Up From the Depths Read Free Page A

next soldier in line until it was outside and being stacked.
    Harris sent one of the squads of Rangers to search the perimeter for any equipment and survivors that may have tumbled out of the plane during the harsh landing. The rest of the Rangers formed a security perimeter or tended to their wounded while the flight crew made their way out of the MC-130. Out of all the people onboard, only the load master and two Rangers had injuries severe enough that would limit their mobility. The loadmaster had been caught between a bulkhead and a heavily loaded pallet. During the landing, the pallet had torn loose from its tie downs and slammed the man against the bulkhead. His were the most serious injuries. One of the sleds was already allocated for his transportation.
    With the rear cargo ramp heavily damaged and jammed shut from impact, all unloading would have to be out the left side door that was tilted up at an angle. It took longer to unload out that door but it was the only option unless they wanted to waste time and attempt to dig a tunnel to the right side door and somehow manhandle all the cargo that way. Hopefully, the essential equipment would be out of the aircraft before the next wave of the blizzard descended on the little valley they had crashed in. If only the aircraft hadn’t been so overloaded on takeoff and wasn’t struck by a rogue down draft that forced one wingtip and engine into a stand of trees at the end of the runway. That impact had led to this crash. The unloading took a very short time as the men were highly motivated to empty the airframe as fast as they could. The threat of the wind changing and creating white out conditions was always a healthy motivator.
    Harris with his RTO walked over to where O’Toole and Sands were connecting the cargo sleds and inspecting the equipment that was to be carried on them.
    “Captain, I think I know where we are.”
    O’Toole looked up. “You think? Can you be a bit more specific than that?”
    “Yes sir, I can,” Harris replied as he opened the map already folded to the grid he thought they were in.
    “Talking with the pilots and checking my GPS, we’re here in this valley,” he indicated on the map. “Our target is northeast of us about 40 klicks.”
    “Tell me some good news,” O’Toole quipped doing the math in this head to determine the distance in miles.
    “I’m getting to that. If we head west, there’s an Inuit village 12 klicks from here that we can hold up at and call in for extraction.”
    “Excuse me? Call for extraction?” O’Toole looked at the younger officer with a mixture of disbelief and anger.
    “Yes sir. We lost the initiative. We’re on the ground with injured with the worst part of a blizzard bearing down on us. Proceeding to the objective on foot is out of the question. We need to get out of this weather, regroup, gather our resources and call for extraction. If they can’t get us, then we wait out the weather then start heading back when it clears. We’re combat ineffective,” the Ranger officer said.
    “Captain, you’re a Ranger in the United States Army. Reach down your pants, grab a double handful of balls and man up,” O’Toole said. “We drive on,” he said before walking a short distance away to calm down and gather his thoughts.
    “What’s wrong with him?” Harris asked, a blank look on his face.
    “You don’t get it, do you?” Sands replied, his voice taking on a level of chill that surpassed the current environment. “We are going to close with the enemy. We are going to engage them with shock and awe. We are going to terminate them with extreme prejudice. Then we are going to piss on the graves of their ancestors,” he said, enunciating his words precisely. “Hoo-ah?”
    Harris was unsure how to respond to that statement.
    Willis and the rest of Shark Platoon had commandeered two of the cargo sleds that had been unloaded from the MC-130. The sleds had been loaded on the plane under the