by Cliff Happy
“COVER!” Hoover shouted from a few feet behind her.
But her training hadn’t prepared her for such a command. Instead of diving down, she looked up as Grogan opened fire on the helicopter she now recognized as a Russian built Mi-8 Hip.
The helicopter was about forty feet above the rocks and moving parallel to the coastline coming at them from the east. Grogan was standing next to her, and the hot brass ejected from his weapon showered down upon her. Unlike the movies, she saw no sparks fly off the helicopter as his rounds impacted it. Instead, after several short bursts, the searchlight went out and the helicopter turned abruptly. Grogan ejected the empty magazine and then forced her head down.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he demanded.
His quick motion probably saved her life as the troops approaching them, upon seeing Grogan’s muzzle flashes, opened fire all at once. The result was a barrage of bullets flying in their general direction. Kristen heard what sounded like firecrackers going off all around her as what had to be thousands of bullets streaked over her head. Dozens of green tracer rounds raced by and into the night. She then felt the sting of rock fragments strike her face and exposed skin as near misses shattered the rocks around her.
Grogan was beside her and fed a second magazine into his weapon. He then stepped into the water, staying low, and again opened fire on the helicopter. Kristen, now hiding in the small horseshoe rock formation, saw Hoover, in waist-deep water, firing at the helicopter. Choi was there as well, his head barely above the waves. Alvarez was on the other side of the doctor and firing like mad.
Grogan jerked back slightly and Kristen saw his face grimace, but he kept firing. Then she realized she was just lying there, doing nothing but watching while the SEALs tried to hold off the small army descending upon them. Cursing herself, she resumed fumbling with the remainder of her gear as a wall of lead smacked into the rocks just inches above her head. Grogan ducked down next to her, and she saw blood on his face from a gash under his left eye, and more blood on his arm.
“You’re hit!” she shouted at him.
In response he rammed another magazine home.
She looked up and saw the helicopter, apparently having been hit, withdrawing. But the damage had been done. The company of soldiers approaching them now had a fairly accurate picture of exactly where Kristen and the SEALs were. As if to accent this point, they were bathed in a brilliant, blindingly bright light as the patrol boat illuminated her and Grogan with a searchlight.
Grogan shoved her down hard once more, and she was slammed into the rocks as he turned and brought his weapon up. Machine gun bullets reached out for the two of them from the direction of the boat, and Kristen heard the rocks around her being torn to shrapnel by the impact of bullets. Grogan emptied another magazine at the patrol boat.
“Eagle down!” Kristen heard through her bone phones at the same time she heard Hoover shout it. She didn’t know what this meant, but she looked into the surf and saw Alvarez was no longer firing and had gone limp in the water. Her initial thought was to go out to help the injured man, but Grogan kept her pinned beneath his bulk. Chunks of shrapnel from the rocks peppered her as bullets ripped into their position.
But just as it seemed she and Grogan could not possibly last another second, Hamilton rose up out of the water just twenty yards away. His machine gun was up in his shoulder, like a big rifle, and he was firing at the patrol boat as he appeared. The searchlight on the boat was instantly shot out. But a pair of flares continued to illuminate the macabre scene as Hamilton’s lengthy burst of well-aimed machine gun fire raked the patrol boat. Kristen saw a pair of Koreans go down and a third struck by a barrage of 7.62mm bullets. He was hit in such quick succession that his body was literally held up for several seconds as more bullets slammed into him.
Grogan fired a grenade at the boat less than fifty yards away. It exploded a second later, turning the boat into a fiery mess. Two surviving soldiers, one covered in burning fuel, tried to escape into the water, but Hamilton mercilessly shot them both down.
Seeing the boat burst into flames gave Kristen a renewed sense of hope. The helicopter had fled and the boat was gone, too. Once more she dared to hope the worst was behind them, and they might actually make it. But then Grogan spun and went down in the surf, grimacing in pain. Kristen saw him go down and leapt into the surf to help him, her diving equipment still not completely on. “Chief!” she shouted to be heard over the din. She grabbed him and saw blood pouring freely from a wound on his upper arm in the shoulder area.
