He leaped up and lunged through the open hatch into the helicopter, taking the gunner by surprise. Hall fired twice, and the lifeless gunner fell out of the bird, hanging a meter from the ground, restrained by his harness.

In one quick move, Hall spun the machine gun around to train it on the troops, who were once again advancing his way. Withering fire from the machine gun on full automatic stopped them in midstride. Several fell while the others dove for cover and returned fire.

The Russians’ bullets pinged off the armored war bird, which had been designed to carry Soviet Spetsnaz troops into the mountains of Afghanistan. Armored helicopters had been a necessity there. Otherwise the mujahideen would have made short work of it. That same armor was giving the SEAL a few more moments to act.

The pilot, reacting to all the firing on the ground around him, hit the collector and started to spool up the twin turbines. As the big helicopter shuddered, Hall saw Martinelli coming his way at a dead run. He sprayed the enemy squad with more bursts of machine-gun fire, trying to give his buddy the cover he needed. With a mammoth leap, Martinelli dove headfirst into the helicopter as it lifted off. He rolled through the open hatch, then almost fell right out the other side. Hall grabbed a handful of parka and wrapped him up.

“Come on!” Martinelli shouted. “Let’s get out of here!” An odd look crossed his face when he realized that Hall was standing in the hatch and the chopper was lifting away. “Jesus! Who’s flying this thing?”

Before Hall could answer, Martinelli decided that was not as important as the Russians who were still shooting at them. He grabbed the chopper’s other machine gun and sprayed a few bursts at the troops, trying to pin them down until the helicopter was farther away.

Hall leaped into the cockpit. Before either of the two-man crew could react, Hall reached across, jerked the pilot out of his seat, and tossed him back through the doorway into the chopper’s cargo area. The Russian landed in a heap at Martinelli’s feet. The SEAL booted the guy right out the open hatch. The pilot fell hard to the frozen ground, ten meters below.

Jason Hall lowered himself into the pilot’s seat and grabbed the collector as the helicopter started a dangerous yaw to the left. He steadied the Hip and eased the big bird higher before heading south. The copilot stared at him, eyes wide with fear.

Martinelli stepped into the tiny cockpit and stood between the two seats.

“Okay, Jase,” he said nonchalantly. “Now what?”

“I figured you wanted a first-class seat on a flight out of here.”

“I didn’t know you could fly one of these things.”

Hall turned and smiled. “What gives you the impression that I can?”