, status?”

            Houston quickly responded on the radio, “X-ray One – Base Command, We’ve got plenty of fuel, no guns though. Is that going to be an issue?”

            “Base Command – X-ray One, we don’t know, apparently a Republican Naval Spec. Ops. Team put out a dire sit-rep and needs immediate extraction. We were asked to intervene if we could. It’s your call.”

            Houston turned to Jefferson, “Do it?”

            Jefferson nodded in approval, “Hooah, those boys need our help, let’s friggin’ go.”

            “X-ray One – Base Command, we’ll go.”

            “Roger X-ray One. We’re sending you the coordinates now and can patch you though to the ground forces. Stand by…”

            Houston commandeered flight control from Jefferson and immediately peeled the Black Hawk away from the Apache formation. Jefferson began glancing back an fourth between the digital displays and the window, looking for threats. It was only a matter of minutes until they were in sight of the objective.

            “Base Command – X-ray One, prepare for communication… United Federation Army Base Shogun to Apollo Four, do you hear us?”

            A distinctly Yamato accented response followed, “Apollo Four – Shogun, we hear you.” Crackles of automatic weapons fire could be clearly heard in the background of Apollo 4’s transmission.

            “Shogun – Apollo, you have one Black Hawk helicopter on station, X-ray One, it is unarmed but they can hear you.”

            “Apollo Four – X-ray One, we are pinned down in a multi-story hotel in the center of town, we are going to make our way to the roof and deploy smoke. We need immediate extraction!”

            Jefferson continued to look out the window, “Holy shit, we got hostile infantry everywhere.”

            As Houston lowered the Black Hawk’s altitude he could see scores of Kalashnikov wielding enemy personnel swarming towards the center of town. “Dwight, watch for RPGs.”

            “Incoming! It’s wide, we’re good.”

            Houston swerved the helicopter anyway. “X-ray One – Apollo Four, we can’t hang up here forever.” Houston heard the ping of an AK-47 round bouncing off of the front of the Black Hawk. “We’re taking small arms and RPG fire, please pop that smoke ASAP.”

            “Yes, yes we see you, ok, the smoke has been deployed.” Orange smoke streamed from the corner of a large flat toped hotel.

            “X-ray – Apollo, we see orange smoke, confirm.” Houston double checked.

            “Apollo – X-ray, copy that, orange smoke.” Apollo leader assured them that it wasn’t an enemy deception.

            Houston circled around the building looking for good angle of approach to land. Jefferson pulled out the MP-5K sub machinegun he had been keeping in-between his seat and the center console. He cocked the charging handle, a distinct sound signaling to Houston that things were about to get rough. Houston looked over to him for a second and the two exchanged glances. Jefferson kept the safety on and sat the weapon on his lap.

            “X-ray One – Apollo Four, we’re coming in for landing, get ready to run.” The Black Hawk began its landing approach.

            “Black Shark! Black Shark!” The radio operator for Apollo 4 screamed over the air.

            “What?”

            “Kamov! X-ray One, enemy attack helicopter. Do not land!”

Houston quickly spotted what was getting Apollo 4 so worked up and immediately abandoned his landing path. An enemy Kamov KA-50 attack helicopter crept quickly over the rooftops just across town from the hotel.

The KA-50 Black Shark is a menacing beast; it features twin rotors stacked on top of each other, wide flat wings used as weapons platforms and a long slender body design making it quite nimble. Bristling with guns and rockets, an unarmed Black Hawk is no match for the Black Shark. Houston quickly dove his helicopter behind the hotel, opposite the side of the Black Shark’s approach.

“Jesus Christ.” Jefferson’s eyes grew in surprise as he observed the Kamov which bolted straight for them, like an insect at its prey.

“Apollo – X-ray One, he’s swinging around. He’s right on you!” The Kamov swung low around the front side of the hotel and immediately opened up with volley of unguided rockets and machinegun fire upon the Black Hawk. The rockets overshot but the machine gun fire pelted the helicopter, shattering part of the windshield and ripping through the cabin.

