Two Chinese soldiers limped away. He put them both in the dirt with three-round bursts. He heard firing from his left. Another Mainlander had risen from his position close to Mother Earth, and was greeted with two hip-fired rounds from Magic Brown's rifle. Then all was quiet.
Murdock touched his mike. "Come," he said. Second squad came out of the metal door and dispersed in the darkness.
"Casualties?" Murdock radioed.
"I've got one man nicked in the leg," Dewitt said through the earphone. "He says not serious. I'll watch him. What's next?"
"We've attracted too much attention. Let's haul ass for the beach and our IBSS."
They moved away toward the beach at ten meter intervals. No lucky grenade or shell would get more than one SEAL. They heard sirens wailing from inside the facility. The best part about this island strike, Murdock decided, was that the Chinese couldn't truck in a thousand men to hunt them down. The garrison on the island was all they had. He wished he knew how many fighting men that involved.
The SEALS could see headlights to the left, inland on the island, which they heard was about two miles across. The beach was only a hundred meters away. They picked up the pace to double time.
Lieutenant Murdock came to the beach and turned right to find the IBSS. He found the spot. Both boats had been slashed, ruined, and looted. Nothing left of value.
"Hit the dirt!" Murdock bellowed. A moment later machine-gun fire erupted along the grass dune that separated the dry sand from the land.
"Waiting for us," Murdock said in his radio. "Take cover and let me find this bastard."
Murdock saw where the fire came from. The gun was on the dune thirty meters down from the boats. His rounds were high, but he'd get them down. Murdock checked his pouches and found two more fraggers. He wished he had another RPG or some M-40's. He began to crawl forward on his elbows and his knees, digging into the sand, moving more slowly than he wanted to.
Thirty meters. Too damn far to throw. He checked behind him and found Holt tailing him. He must have some hand grenades left too. They moved into the grass. The rounds were still high. The gunner was kicking out five-round bursts. He knew what he was doing. He didn't have NVG, that was for sure, or half the platoon would be dead by now.
They crept closer. At fifteen meters Murdock stopped and let Holt come up beside him. "How many?" Murdock asked.
"Three."
"We'll alternate. I'll throw one. Five counts later you throw one. We do that twice."
Holt nodded. Murdock remembered that Holt had been second in accuracy with live grenades on the range. The kid could throw. Murdock pulled the pin on his grenade, waited for Holt to pull his, then with a stiff-elbow throw arched the bomb toward the machine gun.
A second after the fragger ripped the China night apart, Holt lifted up and threw his hand bomb. In 4.2 seconds the second grenade went off with a chopping roar. The machine gun stopped firing.
Murdock motioned Holt up, and they both took their MP-5's and charged the machine gun firing as they ran. Three Chinese lay dead around their weapon. Murdock shot two rounds into the receiver so the MG wouldn't fire again, and ran back to his troops.
"Swim time," he said on the radio. "Our IBSS are both slashed and dead. Let's swim." He pulled off the mike and headset, stowed them in the waterproof pocket in his vest, and charged his men into the water.
The water is home to the SEAL. When all goes bad he can always take to the water for protection and comfort. It also can hide him and save his Navy hide to fight again another day.
They had no breathing apparatus. Their emergency fins and face masks had been in the IBSS on the beach. Now they would be part of the "evidence" the Chinese might use when the story came out. If it came out. He hoped it would embarrass the Chinese so badly they wouldn't mention the intrusion.
The SEALS waded into the water, ducked under the first three breakers, and assembled just beyond the white water.
"Buddy lines," Murdock said. "I want groups of four. Dewitt, how's your man?"
Dewitt swam over. "He's better off out here than on land. He tells me he can breaststroke ten miles. We'll see." They tied themselves together. Three sets of four and one of three. Ron Holt was with Murdock. "Holt, you have that sonar signaler?"
"Always."
