“Got it,” Ed said.
Murdock led his seven men to the side of the house. He saw two lights snap off inside the building. At the last window he threw a fragger grenade hard through the glass, then kept on going to the rear of the structure.
The small bomb went off with authority inside. Murdock put his men on the ground and they watched the rear door a moment. One man came running out, and six Parabellums drilled through his body, dropping him into the dirt of the backyard.
Murdock heard two grenades explode inside the house; then the radio came on.
“Going inside,” DeWitt said. “Don’t fire into the place or use grenades. We’ll clear.”
Alpha Squad remained on the ground and waited. They heard a half-dozen shots fired in the house, then another grenade and more shots. A short time later the rear door opened and a voice bellowed.
“Friendlies here, SEALs coming out the back door.”
The troops moved to the front of the house, and the SAS man pointed on down the street.
“Second and third targets are half a block down this way. We have two houses side by side. They must know we’re coming by now.”
“DeWitt, take the far house with our SAS man. We’ll get the near one. Go.”
“Your house is concrete block with no paint, small tree in front, no sidewalk,” the SAS man said.
“Hey, Brit. You have a name?” Murdock asked.
“Yeah, I’m Trent-Jones.”
“Okay, Jones it is. I’m Murdock. Concrete block with small tree. We’re moving.”
Both houses were dark when they came toward them. At once a rifle fired from one window, and the SEALs took cover behind two parked cars and three good-sized trees. “I’ll cover you,” Murdock said “Jaybird, Van Dyke, and Ching, move to the back door and cover it. Go on my fire.”
Murdock moved his Bull Pup to 5.56 and fired three rounds into the nearest window, then three more rounds into the next window. He worked down the side of the house until his three men were safely past the windows and to the rear. He pushed the selector on the Bull Pup to 20mm and fired one round into the front door. It blew the whole wooden door all the way inside the house. Murdock sent one more twenty round inside; then he and the rest of the squad charged the front of the house.
There was no answering fire. The SEALs pressed against the front of the concrete structure and waited. “Jaybird, hold it back there, we’re going in,” Murdock called on the radio.
“Roger that.”
“Howard, you and I. I’ve got the left.”
They charged through the door, covering their sides of the large room they found. It was so dark they couldn’t see anything. Murdock used his penlight, holding it three feet from his body. The powerful but small beam showed two dead bodies on the floor, both holding submachine guns.
“Two terrs down here,” Murdock said on the radio. They charged through the rest of the house, and found one more man in the rear room. He was wounded. He screamed at them and lifted an Uzi in Murdock’s beam of light. Howard put four rounds of Parabellums into his chest, and he dropped the weapon and met his ancestors in half a second.
“All clear,” Murdock said. They went back outside just as DeWitt and Jones charged the front door of the other house. Murdock heard firing from the rear.
“We’ve got two downed terrs here,” Donegan said on the Motorola. “Little bastards thought they could outrun a bullet.”
“Two more dead inside,” De Witt said. “We’re done here.”
They could hear sirens — fire, police, or the Palestinian Authority military police, they didn’t know which one.
“Let’s haul ass out of here,” Murdock said. The SEALs jogged toward the sea, cut back a block, and then down another deserted street until they could see the dark waters of the Mediterranean. Trent-Jones went with them. “You swim?” Murdock asked the SAS man.
“Like a salmon, but I should go find my mates.”
“Was there another officer with them?” Murdock asked.
“Yes.”
“He probably has most of them in tow. The sirens will push them back to sea. We’ll try to find them once we get out a ways. Can you strap your weapon over your back?”
“Quite, regular procedure. How far out do we swim?”
“I’ll contact the patrol boat before we hit the water. He should come in to a quarter mile and key in on our light sticks. At least that’s the plan. We’ll see how well he can follow orders.”
Murdock told the SEALs to stash their Motorolas in waterproof compartments on their cammies. He called the boat.
“Patrol One, you should have men in the water in two minutes. Can you read me?”