“Woah, shit!” Houston pulled back hard on the control stick, raising the Black Hawk’s nose. The chopper dipped backwards, as a second barrage of rockets and machinegun fire peppered its underbelly. Again, the rockets overshot but the Kamov’s machinegun began chewing into their helicopter. Houston was forced to retreat the Black Hawk backwards, around the corner of the hotel. He tried leveling out his erratic flight path. “Dwight, are you hit?”

            “Glass scratched me up a bit, but I’m good. George, you hit?”

            “No.”Houston was relieved to see that neither he nor Jefferson had been hit.

            “Apollo – X-ray, we’ve got an anti-tank missile left, we are going to fire it at the enemy helicopter.”

            “OK Apollo, but make it quick.” Jefferson watched as the Kamov strafed around the side of the hotel and lined up a second attack angle on them. “Damnit, climb climb climb!”

            “I’m trying!” Houston jammed the thrust as hard as he could but the Black Hawk can only climb at around one third of the speed of the Kamov. The Black Shark was only a split second from lining up a perfect shot with its 30mm primary cannon. Houston could feel his heart freeze as the Shipunov 2A42, mounted just under the nose of the Kamov, stare straight at him. “Now or never Apollo!” Houston made eye contact with the enemy pilot who stared coldly at them.

            One of Apollo’s commandos leaned over the roof of the hotel, just above the Kamov. He aimed his shoulder fired AT-4 rocket launcher and immediately fired. The rocket ripped past the Kamov, missing its fuselage by inches. “That is some serious bullshit, negative hit, negative hit!” Apollo was astonished; the rocket had ripped though both sets of rotors but didn’t make impact. In a rage he threw the expired AT-4 tube off of the roof at the Kamov. It made contact with the top rotor and made a loud clank as it deflected. “X-ray flee!”

            The Black Shark pilot swerved away from the hotel in a late reaction to the rocket that had almost brought him down. When the AT-4 tube made unexpected impact on his rotors, he immediately backed the Kamov away, facing the hotel. He fired the 30mm cannon up at the rooftop chipping away at the top corner followed by two unguided rockets that shuttered the entire hotel, blowing out windows up and down its side.

Apollo retaliated with a volley of small arms fire, peppering the Kamov with light machine gun and assault rifle rounds. This only caused light damage to the Kamov, which turned its attention away from the Black Hawk and onto Apollo 4. Houston continued to climb.

It wasn’t long until the Kamov had risen up to just above the hotel’s rooftop. The commando who was holding the light machinegun desperately tried to reload his Mk. 48 in order to keep fire on the enemy helicopter. The Kamov moved itself into position to fire its main cannon, the pilot leaned forward, attempting to see the two men who stood helplessly before him. Just before the Black Shark opened up with sure to be fatal cannon fire, the second Apollo soldier launched a 40mm grenade from the under barrel M-320 he had attached to his SCAR-H assault rifle. The 40mm grenade forcefully slammed just under the nose of the Black Shark which shook violently from the blast impact.

“X-ray One, we are falling back inside!” Apollo’s leader, who had fired the grenade, grabbed his comrade who had finished reloading his machine gun and pulled him back towards the central rooftop exit. The two men bolted towards the doorway. Houston continued the make the Black Hawk climb.

            The Kamov pilot quickly recovered from the 40mm grenade hit and leveled the Black Shark out. He placed the two fleeing men dead in his sights and pulled the trigger, they surely had no escape from the cannon fire this time.

The gun jammed, the grenade launcher hit had busted the Shipunov. The Kamov pilot immediately switched weapons back to the machine gun pods he had been using first and opened fire.

Just as the two commandos reached the doorway, a rain of gunfire poured upon them. The machinegunner narrowly escaped but Apollo’s leader took a round in the lower back and left leg. The burning bullets ripped straight though him, sending him violently to the ground. Badly wounded, struggled to crawl though the doorway. The machinegunner let his heavy weapon dangle by its strap and quickly pulled the injured man inside.

“Man down!” The machinegunner yelled down the stairwell to his other two team members. Automatic weapons fire echoed back up. The rest of the team was holding off an infantry assault that had made its way up to the top floor.

The Kamov now hugged the rooftop low and positioned itself in the center, nearly right up against the stairwell entrance. The pilot pulled the trigger once again, ripping into the concrete with machinegun fire.

