Covert Commando: A Sam Harper Military Thriller

by Thomas Sewell

  The sun would rise behind them soon. Maybe he could get sleep before facing the Admiral in person in a few hours.

  At least the surface radar showed that the enemy boats had broken off their pursuit.

  He'd gotten away clean. If only he had a bit of soju to drink closer than his ship locker. Might clear up this headache.

  * * *

  Schnier needed to get back onto a horse. He sat on a rock near the top of the waterfall, but the ache in his rear-end reminded him he spent more of his time ruck marching or jogging, not sitting.

  His ad hoc ten man quick response force lay scattered along the cliff, weapons ready. From here, they could defend the more central pool area, but also rapidly join any of the ambush teams who needed assistance.

  Not sure his three-man mortar section would see much use, but he'd had them pre-register their M224 60mm mortar to cover the trails into the pool area, anyway.

  Never hurt to have too much firepower covering for you.

  Meanwhile, he waited for the rodeo to begin. Passed the time. Stared at his tactical computer.

  Ruined his night vision.

  Couldn't help it. His job was to step back from any firefight enough to direct the entire battle.

  Prevent surprise in their ranks. Inflict it on the enemy.

  The three sets of outlying blue dots on his screen settled into familiar ambush shapes. The same maneuver practiced in one form or another by rangers for hundreds of years.

  Three strings of red dots, tracked by drones hovering high in the early morning air, trailed toward them.

  They wouldn't all reach at the same time; the first ambush may trigger more caution in the others, but his rangers would prevail.

  If not, the ten of them, including the mortar, plus the sniper teams up-mountain, would intervene.

  But what had he missed?

  As if to answer his question, one of the red strings vanished from his display. The single file group which had been following the trail leading to the other side of the waterfall disappeared one by one.

  Where'd they go? Some sort of advanced camouflage to hide their heat signature? But why just then? Why there?

  They hadn't reached the planned ambush yet. Not even close.

  He tripped his radio. "You see that?"

  Michelle's voice filled his Invisio X5 noise-canceling and amplifying ear pieces. "Wait one. MI guys are analyzing."

  Great. Just great.

  They'd lost track of at least a dozen killers.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Escape Denied

  One click in my ear from our security element, Watkins.

  Instinct told me to hold my breath so the enemy point man didn't hear it.

  But I needed oxygen for the fight ahead, so I kept it slow and steady. Besides, he crept along the trail at least ten yards away, visible only through thin fronds and dark green leaves.

  I tried to project my thoughts at him, without actually staring, so his subconscious didn't magically pick up my gaze.

  This is the thousandth stretch of jungle you've looked at tonight. No different from the other nine-hundred and ninety-nine.

  Just trees and bushes. Nothing to worry about.

  The night birds fell silent at his approach, but the buzzing insects ignored him.

  A trickle and splash as the river beside the trail ran over rocks and slowly carved into its bank.

  He stepped lightly. Avoided any piles of leaves, fallen sticks, or out-jutting branches. Anything which might give him away, if we weren't already watching for him.

  Reached the bend in the trail. Where the river curved and Madsen lay silently with his machine gun back in the bush.

  Proceeded out of sight past the turn without so much as a glance at him.

  The next ten trudged loudly in comparison. Shuffled their feet, heads down. Glanced only at a murmured word from their companions, otherwise watched the trail.

  Didn't want to get caught in the brush, or slide off into the river.

  The front of the single-file group almost reached the curve by the time the last one entered our kill zone.

  I tracked the fourth man in my M4's scope, big as a wave off the north shore.

  The ranger to my right whispered, "frag out!" into our radio headsets as he tossed a grenade. That was the signal for all hell to break loose.

  Madsen opened up on the lead terrorist. Walked his fire down the line to his second target.

  The immediate confusion in their eyes turned to terror as comprehension dawned.

  My companion's grenade detonated at the end of the line. Caught two of them close enough to fill both with high-speed metal fragments.

