The Iranian Blockade

by Stephen Makk

  “Fucking show off Silky,” said Jogger.

  “Two more doors,” he said. He kicked in both, threw in a thunderflash in each, ran in and fired at someone in the first room. The second room was empty. A light came from under the door of the next room. “This is it. They’re in here.” He kicked the door down and turned right, she was in right behind him and went left. For a second Silky was shocked. Crutch and Tosser were tied to two chairs and a guard stood behind them with an AK47 pointed at them. They were gagged around the mouth and wide eyed. She ducked down, lifted her Beretta and put two holes in his throat, he dropped the rifle and put his hand to his throat. She put one in the centre of his forehead, the man’s brains sprayed against the wall like a sickening mess of porridge. She ran over and untied them both.

  “Thank fuck,” said Crutch.

  “Here Tosser, put this on.” She handed her the belt with the holstered pistol.

  “What about me Silky?” said Crutch.

  “Get one of the guard’s AK’s, there’s enough of them.”

  Jogger smiled. “Brit spooks. You shoot like a Goddamn Seal. Ok man.”

  “Beginners luck,” Silky said. Crutch took the guard’s AK and pushed another two magazines into her pockets. A torrent of gunfire erupted from the front of the jail.

  “What?” said Jogger. He ran out into the corridor, another Seal called him over.

  “Get down the four of you.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Crutch.

  “I don’t know but that’s our fucking exit.” They kept low, moving back towards the front of the jail. Tosser raised her head up for a look. More rounds flew above their heads. A few flew past Tosser’s ears. She ducked.

  “Fer fecks sake. Yee shits,” she said. “They nearly feckin shot me.”

  “Keep your head down, there’s a good dickhead,” said Crutch.

  She couldn’t believe her luck, they’d come in for her. She’d somehow come to the conclusion that she’d die here, a goddamn prisoner. Forgotten. Now they had come for her, but they were deep in it themselves too. She’d been saved, but the saviours were in grave danger too. What a bloody mess?

  They followed Jogger to the front of the jail. Rounds blasted in at the Seals who remained crouched under the cover of the wall. They popped up occasionally and fired a few bursts if they could see a man. Most rounds found their target. The Lieutenant looked over. “That’s it, Jogger you got the pair of them?”

  “Yes Sir,”

  “It’s a police swat team and there’s some army guys in there too. The troops must have landed from a ship by coincidence, so they’re lending a hand.” Fire was exchanged, most incoming came off the walls most of the Seal’s fire hit a man.

  “Shit. Arggghh.” A Seal was down, hit in the shoulder.

  “Help Puller, he’s hit.” Jogger told the three women.

  “Crutch, Tosser, help him. I’ll get myself an AK and some rounds.” Silk Purse knew what she had to do now. The back of the jail shook with a rapid series of violent blasts, dust rained down from the ceiling. Another fusillade of heavy fire hit the jail to their rear. The frontal fire intensified, the Police and troops out there were buoyed up by the arrival of heavy armour.

  “Fuck,” said the Lieutenant, “That’s a heavy round. The bastards must have armour at the rear. The army’s brought up a light tank or a small artillery piece. We’re in the shit now.”

  “Jogger, go and take a look at what they’ve got out there.”

  “Sir.” He ran down the corridor for the rear of the building. He became aware of someone with him. He looked over his shoulder.

  “Silky? What the...”

  “Admit it, Jogger you need me.”

  They ran on. He didn’t say it, but he was damn glad to have this fucking Brit spook with him.

  The pair of them reached the rear of the building, it was clear that the impact had damaged the rear wall but hadn’t broke through it. Jogger looked for a window or similar where he could look out over the scene. “Jogger, look.” She pointed to rungs set into the wall at the right side.

  “It looks like they access the roof, there’s a hatch at the top in the ceiling.”

  “Yeah, good.” He started to climb the rungs, Silk purse followed. He pushed open the hatch and looked out to the rear, she squeezed up too.