The commando’s machinegunner dove on top of his injured commander, shielding him from the hell of debris and fragmentation showering them.

            The enemy pilot ceased fire for a moment to assess the damage he had done, he now could see inside the stairwell and the two soldiers who he sought to kill. Unable to lower his gun pods quite enough, he began to climb. It was at that moment, Houston made his move.

            The Black Hawk cut forward and positioned itself just meters above the Kamov, preventing it from climbing any further. The Kamov pilot heard the Black Hawk above him and ceased rising. Houston looked though the glass landing window at his feet and could see the enemy pilot look up in frustration. When the Kamov attempted to lean to the side and pull away, Houston closed the gap even further. The Kamov wasn’t going anywhere without crashing into the Black Hawk, surely destroying both helicopters.

            Jefferson looked down. “Yeah! What are you gonna do now, prick?”

            The Kamov pilot was clearly panicked and began spinning the Black Shark in place, frantically looking for a way out of his predicament.

            Houston glanced over to Jefferson who was looking at him for direction. “The empty tanks.”

            Jefferson looked out the window at the auxiliary fuel tanks then back to Houston with a smirk.

            “Drop ‘em.” Houston didn’t need to tell Jefferson twice.

            Two of the large metal fuel pods freefell from the side of the Black Hawk. Like steel fists into a fan blade, the tanks smashed into Kamov’s stacked rotors, smashing them to pieces. The Black Shark slammed into the hotel’s cement rooftop, chipping away at the ground as it began to roll.

            “AH-HA!”
            “Hell yeah!” Houston and Jefferson cried out in joy as they watched the KA-50 tumbled its way off of the side of the building. The Kamov fell many stories, ultimately smashing to the ground as enemy infantry watched in shock.

            Houston settled the Black Hawk down upon the center of the rooftop. “Dwight, take control.”

            Jefferson grabbed his flight stick and watched as Houston pulled out his M-4A1 from the side of his seat and opened his door. “What are you…?”

            “Just hang on.” Houston tossed off his flight helmet and jumped onto the rooftop. He gripped his assault rifle tightly and began moving quickly towards the destroyed stairwell.

            “Hey, shut the…” Jefferson threw his hand up; Houston had left his door wide open and there was nothing Jefferson could do about it. “Heh…”

            Houston made his way up to the stairwell where the injured Apollo commander and machinegunner had been pinned down. Houston yelled as loud as he could over the whistling and thumping of the Black Hawk’s blades. “Friendly, friendly!”

            The machinegunner began to raise his weapon but quickly withdrew it. “Ho! I’ve got two more guys downstairs.”

            “Get them, I’ve got him.” Houston jumped down, slung his rifle behind him and began to pick up the wounded commando. The machinegunner scrambled down the stairwell to fetch the rest of the team.

            “I’ve got you.” Houston hoisted Apollo’s leader onto his shoulders and made his way up the staircase and across the rooftop. He ducked under the ESSS wings and around the remaining fuel tank. By the time he made it to the side of the Black Hawk the other three commandos were behind him. “Could you?”

            “Yeah, got it.” The machinegunner slide open the Black Hawk’s massive sliding side door.

            Houston laid the wounded soldier upon the floor inside the helicopter. He then jumped up into the cabin and pulled the man in further, as Houston did this he looked down and saw the man’s name and rank, Hashimoto – Captain, ECRN (Eastern Constitutional Republic Navy).

            The other commandos jumped into the Black Hawk one after another.

            “They say us SEALs are crazy, but after that shit I just saw I think you guys take the cake.” The machinegunner, whose tag now clearly read “Takeda,” looked at Houston.

            Jefferson turned around from the cockpit. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” He smirked in glee. “Is that everyone?”

            Takeda checked behind him making sure that the rest of his team were onboard. The last man on was sliding the massive door shut. “We’re good. Get us out of here.”

            Jefferson throttled the Black Hawk into the air and pulled them up and away from the hotel. “X-ray One – Base Command, we have the package we’re on our way back. Half the Caliphate Army is down there!” Assault rifle fire could still be sporadically heard pining off of the Black Hawk as they pulled away.

            “Base Command – X-ray, good job.”

