One Year Ago, 20,000 feet above the Konduz Valley Afghanistan, 0237 hours.

Captain Charlotte "Spider" Janssen maneuvered her aircraft and entered the holding point right on time. She engaged the autopilot in altitude hold mode and the 500,000 pound four-engine C-17 cargo aircraft was programmed to maintain the required holding pattern until the next phase of the mission. "Crew, pilot. Two-zero minutes to drop."

Her copilot 1st Lieutenant Danny "Noonan" Jefferson responded crisply. "Co acknowledges, two-zero minutes."

Over the intercom, the Instructor Loadmaster Master Sergeant Sammy "Spuds" McKenzie answered in turn. "Load acknowledges, two-zero minutes."

Charlotte smiled at the efficiency of her young crew. Between the five of them, their combined ages added up to just over 120! She checked the lineup card on her kneeboard and typed in the correct VHF frequency and keyed the mic. "Tiger two-one, Chevy zero-three." After a short pause, a male voice answered sharply. "Chevy zero-three, Tiger two-one has you lima charlie."

Charlotte again looked down at her lineup card and said: "Tiger two-one authenticate whiskey tango."

After another short pause, the JTAC [joint tactical air controller] answered confidently. "Tiger two-one authenticates foxtrot."

"Tiger two-one, go secure."

Charlotte then entered another key on her communications panel which put the aircraft radio in a secure mode which to any bad guys listening in on the frequency would just sound like random static. "Tiger two-one, Chevy zero-three how do you hear?"

The JTAC's voice sounded a bit like he was speaking from inside of a soup can as he responded. "Lima charlie how me?"

"Lima charlie Tiger two-one, we are as fragged and on time. Ready for a Sitrep and modified nine-line, we brought the beans and bullets. We have 3 CDS pallets if you want them."

"Roger that Chevy. Just livin' the dream down here. Sitrep follows. Firebase Roberts secure, two patrols east and west of drop zone Delta. Enemy activity concentrated on ridgeline five klicks to the north of Roberts. Estimated 20-30 enemy. Small arms, one technical vehicle, two motorcycles. Intel reports Iranian made Sam-7I in the area. How copy?"

"Chevy zero-three copies all. We are holding at IP-kilo, angels 22. Ready for nine-line."

Charlotte removed a pen from her sleeve pocket and prepared to fill in the blank airdrop form. Her copilot did the same thing to verify the data. "Go ahead Tiger, send it"

With the practiced cadence of an experienced controller, Tiger two-one went through the litany "Request CDS, drop zone Delta. Heading 010. Altitude 500. Wind 090 at 10 knots temperature 12°. Friendly's 300 meters east and 300 meters west of kilo. No enemy active. Abort code tango uniform."

"Tiger, Chevy has good copy. Standby for read back."

To ensure that she had copied everything accurately Charlotte read back the appropriate data verbatim. "Good copy Chevy, we are standing by for your 10-minute call. You guys didn't happen to bring any beer did you?"

Charlotte laughed and then responded. "Sorry Tiger, that would be against the rules, however, my Load informs me that his friends Jack, Jim, and Johnny may have stowed away in the medical supplies."

"Bless you, Chevy! We're halfway through a 12-month business trip down here in Paradise Valley, so it's much appreciated. You Air Force guys ain't half bad. I'll make sure to inspect that pallet myself."

"Roger that Tiger, standby for our 10-minute call."

10 minutes prior to the airdrop, Charlotte took manual control of the aircraft and deftly maneuvered it along the 3-dimensional alignment corridor displayed in her heads up display. She checked her nav display and keyed the intercom. "Crew, pilot, one-zero minutes."

Airman First Class Rico "FNG" (Friendly New Guy) Rodriguez followed the directions of Sergeant Mckenzie to prepare the cargo bay of the aircraft for the low altitude Container Delivery System drop. They finished their checklists, double-checked each other's safety harnesses and gave each other a thumbs up.

From the pilot's station, a green light on the airdrop console indicated that all was ready below. Charlotte reduced the four throttles of the massive aircraft and put it into what they laughingly called whisper mode. All of the external lights had been turned off hours earlier when they crossed feet dry and her crew was all on night vision goggles. As they said in the trade it was as dark as a well digger's toolbox. Charlotte scanned the terrain below her through her NVGs and looked at the hills to the left and right of the drop zone and the 18,000 foot high mountains just a few dozen miles north of their position. There were no electric lights other than Firebase Roberts. If a Taliban lit a cigarette she would see it 100 miles away. She looked at her nav display and keyed the mic. "Tiger two-one, Chevy zero-three is low and slow. Five minutes. Mark!"

"Tiger two-one is visual. You are right online."

Charlotte centered the crosshairs in her HUD and concentrated on keeping the four-engine beast on course. Her copilot announced. "Countermeasures on auto. Two minutes. Load confirm doors open, ramp locked."

Over the obvious air noise in the background, the loadmaster responded. "Doors open. Ramp down and locked. Standing by for drop light."

From the left seat of the now slow-moving beast, Charlotte scanned the drop zone as best she could do through her night-vision goggles. The only visible light was the four infrared strobes defining the drop zone. She looked down and keyed the mic. "Crew. Six-zero seconds."

She then made another radio call. "Tiger 60 seconds to drop."

The massive aircraft had slowed from its usual cruising altitude of 34,000 feet and almost 600 mph to 500 feet above the ground and only just above 200 mph in preparation for the airdrop. A moment later she announced. "Load, pilot. The light is yours."

"Copy that pilot. Standby for CDS drop on my countdown."

From the ground, the controller said calmly. "Chevy, looking good. Still right on centerline."

Charlotte looked out to the North and saw a flash. She instinctively keyed the switch to dispense flares just as the JTAC radioed. "CHEVY - SAM LAUNCH – SAM LAUNCH. NORTH!"

Through her goggles, Charlotte saw the corkscrew trail of the handheld IR missile and maneuvered the aircraft first to the left and then to the right while simultaneously dispensing more countermeasure flares. To her crew, she said calmly. "Talley missile, jinking now!"

The Iranian made missile trailed harmlessly behind the aircraft. She then centered up the crosshairs in her HUD, checked the drop display and keyed the radio again. "Tiger, Chevy is 30 seconds from drop."

The ground controller paused a moment to take a breath. "Nice flying Chevy. Looks like those clowns were shooting at the noise again. We have a vector on that firing position. Chevy zero-three you are cleared for CDS."

Charlotte acknowledged. "Chevy cleared for CDS. Five – four – three – two – one. Drop-drop- drop!"

From the rear of the aircraft, three pallets each trailing a drogue chute emerged from the back of the aircraft one after another. As soon as the last of the cargo was clear the Loadmaster announced. "Pilot, Load. All clear. Doors closing now."

With that, Charlotte pushed the four throttles of the C-17 to full military power. "Hold on boys, let's get the hell out of here!"

The now-empty aircraft climbed away from the ground at a steep angle and at a climb rate of almost 20,000 feet per minute. As they established a safe altitude. There was a sigh of relief from her copilot and one more radio call from the ground. "Good drop Chevy, right in the middle of the DZ, our thanks! Thanks for the beans and bullets. We have a good loc on the guys who were shooting at you. We'll see if we can hook them up with their 72 virgins before sunrise."

Charlotte keyed her mic. "Copy that. You guys have a good one and come home safe."