  The fourth man in line dropped to the trail. Unslung his rifle.

  I shot him twice in the head.

  An M4 double-tap echoed from farther up the trail. Madsen's assistant.

  That'd be the last of their point man.

  The other five dove for the river bank. The closest cover not closer to the source of their death.

  Madsen's lance of fire from his M240 nailed the closest as he rolled over the top. He didn't stop before hitting the river.

  Their last man, pulling rear security, and thus out of our kill zone, stepped behind a v-shaped tree. Opened up on the bushes and trees at the turn of the trail. Sought out Madsen from long range; used his muzzle blast to track him.

  Watkins, farthest from us, who'd given the initial warning, shot him from his flank and behind.

  One of the four hiding along the river bank tossed a grenade.

  Boom! It peppered the trees between me and Madsen with metal.

  He shifted his fire to enfilade the bank.

  They couldn't hug it close enough. Another screamed and died.

  "Surrender! Toss your weapons to the trail."

  The remaining three did as commanded, their AKs arcing into sight to thud into the dirt.

  I toggled my radio. "Cease fire. Cease Fire. They've surrendered."

  Three splashes in the river, like a cannonball into a swimming pool.

  I stalked forward to their rifles, M4 ready to hit anything suspicious.

  Three tangos swimming with the current. No weapons visible.

  I raised my rifle to get a better look through its scope, but wasn't about to shoot unarmed fleeing men.

  "They're gone. Let's pack it all up and move out. Back to Schnier."

  The SAF would need to interdict those three. Shouldn't be difficult, not with them missing their long-range weapons.

  I'd call it in.

  * * *

  Larrikowal listened as Lieutenant Harper described the men fleeing his ambush.

  "Roger. We'll take care of them."

  He and his small SAF force floated up the river in a pair of rigid rubber rafts.

  Normally stored ready to launch on the back of their deep drafting fast patrol craft, they provided a way not only to board ships interdicted at sea, but also an option for shallow inland-waters like this river.

  He knelt in the front of the lead raft, rifle at the ready. Maria led the other raft behind them.

  They began drifting toward the bank.

  "Andre! Straighten us out. Keep us pointed up the middle of the river."

  That guy was useless, even for just steering. Wasn't even wearing his helmet.

  "Roger that, captain."

  They slid back toward the middle current. Overshot. Edged toward the other bank.

  Larrikowal gritted his teeth. If he said anything else, he was liable to shoot the man, or at least relieve him of duty.

  A buzzing sound, like a hornet, flew past. Pops in the distance to their left. Splashes around the boat.

  Their course shifted. Headed directly at the left river bank.

  Fifty meters beyond the bank, muzzle flashes exploded from the firing ports of a concrete bunker covered in earth and brush.

  Larrikowal ducked. Got as flat as possible without entering the water. "Contact left!"

  No infrared signatures. No warnin
g from above of their river fort.

  He'd have to re-evaluate their night assault procedures in the future to not rely quite so much on drone night vision scouting.

  At least Andre was taking them to the bank, which would provide cover while they disembarked. Had to give him credit for that.

  The boat didn't slow. Just rammed up on to the bank.

  Good thing it was designed for rough landings!

  Larrikowal used its slowing momentum to jump from the bow. Collapse on the bank, head in the enemy's direction.

  With no enemies immediately visible or threatening, he looked for better cover to move to. Something with a field of fire overlooking where the shots came from.

  "Fire and maneuver!" he ordered.

  Maria's boat arrived twenty yards downstream from his boat. Came to a gentle stop on the bank.

  They had the more experienced driver.

  The rest of his force followed his example, although some of them needed to drop over the raft's rigid sides into the water and then wade ashore.

  Except Andre. Andre sat with one hand on the outboard motor, a bullet hole leaking blood in his forehead, the back of his skull missing.

  That FNG! How dare he?