“Leave me dammit, get your gear on and get out!” Grogan ordered. She ducked her head down instinctively as more bullets swept over the rocks. Grogan, despite his wound, shoved a fresh magazine into his weapon. Kristen, without conscious thought, found a battle dressing in her first aid kit and tore it open. Grogan aimed in on the men coming from the road as Kristen slapped the battle dressing over his bleeding arm and began tying it off.
Hamilton reappeared, firing his own M4 carbine. He’d swum back to within a few feet of her and Grogan. His machine gun was gone, and Kristen assumed he’d run out of ammunition for it so discarded it in the surf.
“How bad’s Alvarez?” Grogan demanded as he donned his gear while Kristen tried to get a battle dressing on his shoulder.
“He’s gone,” Hamilton replied with a surprisingly calm voice. Kristen couldn’t help but wonder what it was about this man who could stay so calm in the middle of the maelstrom.
Grogan ejected another magazine and reloaded as chunks of rock tore through the air around them. The hailstorm of bullets seemed to be increasing as more trucks appeared on the road. Kristen cinched down the battle dressing tight, and Grogan pushed her back into the small horseshoe-shaped crevice where she resumed pulling her gear on.
The two SEALs were burning through their magazines despite their short controlled bursts. Kristen finished getting her gear on, feeling something sting her cheek followed by something like a bee sting hit her arm. But, before she could check herself, Grogan grabbed her unceremoniously, and pulled her into the water behind him. Hamilton was reloading as she crouched down next to him.
“Covering fire!” Grogan snapped as he laid out in the narrow horseshoe depression and finished pulling on his gear.
“What?” Kristen asked.
“Covering fire!” Hamilton roared as he crouched down after emptying another magazine and reloaded.
Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!
Kristen fumbled with the rifle at her side. She lifted the weapon and pointed it in the general direction of the road and pulled the trigger. But nothing happened. She jerked the trigger again, and still nothing happened. She ducked down, her mind going numb with fear. The weapon was foreign in her hands. But then she remembered the selector lever and flipped it from safe to automatic.
She then came up, no longer hearing the crack and pop of bullets all around her, nor noticing the rocks shattering from multiple impacts just a few feet from her. She pointed the carbine back toward the road, not even looking through the sights, and pulled the trigger. The kick of the small weapon wasn’t as bad as she’d feared it might be. But, in what felt like less than a second, the weapon was empty.
She ducked down as bullets cracked by all around them. But the rocky beach they were hiding behind continued to provide them excellent cover. Hamilton, now beside her, pushed her down further. “Reload,” he told her in a voice that was unnervingly calm. “And next time you fire, try keeping your eyes open.”
“How far are they, Trip?” Grogan shouted as he worked on his gear.
“Thirty meters!” Hamilton replied as Kristen felt the sting of more rock fragments hit her. She was still fumbling with her gear and trying to get a magazine out, but her hands felt as useless as fence posts.
Then she saw Grogan grab a firing detonator for the first claymore mine he’d set up in front of them. “Fire in the hole!” he shouted.
“What?” Kristen managed to ask
before Hamilton thrust her underwater. Kristen hadn’t expected the sudden immersion and swallowed a mouthful of seawater as the first claymore mine erupted, spitting out seven hundred buckshot size pellets into the mass of Korean security troops swarming toward them.
Kristen came back up, choking and gagging. Off to the left, a North Korean machine gun raked their position as the burning remains of the patrol boat drifted by behind them. Grogan was still donning his gear and motioned toward the water. “Move out, Trip,” he ordered and reached for his weapon as he finished donning his gear.
Hamilton grabbed her and pulled her through the surf as she scrambled to roll over and move on her own. “I can handle it,” she told him as he dragged her into deeper water, where they found Alvarez’s lifeless body floating face up. Part of his face was gone. “What do we do with him?” she asked in the chaos.
“He’s dead!” Hamilton replied. “Keep moving.” It was cold. It was heartless. But it was the practical math of combat. There was nothing they could do for their dead comrade, and if they didn’t get away soon, they would all be joining him.
