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matter the color of the passport. Some stayed in the enemy's territory once hostilities broke out, posing before the cameras in the very spot that was to be targeted by American missiles. That might well muddy one's perspective. |
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The Hercules banked sharply under a layer of low cloud as it flew over the airstrip at Eskimo Point. The whole strip from one end to the other, as well as the taxiway, was brilliantly lit. Here at least they were not wasting time. Calculating by the number of lights bordering the runway, it was even shorter than Morgan had expected. Some twenty feet from the end was an Air Command Starlifter, bogged down in the muddy taiga. One wingtip rested awkwardly on the frozen ground, and an engine nacelle had been damaged. The Canadian pilots had discovered, obviously too late, that the strip at Eskimo Point could not accommodate a Starlifter. But the loading ramp of the damaged airplane was down, and a crew was at work assembling a large American helicopter, an MH-53J. |
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The C-130 made a single broad circuit of the airstrip, then settled into a steep final approach. Morgan watched the spoilers emerge from the wings like metal fences, steepening even more the Hercules' approach. At no more than fifty feet, the pilot flared the big airplane sharply, and a moment later the wheel trucks were on the ground, and the comforting sound of the tires rumbling over the uneven surface thrummed through the cavernous interior of the fuselage. |
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As the Hercules turned to taxi back to the half-cylindrical Quonset hut that served as a field operations office, Morgan could see the Canadian and American crew climbing all over the helo. At the moment the machine did not look as though it would be ready to fly in a week, let alone in a day. But crews working in places like this had a surprising record of successes. |
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An all-terrain vehicle driven by an Air Command enlisted man appeared beside the C-130, guiding it to its designated parking place. As the ATV swung in close to the fuselage, |
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