Ramirez got behind Vick and struggled against the big guy's considerable girth. "Promise me something," he said in the agent's ear. "You won't throw up on me, will you?"

Vick began coughing again.

"Oh, man," moaned Ramirez, guiding the man forward. "Here we go."

The captain and Diaz, along with one of the chopper's door gunners, did an outstanding job of keeping the insurgents along the mountain busy while Ramirez and Brown ushered the agents out of there. The pilot had pulled off his spot and now wheeled overhead to engage the enemy. But once he saw them nearing the ridge, and Ramirez gave him a shout to confirm that, he swung around and descended.

With the Black Hawk in its deafening hover, they seized the harness and line. Vick got buckled in and went up first. Saenz followed, and even as he was halfway up, just a meter from being pulled in, he took a round in the shoulder, making Ramirez curse and holler for the guys up top to move faster.

Then a flash came from the corner of Ramirez's eye: one of the Taliban fighters had launched a rocket-propelled grenade.

Ramirez screamed over the radio for the pilot to lift off.

As the engines roared, he and Brown dove from their little ledge, dropping at least two meters into a huge snowdrift below.

Just as Ramirez was swallowed in all that white, the RPG hammered into the mountainside, heaving up fountains of rock and shrapnel.

And yet the snow kept coming, shielding Ramirez at least a little, large pieces of snow and ice resembling foam rushing over his head as he slid down several more meters and came to a jarring halt.

Brown stopped with a blast of snow beside him.

Ramirez flailed his arms, relieved that he was buried only a quarter meter deep in the snow. He sat up as the chopper arced overhead through the starlit night, with Saenz just now being hauled into the bay.

Brown crawled next to him, his face barely visible behind his new camouflage suit of snow. "We're supposed to be dead."

"Ghost Lead, this is Black Hawk Two-Niner. I have your package on board, coming back around to pick you up."

"Negative, negative," replied Mitchell. "It's getting even hotter down here."

"Roger that. I got another valley directly east of your position. Got it marked on your tac map."

"Stand by." Mitchell ducked behind the rock and with a voice command pulled up his tactical map so that it filled his entire HUD. He spotted that second valley indicated by the pilot's flashing green designator. He zoomed in, saw how the more level ground provided a good LZ and that it put a hillside between them and the oncoming Taliban fighters. "Black Hawk Two-Niner, put down in that valley, and we'll rally on you."

"On our way, Ghost Lead."