After a couple of hours, Lukša halted and raised his hand. They were on the edge of the DZ. Again the patrol took cover and moved into all-round defense, this time, though, in a very tight circle, each person’s ankle crossing the ankle of the person to the right of them: now was the time to present as small a target as possible to any roving patrols or wandering civilians.

Morland checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes to go, well ahead of time and roughly as planned. He pointed at his watch to Lukša, who was carrying the radar transponder beacon.

He gave a thumbs up in response to signal his understanding.

The time passed all too slowly. Then it was fifteen minutes to go. Morland again confirmed the time with Sergeant Wild and Lukša, and each compared times on their luminous watches. A thumbs up from each. Now they were on the countdown.

Exactly at a quarter past midnight Lukša activated his handheld radar transponder beacon. It would transmit a response when interrogated by the incoming signal from the descending Special Forces parachutists and would guide the Americans in.

Meanwhile, somewhere thirty kilometers to their south, 30,000 feet above northern Poland, those Americans had jumped from their aircraft about fifty-two minutes earlier. Deploying their parachutes soon after leaving their aircraft, they had crossed into Russian airspace and were now descending by Hi-Glide canopy at around 28 kilometers an hour toward the DZ, guided by the GPS strapped to their wrists and, hopefully, undetected by radar. Right now, as they neared their destination, Morland knew they would be keenly awaiting the return signal from the radar transponder, telling them that there were friendly guides awaiting them at the DZ.

As for Morland, he was suddenly desperate to hear reassuring American voices, backed by American muscle, an indication that he might be taking the first step on his route back to home and some sort of normality.

He didn’t have long to wait. Mere moments later, he was conscious of a faint whispering sound and to his front, in the open field beyond the tree line, he saw the silhouette of a parachute descending rapidly with a helmeted, oxygen-masked figure wearing night vision goggles dangling beneath it, followed in quick succession by several more. The American Green Berets had arrived.

2330 hours, Saturday, July 8, 2017Central European Time

0030 hours, Sunday, July 9, 2017, Eastern European Time

Comprehensive Crisis Operations Management Center (CCOMC) SHAPE headquarters, Mons, Belgium

IT HAD BEEN a long day but, nevertheless, the night shift of the CCOMC, the nerve center of NATO’s strategic headquarters, was a hive of activity. In the open-plan command center, staff officers from all the NATO member states and several partner nations, civilian staff with impressive academic credentials and representatives from well-established partners like the EU and UN humanitarian organizations, planned and executed the campaign to eject Russia from the Baltic states.