Murdock motioned to Lam, who jolted through the door and dove for the left side of the big room. Murdock slammed six rounds into the left wall, then six more into the far front wall. There was no answering fire.
Murdock nodded. So it was going to be a cat-and-mouse game. He could do that. He lifted up and stared at the whole area again, trying to figure out where he would hide out in here against a superior force.
Murdock could almost feel the North Korean watching him. He jolted down after the quick scan. There was no gunfire aimed at him. That could mean the other side had a good position and didn't want to give it away as they waited for a telling shot.
He touched his mike. "They must be in the kitchen. We have the hostages tied and blindfolded near the serving line on the right. Let's get all Alpha Squad inside. Come two at a time when you hear covering fire. Shoot into the kitchen. Lam."
Murdock lifted his subgun and chattered off six rounds. Lam did the same. Two by two, the squad bolted through the door and dove to the floor inside the mess hall.
Then they all moved like ghosts along and around the tables and benches in the mess hall working slowly forward. Lam and Murdock got there first. Thirty feet away a metal shield masked the area below the serving line's metal tables. Murdock figured it was lightweight aluminum and bullets would zing right through it. He could see no one over in the kitchen area. He'd have to sneak a peek. He jolted upright and scanned the kitchen area, then slammed downward.
Three rounds from an automatic rifle sizzled just over his head as he hit the floor. Lampedusa, twenty feet across, had jolted upward at the same time, then back down. He had in his hand a grenade with the pin pulled and the arming spoon held firmly in place. When he heard the shots at Murdock, he knew the gunman was at the left well away from the American prisoners. He threw the grenade.
The shattering roar of the small bomb in the closed building was magnified ten times. Shrapnel zinged around the kitchen ricocheting off all kinds of metal cabinets, stoves, and utensils. Murdock squirmed ahead to where the prisoners lay. He saw that none of them was bandaged. He took off the blindfolds from two as he watched and waited.
"Two more grenades far back in the kitchen," he told the lip mike. Lam sent one into another part of the kitchen, and Ron Holt threw the second blaster. When both went off with a resounding roar, Lampedusa was the first man up, vaulting over the serving line and diving behind a large freezer unit. He took no fire.
Ken Chin vaulted over another section of the line and crawled toward the big stove. Slowly the two worked forward, clearing every hiding space on the way.
Murdock found the Vice President, untied him, and took off his blindfold.
"Please stay down, Mr. Vice President. We hope to have this area cleared shortly. Are any of your people wounded or injured?"
Tears brimmed the man's eyes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. He shook his head — no injuries.
A moment later, Murdock's earpiece came on. "Kitchen is clear," Lam said. "We have two dead NKs in the back area. The grenades got them."
Ronson and Ellsworth came up quickly and untied the rest of the men and took off the blindfolds. The men sat on the floor for a moment; then some stood, and soon the rest were up.
'"Please hold it right here, gentlemen," Murdock said. "We need to make a complete inspection of this place to be sure it's safe. Are any of you wounded or injured?"
He heard some say no, and saw others shake their heads. A man came up with a Marine Corps white-side haircut. He saluted smartly.
"Sir, Ambrose, Secret Service. Ex-Marine, sir. I'd like a weapon. I feel naked right now without one."
"Be glad for the help, Ambrose." Murdock pulled a backup .45 automatic from his combat vest and handed it to the man along with two extra magazines. Ambrose charged a round into the chamber and pushed on the safety.
"Thanks, sir. I feel a lot better now."
Alpha Squad cleared the rest of the kitchen, then two small rooms to one side, and pronounced the mess hall clean. Murdock heard gunfire from the outside. His radio ear talked to him.
"Murdock, we have company," Ed DeWitt said. "Looks like a truck full of bad guys with guns. They see us, we see them."
"Be right out. Ambrose and Ellsworth, stay here and protect the Vice President and his party. The rest of Alpha out the front door, cautiously."
They went out singly, angling for cover. By the time they were out, the North Koreans in the track had dismounted a hundred yards away.
