Tango Tango Seven you copy? The radio asked. I picked it up and listened to the order. Ok Hans, ready for your first flight over a combat zone? Yeah, he said with mild enthusiasm. I smiled, that’s good. Kurgan stomped down the dirt stairs and into the bunker. He had to hunch to keep his helmet from knocking on the wooden rafters. Is there an attack? Hans asked. Easy killer, Kurgan explained, they just need overwatch for an infil. Oh, Hans said, slightly deflated, he had his FPV goggles in his hand. I noticed and said, don’t worry you’ll be putting those on soon enough. This job is just as important. Ten minutes later Hans was looking at a phone-sized screen on a drone controller. The drone was high in the air looking down on two Bradly IFV’s and a Booker light tank as they made their way across the Texan plains. I sat nearby sipping an energy drink and watching the same scene on a tablet. There, see the trench line? It just came into view. Hans smiled, he flew the drone with ease. He s...
Hans looked like shit. Waking up early was not his thing and we had gotten up really early. Plus the humvee we were riding in didn’t have seats, so each bump and rut in the rugged dirt road tossed him side to side or bounced him off the bed of the truck. I thought the driver was doing pretty good considering he was wearing night vision goggles and driving down a tree lined road on a moonless night. Hans also wasn’t used to wearing body armor and a helmet. The bullet proof vest kept riding up making him look like a turtle retracting its head into a shell. I adjusted his helmet to fit him once, then he messed with the adjustment straps and now it rolled around on his head like a salad bowl. The Kurgan squated at the tailgate, holding himself upright with a rifle and peering into the darkness like a gargoyle. Inside the humvee was loud, but I was sitting close enough to the passenger to hear him key the radio. Whiskey Two Four we are approaching Tango Tango Seven, do you still have a...