“Pop smoke, James!” John instructed one of the two guides on the LZ. James pulled the pin from his canister and tossed it several feet behind him.
“Angel-five-zero, smoke is out.”
“Roger, we identify yellow smoke.”
“That’s affirmative.”
“Roger that. We have you in visual. Is the LZ cold?”
“That’s affirmative.”
“Sierra-one, we’ll be coming in from the west. Have those wounded ready so we can get them out as quickly as possible.”
“Wilco, out.”
While John stood at the edge of the tree line watching the two birds on their approach, his radio came to life once again. “Sierra-one, Lightning-six-niner, over.”
“This is Sierra-one.”
“Roger, Sierra-one, what’s the status of your LZ for our angels of mercy?”
He looked up, surprised to see two Cobras circling overhead. “This is Sierra-one.
