As the two attack waves assigned to West Point had been drifting down from the sky to begin their assault, the two waves of their brethren over Colorado Springs had begun theirs just seconds earlier. Having risen moments before from the hiding place near Monument, the camouflaged MIL MI-8 HIP-C helicopter slid into a lower altitude position of two thousand feet over the intended target mere seconds ahead of the twin helicopters from The United States Air Force Academy airfield. At that moment, they began what would become a tightly choreographed dance requiring precise timing.

Many of the spectators within Falcon Stadium had no clue that something was out of order, but the commandant of the academy, seated next to his superior officer from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, was not one of them. Motioning with his hand for an aide seated behind him to lean forward, Brigadier General Vickers turned his head away from the higher ranking general. Then he quietly asked the aide, “Has there been a change in the scheduled format for the pregame festivities?”

“No sir. I haven’t been informed of any changes.”

“Then can you tell me why there are three helicopters positioned above us?”

There was no time to contemplate the inquiry, as men began to bail out from the larger one hovering at the lower altitude. Within seconds their Air Ram rectangular parachutes had been self-deployed, the designated flags behind each jumper began to unfurl, and the helicopter quickly moved off to the west. The men and flight crews of the higher pair at two thousand five hundred feet were confused. They were witnessing a jump that they had been ordered to undertake, yet they had not been informed of another group in a different model helicopter joining them. Additionally, they had not been instructed to abort their mission, so the lead pilot ordered the human cargo of both birds to continue as planned.

Within the stadium, the commandant, along with nearly everybody else, was watching the jumpers drift down from the sky. Then when he saw the second group begin to freefall, he motioned for his aide once again. With a quiet yet stern voice he said, “Well something isn’t right Major, and we need to find out what happened. Make a note that come Monday morning, I will want to speak with whoever just sent two separate flights and two groups of jumpers to perform the same mission while the highest ranking officer in the Air Force was here to see it!”

Knowing that he had not been responsible for the ill-timed foul-up, but feeling as if he had been, the aide replied, “Yes sir general. I will find out who was responsible for this error, and have that officer in your office first thing Monday morning.”

There was no reply, as his commanding officer was once again looking skyward. Then the first wave of seven began to alter their course somewhat with the easily maneuverable parachutes, and it looked as though they might not be able to land on the field of play as was intended. A few seconds later, the commandant uttered, “Wonderful. Not only do we have too many parachutes drifting down toward us, but now they are going to show a nationally televised audience that they can’t hit the target.”

Already experiencing a level of displeasure toward the overall performance of his subordinate currently in command of the academy, coupled with the insult of then being ordered by President Harwell to sit with the buffoon during the proceedings, had made General Brooks more irritable than usual. Having heard the statement that had just been uttered, and the prior whispering conversation between the commandant and his aide, General Brooks of the Joint Chiefs replied to his subordinate, “I sincerely hope that you are incorrect general. The Air Force already gets enough grief from the Army and Navy about somehow being inferior to them, and both you and your men are not helping our cause to stifle that belief with this mid-air foul-up that is currently underway!”

What hadn’t been realized by the man with four stars on his shoulder boards, or by his subordinate with only one, was that the first fourteen jumpers coming down knew exactly where they were headed. That was proven in earnest a few seconds later, as they used their shoulder slung grenade launchers to begin an attack on the press box area of the stadium and the seating area below. At first many of the spectators didn’t know what was coming their way, and the voice of one completely oblivious man claimed, “How cool! What a great promotional idea to have the parachute guys shoot balled up t-shirts towards us.”

Before anyone could realize that the objects were far too small, and coming in way too fast, to be such a benign item as the claim had suggested, the first set of grenades pierced the glass frontage of the press box and media center. Seemingly an instant later, they exploded to send a shower of concrete and glass down upon those below. The salvo continued into the seating area until the launchers were empty, and then the automatic weapon fire began. Screams of panic were then heard as wounded patrons cried for help while most others began to climb over the motionless bodies of the dead in quest of cover.

Seated on the opposite side of the stadium, many of those in the crowd looked on in amazed horror. Then seemingly in mass, they began to gaze skyward once again. Another two waves who had jumped from the higher altitude helicopters were floating down, but they were perhaps still a minute from landing. Realizing that their location could be the intended target of the additional waves, a desperate attempt to exit began by patrons of the stadiums east side. Unfortunately for those involved, the stampede did little more than cause injuries that never would have transpired. While the actual attacking fourteen floated out over the northwest rim of Falcon Stadium toward their landing zone, the helicopter that set them loose just moments before had circled back around from the west and swooped down to retrieve them. Having unclipped and abandoned their respective gear, the fourteen men sprinted a short distance across the parking area to the rendezvous point. In an action that resembled a drop off or pick up of ground forces in the combat zones of Viet Nam, the MIL MI-8 HIP-C barely touched the ground as the men climbed aboard through the aft ramp and were quickly whisked away.

Within the stadium that was ripe with fear and panic, members of the Air Force Academy Falcons and the visiting University of Nevada Wolfpack football teams emerged from their respective locker room areas to a horrific scene. Expecting to run onto the field in preparation for the gridiron scuffle a few minutes later, they had heard the explosions and came out early to investigate. With the press box area and portions of the stadium below it engulfed in thick smoke and small fires, they witnessed the air corps of cadets which included Beau Tillman spill from their seats onto the playing surface. While seemingly uninjured or fired upon during the attack, and with a desire only to prevent additional death or injuries within the stadium, the cadets exhibited a true level of grit. Their collective intent was to subdue additional jumpers before those landing could continue the attack, and they would not be merciful while doing so. Unaware that the fourteen actually scheduled to perform the pre-game festivities were unarmed; the leading edge of the cadet wave tackled the first few of the jumpers as they landed and began to pummel them. Given the circumstances of the frenzied moment, the move on their part was both understandable and brave. Unfortunately it was also shortsighted, as their overzealous response to the situation had proved to be too much. Although one man would not succumb to the injuries until later that evening, three of the fourteen innocent jumpers lost their lives as a consequence.