"MGs set up and go," Murdock said. His own and the rest of the MP-5 subguns were out of range.
"Pull the silencers off the MP-5's to reach out. Go." He unscrewed the noise suppressor and put it in his combat vest. The machine guns began to chatter.
".Somebody take out the truck," Ed DeWitt said.
Harry Ronson got his shots in first. He sprayed the truck until he saw steam jetting from the radiator. By then the rest of them had the range on the fifteen men who had jumped out of the truck and were looking for cover.
One man stood and waved the North troops forward. Miguel Fernandez sighted in with his H&K PSG1 sniper rifle and blew the officer away before he took two steps.
Ed DeWitt hit his mike. "Murdock. I'll take Bravo to the left into that burned-out building. We can get some cross fire."
"Go, find good cover."
Murdock settled down behind a large decorative rock left in front of the mess hall and waited. He had four long guns and four subguns in his squad. All were now firing at the North Koreans, who seemed content to sit behind their cover and take an occasional shot at the intruders. Then two NKs made a dash to closer cover. Both died in the process as Ronson nailed one with a five-round burst from his MG and Bradford picked off the other one with a NATO slug. For a moment all was quiet.
Then DeWitt opened up with his guns from the far side and the survivors of the truckload of men took fire from a new source. Two of the NKs ran for the truck. They fell before they got there. Three more kept firing from behind the truck.
Horse Ronson began searching the rig for its fuel tank. He slammed rounds under both doors, then toward the back. Twice more he punched five-round bursts into the rig, then tried just in front of the rear wheels.
The rounds found the tank and the vapors in the top, and it blew up in a gigantic fireball, instantly cremating the three NK troopers behind it.
All firing stopped.
"Looks like that's all the pages in this book," Ed DeWitt said on the radio.
"Good. We'll use this flat area in front of the mess hall for our LZ. Must have been a sports field." Murdock called up Ron Holt, who turned on the SATCOM to TAC One.
"Call in Knight One and Two," Murdock said. "Tell them we're ready and waiting. We'll put a green flare on the LZ as they get here." Holt made the call, got contact on his second transmission, and gave the message.
"SEAL, this is Knight Two. Affirmative. We're taking off now. Should be at your LZ in six minutes. We'll have two Cobras with us for shooting fun. Is the LZ secure?"
"Secure for now, Knights. We'll be waiting."
Murdock looked over the playing field. "Let's get some perimeter security around this place," he said to his mike. "DeWitt, take this side. Alpha Squad, on the far side. Ellsworth, hold your guests in the front of the mess hall near the door until you get word to bring them out. Copy, Doc?"
"Copy that, Commander," Doc Ellsworth said. "We stay put, come on your go."
Murdock had pushed the stopwatch button on his timer. "Alpha Squad, let's move out to that cover over there about a hundred yards." He took a green flare from his combat vest and held it as he and the squad ran across the open space and found cover behind two burned-out vehicles and three artillery-shell holes. Th ey settled in and aimed outward to watch for anyone coming toward them. Ron Holt dropped in the same shell hole as Murdock. He kept the SATCOM on the TAC One frequency.
"Commander, I have two Knights and two Cobras on the way. They will have Tomcat flyovers."
When the aircraft sound died, he frowned. There it was again, some other sound. Yes, a motor, a vehicle of some kind coming toward them. "Check to the east," he said in his mike. "Anybody see anything, a tank, a truck? I hear a motor."
For a moment the net remained silent. Then Ken Ching broke in. "Yes, Commander. I've got something. Moon is shining off it. Could be an armored personnel carrier of some kind. It's coming hell-for-leather down the road from the east. By the size of the headlights, I'd say it's about a mile away." Murdock took the handset for the radio. "Tom Boy Cover, can you read? This is SEAL, come in."
He said it twice, then the radio speaker spoke.
"Yes, SEAL, read you. This is Tom Boy Cover One."
"We've got trouble coming a mile east of the former 91st tankers' location. Not sure where you are. We'll put two green flares out to mark our location. Target is coming with headlights on from the east about a mile out. Are you anywhere near us?"
