The Peacemakers by Richard Herman Page A

can’t keep up with you, anyway.” Allston glanced at his airspeed indicator. The needle was bouncing off 165 knots and the turbulence was increasing. He throttled back to 140 knots and the turbulence eased.
    “Sir,” Bard Green said from the right seat, “I’m not sure if the Herk can take this.”
    “Yeah, she can,” Allston replied. “Can we?” He gave the copilot his lopsided grin. “When things go wrong, get aggressive.” G.G. announced they were inside two miles just as Allston saw the legionnaires’ three trucks stopped on the road. “Tallyho,” he called. “Target on the nose. Riley, hit the fuel dump switch when I tell you.” He dropped the C-130 down to 150 feet above the ground and inched the throttles back as he jinked the big bird with short heading and altitude changes. Allston was careful to watch the acceleration meter and not pull over two gs as he dropped another 50 feet. “Riley, dump.” The flight engineer reached for the overhead panel and hit the two fuel dump switches with both hands as they flew straight and level over the legionnaires. “Dump off,” Allston called. He pulled up to 200 feet and again jinked the aircraft, but this time more gentle.
    “Colonel!” The French captain called, “The patrol wants to know if we are using chemical weapons.”
    “No way,” Allston replied, “but that’s what I want everyone to think. Let’s do it again and see if we can convince the bastards that they are about to die.” He turned to the left and circled back to run it at ninety degrees to the first run. He dropped to 150 feet and inched down to 100 as he rolled out and flew over the target. “Riley, dump.” The flight engineer hit the fuel dump switch. “Dump off.”
    “Colonel Allston!” the French captain called over the intercom. “All gunfire has stopped and they are running away.”
    “How about that,” Allston said. He climbed to 400 feet and circled back, this time to the right.
    “I can see horsemen,” Green called from the copilot’s seat. “Three o’clock, on the road, keep the turn coming and you’ll bring ‘em to the nose.” He laughed. “That got their attention. They’re going at the speed of smell!”
    Allston rolled the big transport out with the horsemen on the nose. “Tallyho. Loadmaster, lower the ramp to the trail position. Colonel Vermullen, can you get a couple of shooters on the ramp to act like tail gunners?” He heard Vermullen rattle off commands in French over the intercom and felt the movement in the rear as the legionnaires shifted. He automatically trimmed the aircraft and Vermullen said that four shooters were in position. “That was quick,” Allston said. “Horsemen coming under the nose now. Fire!” Short bursts of gunfire echoed to the flight deck as the legionnaires opened fire. Then as quickly as it started, it was quiet. This time, Allston circled to the left as he climbed. He saw three horses on the ground and two bodies. “Let’s do it again,” he said. He found the retreating horsemen and rolled in. “Ready in the rear.”
    Again, the galloping horsemen came under the nose as the tall rider in the lead turned in the saddle and raised his AK-47. Allston caught a glimpse of the bearded man and a flash of teeth as he fired his submachine gun in defiance. “That’s one gutsy bastard,” Allston admitted. The rider never flinched and kept firing as the Hercules flew overhead. “Time to return the favor,” Allston muttered. “Ready, ready, fire.”
    The gunfire from the rear was more sustained as the legionnaires got the hang of it. Then it was quiet. “That pissed off some folks down there. Check for battle damage.” He climbed to 500 feet and circled the area. He counted five bodies and nine horses on the ground and played the numbers game. Had they killed enough of the enemy to force a withdrawal, but were they still strong enough with the will to regroup? It was one of the intangibles of combat the brass would