  Out in the factory yard was a light tank. Several troops where in the area behind cover. He pulled down his visor and switched on the night vision mode. Jogger knew it wasn’t a light tank, it was a Soviet designed BMP-2 infantry fighting vehicle. It was tracked and carried six or so troops with a turret on top sporting a heavy gun.

  “Is it a tank Jogger?”

  “No. It’s an AFV. It carries a 30mm gun. Not a tank, but hard hitting and we’ve no anti-armour weapons, didn’t think we’d be up against any.” To the rear he heard engine noise approaching. From the road another BMP-2 was turning in, entering the factory yard.

  “Come on down. Now.” They climbed and slid down the ladder and ran back to the Lieutenant.

  The fire from the police and troops out front was still heavy. The LT turned and saw him.

  “Well?”

  “Sir, it’s a BMP-2 and another is joining it. There’s a bunch of troops too.”

  Damn, thought Lieutenant T. What the hell do we do now? It’s just a matter of time until the Iranians get through the rear wall, they were caught in a pincer. Come on damn it, come on.

  Silk Purse didn’t want to look a fool, but she had to suggest it.

  “Lieutenant, I’ve got an idea.”

  “Go on, I’m listening.”

  USS STONEWALL JACKSON. The Gulf of Oman.

  “SIR, WE’VE A FLASH message from the DOD. I’m routing it to your console,” said Lemineux.

  Nathan read it.

  “That took them long enough, it must have drawn blood.” He looked around his control room.

  “XO, Kaminski. Let’s talk.” They walked aft to the Wardroom.

  “I just got a flash message in from the REMF. It’s nice of them, three days after rounding Sri Lanka and just one hundred miles to the Gulf.

  We’ve been given the green light on Plan Malacca, but it’s to be carried out off the Gulf. “

  “Tell the Admiral Thank you,” said Larry, “he gave us plenty of time. At least we got the batteries fully topped off last night.”

  Nathan nodded. “The rear boat still seems to be following the Pointer as though it’s us. I didn’t expect that.”

  “Yes, I heard Weaps talking to the weapons CPO,” said Nikki, “Scooby’s out there now, following the ships and pretending to be us. Deputy Dawg, Ren and Stimpy are fully charged and ready.”

  “Any info on what the forward boat said when it popped up to stream its comms mast?’ asked Larry.

  “No. It was in code, it’s not been cracked. But I think we can be sure part of it was position info. That’ll have been passed to the Iranians, so they’ll know where the shipment and escort is.” Nikki touched Nathan on the arm, pausing for probably longer than she should.

  “Nathan, we need to give them designations not front boat and rear.”

  “Yeah, Ok front boat is Tango one, rear is Tango two. Now let’s go back over the plan. We move Scooby out to port away from the package and put another Pointer in the water. Hopefully, Tango two follows Scooby and the second Pointer moves in on Tango two confusing him. Then we shut the trap and stick a Mk 48 up his ass. Tango one will come about to help his colleague. We can’t plan that scenario, we’ll just have to improvise based on what happens. But if we get it right, it’ll be one on one.” Nathan looked them both in the eyes.

  “Ok?” They nodded.

  “Then let’s get on with it.”

  Kaminski and the XO took up their stations.

  “Warload weaps?” said Nathan.

  “Tubes one through four Mk 48 CBASS, tubes five and six Harpoon, Sir.”

  “Get a Pointer in tube six. Designate forward PLAN SSN as Tango one and rea
r SSN as Tango two. Compute firing solutions on both Tangos.”

  “Sir.” A few minutes went by.

  “Sir, Deputy Dawg in tube six. Mk 48 solutions laid in.”

  “Benson?”

  “Both ships holding course upstairs Sir. Tango’s one and two are following. It’s a church parade.”

  Nathan said nothing, but he knew the People’s Liberation Army Navy wasn’t to be underestimated. Once they were only good for Goat Fuck Operations. But not now, they’d good boats and weapons that they knew how to use. Nathan picked up the intercom. He’d give the crew what they wanted to hear.

