That resolve did not last long. At Boise the OIC in the air traffic control center took care to ensure that the Air Guard A-10s based there came up on the same radio frequency that the FAA required all aircraft in the Boise area to monitor. With growing alarm Macky listened to the commander of those A-10s as he called the tower for permission to taxi onto Boise’s main runway and prepare for takeoff. In a calm voice the controller granted them permission to proceed. Once the A-10’s announced that they were set, the controller passed on a heading and altitude that the A-10s were to take once airborne. The air crews of all of the inbound C-141s monitoring these exchanges didn’t need a navigator to tell them that the heading the A-10s had been given was an intercept course.

Ignoring the sweat beading up on his forehead, Macky asked his navigator how far out they were. Along with the navigator’s response that they were still seven minutes away, Macky could hear the voice of the leader of the A-10s acknowledging permission to take off, followed by a lusty, “Here we go, boys.” In his mind the Air Force colonel could picture the sinister looking ground attack planes thundering down the runway with their throttles wide open and their pilots easing back on the stick till their aircraft leaped up off the ground and became airborne. Though he wasn’t familiar with the flight characteristics of the A-10s, he had little doubt that they would be able to make one good pass at them before his transports reached the designated drop zones. As bad at that was for his aircraft, it meant that the A-10s would be back in time to catch the paratroopers while they were helplessly suspended from their parachutes during their descent.

Macky’s copilot sensed what was going though his commander’s mind. “What now?”

Macky wanted to call back for instructions. He wanted to ask a more senior officer for orders, or guidance, or recommendations. But there was no time. Over his headphones he could hear the commander of the A-10s instructing his pilots to tighten up once they had reached twelve hundred feet.

“Six minutes out, sir,” the navigator stated dryly.

The decision, Macky realized, was his and his alone. No one could make it for him.

“Commander of Air Force transports west of Boise, this is Colonel Terrance Smith, Idaho Air National Guard.” Aboard the transports the crews tensed up. “Bring your aircraft to a heading of one eight zero,” the A-10 squadron commander ordered without waiting for a response, “and take your aircraft out of Idaho airspace.”