Master Sergeant Doug Bland seemed completely recovered from the insertion ordeal as he sprinted from one piece of wreckage to another. None of the others understood the jargon he used to identify things that caught his eye, but they all responded to his direction and quickly slapped thermite grenades where he indicated. By full dawn, the area was blazing with intense flame and covered with a pall of black smoke that rose into the clear, cold air over the crash site.
“I think we got the critical stuff.” Bland was scanning a laminated check-list in the pale light of the sun rising above the mountains to the east. He turned to Shake and pointed at a long wing section about 50 meters away from the blazing remains of the U-2 cockpit. “I need to make a second sweep and then we can burn the rest