"Not a chance I could find you down there, SEALs. Too many lights, flares and such. I'm a poor risk for that kind of work."
As soon as that transmission cut off another one came on.
"SEALs. This is Cobra One. We're within a minute of you. Put out your two green flares. We can spot headlights easily. Be there in about fifty seconds."
"That's a go, Cobra One. We have no weapons to take on an armored personnel carrier. If you don't get here soon, all bets are off getting our package out of here safely."'
"Hang on, SEALs, and pop those flares."
Murdock ran into the open area, lit two green flares, and tossed them into the center of the sports field. Now all they could do was wait and hope.
91st Tank Battalion
Seven miles south of the DMZ
Near Chandan, South Korea
Major Donovan Kitts stood beside his tank and stared hard ahead at the flood tide of the Imjin-gang River. It was too deep right now for a tank to cross. Two bridges capable of holding tanks had been crossed by his six remaining U.S. rigs and then blown up. At the very least that should slow up the North Korean tanks that had smashed his battalion that morning.
Now in the darkness, Major Kitts wondered if he had done the right thing. He'd had no contact with his control headquarters since last night before the invasion.
Ten of his tanks were now piles of junk metal. He'd lost at least forty tank men and all but a handful of his service and headquarters troops. He had no idea how many of them had fled the battalion area just after the bombardment and before the enemy tanks arrived. As far as he knew there were still twelve North Korean tanks chasing him. The Navy fighters with their missiles had destroyed two of the enemy tanks. They had lost two more somewhere else.
He'd watched the air attack from a slight rise on the other side of the river. One missile per tank. The Navy needed a dozen more of those missiles to even things up a bit. He knew that the NK tanks would be after him come morning. He had his six armored machines in what meager cover the men could find. For half the night his men would be chopping down trees and draping limbs over the rigs for momentary camouflage.
With the first round fired, each of his six tanks would give away its position and would be targeted by the twelve tanks chasing them. How to cut down the odds?
Kitts moved away from his tank and walked the area. He found one ditch where a tributary ran down to the main river. He could put one tank in the ditch with room to see and fire over the bank. Yes. That would give that tank a fourteen-foot barricade of solid Korean soil ahead of it.
Where else? He went back and brought out his only other senior officer, First Lieutenant Brady Jolson, and explained what he was looking for. The officer grinned and went in the other direction.
By four a.m. they had put five of the tanks in more secure positions. Three more in gullies formed by tributaries and one in back of the crest of a ridge where it could fire and retreat a dozen feet and be safe.
His own tank was the last one. Where in hell could it go? He had been working up to a half mile behind the river. Now he moved closer, hiking more than he had done in months. Less than fifty yards from the river, he found an ideal spot. Two small streams dumped muddy water into the Imjingang. They formed a small V approaching the main flow.
With only a few yards' movement, he could fire over the embankment on one side of the V at targets on that flank, then reverse and come up on the other side of the V and fire in that direction.
He pondered it. The main problem was that he could be within a hundred yards of the enemy tanks. Flyswatting distance for their 105 guns, which could fire out over two miles. Also, it was can't miss range for return fire. Could he take out enough North Korean tanks before they found him and blew away enough of the embankment to leave him naked and quickly dead?
Major Kitts never gave it another thought. He ran back to his tank, woke up the crew, and moved it down the tributary to the position. They rolled from one side to the other of the V and where the streams combined, testing out the bidirectional firing that he wanted. Yes, it would work well.
His gunner looked at him for a long moment when they had the tank in its first firing position.
"You sure you want to do this, Major?"
"Yeah, Broadhurst, I'm sure. All we have to do is knock out every tank that finds us, then pick off the rest of them. Remember, we have help."
"Sure, help, six against what, a dozen? We're down here in snot-shooting range. Major."
"True, Broadhurst. You want to transfer to a tank farther back?"
The sergeant shook his head. ''No, sir. We almost got one tank early this morning. I'm damn sure not going to pass up a chance to nail about four of the bastards. They killed a lot of my friends today. I'd just as soon blast as many of the sons of bitches straight into Hell as I can."
