state-of-the-art military force. Already circling high above the
target was the slickest intelligence support America had to offer, including satellites, a
high-flying P3 Orion spy plane, and three OH-58 observation helicopters, which looked like
the bubble-front Little Bird choppers with a five-foot bulbous polyp growing out of the
top. The observation birds were equipped with video cameras and radio equipment that would
relay the action live to General Garrison and the other senior officers in the Joint
Operations Center (JOC) back at the beach. Moviemakers and popular authors might strain to
imagine the peak capabilities of the U.S. military, but here was the real thing about to
strike. It was a well-oiled, fully equipped, late-twentieth-century fighting machine.
America's best were going to war, and Sergeant Matt Eversmann was among them.
-2-
It was only a three-minute flight to the target. With the earphones on, Eversmann could
listen to most of the frequencies in use. There was the command net, which linked the
commanders on the ground to Matthews and Harrell circling overhead in the Command and
Control (or “C2”) Black Hawk, and with Garrison and the other brass back in the JOC. The
pilots had their own link to air commander Matthews, and Delta and the Rangers each had
their own internal radio links. For the duration of the mission all other broadcast
frequencies in the city were being jammed. Inside the steady scratch of static, Eversmann
heard a confusing overlap of calm voices, all the different elements preparing for the
assault.
By the time the Black Hawks had moved down low over the city for their final approach
from the north, the advance Little Birds were already closing in on the target. There was
still time to abort the mission.
Burning tires on the street near the target triggered momentary alarm. Somalis often set
fire to signal trouble and summon militia. Could they be flying into an ambush?
“Those tires, have they been burning for a pretty good period of time or did they just
light them, over?” asked a Little Bird pilot.
“Those tires were burning this morning when we were up,” answered a pilot on one of the
observation birds.
“Two minutes,” the Super Six Seven pilot alerted Eversmann.
The Little Birds moved into position for their “bump,” a sudden climb and then a dive
that would sweep them over the target house with their rockets and guns pointing down. One
by one, the various units would repeat “Lucy,” the code word for the assault to begin:
Romeo Six Four, Colonel Harrell; Kilo Six Four, Captain Scott Miller, the Delta
assault-force commander; Barber Five One, veteran pilot Chief Warrant Officer Randy Jones
in the lead AH6 gunship; Juliet Six Four, Captain Mike Steele, the Ranger commander aboard
Durant's bird; and Uniform Six Four, Lieutenant Colonel Danny McKnight, who was commanding
the ground convoy poised to take them all out. The convoy had rolled up to a spot several
blocks away.
-This is Romeo Six Four to all elements. Lucy. Lucy. Lucy.
-This is Kilo Six Four, roger Lucy.
-This is Barber Five One, roger Lucy.
-Juliet Six Four, roger Lucy.
-This is Uniform Six Four, roger Lucy.
-All elements, Lucy.
It was 3:43 p.m. On the screen in the JOC, commanders saw a crowded Mogadishu
neighborhood, in much better shape than most. The Olympic Hotel was the most obvious
landmark, a five-story white building that looked like stacked rectangular blocks with
square balconies at each level. There was another similar large building on the same side
of the street one block south. Both cast long shadows over Hawlwadig Road, the wide paved
street that ran before them. At the intersections where dirt alleys crossed Hawlwadig,
sandy soil drifted across the pavement. The soil was a striking rust-orange in the late
afternoon light. There were trees in the courtyards and