With the weight of the gun, ammo and batteries now sitting up front, the boat wallowed along the twisting river. He used the hush mike again. “Plover Angel, Plover Angel. This is Wicket Snake, launch the alert birds. I say again, launch the alert birds. Copy?”
It took a full minute to get a reply but the EB-66, to his relief, called in “Snake. Boomer One is airborne on max effort, the cell should be inbound in less than ten mikes. Hope you got something open in mind, ’cause pretty much all they got on board is napalm.”
“We’ll give em a target, don’t worry about that, the Team is just about…” The loud pop-pop-pop-pop-pop of a Hog going cyclic was unmistakable. He shouted, and the radio screamed in concert – “CONTACT!”
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