woodlands of Virginia for you. The C-130 will drop you from twenty thousand feet. Another team with a HumVee will monitor you from the drop zone." She pulled out photos of the landing area, which was covered with thick stands of oak, ash and beech trees. "We've tried to duplicate as closely as possible the landing zone chosen for you on Nevis . It's heavily wooded, so the potential for injury is high."
Pepper studied the photo carefully. "Looks just like the forests we chute into, Colonel, except that these aren't pine trees." She looked at him. "Are you used to landing in this kind of stuff?"
"No, I'm not," he admitted darkly.
"Welcome to a lot of getting hung up in trees, then." Pepper leaned back, feeling good about being able to contribute something from her area of expertise. "We have special chutes made so that we can pretty much zero in on which set of trees to land between. Of course, even if we're able to do that, we still get batted around by tree limbs. There isn't a time when we aren't bruised. At the worst, those limbs can act like spears, and gash an arm or leg."
Pepper tapped the photo on the table. "And even if you're lucky and experienced, and the wind is your friend that day, you still can get hung up fifty feet off the ground. Then you have to cut yourself loose and do a free-drop to the terrain below, which may or may not be rocky. Or if you manage to make the mark and go between the trees, you may not have the luxury of flexing your knees and bending and rolling when you hit the ground, the way parachutists are taught. Which leaves you open for at least a sprained ankle, and potentially a broken leg."
"Do you ever make a landing without some kind of injury?"
"Never," Pepper said matter-of-factly. "I work long hours with my team on precision landings, Colonel. We pick the most thickly wooded, steepest slopes, ones with boulders under the trees, to practice on, because, you have to understand, we may land within a mile of a roaring forest fire. The winds around a fire are very different, far more dangerous and unreliable, than those of a straightforward parachute drop like this HAHO. For this one, at least, we'll have weather information in advance. We'll know what the wind directions are and won't have to worry about vortex winds swirling at five thousand feet to throw us off course or into some trees."
As Jim listened to her husky urgent voice, a sense of admiration threaded through him. Pepper obviously knew her craft. And he didn't have much experience with heavy-tree landings. If anything, he could be the albatross on this trip.
"Colonel, I strongly suggest we wear support gear around our knees, elbows and ankles." Pepper held up her hands and gestured to her elbow. "We usually wear tight, hard elastic wraps around joints that are likely to be injured. I wear them especially tightly around my ankles. If I can't walk once I'm on the ground, I'm useless to my team."
Jim snorted. "We don't do that in the military, Ms. Sinclair. If you want to wear them, go ahead."
Pepper stared at him. "I can't believe you'd dismiss this safety feature so easily, Colonel. What if you hurt yourself on this HAHO exercise tomorrow morning? What good will you be to the mission then?"
Jim glared at her. "Give it a rest. I'm not going to impose my jumping habits on you, Ms. Sinclair, so don't shove your ideas down my throat."
"Good teamwork comes from working together, Colonel," Pepper said hotly. "Teamwork means sharing our experiences, deriving the best ideas from all parties concerned, then instituting them for everyone. Safety is my first and only consideration."
"Hitting the target accurately is mine. And you had better hope you hit it, too, or you aren't going on this mission." Jim rose, feeling the tension in himself , seeing the anger in Pepper's huge blue eyes as she slowly stood in turn. Tearing his gaze away, he looked down at the lieutenant.
"Thanks for the briefing, Berenice . You've done a good job,
Pepper studied the photo carefully. "Looks just like the forests we chute into, Colonel, except that these aren't pine trees." She looked at him. "Are you used to landing in this kind of stuff?"
"No, I'm not," he admitted darkly.
"Welcome to a lot of getting hung up in trees, then." Pepper leaned back, feeling good about being able to contribute something from her area of expertise. "We have special chutes made so that we can pretty much zero in on which set of trees to land between. Of course, even if we're able to do that, we still get batted around by tree limbs. There isn't a time when we aren't bruised. At the worst, those limbs can act like spears, and gash an arm or leg."
Pepper tapped the photo on the table. "And even if you're lucky and experienced, and the wind is your friend that day, you still can get hung up fifty feet off the ground. Then you have to cut yourself loose and do a free-drop to the terrain below, which may or may not be rocky. Or if you manage to make the mark and go between the trees, you may not have the luxury of flexing your knees and bending and rolling when you hit the ground, the way parachutists are taught. Which leaves you open for at least a sprained ankle, and potentially a broken leg."
"Do you ever make a landing without some kind of injury?"
"Never," Pepper said matter-of-factly. "I work long hours with my team on precision landings, Colonel. We pick the most thickly wooded, steepest slopes, ones with boulders under the trees, to practice on, because, you have to understand, we may land within a mile of a roaring forest fire. The winds around a fire are very different, far more dangerous and unreliable, than those of a straightforward parachute drop like this HAHO. For this one, at least, we'll have weather information in advance. We'll know what the wind directions are and won't have to worry about vortex winds swirling at five thousand feet to throw us off course or into some trees."
As Jim listened to her husky urgent voice, a sense of admiration threaded through him. Pepper obviously knew her craft. And he didn't have much experience with heavy-tree landings. If anything, he could be the albatross on this trip.
"Colonel, I strongly suggest we wear support gear around our knees, elbows and ankles." Pepper held up her hands and gestured to her elbow. "We usually wear tight, hard elastic wraps around joints that are likely to be injured. I wear them especially tightly around my ankles. If I can't walk once I'm on the ground, I'm useless to my team."
Jim snorted. "We don't do that in the military, Ms. Sinclair. If you want to wear them, go ahead."
Pepper stared at him. "I can't believe you'd dismiss this safety feature so easily, Colonel. What if you hurt yourself on this HAHO exercise tomorrow morning? What good will you be to the mission then?"
Jim glared at her. "Give it a rest. I'm not going to impose my jumping habits on you, Ms. Sinclair, so don't shove your ideas down my throat."
"Good teamwork comes from working together, Colonel," Pepper said hotly. "Teamwork means sharing our experiences, deriving the best ideas from all parties concerned, then instituting them for everyone. Safety is my first and only consideration."
"Hitting the target accurately is mine. And you had better hope you hit it, too, or you aren't going on this mission." Jim rose, feeling the tension in himself , seeing the anger in Pepper's huge blue eyes as she slowly stood in turn. Tearing his gaze away, he looked down at the lieutenant.
"Thanks for the briefing, Berenice . You've done a good job,
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