“Surfers, we have you. We’re a mile off. Are you north or south of the target? We can still see it burning.”
“We’re north now about three hundred yards. Have you heard from the Israeli swimmers?”
“They have been picked up by Patrol Two.”
“We’re moving. Did you know that the SAS boat flipped? You might ask Patrol Two to watch for survivors. We have one SAS man, Lieutenant Trent-Jones, with us.”
“Will relay. We’re looking for seventeen?”
“Right. We know of one wounded Brit on shore. Do your best.”
Murdock put away his radio. “Let’s get wet, men,” he said, and led the way into the water. Without their flippers it was harder work swimming out, but nobody complained. They had no wounds that Murdock had heard about, and it was only a quarter of a mile.
When Murdock figured they were far enough, he had each man take out a signal stick, break it to start it glowing, and hold it up as high as he could and still tread water.
Trent-Jones stayed near Murdock.
“This is a bit cold, isn’t it? But better than waiting on the beach. Were those the Palestinian Authority sirens we heard?”
“Probably. They held off long enough so the danger had passed. They don’t like to get involved, I’ve been told.”
“Hear something coming,” Lam shouted. The rest of them listened, but it was a full minute before Jaybird let out a yell. “Starboard about two hundred,” he bellowed. They all waved their light sticks.
“Be a damn shame if this is a Palestinian patrol boat,” Jaybird yelped. “Hope to hell they don’t have any out tonight.”
Two minutes later they recognized the Israeli patrol boat, and it cut power and slid up to them through the calm Mediterranean. Once aboard, Murdock asked about the SAS boat.
“The report we have is that it capsized on a rough wave near shore and went down. The other patrol boat heard their Mayday and rescued twenty of the SAS men out of the water and the three crewmen. Five were found on the beach by a search party including the one with the broken leg. Four of the SAS men are missing and presumed drowned.”
Trent-Jones slumped in his seat in the cabin. “Four of my men gone. How could it happen? We train in small boats. We dump boats and know what to do.”
The Israeli patrol boat captain looked at the notes he had taken on the radio transmissions. “One explanation I heard is that two of the men may have been trapped belowdecks and couldn’t get out. The other two could have been knocked unconscious when the craft went upside down, and drowned.”
“We lose anyone else on the operation?” Murdock asked. “The Israeli underwater men?”
“All accounted for, Commander.”
“Then we missed the other three house targets,” Trent-Jones said. “I don’t even know where they were. The SEALs took down three of them; at least we did that much.”
For Murdock the twenty-mile boat ride was a long one. He was feeling the British SAS man’s loss, his pain at the way he and his men had fared in the attack. They had been lucky to lose only four men. Could have been the rough wave caught the boat broadside when it was turning for the run to the beach. Long damn ride.
Murdock was exhausted by the time they hit the dock at Ashdod. Then came the wait in the cold wet cammies for the chopper ride u
p the coast to Tel Aviv. By the time they were back in their quarters at the Army base, the sun was starting to shatter the blackness of night. Murdock couldn’t get out of his mind the look on the SAS man’s face when the lieutenant learned he had lost four men. That man’s agony would be with Murdock for a long time.
12
Tel Aviv, Israel
Most of the SEALs slept in until 1400 that afternoon. Don Stroh had been around twice, and the third time he found Murdock up, dressed, and hungry.
“Breakfast at two in the afternoon?” Stroh asked. His round face had darkened a little lately from sunshine duty. His hair was thin and brownish, over ears that were too big for his head. Blue eyes danced as he escorted Murdock to the small officers’ club where they ate. Murdock had sausages and a stack of eight pancakes. Stroh had coffee.
“Reports are coming in from agents in Gaza City,” Stroh said.
Murdock went on eating.
“Good reports. Your team did a bang-up job last night.”
“Why we get the big bucks, Stroh.”
“Modesty won’t get you promoted, sailor.”
Murdock gave him the don’t-mess-with-me look, and Stroh chuckled.
