Seal Team Seven 01 - Seal Team Seven

by Keith Douglass

  But the men on the catwalk evidently were not convinced. Muzzle flashes popped and stuttered as the Pasdaran infantry opened fire. Bullets sparked off the pavement and slammed into the jeep's side.

  "Right," Coburn said. Twisting in his seat, he aimed his HK and loosed a long, full-auto burst. "Unauthorized use subject to heavy penalty!"

  Doc spun the jeep's wheel, sending the vehicle hurtling down a narrow alley between two warehouses. They emerged on the waterfront, driving along a broad, concrete wharf. Startled Iranian soldiers and dock workers dove left and right, scattering from the jeep's path.

  "I hope you're a better corpsman than you are a driver," Coburn yelled. Then a burst of machine-gun fire slammed into the jeep from the front, shattering the windshield and shredding the right front tire. Doc felt the jeep going out of control, the rear skidding wildly to the left, and he fought to keep the vehicle from flipping over. Smoke exploded front beneath the hood, and the engine died. Still spinning now, they skidded another ten feet and slammed hard into a bollard rising from the water's edge.

  "Damn, the pedestrians are getting worse every-" He stopped. Coburn was slumped over in the passenger's seat, fresh blood bright against his scalp. "Shit!"

  Half standing in the wrecked jeep, Doc grabbed his HK from the back seat, thumbed the selector to full auto, and cut loose at a squad of advancing Pasdaran. Two collapsed on the pavement and the others scattered. Doc glanced back over his shoulder; the Yuduki Maru was still a good fifty yards away.

  "The sea is your friend," Doc said. He'd meant the words, drilled into SEAL recruits throughout their BUD/S training, to be ironic, but right now he was well aware of the truth behind them. He checked Coburn, finding a strong pulse. It looked like a round might have grazed his scalp, knocking him unconscious, though Doc wanted to give him a thorough look-over.

  There was no time for that now, though. Another bullet slammed into the side of the jeep. "C'mon, Captain," he said, dragging Coburn's limp body from the passenger's seat and draping him over his back in an awkward fireman's carry. "Let's us go for a swim!"

  With Coburn still over his shoulders, Doc leaped off the wharf and into the cold, dark embrace of the harbor once more.

  0132 hours (Zulu +3) Helo Devil Dog One inbound to Bandar Abbas

  The helicopters had launched nearly an hour earlier, but they'd been orbiting over the Gulf since that time, well out in international waters. Devil Dog flight consisted of six UH-1 Hueys, "Slicks" off the Nassau and the Iwo Jima. Each carried a Blue/Green Team, a joint SEAL/Marine Recon boarding party of fourteen men, and they came in low and fast, close behind a flight of two Marine SuperCobras. The Cobras clattered across the Yuduki Maru's deck, less than twenty feet above her steel deck, then wheeled across the dockyards and waterfront buildings beyond.

  Automatic gunfire chattered from a dry dock; there was a rippling flash, and then a bundle of living flames slashed from the lead Cobra, lighting the sky with their contrails. The rocket barrage struck a catwalk running along the side of the dry dock, flinging shards of metal and fragments of bodies far across the compound.

  By now, the entire shipyard was in chaos. A siren wailed its mournful ululation against the crump and rumble of exploding ordnance. Somewhere in the distance, antiaircraft batteries were going off with a stolid-sounding crump-crump-crump, apparently at random and apparently without actually bothering to aim at anything. Green tracers drifted across the sky above the horizon.

  Over the shipyard, however, the American forces appeared to have won a momentary control. Flames continued to boil into the sky from the fuel dock, which was now blazing from one end to the other. The fire had spread to the patrol boat as well, and fresh explosions continued to rack the sadly listing vessel's frame as fuel and ammo stores detonated. Ashore, men were running everywhere, some armed and moving with purpose, but most scattering in desperate bids to find shelter or simply to leave, as quickly as possible. Very few stood their ground and attempted to duel with the circling Cobras. Those who did were cut down almost at once, by rocket salvos, or by ratcheting fusillades of 7.62mm minigun rounds, sprayed from the helos' chin turrets so quickly the tri-barreled cannons sounded like chain saws.

  The lead Huey, meanwhile, circled the Yuduki Maru once, trying to draw fire from her deck or from the pier alongside. When no one accepted the offer, the Slick came in at a hover, twenty feet above the forward deck, tail low; from its open cargo doors, ropes and black-faced men descended with stomach-wrenching drops.

  The technique was called "fast roping," and it was a quick way of getting from an airborne chopper to the ground ... or to the deck of a ship. The first men thumped onto the deck and moved clear, HKs held at the ready. More men followed, sliding down the rope on gloved hands.

