Seals (2005) s-1

by Jack Terral

  .

  2230 HOURS LOCAL

  MIKE Assad and Dave Leibowitz were not close enough to see or hear the mujahideen. They became aware of the enemy's proximity through the tingling nerves that come from a strong awareness of imminent danger. These instincts had developed over countless combat patrols and hours spent on point in hostile territory. They glanced at each other, then came to a halt. Mike tapped Dave's shoulder, and pointed to the left. Dave nodded his understanding then waited while his buddy led the way out of the ravine to higher ground.

  Their senses sharpened even more when they reached the exposed area. They stepped slowly and deliberately, scanning the immediate vicinity in all directions. It was Dave who sighted the OP first. He grabbed Mike's sleeve and pointed. Mike then led them farther to the left, then turned in slightly past the mujahideen position. When they stopped, they could see the bivouac. Both quickly and silently estimated that there were seventy-five or eighty men down in the ravine. All were either seated or lying down, obviously waiting for some expected event--such as a group of infidels stumbling into them.

  Mike and Dave retraced their steps, went back down into the ravine and headed in the direction of the platoon.

  .

  THE MUJAHIDEEN POSITION

  2330 HOURS LOCAL

  THE fighters were tired and hungry. Their field rations had been no more than balls of rice, and they'd not even had tea to wash down the meager meals. Only the tepid water in their old Soviet canteens was available to satiate their thirst. Most had been badly unnerved not only by the dangerous, skilled enemy they faced, but also by the bones of Durtami's mujahideen that were scattered across the ridge they had to climb in the dangerous attempts to reach the enemy positions. Some of the men claimed the sound of the wind across the mountains was not from the usual gusts; instead it was the weeping moans of the lost souls of dead Muslims whose flesh had been consumed by jackals and buzzards.

  Most of the men slept fitfully, enduring the discomfort of having to lie down on rocks and bumpy ground to slumber. A few were awake, nervous about the unusual chain of events that had brought them to this strange place in the foothills.

  These were the ones that heard the slight but sudden sounds of pings and dull thumps.

  They didn't realize these were from the seven hand grenades that had just been tossed into their midst. As soon as the detonations began, heavy firing came from the front. This was quickly joined by salvos from the right and left that sent dozens of rounds to sweep through the two mujahideen platoons.

  Now Alpha and Delta Teams moved in from the front, raking the prone enemy with automatic fire bursts of three rounds. Bravo and Charlie Teams slid down into the ravine from their attack positions to join their platoon mates.

  The entire platoon charged through the position, leaving dead and wounded mujahideen as they rushed out the other side to continue rapidly down the ravine.

  Chapter 16

  THE FOOTHILLS

  28 AUGUST

  0630 HOURS LOCAL

  LIEUTENANT Wild Bill Brannigan had decided there wasn't much to be gained by simply running like a herd of zebra being pursued by lions. As the Brigands continued through the foothills, his mind raced with ideas on how to keep any pursuers not only off balance, but nervous as hell in the bargain. A hesitant enemy was a less dangerous enemy. Unlike the zebras, the SEALs had some pretty sharp fangs of their own.

  The skipper considered sending out patrols since that was the normal manner of harassing bad guys. The activity also served to keep tabs on what kind of trouble the sons of bitches were trying to stir up. But he had to keep in mind that the platoon was involved in a vital retrograde movement and they really had to get the hell out of the area as fast as possible. This precluded any possibility of standing still while sending out fire teams to observe or hassle the mujahideen.

  Then the solution to the problem of keeping the enemy on edge came to him in a flash. An ambush would serve that purpose just as well if not better.

  The art of sneaky deadly ambuscades was the most tried and true means of shocking an enemy ever applied throughout military history. Although harassment was the secondary purpose of ambushes--destruction of the enemy was the primary motive--it would serve the platoon well. A small unit like the Brigands would have a distinct advantage over even a much larger one in a well-planned attack from concealed positions. Most of the time, the unit suffering the assault overestimated the number of attackers and reacted accordingly in subsequent combats. After suffering a bloody ambush, they would conduct their operations in a much more prudent and wary manner.

