The sky was blue, the sea was blue, and across the gently rippling water, a series of aircraft appeared—first the reconnaissance planes, then the fighters. The American-made jets, captured and repurposed, approached like blue-grey sea geese carving through the sky.
From the sea, looking up, they appeared no larger than small birds, their scale deceptive. But as they swept overhead, casting a massive shadow that blotted out the sun, the people on the ground finally realized their true size.
It was almost laughable. Scattered gunfire erupted from the island; the pirates, clearly terrified of the jets, were foolishly trying to take them down with AK rifles. To aim accurately, one has to fly low, but to avoid being hit by bullets, one cannot fly too low. A young soldier, not grasping the nuance of the maneuver, saw the planes at a distance and whispered, "This doesn't look good."
Chapter 311