Black Flagged Apex

Chapter 27





4:11 AM

C-17 Globemaster III

20,000 Feet over West Virginia



Chief Petty Officer Steve Carroll checked the straps of his oxygen mask and adjusted his wide-lensed goggles one more time. He twisted around in the awkward parachute rig and scanned his team. Barely visible in the darkened cargo hold, he verified that all seven members of his reconnaissance team were up and checking each other's gear. He abruptly spun his head around to face the impenetrable darkness beyond the open loading ramp. Barely discernible through the darkness was roughly two minutes of free fall. Invisible hands tugged on his gear, providing him with a final assurance that nothing would come loose during his descent. They were loaded down with an atypical assortment of weapons and sensors, all of which were needed to safely reach the ground.

The jumpmaster located to his left wore an oxygen mask and an oversized headset. Like the rest of the Naval Special Warfare Development Group (DEVGRU) commandos in the oversized cargo bay, he had been breathing compressed oxygen since the flight departed Dover Air Force Base less than an hour earlier. Having just arrived at 20,000 feet, they were in no immediate danger of hypoxia, but mission planners had made it clear to the flight crew and DEVGRU personnel that no unnecessary risks would be taken en route to the objective. Even the ramp had been lowered immediately after take-off, to ensure that a midflight malfunction could not keep his team from jumping.

Carroll felt two solid slaps on his right shoulder, signifying that the final equipment check for his team was finished. He extended his right hand and gave the jumpmaster the thumbs-up sign. The Air Force technical sergeant had given them their one-minute warning less than thirty seconds earlier. The red indicator lights on each side of the ramp flashed twice, prompting the jumpmaster to yell, "Thirty seconds!"

Time seemed to stand still. He was glad time wasn't measured standing at the edge of these ramps. After what seemed to be an eternity, the indicator lights turned green, and his team stepped forward in unison. He walked off the edge of the ramp and hit the turbulence caused by the C17's four Pratt and Whitney turbofan engines. The turbulence was expected and short lived as he quickly fell away from the aircraft. The air tore at his suit and equipment as his body approached terminal velocity, fighting to destabilize his "spread stable position." Several seconds later, his body position stabilized, and he knew he had achieved his terminal velocity.

He was now in complete control of his free fall. Without changing the position of his upper arm, he hinged his left elbow and examined the illuminated navigation board attached to his left forearm. He would use the information provided by the GPS receiver to guide his team to a position over their drop zone. Examining the rudimentary display, he decided to guide them north. By altering their body positions, they could affect a small degree of lateral movement, which was usually enough to compensate for any distance error caused by the jump.

He pointed his head north and locked his arms alongside his body, while simultaneously bringing his legs closer together. The new body position had an immediate effect, and he rocketed downward. Though nearly imperceptible to Carroll, his body made lateral gains north as most of his momentum carried him vertically down. He held the position for ten seconds and went back into "spread stable" to check the effect of his maneuver. He was relieved to see that they were in a much better position to hit the drop zone when they deployed their parachutes at 2,000 feet. He might even consider a lower deployment altitude given their current position relative to the wide clearing they had chosen. 1,500 feet would give them ninety seconds of glide time to make any final adjustments. His altimeter had been set to warn him at both altitudes.

He altered the position of his arms and deflected enough air to spin his body one hundred and eighty degrees. He now faced his team's formation. He counted seven dark gray shapes packed tightly together in front of him, bobbing and shifting as each commando continuously made small adjustments to stay within arm's reach of each other. He considered one more northerly adjustment, but decided against it. He had traded fall time for accuracy by shaping his body like a bullet in a "tracking" position for ten seconds. By decreasing his stability and eliminating a significant portion of the drag on his body, he nearly doubled the speed of their descent. They were rapidly approaching 5,000 feet and needed to prepare for parachute deployment.

He gave the hand signal to open their formation and watched as the team started to separate. Less than twenty seconds until they reached 1,500 feet. He stared below and saw a few distant lights to the south. The area that contained their drop zone and surveillance target gave him nothing. Black emptiness stared back at him. He watched his altimeter and took one more look at their formation. Plenty of distance between jumpers. He saw each of the three muted flashes provided by his altimeter and knew they had reached 2,000 feet. He quickly confirmed the altitude and watched the digital readout pass 1,600 feet. He reached down with his right hand and pulled his ripcord right before the altimeter flashed again. He knew that the entire team would follow his lead and deploy their parachutes less than a second later.

The parachute harness yanked high against his inner thighs as the experimental MC-6 parachute arrested his descent from 176 feet per second to 16 feet per second. Within seconds he started steering the parachute with the toggles attached to the canopy lines, searching for the drop zone located beneath them. At a thousand feet, he started to see the differences in terrain. A quick glance at his navigation board confirmed that the lighter patch of gray just below them was the designated drop zone.

The clearing was less than fifty meters long and thirty meters wide, which was why they had chosen the experimental MC-6. The round parachute gave them an advantage over the square-shaped MC-5 canopy in more confined spaces, giving them the option of a steep descent. Though each member of his team could easily land an MC-5 in the drop zone below, mission planners took into account the possibility that they might be forced to land somewhere else. No chances were being taken with this operation, and he fully understood their mentality.

As he rapidly approached the ground, he slowed his descent and manipulated the toggles to gain more forward momentum. Despite being a round canopy, the MC-6 was highly maneuverable, and he fully intended to land gently on his feet…deep within Hacker Valley.