  The only regret Brannigan had was that with only fourteen men, he would be unable to organize a baited trap ambush. If they were a stronger force, the SEALs could use the original ambush as bait to draw in enemy relief forces. These would be hit by one or more harassing ambushes as they rushed to aid their pinned down buddies. The harassing elements did not have to destroy the targets, only delay and disorganize them while inflicting casualties. The tactical situation that developed would dictate the method for breaking contact and melting back into the countryside. But with a little more than a dozen men, this was not going to be feasible.

  Brannigan came to the conclusion that in the future if the SEALs were going to be participating in longer in-country missions, the platoons were going to have to be reorganized and beefed up. This would be something to put in his after action report.

  .

  0845 HOURS LOCAL

  WI LD Bill Brannigan kept his thoughts to himself until they reached a perfect site to lay an effective ambush. When he perceived the possibilities of the location, he viewed the area with a ferocious happiness. The ravine narrowed and deepened slightly, with excellent areas of cover and concealment along the top. During a potential ambush, if the victims decided the best course was to charge through the incoming fire, they would be slowed when they tried to crowd themselves through the confined space at the end.

  Brannigan spoke into the LASH. "Let's hold it up. Point men report to me."

  The SEALs went into a defensive posture, covering all sides as Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz came back from the point and trotted down to where the skipper waited for them.

  "Hey, guys," Brannigan said: "I've got a short recon for you. I need to have the top of this ravine around the immediate area checked out. See what's up there. Cover and concealment is what I'm interested in."

  "Aye, sir," Dave replied.

  Brannigan and Frank Gomez boosted them up so they could climb out of the deep gulley. While the Odd Couple was gone, the Skipper decided to take the opportunity to have a stroll down the platoon column for an informal visual inspection. He visited the Bravos first, finding Senior Chief Buford Dawkins restless as usual. He was standing up while his only companion, Chad Murchison, sat comfortably on the ground with his back resting against the ravine wall. Gutsy Olson, normally a member of Bravo Fire Team, had been sent over to the Charlies, then further dispatched to accompany Joe Miskoski on rear guard.

  The senior chief eyed the Skipper somewhat suspiciously. "What've you got on your mind, sir?"

  Brannigan grinned. "What makes you think I've got something on my mind, Senior Chief?"

  "You got a devious look in your eye, sir," Dawkins said with country-boy candor. "You look like an ol' bear that's just sighted a beehive of honey."

  Brannigan lowered his voice. "I'm thinking of springing an ambush."

  Dawkins glanced around the immediate area. "This looks like a pretty good place. What's up on top?"

  "I've sent the Odd Couple to find out," Brannigan said. "Hang in there. I'll be getting back to you."

  "Aye, sir."

  Brannigan went on down to where Chief Matt Gunnarson, Bruno Puglisi and James Bradley, the hospital corpsman, were strung out along the ravine. The chief also gave him a shifty look, so Brannigan beat him to the punch by saying, "I'm seriously considering setting up an ambush right here."

  "All right, sir!" Gunn
arson exclaimed. "Is that why you sent Assad and Leibowitz topside for a look-see?"

  "You bet," Brannigan said. He nodded at James. "The guys may be getting pretty tired before this is all wrapped up."

  "I've got some pep pills that will give them some oomph," James said. "I think we might end up with a water problem though."

  "Nothing is ever easy in this line of work," Brannigan remarked, moving down the line.

  Lieutenant Jim Cruiser nodded a greeting to the platoon commander as he approached. "Welcome to the aft end of the column, sir."

  "Thank you:' Brannigan said. "How's it going?"

  "Fine, thanks," Cruiser said. "Milly Mills and I are hanging in here while Joe Miskoski and Gutsy Olson are playing tail-gunners. I thought it would be a good idea if Milly and I relieved them for a while. They need a break."

  "Don't bother about it right away," Brannigan counseled. "I'm working on setting up a special reception for the rag-heads at this spot. I'll be getting back to you later."

  He walked back toward the front, reaching Frank just as Mike and Dave slid back into the ravine. Mike did the talking. "There's a flat area about a kilometer to the front where we could go after we break contact from the ambush."

  "I didn't say anything to you two about an ambush," Brannigan said.