  “All hands, this is your Captain. We’re about to take on the opposition in the form of two Chinese SSN’s. I tried to book us a real fight, one that will pay us some real purse. But they got us these two air breathing no loads. Sorry men, I’ll try to do better next time. Let’s show em how a real Navy fights. Captain out.” He replaced the handset.

  “Ok XO, what’s the time?”

  “Time to fucking rock Sir.” Nathan grinned.

  “Weaps, bring Scooby slowly to port, hold him about half a mile from the procession.”

  “Aye Sir, he’s moving left Sir.”

  “Benson keep that pair glued to Joe Chinaman.” The Pointer moved out away from its track following the forward boat. It reached a position well away from the Roll on Roll off ships. “Sir, Spoopy is a quarter of a mile off now.” Nathan frowned.

  “XO?”

  “Sir, Joe’s got me scratching my dick.”

  “Shit. Sir, active ping from Tango two.”

  “What the holy...?” said Nathan.

  Sir, rev-counts are up on Tango’s one and two. Wait one... Tango one is turning to our port and coming about. Tango two is turning to starboard and coming about.”

  This wasn’t expected at all thought Nathan. They now had two SSN’s running in at them. They must have known they were being followed and were waiting to make their move. Bastards.

  “Weaps, flood tubes one and two and six, open outer doors. Get the Dawg out there, send him to the right.”

  There was a rushing sound from up front. “Deputy Dawg’s out there and running to starboard Sir.”

  “Emergency deep. Benson, range to Tangos?”

  “Tango one, range four miles. Tango two range three point six miles, Sir. Depth two hundred, speed eighteen knots.”

  “Weaps, run silent mode for Scooby. Move in toward Tango two with Deputy Dawg, simulate tube launch preparation.”

  “Aye Sir.”

  The Pointer was running in on the closer SSN, Tango two’s port quarter. Deputy Dawg was doing its best to sound like an attacking Stonewall Jackson. By making all the sounds associated with an attack. Flooding and opening torpedo tube doors. Tango two can’t know where the American boat had gone.

  “Get Ren in tube six and ready tube for launch,” said Nathan.

  “Sir, our depth is now nine hundred feet.”

  “Come level Planesman, maintain depth.”

  “Sir,” said Benson excitedly, “Tango two is turning to the pointer, he’s opening his tubes.”

  “Launch tube two. Target Tango two, go for a belly shot.”

  “Aye Sir, tube two ready in all respects, firing solution laid in. Launch.” The hissing rushing noise from forward was unmistakable.

  “Fish running and hungry, belly shot laid in,” said Weaps.

  “Tango two has launched at the Pointer,” said Benson.

  “Range to Tango two point five miles, point two. He’s launched countermeasures, Sir.”

  “Fish now terminal, cutting wire,” said Weaps.

  “Running in,” said Benson, “running in run... Hot datum on Tango two. Hot datum, belly astern. She’s tearing up, blowing massive gas escape Sir. Must be five or six bulkheads, she’s going down.”

  The control room erupted into cheers and fists punched the air.

  “Activate Scooby, simulate attack and run in on Tango one.”

  “Scooby, running in simulating tube launch,” said Weaps.

  “Shit, Sir, Tango one is coming deep, at four hundred feet and dropping,” said Benson.

  “Active ping from tango one. He’s detected us Sir. Wait one, wait, wait. He’s flooding a tube and opening the outer door.” He looked to his XO and rubbed his temples. He knew that the Chinese SSN would be preparing to launch a Yu-6 wire guided torpedo, they were fast and lethal. Nathan had to do it; he didn’t want to, but this was it.

  Chapter 14

  Rannediff jail. Bandar Abbas.

  “GO ON SILKY,” SAID Lieutenant T. More rounds ripped into the wall causing concrete splinters to fly.

  “You have the jets, the F something Hornets. Call in an airstrike on the tanks or whatever they are.”

  “Shit me,” said the Lieutenant, “I’m not used to having top cover. Thanks, Silky. What a dick I am. Graf bring the radio. Start the air mode, I want to speak to top cover.”

  “Sir here you are. The radio was handed over.

