Each of the helicopter flight crews had been briefed several days earlier as to the specifications of this particular flight, and those specifications were much the same as those parachute drops they had piloted previously. There were a few differences though, as aside from needing two helicopters instead of one for the amount of jumpers and their gear, the major change for this mission was the destination of the flight after their cargo had bailed out. Now with all the pre-flight checks taken care of, the engines warmed up sufficiently, and having been cleared for departure from the parade field, all that was needed before the helicopters could liftoff were the fourteen jumpers.

Switching his microphone on, the pilot of the lead ship, Major Bates, radioed the other helicopter and asked, “Hey Scrib, do you know what’s keeping them?”

Captain Scribner replied, “No Major, we haven’t heard anything.”

Before Major Bates could contemplate the implications of the delay any further, his own co-pilot pointed toward the cluster of buildings and said, “There they are now sir.”

Looking in the direction of his co-pilots pointing finger, Major Bates nodded and said, “Good. Our available time for flying to the proper jump position is already tight enough, so we don’t need any delays. Just imagine what the general would do to us if we were late.”

A moment later the fourteen men who had jogged across the grassy parade field divided into two groups of seven, and boarded the respective helicopters. Hidden behind their dark protective face shields, each man was loaded down with gear and weapons that were designed to simulate the standard issue equipment for dropping into a combat zone. Additionally, each man except the last had a large flag representing one of the original thirteen colonies strapped to their backs under the parachute pack. They would be followed by the modern day fifty star version of the American flag via the final jumper, as each would unfurl behind the men once their respective Air Ram rectangular parachutes were self-deployed.

For decades there had been jumps far too numerous to count over a multitude of stadiums throughout the country for one celebratory fashion or another, but none of those had matched the intended purpose of this day. In a spectacle that had been choreographed to the minute, fourteen parachutes drifting down over the stadiums for each of the three military service academies would create a splendid visual to commemorate Veterans day in America’s two hundred fiftieth year of existence. Due to the late arrival and hurried boarding of the jumpers, neither Major Bates nor any member of the flight crews on either helicopter noticed that something wasn’t quite right before lifting off.

After a short flight of fifteen minutes to obtain the proper altitude and jump position, the twin helicopters slowed their forward momentum to hover high above Michie Stadium and the surrounding grounds of the United States Military Academy. Based on a combination of factors that included an improved Army football product on the field of play, the geographic proximity of their opponent, New Jersey’s Rutgers University, and the planned celebration surrounding the Veterans holiday of three days prior, Michie Stadium was filled beyond the normal level of spectators. That assembled crowd approaching the stadiums capacity of thirty-eight thousand included the presence of several dozen generals and senior officers within the Army ranks, with some of them having taken leave from their overseas postings to fly in for the event. General Osborne, currently serving on the Joint Chiefs of Staff and per the directive from President Harwell, had traveled from Washington D.C. for the festivities and was seated next to the current commandant of the academy.

Drifting down from the cloudless sky above their target of Blaik Field within Michie Stadium, fourteen parachutes and the men dangling beneath them could now easily be seen by the spectators within the crowd. Upon reaching a level just a few hundred feet above the playing surface, while having adjusted to their own predetermined choreography, the first four men focused their attention on the Hoffman press box area atop the second level of the west side stands. Simultaneously, the three men descending close behind aimed toward the northern portion of the east stands where the corps of current cadets stood in mass. Then each of the seven began firing their shoulder holstered grenade launchers into strategic locations on both sides of the stadium. Crashing through the large window panes on both levels of the press box, the ensuing explosions caused by grenades launched from the two Hawk MM-1 MGL magazines effectively destroyed the entire media center located within. The network television feed, radio transmission, and all other communication abilities that had been established to cover the celebratory pregame festivities and the events of the gridiron scuffle, were instantly lost. Shrapnel and the concussive force of the grenades had left dozens of human bodies lifeless within the media center, while also tearing multiple holes through the walls of the superstructure.