  * * *

  Schnier raised Sam and Michelle on the radio. Sam breathed loud and fast, hustling down the trail after his successful ambush.

  The other ambush went almost as well. Those ten rangers weren't moving quite as fast in their return to the central waterfall area where Schnier waited for them. They had one wounded, a stray AK-round in the lower leg.

  He'd survive, but needed to be carried.

  His final ten rangers, designated to ambush the tangos who vanished from his tactical display, held in place as a blocking force until further instructions.

  Schnier needed to figure out where the enemy had gotten to and how to counter-act them.

  Fast.

  "Surfer, why do you think those tangos are missing?"

  Sam spoke between breaths as he ate up the distance at a jog.

  "Not enough light for anything but infrared, so they're inside or behind something. The jungle canopy isn't think enough to hide someone for long. Must be underwater, a cave, or some other type of underground structure."

  Michelle piped in. "The SAF mop-up force is getting hit hard on the river from a perimeter bunker. Neither their drone nor ours spotted the occupants before they began firing."

  So maybe a bunker of some kind. But why there? Partway between their established perimeter to the north and this central pool?

  "Where they went to ground, does it overlook that side of the mountain? What's the strategic or tactical advantage of siting a bunker there? Of a defensive position so far from their perimeter guards?"

  "Crap!" Sam must've come to a conclusion. "It's not a bunker. It's an entrance to the cavern complex inside the mountain. Nothing else makes sense. They didn't take the trail back because it's quicker and easier to cut through the middle, instead of going around the outside."

  Michelle interrupted. "But they took the trail on their way to reinforce their northern perimeter."

  "You only spotted them going out that way because they started on top of the mountain. Didn't make sense to go back to the caves and then through when they could just hike down the north face directly. But they're not coming back up the mountain, they're coming through the caves. Could be right underneath you, Cowboy."

  Last thing he needed was a surprise assault from inside the mountain. Even if they just stayed put, how were they going to flush them out without more casualties?

  Why had he wanted his own independent command again?

  "Surfer, best speed up your return, unless you can guarantee me their only way to exit those caves on this side is the door under the waterfall you showed me."

  "Just warn the sniper teams. Only Raven would know how many alternate exits exist and she's not exactly available."

  Sam's subtle reminder jabbed a spike through Schnier's heart.

  Before he could respond, Michelle broke in again. "We have the other women she sent us secure on the beach. I'll task someone to get details on the cave complex."

  "The rest made it out?" Sam sounded hopeful, even if Schnier wasn't just now.

  "Called me from the village to announce their escape. SAF sent the local police to take care of them."

  "Tell them to ask the older woman. The cook. She's been around the longest."

  Schnier needed to focus on the here and now. "Get your team back here, Surfer. Going to need to consolidate and redistribute the platoon to guard from all directions while we wait for more info. SAF won't be here anytime soon, either."

  "Roger that, Cowboy. Running towards the next fight as fast as I can."

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Escape Caves

  Keeping to a reasonable jog-walk pace, I returned to the pool with my ambush team simultaneously with Schnier's other rifle squad carrying their wounded ranger.

  Besides the ten-man blocking element Schnier left in place to deal with the vanished tangos, the whole band was back together again.

  Schnier met his wounded on the trail just past the waterfall. Checked on his leg.

  I joined in. Officers visits were always good moral support for the troops. Not only showed them we cared, but reminded them they could take us out any time we got too annoying.

  He'd live. Even keep the limb, so not too bad. One more purple heart in the platoon.

  Schnier motioned me, his platoon sergeant, and the rifle squad leader for my ambush team, off to the side.

  Handed me his tactical display. Leaned on a boulder. Took off his helmet. Ran his fingers through his ginger hair.

  Michelle had marked the cave entrances on the electronic map of the mountain as best she could from the intelligence provided by the former cook. No non-combatants believed inside.

  They'd all fled together with Raven.