“Always the tough SEAL. Like Arafat was just another walk in the park during business hours. Another day at the office. Well, your team totally demolished the Arafat GHQ. The word we’re getting is that there were thirty of the top leaders of the al Fatah and Tanzim groups in a conference in the building when the missiles hit. There are no known survivors. Four cooks and a group of guards are also listed as KIA.”
“We didn’t know about the conference. No Arafat?”
“He was supposed to be there, but was delayed by a malfunctioning aircraft somewhere.”
“Our group didn’t have much to do. The missiles took care of the matter rather well. We did nail three of the separate units.”
“Sorry about the SAS and their losing four men.”
“It’s a dangerous game we play. Usually some of the good guys get hurt. It just didn’t happen to be us this time.”
“The local command says there is no sense trying for the other three satellite buildings. Anyone who was there has been moved as of six A.M. this morning and all records taken with them. That’s a closed book. We take what we can get, which is about a ninety-percent completion of the mission.”
“So we’re released here and can go home?”
“No.”
Murdock scowled. “Just a plain unpregnant no? Why not? What more do they want from us? What are the new plans? Give me something more than just a two-letter answer.”
Stroh sighed and took a long draw on his coffee. He looked at Murdock over the rim of the cup. “I can’t tell you a lot more. You are on U.S. Navy TDY orders with an open end. The powers are interested in more than al Fatah. There are several more deadly groups around. This one was the easiest to take down, so it was first. My guess is that there will be three or four more hits. I don’t know if you SEALs will be involved in any or all of them. We wait and see.”
“Is that huge planning group going to be making the decisions?”
“Probably, but I’ve suggested that they cut it down to not more than ten people. Two from each of the three nations and four overhead from Israel. They might go for it.”
“Whatever, we’ll be here. I should get back for our after-mission debrief.”
He groused to himself on the way back to their quarters. Sure he loved this job, and he was doing something extremely worthwhile, but sometimes it was frustrating. The platoon could use some good solid teamwork training. He had new men, and they hadn’t been fully integrated into the procedures. Every man had to know instinctively what the man on his right and left would do in any firefight situation. That was the way they saved lives. That was the way they lived to be old SEALs who could muster out and flop around on the beach in the sun and not worry about anyone shooting at them.
Maybe after this current project, or three or four, from what Stroh had been hinting, they could get some time to themselves and spend it alone out in the California desert. Do some concentrated squad and platoon drills and firing sequences and realistic training. Some of the older hands were getting a little complacent. Murdock couldn’t put up with that because it would cost them a KIA on one of these shoots. He’d be damned if he was going to bury any more SEALs.
Senior Chief Sadler had the men working over their weapons and gear when Murdock came into the assembly room next to their quarters.
DeWitt nailed him when he came in the door. “So, does Brother Stroh have any good news for us? Like when we go home?”
“Not likely. Most likely we’ll get some more assignments while we’re here. Might as well tell everyone at once.”
Murdock called the men together and went over what Stroh had told him.
“So the nut of it is that we’re here, and we’ll be in more hits against some of the terrorist groups before we leave,” Murdock concluded. “We don’t know who or what or when, but we’ll be ready when it comes.”
There were a few groans.
“This is why we get the big bucks,” Jaybird said.
“What Navy are you in, sailor?” Mahanani brayed.
“Whatever Navy we are,” Murdock said, “we’ll probably be doing ground duty for the next mission or two. Most of the bad guys are on the West Bank, which, if you don’t know, is the west bank of the Dead Sea, which is between Jordan and Israel. So get out your slogger boots. Right now we do our after-action critique. Bravo Squad, what went right and what could have been better?”
They worked over the mission from top to bottom, and found little to pick on that could have been done better. One suggestion was that on swims of less than a mile, they didn’t wear fins. Usually they would be lost when the SEALs hit the beach anyway. A half hour later they had it all thrashed out, and Murdock looked back at DeWitt.
“Lieutenant DeWitt, didn’t I see you pick up some books on Israel and the Arab problem that first day we were here?”
“That I did, oh, great one, our Commander.”