Had the attack taken place a decade earlier, eliminating the communication center within the stadium would have been a less meaningful endeavor. During the time of 2016 the cellphone craze that had swept through American society was nearing its peak, so a significant percentage of those in the stadium would have been video tapping or “selfie” photographing each other at the game instead of actually watching the events unfold. That would have created the potential for thousands of video files that authorities could subsequently sift through in search of damaging evidence. Fortunately for the attacking force, most Americans had found that habit to be passé by 2024 as they redeveloped a desire to experience life once again instead of constantly starring at a tiny screen in the palm of their hand. That societal transformation meant that very few of the spectators gathered for a game in 2026 would have had the ability, or the desire, to film portions of the attack or those who had perpetrated it. With that lack of civilian captured evidence, an opportunity within the stadium had been created and the attacking force could not afford to ignore it. Although only a minimal amount of military personnel would be located within the media portion of the Hoffman press box, the area became a primary target in modern tactics much as it would have been fifty years earlier. The destruction of the media presence would aid in slowing the release of information, and the gathering of video evidence, with regard to the attack.

A smattering of debris fell upon the outer entrance concourse below the back wall of the Hoffman press box, but as most patrons were already seated within the stadium, only a few lives were impacted as a result. On the press box side facing the field, a massive amount of debris including glass, fragments of concrete, wood framing, drywall, and sound insulation material had created a much higher injury and death toll as it showered onto the crowded seating area below. When a large television camera that had been dislodged from its mount as a result of the blast concussions then followed suit by tumbling downward, it claimed the lives of three more people in an instant.

Roughly one-hundred fifty yards to the east across the playing surface, smaller grenade explosions from the PAW-20 Neopup launchers were ripping through the corps of cadets and sending bodies flying in all directions. When those who had launched the grenades then opened fire with their automatic weapons before touching down, the carnage was multiplied. Just seconds behind them, the other wave of seven drifted in and repeated the assault with the same three and four man directional focus. The only alteration in their tactics was that they began by firing their automatic weapons in a merciless barrage, and held the grenades back in reserve. Once they had all touched down onto the newly defined battlefield, each of the seven emptied their grenade launchers into the superstructure that supported the upper deck of stadium seating. Their hope was that the salvo would cause a stampede of panic as shards of concrete from various pillars and aisle ways began to fly.

Under the cover of that overhanging deck, the explosions caused massive amounts of casualties, and many of the top Army officers in attendance, including four star General Osborne from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, were killed. Those patrons seated within the areas of both end zones or the southern portion of the east stands consisted mainly of non-targeted civilians, and were therefore far less affected by the assault. It had been understood by the attackers that no gun fire or grenades would be aimed toward those sections of the stadium, but some collateral damage was expected. A few injuries had indeed been caused by stray pieces of flying debris, but the majorities of the injuries in those locations, as had been anticipated, were self-inflicted due to panic after the attack began.

Within the lower level of the Kimsey Athletic Center at the south end of the stadium complex, both football teams of the Army West Point Black Knights and the visiting Rutgers Scarlet Knights were massing in the corridor before taking the field. The pre-game schedule dictated that each team would wait to emerge until after the fourteen jumpers had landed and they, along with their parachutes, had been subsequently collected and moved towards the sidelines. Then the teams would take the field and observe a moment of silence with the assembled crowd in honor of America’s veterans within all branches of the military who had served. After that America the Beautiful and the National Anthem would be sung by the Corps of Cadets choir, followed by the ceremonious coin toss at midfield, and finally the game itself would begin. The clearly defined schedule designed to coincide with identical proceedings at the Naval Academy in Annapolis Maryland and the Air Force Academy just outside of Colorado Springs would no longer be adhered to however, as the horrific impact of the surprise attack had altered the course of events.

After having stood in frozen amazement during the moments of the attack, a member of the stadium security staff partially regained his composure and rushed into the corridor leading towards the locker rooms. Then he shouted, “The stadium is under attack, take cover!”

Having clearly heard the horrific sounds of multiple explosions overhead, the head coach of the visiting Rutgers team, who had previously served in the military, shouted back, “That’s obvious you idiot, but who is attacking the stadium?”

Before that all important question was brought to light, each of the fourteen assailants had unclipped their parachutes and flags, expelled all of their collective ammunition into the crowd, discarded their now empty automatic weapons onto the playing surface, and began the process of attempting to escape under the cover of panic that surrounded them.

The stadium security representative in the tunnel had taken offense to the personal comment of the Rutgers head coach, so as he ran past him he curtly replied, “How would I know who is attacking us? I only know that it’s much safer in here than it is out there!”

Realizing that the man scampering by in gross neglect of his duty was neither a cadet nor a member of the armed forces, the Rutgers head coach had no reservations in yelling a trailing response of, “You are a coward who doesn’t deserve to be a representative of our stadium, let alone this one.”