THE DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND Kurt Newton
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The Humvee crested the dune and rolled to a stop. Above, the stars looked down. Night in the Iraqi desert. Ahead and behind, nothing but the undulating surface of the desert.
The four-man tactical rescue team, Operation Ferret, assessed their current position. Their coordinates put them just west of the last received signal from the downed F1 fighter jet. The skies were relatively quiet—a brief intermission in the barrage that had been pounding Baghdad and points south for the past several days. A temporary cease fire—at least until the downed jet could be located and the pilots retrieved.
"We have company," spoke one of the team. "Enemy at ten o'clock."
"Let's move!"
In the distance, four sets of headlights appeared—three jeeps an
