So why did the search for the F-15E crew not start immediately? Possibly because their condition and location had not been determined, and possibly because the enemy defenses in this corner of Iraq were considered too severe to risk a rescue attempt. In all fairness, enemy defenses there were heavy. This part of Iraq was known as “Sam’s Town,” after a country-and-western casino in Las Vegas, so named because of the aggressive SAM sites in the area. Yet, when later in the war numerous Special Operations Scud-hunting teams were flown into western Iraq, non-SOF airmen concluded that the rescue assets they relied on were more interested in supporting Special Operations missions than saving their lives.

Whatever the reason, during the following days, three CSAR sorties were flown—to no avail. They went south of Griffith and Eberly. After that, the two men were on their own.

★ After they’d settled in on top of the hill, Griffith used a piece of Eberly’s parachute to clean and bandage his pilot’s neck wound. Later, they could hear the seemingly endless thunder of bombs dropped by B-52s on a target far to the south. Eberly urgently tried to reach the big bombers with his radio, but to no avail. After nightfall, they managed to contact an F-15C fighter patrolling overhead, who disappeared to the south without recontacting them. This was standard procedure. Because of the Iraqi direction-finding trucks, lengthy conversations were avoided. Shortly thereafter, the F-15C pilot relayed their general location to AWACS on secure (encrypted) radio.

After that, it was another day of waiting. Yet they knew they couldn’t stay where they were much longer. Though they could survive for a while without food, they were running short of water, and would have to move before they became too dehydrated to travel. They considered several plans—like stealing an Iraqi car, or highjacking one at gunpoint, and driving into Syria—but none seemed really workable.

Later, they listened on their survival radio to the pickup of Devon Jones. This was exciting—and painful—to hear.

They kept asking themselves questions: “Is this place too hot for the rescue birds? Where are we going to find water? How long will it take to walk to Syria?” And the most dreaded of all: “Does anyone know we are here?”

Late in the afternoon of the second day, they ripped up the remainder of Eberly’s parachute and fashioned what might pass from a distance as Bedouin robes and headdresses. After sunset, they started walking toward Syria.

Soon, the lights of two towns appeared in the distance. From where they stood, they guessed that one was in Iraq and the other in Syria.