Hoover was still firing his own weapon and trying to protect Choi. They reached the Korean who was in waist-deep water. Kristen began explaining to him what was going to happen as she positioned his full face mask in place. Hoover pulled his mask on, then raised his rifle and resumed firing at multiple targets.
Flares illuminated them, and Kristen crouched down in the water, holding the doctor down. She saw bullets hitting the water around them as Grogan came off the rocks and headed for deeper water while Hoover covered him. Hamilton was firing his weapon, and Kristen found her own rifle in her left hand and a full magazine in her right.
“Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!”
Kristen was barely conscious of her movements as she rammed the magazine into the weapon and chambered a round. Then, before she could fire her weapon, Grogan disappeared into the surf. Hamilton moved forward immediately, apparently oblivious to tracer rounds zipping past him or thinking he was somehow impervious to them.
Kristen thought he was insane, but at the same time she was mentally questioning Hamilton’s sanity, she found herself moving forward to help Grogan as well. Everything around her seemed to be happening in slow motion. She could see the Korean soldiers with their determined faces illuminated by their muzzle flashes barely thirty yards away. Water was kicking up from bullet impacts all around her. Over her head she could hear tracer rounds snapping by like fireflies.
It was surreal.
Kristen fired her weapon in the general direction of the North Koreans as she fought her way through the waist deep water back to Grogan who was down, but still moving, waving for them to keep moving. “Go! Go! Go!” the Chief tried to shout, but Kristen saw the blood on his lips.
She reached him as Hamilton pulled the wounded SEAL back under cover. Hamilton immediately resumed firing. Kristen didn’t see any fresh wounds in Grogan, but in the darkness and confusion, she wasn’t certain of anything anymore.
“Go,” he whispered, as more blood appeared at his mouth and poured out onto his cheek.
“Where are you hit?” she demanded, thinking about her rudimentary first aid training.
A body fell into the water to her left and she turned, fearing it was Hamilton, but she saw a man she didn’t recognize staring back at her, his eyes wide open in shock. He was one of the North Korean soldiers, and he had a pair of bullet holes in his face.
Kristen was numb. She could hear nothing any longer. Nothing felt real. She looked back at Grogan and he was trying to tell her something. As if in a dream she leaned down to him, and she felt his hands grip her arms. “Take the radio,” he managed, referring to the waterproof radio he carried on his back to communicate with the Seawolf. “Take it.”
“But…” she felt she should be doing something to save him. Then cold reality again gripped her. If she sat there and allowed her fear to take over, she would die. She helped the injured SEAL roll onto his side and as she did so, she felt the warm wash of blood from a terrible wound in his side. She removed one of the two radios he carried and then rolled him back over.
“Go,” he tried to bark, but only managed to croak.
Kristen thought about the medical kits they each carried. There had to be something she could do for him. She couldn’t just runaway and leave him to die or be captured. She reached for his medical kit and grabbed a battle dressing, thinking maybe if she cinched it down tight enough she might be able to staunch the flow of blood pouring from his chest. But as she looked back up at him, she saw his lifeless eyes staring back at her.“Chief?” she asked in shock.
Hamilton ducked back down in the horseshoe and shouted, “Last mag!”
She looked at the SEAL as he inserted his last magazine, and she saw at least one tear in his body armor where he’d been hit, but there was nothing in his appearance that made her think he was close to giving up. Just the opposite in fact.
“The Chief….” she mumbled numbly.
Hamilton hardly glanced at—who she assumed—had been a close friend. “He’s gone.”
Kristen knew she needed to move. She looked at the radio and then at her rifle.
Hamilton grabbed her and brutishly shook her. “Wake the fuck up, lady,” he barked. “Either move or die!”
His words dragged her out of her shock, and she keyed the radio trying to remember the call signs. “Delta Six, Delta Six, this is Jackhammer,” she called to the Seawolf, not sure if they would respond.
Less than three seconds later, she heard a voice over the radio, “Jackhammer, this is Delta-Six. What’s your situation, over?”