"Good, Broadhurst, now get some sleep. They'll be coming at us as soon as it's light."
"Major, I had three hours. That's plenty. I think it's your turn. I'll wake you well before dawn. Sack out, sir, and get some rest."
Major Kitts watched his sergeant for a moment, then nodded and flaked out next to a tree. He dropped off to sleep before he knew it.
91st Armored's Former HQ
Murdock kept looking at his watch. The Cobra said less than a minute. He was ahead of the Sea Knights. He looked up the shadowy road to the east and saw the headlights moving toward them. They had slowed and seemed to stop at times. Moving cautiously, not sure what to expect. Good, the longer it took the vehicle to get there, the better for the arriving chopper. The rig was not gung ho to charge into a fight. It stopped and its machine gun chattered at some foe, real or imagined.
Murdock scanned the dark sky to the south. For a moment he thought he heard an engine; then it faded. The next sensation he had was a hornet's nest right over his head. The Cobra popped up from its ground-hugging flight path and slammed over the green flares at fifty feet, swung to the left, and angled toward the rig with the lights. The radio came on.
"Yes, SEALs, I have him. He just turned out his lights but I know where he is. He can't hide. Thank God for the good moon." The chopper angled toward the vehicle. Murdock heard the cannon firing then, the big 20mm rounds jolting out of the three barrels as fast as a machine gun. He could see the rounds hitting, but didn't know how much damage they did.
"Okay, SEALs, no fireworks yet. I'll make another run with the rockets and see what we can do.
Far as I can tell, he's dead in the water there. Not going anywhere." The Cobra made a tight circle and came in at the rig from a sideways angle. The 70mm rockets thundered out of the pods along the body of the chopper, and a moment later exploded on and around the enemy vehicle. A second more, and the fuel tank exploded, showering the countryside with bits and pieces of meta
l and flaming gasoline.
"Thanks, Cobra, good shooting," Murdock said on the radio.
Another transmission came in. "Are those fireworks for our enjoyment, SEALs? This is Knight One and Two. We see the green flares. Any enemy fire?"
"A clear pad, Knights. Your Cobra just took care of the bad guys. Welcome to Korea." Almost at once they heard the sound of the big banana ships coming in. The twin rotors kicked up a storm of dust that blew away quickly in the light wind. Then the bird had landed.
"Ellsworth," Murdock said on the Motorola. "Bring out our guests at a run if they can make it. Their limo is here."
Murdock heard a second chopper circling. The Congressmen and the Vice President and his party came jogging out of the mess hall and into the darkness, then into the splash of light from the chopper's landing lights. Crewmen helped the twelve men on board. Murdock sent the Secret Service man with them, then slammed closed the door and pounded on it twice. The big bird lifted off in another swirling, blinding cloud of Korean dust.
"Clear the area for the next landing," Murdock bellowed when the first chopper had swung away from them. The SEALs in the area scattered.
The second Sea Knight dropped down and landed. In less than a minute the SEALs and their Korean interpreters were all on board. Murdock slammed the hatch closed and locked it, and the helo lifted off.
"Casualty report," Murdock said. There were two.
"You call that a wound?" Doc Ellsworth jazzed at Jack Mahanani.
"Damn right. That's from enemy action. Cut by flying glass in the face. That's Purple Heart stuff."
Doc cleaned up the two slices, which turned out to be minor, and put on closing bandage strips. Ken Ching had a bullet groove in his right leg. It was no more than a quarter of an inch deep. Doc dosed it with some antiseptic and put on a bandage, and looked around for anymore problems.
That was it.
Murdock checked with the South Koreans. Neither of them had been hit. The Army sergeant who'd acted as guide was unmarked. Murdock settled down for the quick trip back to the ship. In a little more than a half hour, barring any lucky ground fire, they should have the Vice President of the United States back safe and sound on the Monroe. The crew chief pushed into the narrow confines of the Sea Knight.
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