“They enjoy that rank shit,” Joe Lampedusa whispered loud enough so everyone could hear.
“You’d enjoy it too, Lampedusa, if you’d ever get off the pot and go for second class,” Senior Chief Sadler snapped.
“Hey, easy on me. I might be wounded again. Anyway, I struck for second a week before we left.”
Murdock turned to him. “You did? Get out of here, find a computer you can use to send, and e-mail and check with Master Chief MacKenzie and see if you made it. Move, sailor.”
Lam grinned and ran for the door.
“Now, getting back to the important stuff. Lieutenant, how about a half-hour lecture on Israel, its historic place in our society, and how it got the Arabs just mad as hell?”
DeWitt stood, polished the new railroad-track bars on his shoulders, and grinned. “Usually a scholar of my standing doesn’t lecture before such a motley and unlettered crew as this. However, this one time, I’ll break with academic standards and try to enlighten you.”
“What the fuck did he say?” Ken Ching asked. Everyone roared with laughter.
DeWitt went to his bunk and brought back a book. “Actually I was going to lecture to you, but I figured I better just read some of this since I’m not sure if all of you know how to read.”
That brought a chorus of catcalls and hoots.
“Listen up: Occupying the southwest corner of the ancient Fertile Crescent, Israel has some of the oldest known evidence of primitive town life and agriculture. A more advanced civilization has been found from 2000 B.C., and the Jews probably arrived here around 1000 B.C. with King David and his successors. From there to about 590 B.C. Judaism was developed.”
“So, okay, these guys ain’t no Johnny-come-latelies,” Fernandez said. “You’d think they’d have their ducks in a row by now.”
“They did have a few troubles,” DeWitt said. “First the Babylonians, then the Persians, and then
the Greeks conquered them. It wasn’t until 186 B.C. that the Jewish Kingdom was revived. For a hundred years things went well. Then Rome marched in and took over and put down the Jewish revolts of 70 A.D. and 135 A.D. During this time they renamed Judea Palestine after the first inhabitants of the area, the Philistines.
“The Arabs first took over Palestine in 636. The Arab language and Islam prevailed for several centuries, but there remained a stubborn Jewish minority with its own customs and religion. About the year 1000, foreign empires again started conquering Palestine, including the Seljuks, the Mamluks, and the Ottomans. Ottoman rule lasted for four centuries, until the British took over in 1917 pledging to support a Jewish homeland in Palestine. By 1920 the land east of the Jordan River was detached and Jewish immigration began. Hitler and the Nazis spurred a flood of immigrants, and at the same time Arabs from Syria and Lebanon surged into the area, and it turned violent with fighting between Jews and Arabs. Then in 1947 the U.N. partitioned Palestine into a Jewish and a Palestine state, and Britain withdrew the next year.”
“We really having a test on all this?” Bill Bradford asked.
“Absolutely, and anyone not passing has to stay after school,” Jaybird yelped. That brought a laugh.
“Now we come to the fun part,” DeWitt said. “In 1948 Israel was invaded by Egypt, Jordan, Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, and Saudi Arabia. That put twenty to thirty times as many Arabs in those countries fighting tiny little Israel, which had been a nation for only a year. Israel was not smashed, but she did lose some territory. Egypt occupied the Gaza Strip and Jordan took over a long chunk of former Israeli land on the West Bank of the Jordan River.
After one small stalemated war, Israel went into the Six-Day War in 1967 and smashed the whole neighborhood. They took over the Gaza Strip, occupied the Sinai Peninsula all the way to the Suez Canal, captured East Jerusalem, Syria’s Golan Heights, and Jordan’s West Bank. The U.N. arranged a cease-fire.
“Since then there have been minor skirmishes and one-day wars, and raids that have left the whole area unsettled and volatile. Israeli Special Forces made the daring raid into Entebbe, Uganda, in 1976 to rescue one hundred three hostages seized by Arab and German terrorists. It was a textbook raid, perfectly executed, planned in detail, and deadly where needed. We’ve studied it. We should do so again.
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