“We’re under heavy fire and pinned on the beach,” she replied. “Multiple casualties,” she added, trying to think about what she should say. But before she could say more, Hamilton thrust her into the waves, and she was instantly underwater. She heard a muffled explosion and came up sputtering. She had lost the radio in the surf, but saw Hamilton back on his feet. He was over Grogan’s body and she saw the level-headed SEAL destroy Grogan’s emergency beacon and second radio.
He then turned toward her. Kristen was searching for the second radio she’d lost in the surf. “Let’s move, lady!” Hamilton barked.
“I lost the radio,” she argued.
“Fuck it,” he answered. “Get out of here, I’ll cover you!”
Kristen, taking his advice waded back into the surf as Hamilton fired the last few rounds he had in his rifle. She was in waist deep water as he discarded his rifle and drew his pistol. It was then she realized he was sacrificing himself so she might get clear.
Kristen wasn’t a commando. She had no business questioning anything Hamilton told her to do. But without thought, she moved back toward him, raising her rifle. As she moved toward him, she fumbled with her rifle’s harness. On reaching him, she handed the rifle to him, “Take it!” she insisted, “I’m worthless with it.”
“I said get the fuck out of here!” he growled as he took the rifle and resumed firing short controlled bursts.
“Not without you!” she replied and grabbed his armor and began pulling the husky commando back into the surf.
Once they were back in water nearly chest deep, she released him. He ejected another spent magazine and she handed him a fresh one. He took it and reloaded as he barked, “Mask on!”
Kristen pulled on her mask with trembling hands. She could see the shadows of North Korean soldiers dancing in the light of the flares and vehicle headlights.
“Fall back!” he shouted as he moved between her and the incoming bullets. Kristen had regained some of her composure, and once more grabbed Hamilton by the back of his armor and pulled the hard-hitting SEAL into deeper water.
“Not without you!” she reminded him, refusing to leave anyone else behind.
She again saw Alvarez’s body floating on the waves and she felt bitter bile rising in her gut. “We shouldn’t leave him,” she protested, knowing they had no choice.
&
nbsp; Hamilton probably knew both Grogan and Alvarez better than most, but the SEAL swallowed his grief at the loss of his two comrades and pushed her toward deeper water. “Keep moving,” he ordered grimly. Leaving the bodies of their comrades behind went against everything she’d ever been taught. But Hoover was gone under the waves with Choi and heading for the mini-sub. There was no way they could evacuate the bodies, and if she and Hamilton didn’t join Hoover soon, they would die beside their comrades.
Hamilton spun and she saw what could only be called a snarl appear on his face. She pulled him to her. “Where are you hit?!”
He ignored her, and she saw a grenade appear in his meaty hand. “Frag out!” he shouted and hurled the grenade.
Kristen was turning to get into deeper water when she felt something strike her. It hit with the force of a sledgehammer. The wind was knocked out of her, and she was slammed backward into the water. The pain was intense but she managed to right herself and look down at her chest. There was a pair of neat holes in the front of her rebreather.
“I’ve been shot?” she asked in disbelief.
She then felt a strong hand grab her by her armor and pull her under the waves.
Chapter Fifty Two
Control Center, USS Seawolf
Tense. Anxious. On edge. All of these rang somewhat hollow as Graves considered the mood in the control center.
A combination of Emergency Action Messages ordering the Seawolf to load one of the nuclear-tipped cruise missiles and stand by for a launch order that was considered imminent; what looked like the entire North Korean Eastern fleet heading right for the Seawolf in response to the SEALs being discovered ashore; and—not the least of their worries—the fact that it had been three hours since they’d heard the cryptic message from Kristen informing them that the mission had gone bad.
All combined to create a mood of impending disaster that felt inevitable.
The first indication that Kristen and the SEALs were in trouble had occurred three hours earlier, when the Seawolf’s reed-like ESM antenna had picked up a sharp increase in the North Korean military communications of all types. Many of these transmissions had been in the clear, indicating an emergency. Then they’d received the message from Kristen. Since then, they’d heard nothing from Grogan or the others.