  Still not sure why she'd been caught and the others hadn't. Did she try to return, thinking she could help me somehow?

  Schnier replaced his brain bucket. "We need to go in there after them. Can't just leave 'em hanging around, ready to spoil our party. Normally, we'd have multiple robots to take the lead, the squad behind ballistic shields, oxygen and chemical sensors. Fast-roping onto the mountain leaves us a little light on extra toys. Just one MAARS. Ideas?"

  The squad leader scratched his cheek. "CQB, just like a shoot house. Clear the caves room by room."

  His platoon sergeant shook his head. "Pretty linear environment. You'd think it wouldn't be tougher to clear than a house in Fallujah, but doctrine is to avoid clearing subterranean environments for good reasons. Too many opportunities for traps and ambush. Maybe we just contain them until SAF takes over?"

  "Not many doors, just the steel one under that waterfall." I pointed. "I've been inside. It's pure stone in there, marble and granite. So no over-penetration, but also lots of ricochets and no easy way to flank rooms rather than use a single entrance. Very predictable approach. Fatal funnel after fatal funnel."

  Schnier took the tactical display back. "Note the additional cave entrances here and here. We must either push them out and ambush them after they leave, or else catch them between us. SAF is still dealing with their own issues, so this is up to us for now."

  His platoon leader rattled an M18 smoke grenade dangling from his harness. "Smoke 'em out?"

  I shook my head. "We'd have to either advance through the smoke, or else wait for it to clear. Either way, worse for us than them. Might work to hit the other exits with smoke, though. Keep those dudes bottled up."

  Schnier nodded. "Dual grenade entrance. Frag and concussion. All combatants, so no risk of collateral damage. Waste of ordnance, but there's more in our ship lockers. Guess we can spare some."

  He paused. Looked around. "Don't break the MAARS. Those little tanks are expensive. And you can't use its four grenade launchers indoors. Too much risk of bounce-back."

  His attitude had certainly changed
now that he needed to account to the bureaucracy for everything expended in combat or training.

  I knew the feeling. Korea had been expensive. "Better costs than casualty reports."

  "Ain't that the truth!" Schnier stared over at the ranger with the hurt leg and then stuck his finger in the face of the squad leader. "No more casualties. I mean it!"

  The squad leader fought down a smile. "Roger that, sir."

  I pitched in one more piece of bad news. "Lots of short rooms and corridors. Invariably exposed to the next room. Better if we push the MAARS ahead and just keep going until we reach a securable position. That's assuming we intend to clear the cave complex rather than just contain the tangos inside."

  Schnier frowned. "What do you mean 'we', surfer-boy? This is for the professionals. You can follow behind and collect any intelligence which survives our operations."

  I grinned. "I'm the only one who's actually been inside there before, remember? You need me to explain the layout and answer questions, unless you want to rely on third-hand notes from a civilian."

  His platoon sergeant pitched in. "He's got a point, sir. I already know you're going to leave me out of the fun and make me run things on the surface while you go play cave clearing Casanova. Might as well drag the MI guy along. That way when his intel is wrong, he'll be right there to take the consequences."

  Schnier muttered something under his breath about glory hounds and how Michelle would kill him if he let her pet surfer get hurt again, but didn't contradict his senior NCO's analysis of the tactical situation.

  Guess I got to go risk my life with the rest of these dudes, after all.

  * * *

  Larrikowal kept his head down. The defenders in the bunker had them pinned behind the river bank with periodic potshots over their head and into the water.

  "Maria! Stay here. Lay smoke. Provide a base of fire. Make them nervous that your squad is coming in the front door. We'll go for their flank."

  His senior sergeant nodded to acknowledge her orders. "Roger." She shuffled a little closer to the top of the bank and began collecting smoke grenades from the rest of her squad.

  Larrikowal decided their right flank, the one inside their perimeter, would be the least defended and most accessible. He organized his remaining half of their force, four men, and led them into the water.