by Ian

Map: Azerbaijan (4,0)
Force: Magic Squadron, Lead Pilot Wizard
Mission: Evacuate Special Forces

Early one morning we were ordered to exfiltrate a platoon of special forces located in a hide some eight kilometres behind enemy lines. The busy front line meant that other flights were engaging tanks and artillery - my Blackhawk just had a single non-radar Longbow as escort, which should have meant that we would be almost invisible. To increase our extremely limited firepower my escort was carrying 16 laser-guided Hellfires. I had mounted 5.56mm chain guns for rate of fire.

It started well, as these missions do - our forces had the upper hand and the ride to the FEBA was clear, Abrams and Avengers dotting the hills. We crept higher than we should, dropping down only when the first enemy tank came into view.

After that it was a fast low ride in, speeds reaching 120 knots, at 80-100'. We should have been lower, of course, probably slower too, but the speed meant that before anything could hit us we would be over the next ridge. Only once were we caught out - a ZSU 23-4 was hiding on a reverse slope and started firing almost as soon as we passed overhead. It was a long flight down the valley before we were safe, but no harm seemed to have been done, although I heard the rounds strike home, green tracers flying past the windows. It was quite a shock - one moment we were in control, tearing over ridges and down picturesque valleys, the next diving despairingly for the next low rise.

I learnt after that - now it was slow and low, ordering my wingman to pop up and look around every now and then, and particularly before crossing a major ridge. In this way we avoided another Shilka by putting a peak between us and it and progress wasn't bad until some 2 kilometres from the pick-up point.

We were progressing towards the head of a long U-shaped valley leading up to the final peak when two Havocs popped over the ridge and started engaging with cannon immediately. Within seconds they were firing Aphid R60 air-to-air missiles.

I looked round to find him engaging two Hinds that had stormed in behind us. One Havoc was down and as I watched my wingman was pouring fire into an oncoming Hind. But he was already pouring smoke and appeared to be losing altitude.

I would like to say that I turned round back into the fray and saved the day, my door gunners shooting the best rounds of their lives.

But I didn't.

I was just over a kilometre from the pick-up, which lay just over the ridge to my front. I went hell for leather, clearing the ridge by under 10 feet. To my front I saw the troopers, dressed in Desert Storm camouflage, clearly visible against the green slope.

Slope. Bit too steep to land on. But all was quiet for a moment so I picked a spot some 300 metres downhill, where the slope was down to some 10 degrees. I set down, surprised at the quiet and calm. I shut down rotors and trusted to the little dip in the ground to hide me.

The troopers raced down the hill towards me, clearly visible through the cockpit glass. They made about one-third of the distance towards me when the Havoc appeared over the ridge, moving very slowly.

This was a slight problem. I was grounded, rotor stopped. Troops were moving exposed on the ground. We were all about to die. Excellent. Rounds started hitting the ground in front of me, then started to hit the helicopter itself, even as my single engine spooled up. But the troops were not yet aboard!

I lifted up a couple of metres, spun 90 degrees left and set down again with an audible bump. I switched to the right-hand chain gun and fired over the heads of the troops at the Havoc. Even with my helicopter on the slope I could not elevate high enough, my tracers passing pathetically under the incoming cannon fire, the status warnings seeming to become more and more urgent.

Nevertheless the Havoc appeared nervous, firing then backing off, then coming in for another burst. My troops were only thirty yards away when I finally got in a good burst. The soldiers scrambled aboard and I lifted off at maximum revs, though oil warnings brought me back to 80% torque soon enough. I headed back over the ridge under constant fire.

I didn't think I was going to make it. I was waiting for the crash, the engine two fire. I thought it could only be a matter of time, but I got to the ridge and headed over and down, glad to find the Hinds were gone. I glanced down at my TSD for an idea of waypoints and routes and was dismayed to find it blank.

I was trying to come up with a cunning plan when the Havoc crested the ridge and opened fire. He appeared to be out of missiles but that powerful green cannon fire was racing towards me. I shoved the nose down and raced forward down the valley, weaving slightly as I went.

To my astonishment I managed to outrun the Havoc with just one engine. I didn't really understand rotary flight or I would have known it was possible, but I was pleased nevertheless. As the pursuing Havoc dropped back out of range I was left with the problem of "Where am I? Where am I going?"

Weaving down the valleys streaming smoke behind me I tried to keep my heading between 210 and 340 degrees on the compass, trying to get to the happy side of the FEBA. I had no way of knowing when I was safe so I flew six major ridges west, estimating that to be nine or ten kilometres. Happily I met no enemy.

With no TSD I thought that I would just put down on the ground behind our lines and end the mission. Then I spotted a tent and shortly after a FARP. Completely by chance I had stumbled across a home base - not mine (as the two Apaches on the ground revealed) but home nevertheless! With smoke streaming behind me I landed, incredible of my luck.