Morrison waited.
— Crew got out. We set up a perimeter. Called for QRF. But we were deep in hostile territory. Closest friendlies were 90 minutes out.
Her voice stayed level, but Morrison could hear the effort it took.
— They came at us in waves. Small arms. RPGs. Mortars. My co-pilot, my crew chiefs, my door gunners—they held them off. Gave me time to rig demolition charges on the bird. Destroy the classified equipment. Held them off while I called in air strikes. Talked the fast movers onto target.
— How long?
— 73 minutes. QRF arrived. Extracted me. I was the only one still—
She stopped.
— The only one.
— I’m sorry.
— I got commendations. Medals. They called it heroic. But it wasn’t. It was survival. And seven people died so I could survive.
She set down the water bottle.