  “Vulture one this is Tadpole. We are a ground call sign. Vulture one this is Tadpole. We are a ground call sign over.”

  “Tadpole, Vulture one here, over”

  “Vulture one we request air strike to the rear of the jail, grid 6B8 4Y3. Your target is three BMP-2. We will lase the target, repeat we will lase the target we need an accurate strike.”

  “Copy Tadpole we are five minutes from target. Five zero minutes. Target BMP-2 rear of the jail, grid 6B8 4Y3. You will lase the target. Over.”

  “Confirm details Vulture one, this is Tadpole over and out.”

  “Ok, Rickerson get back there, take the laser designator and lase the target,” said the LT.

  “No,” said Anupa as he stepped up close to him, “you need all the men you can, to keep the Iranian’s away.” She looked at her boss. “You’re a bloody good shot Silky, stay with them. I’ll go back and lase it for you.”

  “Crutch,” said Silky.

  “I’m doing it, you know I’m right. Show me what to do.” Rickerson showed her how to use the laser designator. Tosser pressed her head in and watched closely.

  Anupa looked into her eyes. “What are you looking at? Use your AK47 and help keep the opposition at bay.” Anupa took the designator from him. “That’s it Rickerson?” He nodded and handed her the radio too. “Ok, I’m off back there.” Anupa ran towards the rear of the jail, she was finally glad to be doing something to hit back at her captors. She saw the rungs on the rear wall and climbed them. She looked out over the yard, there were the BMP-2’s. One fired a blast of 30mm at the rear wall. It was much more fearsome than she’d expected. The punches peppering the wall could be felt not just heard. Anupa knew it was only a matter of time until they’d blasted their way into the jail. The Seals, good though they were would be overwhelmed. She aimed the Designator at the top of the middle BMP-2’s turret, leaned left and set the castellated grip on the activate timer dial to zero. Set the pin to zero, not delayed and switched it on. Then squeezed the radio transmit button.

  “Vulture one this is Tadpole, Vulture one this is Tadpole over.”

  “Copy Tadpole Over. I am one five zero minute from release.”

  “Vulture one, I have the target in view and I am lasing it now.”

  She watched the troops they were gathering behind the BMP’s, they were obviously expecting to get through soon. Another burst of 30mm slammed into the rear wall.

  “Shit me.”

  “Tadpole, Vulture one. You asked for delivery, burger and fries? You got em.” For a brief second, she heard a screaming sound and then the world erupted. She was blown back against the hatchway hurting her shoulder. The shockwave and sound were awesome. Smoke and dust filled the air and billowed, completely obscuring the view. Gradually the scene cleared. The central BMP had disappeared. The two either side were wrecks thrown against the far walls. The bodies of the Troops lay everywhere. Anupa was horrified to see heads, arms and a few torsos lying there.

  “Tadpole this
is Vulture, BDA?” He wanted a Bomb Damage Assessment report.

  She pressed transmit. “Hit Vulture, a hit. You blew them to kingdom come.”

  “Copy Tadpole, we have more take out up here. We can drop it with Honey Mustard or Hot sauce. We take Mastercard, it’s Priceless.”

  “Thank you, Vulture. We’re ok for now.” Anupa climbed down the steps and ran back to the front.

  “We heard and felt it. You’re covered in shit,” said Rickerson.

  “What’s it like back there?” asked the Lieutenant.

  “It’s a mess, all three tanks are gone, bodies everywhere. It’s all blown to hell.” He grinned.

  “Right, that’s it, out the back. Rickerson, Dupree, Taylor. Stay here for two minutes and hold them off. Come on, go, go, go.” The Seals led the way with the three women following. Two Seals pulled the few bricks away to clear the exit, they scrambled through and followed the LT to the East. They jogged down a few deserted streets, only one had lights on. Soon they came to the scrubland and left the city behind, they carried on and ran panting for a couple of miles. Tosser led the women with Silky at the rear.

  “I’m not a frigging Seal,” panted Crutch.

  “Me neither,” replied Silky. The other three Seals caught up. Silky saw them but had no idea how they’d found them. The LT called them to a stop.