"Activate it. We want that sub to come in until his nose scrapes Chinese sand. We'll move out a mile and wait for him."
"Damn dark tonight, L-T."
"True. Another hundred yards off shore and I'll put up the SLVB. Give the men and the sub something to watch for. Free swimming this way, we've got to stay together."
They took two rounds of rifle fire from the beach, and then no more.
The SEALS kept up their steady stroke away from the shore. Murdock tried to set a course, but soon realized that it didn't really matter. The sub would be homing in on the sonar signal sent out by the handy-dandy little rig that Holt had slipped into the sea on a cord tied to his webbing.
Murphy's law had hit them hard. The Chinese finding their IBSS was the worst of it. Now they had a tough swim. He hoped that the sub skipper would come in to the one-mile mark. If anything else went wrong they would still be swimming when daylight broke over the eastern horizon.
Now it was all up to that sonar device. Work, damnit, Murdock demanded. Work!
12
Friday, May 15
2107 hours
Just off Tayu Island
Taiwan Strait
Murdock figured the SEALS were a half mile offshore from Tayu Island when he heard the engine. It was too high-pitched to be a submarine. Submarines made hardly any noise at all, even when traveling on the surface. He listened closer. Holt turned toward the sound. "Company," he said.
"A patrol boat of some kind," Murdock said. "Fast and heavily armed. Sounds like he's coming right at us."
"They must have figured we'd go directly away from the island," Holt said.
Murdock could see the four groups of swimmers. "Company coming," he called loud enough for all of them to hear him. "Probably our Chinese friends with a patrol boat. They'll have a searchlight. When they get close with the light, we play duck-dive just like in training. Everybody copy?" A chorus of ayes came back at him.
"We convince these sailors we aren't here, they'll go home. You know the hide-and-seek drill."
They swam forward silently then, the sound of the patrol boat fading and then coming closer as it worked some search pattern behind them. Gradually it came toward them.
Murdock saw the light first. It swept in long arcs across the two-foot swells in the strait. The Chinese sailors had a tough mission. In these nighttime seas it would be tough to find somebody who wanted to be located. Not wanting to be found would be harder yet.
"Coming at us," Murdock said.
The craft powered straight at them, then turned on its search leg. The light in the bow swung toward them, but was too far away to touch them. Then it turned away and it was gone.
"Next time they cover our area, so be ready," Murdock said. "We still have four units?"
Jaybird sounded off. "I'm in group two and I can see three more so that makes damn near four. Watch it, here comes that Chinese cocksucker with the long dick-light."
The patrol craft growled toward them at five knots and the beam of light, four feet across, swung closer to their position. Murdock had pulled in the string holding the vue ball and let out the helium. It collapsed. As the light edged toward them, the SEALS duck-dived, sliding under the water at the last moment.
Murdock took four downward strokes, then leveled out and watched the beam of bright light sweep over the waves where he and his men had been moments before. It came back over the same spot again and then faded as the boat moved away. He stroked to the surface slowly, pushed his nose out of the water for a big drag of air, then broke his face out.
Blessed darkness.
The patrol craft had worked beyond them in what looked like a routine search pattern. It was as if the cr
ew didn't expect to find anything and was simply going through the motions. Good.
Murdock called softly, and heard replies as the groups surfaced around him.
"Everyone accounted for, L-T," Jaybird called. "Looks like the dry-humper is gone."
"He'll be back," Murdock said. "Let's keep moving due east. That pig boat has got to be out there somewhere."
Murdock motioned to Holt, who swam over closer. "You have a backup on that sonar sending device?"
"Yep."
"Let's get it in the water and turned on. I really don't want to have to swim the ninety miles over to Taiwan."
"Roger that, sir. Have it out and activated in just a minute. I always keep two of them with me."
They swam forward, eastward, away from Mainland China.
Twice more the patrol boat swung its big beam of light across the sea where the SEALS swam. Twice more they had to dive and hold their breath until the wave of light passed over them.