            Jefferson muted his microphone. “Good job?”

            CPT Hashimoto began laughing at this. Houston smiled and the SEALs chuckled.

            “Thank you.” Hashimoto looked up at the Lieutenant Houston who leaned back against the cockpit wall, relieved and exhausted.

            “Any time.” Houston saluted the Captain who struggled to salute back.

            “Sir.” SGT Takeda put down his weapon and gently held Hashimoto. “No amount of thanks is going to stop the bleeding, I’m going to need you to lie down for a bit.” As his men behind him began getting out medical kits and canteens, Takeda looked up to Houston. “Seriously though, our lives are indebted to you two. Thank you.”

            “Like I said, any time.”

            Takeda saluted Houston and Jefferson who had turned around to check on the cabin. Both men saluted back.

            Chewed up and with Houston’s port side pilot’s door flapping unevenly in the wind, the Black Hawk cruised high in the sky towards base. Their bird had been battered, but not beaten. The sun shined brightly down on the sands of Assyria and the Black Hawk’s shadow glided gracefully across the ground.

Thursday, September 1^st, 2016 – 1245 Local Time

Freshmen Initiation Day

United Federation Army Officer’s Academy, Carbon Province, United Federation

            Houston stood outside a large dorm building and looked up as the shadow of a passing Army helicopter rolled over him. He thought back.

            “Gotta love it.”

            Houston looked down to the medal he had pinned across his six-color desert camouflage patterned uniform.

            “They did tell us to wear all of them.”

            Houston examined the Republican Distinguished Flying Cross, he was one of only two UF Army members to ever receive such an honor from a foreign military, the second being his co-pilot. He had a few combat patches and service pins, but the large hexagonal medal stood out from the rest. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle of soda he was holding and took a drink, it was a cool summer day and freshmen were hustling around trying to find their place. They were supposed to report to the brass hutch for introduction and squad assignment in just a few minutes. Houston took notice as an old white Honda pulled into the parking lot in a hurry. It came to a quick halt, grinding on the small rocks of the pavement as it slid into a parking spot towards the far end of the lot.

            “Somebody’s running late.”

            The sedan shut off and a young girl began to get out. She was tall, had light hair and dark eyes. She hopped out of the car and straightened out her khaki army combat uniform. The Honda was packed with stuff. It was clear that she hadn’t even moved into her dorm yet. She leaned in and popped the trunk, then slammed the driver’s door shut. She quickly sprinted over to rear of the car. Pulling a backpack out of the compartment, she threw it around her shoulder and shut the trunk with a thud. She dashed across the parking lot, towards the dorm’s front doors, but Houston stopped her.
            “Hold it, cadet!”

            The girl ground to a halt and stood at an unbalanced attention, her bag swinging off her shoulder. “Sir!” She had to catch her breath. “Am I not allowed to park there? I’m really sorry my dog went missing - I hit all kinds of traffic and I have to check in - I’ll move it but I have to…” Her words were on top of each other.

            “Hang on, Cadet, your parking is fine.” Houston pointed with two fingers to her name and branch Velcro tabs. “Your tabs are backwards.”

            The girl looked down. “Huh?”

            “UF Army goes on your left side, over your heart. The name goes on the right.”

            The girl peeled off her name tag that read “Leigh.”

            Houston continued. “Hey, you don’t have to do it this second. You can go check in first.”

Cadet Leigh fumbled with her backpack. “Ok, thanks. Uh I mean, thanks, sir.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re dismissed. Now go get done whatever you need to get done. Don’t forget, all freshmen are meeting at the brass hutch,” Houston looked at his watch, “and that’s in about ten minutes.”

“Ok, thank you, sir.” Leigh turned back towards the dorm’s entrance and took a few steps then stopped. “Wait uh, sir?”

“Uh huh?”

“Is this building Abrams?”

“Yup.”

“Ok, thank you, sir.” Cadet Leigh continued into Abrams dorm, knocking hard into the glass push doors.

Houston smiled, took another sip of his soda and began to walk away. He had to be at the freshmen’s meeting too; he was an advisor and had to meet the new cadets who he would be taking under his wing.

“No salute? That’s actually kind of refreshing. They have to start somewhere.”