“We have the senator. Ready to receive the Fulton system.”
“Tiger, this is Randy Dorsey. I’m in a Herc a thousand meters overhead with several members of your SWIC team—Benny, Piggy, and Cowboy—and a Fulton ready for a guided paradrop. I see your marker, but we are dealing with significant winds aloft. Your guys will remotely guide the Fulton down to the two-hundred-meter level. Then you take over. It has IR markers so you can see it with your night vision.”
“I got it, Randy. Let her fly!”
Mother gave me a clear view in my glasses. The Fulton kept drifting to the west, but my SWIC team members in the Herc kept pulling it back overhead. At 200 meters, I took over, and as it got lower, the winds lessened. At seventy-five meters, I started to make out the four IR beacons, one at each corne