Finally the patrol craft switched off its light and the motor sound picked up as the boat headed back to its mooring.
A light wind kicked up the swells into a froth on top, sending the water into the swimmers' faces. Murdock figured they had been in the water about an hour. Not long by SEAL standards, but the Nomex flight suits were leaving the men colder and colder.
Murdock felt the cold start to sap his strength. They could last another hour at the most. Where the hell was that submarine? With two sonar beacons out, it should be able to home in on one of them.
They heard the engines before they saw the craft. Then their anticipation turned to despair. A huge hull rose out of the ocean not a hundred yards away. It was a supertanker heading up the strait into the East China Sea.
The SEALS cursed silently to save their breath and kept swimming to the east.
Ten minutes later they saw another huge black shadow moving toward them. The craft had no running lights and hunkered low in the water. Murdock bellowed out a call, and the craft turned slightly toward them and slowed.
The USS Dorchester came to a stop ten meters away from the swimmers. A dozen sailors helped pull the SEALS on board and they hurried down a hatch into the big boat. Murdock made sure all fifteen bodies were accounted for.
Murdock checked his watch 2212. They had almost eight hours of darkness left for the second half of their mission. As soon as all the SEALS were on board, the submarine had turned north and picked up speed. She was on the surface at fifteen knots. They were scheduled for a two-hour trip north to Foochow. Their landing zone was a deserted, marshy area next to the Min River and along a good-sized bay.
Murdock made sure the men were fed and got dry uniforms. Since most of the next mission would be on land, they would be wearing the three-color desert camouflage suits, tan and pale green with splashes of pink. For gloves they had the fire-resistant sage-green Nomex. Swim fins would go over regular-issue jungle boots if they had to hit the water moving in to their objective.
They would use two new IBSS stashed on the sub for the last mile in from the cold waters of the East China Sea. Then they had about five clicks overland to get to the Chinese air base where the planes were parked that the paratroopers would use for their drop on Taiwan.
Murdock, Dewitt, and Jaybird went over the latest satellite photos of the air base near Foochow that had come in less than an hour before. They could see the concentration of aircraft on the field. They were parked wing tip to tail feathers. The satellite guys in D.C. said they had spotted forty of the transports ready for action. They were the Chinese SAC-YD four-turboprop transports. Each one could haul eighty-two fully equipped paratroopers. Forty of them would mean over five thousand men in the air. If they got off the field.
After the SEALS had been fed and clothed, they came to the room where the weapons had been stashed. This would be a different kind of attack for SEALS. They hoped they wouldn't have to get within five hundred yards of their enemies.
"What we have here is a job a little different than most we do," Murdock told his men. "We're after those planes on the tarmac. There are forty of them, packed so close together it looks like a carrier deck loaded with planes.
"We hope they are fully fueled and ready to roll. We'll be going in with twelve rounds of RPGS and ten Mcmillan M-88 bolt-action sniper rifles that blast out a.50-caliber round. These are not small or light weapons. They are fifty-three inches long and have a bulbous muzzle brake on the end of the barrel. They have a bipod out front and a fixed five-round magazine. We'll have fifty rounds for each weapon.
"You've all fired this piece in training. You'll be doing a lot of shooting tonight. Ten of you will have the eighty-eight, and your fifty rounds of fifty-caliber. Some of those ten will have an RPG as well. It's a heavy load. The other four men will carry the M-4A1, the CAR-15 with the forty-millimeter grenade launcher attached.
"We're now a long-range, high-firepower unit. We shoot and scoot hoping we cause so much hell on the base that they won't think about trying to run us down."
"L-T, we go in five klicks over land. That means we got to go five klicks back to get to our IBSS?" Al Adams asked.
"It should be less than five, maybe a mile depending on the bay and how far we can motor up it. We go as far as we can in the IBSS, then hit the land. If they find our IBSS we'll have to swim home. But this time we'll take the minutes needed to deflate and hide the rubber ducks."