  Dave shrugged. "Hell, sir, it was obvious as hell."

  "Right, sir," Mike agreed. "Me and Dave found a place where it'd be easy to get back into the cover of the ravine."

  "Right," Dave agreed. "We'd be long gone by the time the bad guys recovered from the attack."

  "What about cover and concealment along the top of this area?" Brannigan asked.

  "It couldn't be better, sir:' Mike said. "You can look right down into this fucking ditch without having to worry about anybody spotting you from below."

  "Okay," Brannigan said. He pressed the throat mike of the LASH. "All right! Listen up. We're going to set up an ambush here. I don't want to waste grenades since the mujahideen are going to be pretty much confined in this space. They'll make very easy targets."

  Senior Chief Buford's voice came over the system. "What kind of ambush do you have in mind, sir?"

  "A line ambush:' Brannigan said. "To refresh your lessons from Ambush 101, let me remind you that means we will be deployed parallel to the bad guys' direction of travel. In other words, we'll be positioned for flanking fire. And that means it has to be heavy."

  "But no grenades?" Bruno Puglisi asked.

  "You'll have to control your base emotions, Bruno," Brannigan said. "You'll do more damage with your M-16. Anyhow, there'll be too much of a chance that those steel pellets would fly back in your face in this confined space. Okay. Listen, guys. Here's the order of battle. The rear security force will be the Deltas, with the responsibility to see that none of the enemy escape back in the direction they came from. Understood, Delta Leader?"

  "Yes, sir:' Chief Gunnarson responded.

  "The front security force will be the Charlies," Brannigan said. "It's your job to make sure no bad guys charge forward to safety. Okay, Charlie Leader?"

  "Got it, sir:' Jim Cruiser said. "Right now we're under strength since Kevin Albee is KIA and Gutsy Olson and Joe Miskoski are assigned to rear guard."

  "Thanks for reminding me," Brannigan said. "Olson and Miskoski, you will rejoin the Charlies. After this thing goes down, you can be the rear guard again." He waited a moment. "The entire First Squad--I say again--the entire First Squad will be the attack force. That means delivering heavy fire into the target. Remember, men, we don't want any of those sons of bitches getting through the ambush at the front or running away at the back. Got it? Good! The firing will commence when Charlie Fire Team sees that all the bad guys have passed into the kill zone."

  "When does the firing halt?" Milly Mills asked.

  "When every one of those raghead bastards is dead," Brannigan said. "Now let's climb up there on the edge of this gulley and get set up."

  The platoon began scrambling to get out of the ravine.

  .

  0930 HOURS LOCAL

  CHIEF Matt Gunnarson had spent a bit more than half an hour keeping an eye on the location where the enemy would enter the ambush kill zone. Now he tensed as he watched a three-man point team of mujahideen walk slowly into the killing area, pausing to take a careful look down the ravine. A couple of beats later they resumed their walk, moving toward the end where the Charlies formed the final firing line.

  When the main column of ragheads came into view, they were relaxed and confident with the certainty that their point crew had cleared the way ahead. Gunnarson waited patiently, noting when the last of the group came into view. One of the mujahideen was a tall, lanky guy who reminded the chief of photographs he had seen of Osama Bin Laden. When Gunnarson determined this was the last guy, he aimed carefully at his upper body. At the exact moment the mujahideen came to a point to his direct front, the SEAL gently squeezed the trigger. The jolt of the bullet slammed the SEAL: raghead against the far wall of the ravine, and he crumpled to the ground.

  Immediately the First Squad--seven men strong--opened up with three-round automatic bursts of 5.56-millimeter. The salvos whacked into the mujahideen, shaking them violently as they toppled to the ravine's floor. The enemy point team panicked and made a run forward, but the weapons of Charlie Fire Team blasted an instantaneous volley of a dozen shots that cut the trio down before they went five meters. Then the Charlies raised the barrels to blast into the front of the enemy column. The air was filled with the ear-shattering reports of a dozen CAR-15s and two M-16s.

  It was all over in ten seconds.

  Thirty mujahideen were down, slumped and sprawled in piles of two and three. The sounds of moaning could be discerned coming from the fallen men, while a few twitched in the agony of their death throes.

