Carpenter watched as the first A-10 rolled in while spitting out self-protection flares. The flares were used to decoy any possible surface to air infrared missiles and were also useful to get the enemy’s attention. The first A-10 screamed low overhead at relatively high speed. The whine of its twin turbofan engines was nearly deafening. As it passed overhead, it made an aggressive climbing left-hand turn as it popped out more flares.

The second A-10 was just as impressive as it flew over thirty seconds later. This time, the pilot banked right and climbed, also emitting self-protection flares as it climbed overhead. Carpenter was jealous. That looked fun.

“America! Fuck yeah!” Gomez screamed, pumping his fist in the air.

Carpenter saw Gomez slump over in the turret before he even heard the register of the round. A sniper had taken advantage of Gomez’ carelessness and had hit him in an area not protected be body armor.

As Carpenter sprinted for the HUMVEE door, he prayed it wasn’t fatal. He opened the door and reached in. Before he could climb in all the way, he heard a voice behind him.

“Carpenter? What the hell are you doing? I need you working these fighters; you’re not a goddamned medic!” It was Maj Hilton. He had managed to appear out of nowhere.

“Gomez is hit, sir,” Carpenter said as he tried to grab Gomez.

Maj Hilton grabbed Carpenter and pulled him out of the HUMVEE just as a combat medic arrived. “Do your job. They will do theirs. That’s how this works, hooah?”

Carpenter shook it off and pulled out his binoculars to locate the troops on the ridgeline. He found several fighters regrouping as the shooting started again. The fifty on the MRAP lit up behind him as it returned fire.

“Cajun 34, Sandman, advise when ready for first nine line,” Carpenter said, calming himself down. He watched as they pulled Gomez out of the HUMVEE and onto the ground to treat him. He had been hit between his collar and the body armor. There was blood everywhere. He was still breathing, but he needed to be evacuated soon.

“Send it,” the A-10 pilot said coolly.

Carpenter gave them the required information in the nine line format, reading to them the target location, description, and distance from friendlies. He didn’t have his coordinate generating laptop open at the time, so he used a visual talk-on to mark the enemy position.

After the fighters read back the target location and friendly position, Carpenter gave them their attack restrictions. He would clear them to release ordnance once he confirmed they were on the appropriate heading and attacking the right target.

The A-10s took a minute to coordinate amongst themselves and then called ready. They would be dropping GPS bombs using coordinates they generated through their on board sensors.

“Cajun 34 in, heading 360,” the first fighter called as he made his attack run.

“Cajun 34, cleared hot,” Carpenter replied over the radio.

Carpenter turned toward the other soldiers and yelled, “Thirty seconds!” As before, they echoed the cease-fire and put their heads down. This time, the concern wasn’t shooting the low flying A-10s, but getting hit by a stray piece of shrapnel or debris.