"When do we push off?" Jaybird asked.
"I've got an appointment with the captain to deboat us at ten minutes after midnight and we should be a mile from shore."
"Any changes from the way we planned it?" Doc asked.
"Our only change is one less man to do the job. I'm moving Red Nicholson to Second Squad to even us up at seven men each. Any other questions?"
"Will those fifty rounds be explosive or tracer?" Ronson asked.
"Both. We want to blow up those fuel tanks and get a chain reaction down a whole fucking line of those SACYDS."
Murdock looked around. No more questions. "Okay, here's the roster. Holt, Ellsworth, Murdock, and Dewitt will carry the CAR-15s. Each of those men will also have two RPGS to haul into the fire zone.
"All the rest of you will tote the M-eighty-eight. Four of you with the eighty-eight will also have one RPG. Those men are Brown, Ronson, Fernandez, and Johnson. Everyone with an eighty-eight will also carry his own fifty rounds.
"Any questions now?"
"Will we have the cloth bibs to carry the RPGS?" Doc Ellsworth asked.
"Yes, some of us call them yokes. A hole for your head with one round in the cloth pouch in front and one in back. Leaves your hands free."
"Those yokes and our web vests?" Johnson asked.
"You want to leave any of your goodies at home?" Dewitt asked. Johnson grinned and shook his head.
"Okay, time. It's now 2312. We'll push away in just an hour. Chief Sterling, check the two IBSS and make sure all the gear is attached including the second inflation canisters.
"The rest of you gather around and draw your weapons and ammo. Don't overstock yourself. Those RPGS are not lightweights. Let's move."
A half hour later the men were ready. All had on their gear, with their faces blackened and their various headgear in place from black stocking caps to balaclavas. They jogged up and down and adjusted their loads of weapons, ammo, and gear. Then they sat down in a row and waited for the call to disembark.
13
Saturday, May 16
0014 hours
East China Sea
Off Foochow, China
The pair of IBSS rode off the aft deck of the submarine and slid into the China Sea a little over a mile off Foochow. The silent-running motors powered the little boats away from the wash of the sub and toward land to the west. Murdock checked his watch. Two minutes behind schedule. Close enough.
Murdock went over the plans again. He could find no flaw. They would motor into the Min River Bay, which they estimated to be three miles long. If they could work the IB
SS in that far, they would leave them in a brushy marsh on the left-hand shore almost near the end. They would deflate the boats and hide them for use later.
If all went according to plan.
The airfield was about three miles from the bay to the north. They would infiltrate to the border fence and determine if they had a good field of fire. There was no telling how far the fence was from the parked planes, or if the planes would be in the same position as four hours ago.
The men in the two inflatables stayed in visual contact with each other. They would use up most of an hour moving against a slight current and the start of an outgoing tide, but there was no way around that.
Later Murdock checked his watch. He had just heard the first sound of the surf. It was 0116. Still pretty much on schedule. They prepared to go through the surf. Murdock had checked his compass twice in the past five minutes and was sure they were on the right line. But the surf shouldn't be this high if they were at the bay.
They were still fifty meters off the breaker line when he saw the bay opening to the left. He got the attention of the second boat and powered parallel to the beach until they were in the quieter waters of the bay mouth.
He checked the shore a quarter of a mile on each side. He found no guards, no military. He drove the small boat into the center of the bay mouth through swells that didn't break, and then they were inside.
The left shore held trees and grassy areas. The right had houses and shacks and buildings. They hugged the left shore.
Lights blossomed on the left shore, and they heard a truck start up and gear down as it rolled away from them.
"Troops?" Jaybird asked in a whisper.
Murdock shook his head. No way to tell. They moved through the bay expecting at any moment to meet a patrol boat or to be targeted with a searchlight and a stuttering machine gun. Nothing happened.
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