  Brannigan spoke firmly into the LASH. "Cease fire!" He got to his feet and surveyed the scene for a moment. "All right! Assad and Leibowitz on the point. Charlie Team take the rear guard. Let's go, people! Move out!"

  The platoon hurried forward a kilometer along the flat terrain before slipping back into the cover of the ravine.

  .

  1000 HOURS LOCAL

  CAPTAIN Lakhdar Tanizai watched the wounded being carried out of the ravine, back to a wider area in the gulley for treatment. There were no proper stretchers to transport the stricken mujahideen, so they were rolled onto blankets for an uncomfortable, jarring trek of fifty meters back to where the medics had set up a treatment center. With only the barest of medical supplies available, the injured men were quickly divided into two groups. The first was made up of wounded who might survive to fight another day. They were given top priority. The poor bastards who didn't have a chance for recovery were laid out to survive or die as dictated by Allah the Beneficent, the Merciful.

  Tanizai had sent the rest of his company forward of the ambush site to occupy the ravine and the high ground on each side. They went into a purely defensive mode, nervously wondering if the infidel devils would reappear from nowhere to deal more death and maiming to them.

  Tanizai heard his name called, and turned to see Major Karim Malari hurrying toward him with his radio operator closely following. The major's distress was evident in his eyes. He looked past the captain at the carnage, then turned to him. "What has happened here?"

  "My men were ambushed, Major:' Tanizai said. "I am shamed to report that there are fifteen dead, ten wounded and"--he pointed over to the side--"six dying."

  Malari's face reddened with anger. "Why are you not pursuing the unbelievers, Captain? You are letting an opportunity slip by."

  "I made an effort, Major," Tanizai explained in a sorrowful voice. "But they went down into another ravine, then into a valley, and finally beyond. I have lost so many men I did not wish to risk another disaster."

  Malari sighed. "I suppose you took the best course, Captain?' He got his map out and studied it for a moment before snapping his fingers to signal his radio operator
to hand him the handset. He pressed down the TRANSMIT button and made instant contact with Warlord Khamami back on the mountain.

  "Amir, this is Malari. I regret to inform you that Captain Tanizai has suffered a great tragedy. Heavy losses, I fear. The infidels ambushed him. He feels the situation is too precarious to risk a pursuit. I must say that I agree with him."

  Khamami's voice came back. "I must turn these circumstances over in my mind for a moment. Wait."

  Malari looked over at Tanizai. "The Amir is pondering this disaster."

  "I appreciate your kindness in expressing approval of my tactical decision," the captain said sincerely.

  Malari had started to reply when Khamami's voice came back over the handset. "Here are my orders to both you and Captain Tanizai. You will follow after the enemy, but keep your distance. Do not make contact with them at all costs. If they turn aggressive, you must withdraw as quickly as possible. Do not engage the dogs in battle!"

  "I understand, Amir," Malari said.

  "That is most important," Khamami emphasized. "Above all, avoid sustaining more heavy casualties. I have a solution to this dilemma that will save us further losses and guarantee a resounding defeat of the enemy."

  "Yes, Amir," the major said. "I understand and will pass on your orders to Captain Tanizai."

  .

  OUTCAST CAMP

  THE KHAMAMI FIEFDOM

  1730 HOURS LOCAL

  KHATIB the Oracle strode alone into the camp of former warlord Ayyub Durtami, as he had done many times since their arrival in Khamami's fiefdom. The hungry, miserable people regarded him with fear and hatred. His visits were not to comfort them or deliver them from merciless punishment; rather he came to make sure they were not getting extra food and that the men and women including husbands and wives--lived separately. This self-styled mullah had even ordered a special observation tower, with a platform five meters above the ground, constructed for him in the middle of the wretched bivouac. Each time he came to the place, he climbed up onto the structure to glare down in righteous fury at the sinners.

  This time, standing on the obscene perch, he surveyed the people for a few moments, then called out in a loud voice. "I want all males over the age of eleven and under the age of forty-one to come forward and gather around me. I have a special message for you from the Warlord Khamami that was passed to him from Allah the Beneficent, the Merciful. Thus, the significance of what I shall tell you today is the holiest of all that is holy."