  The men hitting Yuduki Maru's deck now were drawn from Marine Force Recon and SEAL Seven, First Platoon, and were part of the Maritime Special Purpose Force, or MSPF Designed, in the language of the Pentagon, "to optimize forces available to conduct highly sensitive and complex special missions," the MSPF was trained to conduct raids deep in enemy territory, to reinforce U.S. embassies or other facilities at need, to extract important people or documents, and to conduct hostage rescues. The theory was that, more often than not, when a crisis situation went down it would take two or more days to move the Army's Delta Force into position, but the U.S. Navy and the Marines nearly always had units positioned somewhere close by, allowing MSPF insertion at virtually a moment's notice.

  SEALs and Recon Marines had been practicing joint MSPF exercises for a number of years now, and though the traditional Navy-Marine rivalry continued to run deep, this particular collaboration had been used with outstanding success on a number of occasions.

  As soon as the first fourteen men were down, the Huey cast off the ropes, dropped its nose, and roared off into the darkness as its prop wash lashed the water below. The second Huey came in right behind the first, and fourteen more men roped their way to the freighter's deck.

  The other Hueys deposited their loads of Blue/Green commandos ashore, dropping them into open areas that blocked avenues of approach to the pier from inland. Other helos clattered overhead, big Marine Super Stallions, each loaded with fifty-five combat troops and their gear, bound for LZs along the roads leading from the shipyard to Bandar Abbas and other coastal towns. They were protected by AV-8 Harrier jump-jets, wondrous aircraft that swooped and stooped like great birds of prey or slowed to a magical, helicopter-like hover. An Iranian armored battalion was reported to be somewhere near Bandar, and the MEF's Marine Air contingent was committed to stopping those tanks from reaching the shipyard. Meanwhile, Harriers and SuperCobras staged a surprise raid at the Bandar Abbas airport, turning a dozen military planes into twisted, blackened skeletons, and savaging twenty more with shrapnel and machine-gun fire. More air support was already on the way, a flight of Marine F/A-18 Hornets off the Iwo Jima, rigged for their role as close ground support with cluster bombs and laser-guided ordnance.

  Soon, the Yuduki Maru was an eye of relative peace in an expanding storm of violence.

  0140 hours (Zulu +3) Freighter Yuduki Maru

  Murdock crossed the steel deck to where one of the newcomers was giving orders to his men. There was no easy way to separate the Marines from the SEALs in the MSPF. All wore black gear with full assault loadouts; all wore full-head safety helmets and had their faces heavily blacked. Most carried HK subguns, though a few varied the routine with M-16/M203 combos, or with combat shotguns. The only real outward difference was in their backup weapons; SEALs carried 9mm handguns, while Marines favored the venerable .45 Colt.

  Watching them as he approached, Murdock could tell that they were working as a well-rehearsed, well-practiced team.

  The officer in charge of the unit turned toward Murdock. "Captain Cavanaugh," he said, extending a gloved hand. He didn't salute, not when enemy snipers could be watching the scene from the buildings in the distance. "U.S. Marine Corps."

  "Semper Fi
," Murdock replied, taking the Marine's hand and firmly shaking it. The rank of captain in the Marines was equivalent to Murdock's rank of Navy lieutenant. "Welcome aboard!"

  "A real pleasure. You the OIC?"

  "That's me!"

  "I was told to report to you, Sir," Cavanaugh said. "We thought maybe you boys might need some help!"

  "Good! We could use it." Murdock pointed toward the burning fuel dock. "Listen! I've got two guys ashore. Probably back that way. One of them may be injured. Think you could spare some of your boys to go look for 'em?"

  "No problem, Sir. That fuel dock fire was their idea?"

  Murdock cocked an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be a damned bit surprised."

  He was interrupted by a loud cheer from the top of Yuduki Maru's super-structure, a cheer that was taken up by the MSPF team members on the deck. Turning and looking up, Murdock saw the American flag rising up the freighter's main truck in a series of short, jerky movements, illuminated by the lights from shore. He wondered if one of his SEALs had brought the flag, or if it was courtesy of the Marines.

  "Okay, make yourself at home, Captain," Murdock told Cavanaugh. "We're seeing what we can do about getting under way."

  "Aye, aye, Sir," Cavanaugh said. Then his teeth shone brightly against his black face. "You guys did a real good job, Navy. Almost as good as the Marines!"

  Murdock grinned back. "Just don't let me hear any shit about the Marines always being first to hit the beach!"

  Yuduki Maru was secure. SEALS, and now Marines as well, continued to move through the freighter's passageways and compartments, ferreting out remaining pockets of Iranians or Japanese terrorists, but it looked as though this part of the battle had been won. Minutes earlier, DeWitt and Frazier had killed an Ohtori gunman standing guard outside the crew's quarters. They'd found the captive Japanese merchant marine sailors and officers locked inside, including the stolid Captain Koga, a prisoner aboard his own ship. Murdock had ordered that the crew be kept locked up, at least for the moment. It was safer that way, without having to worry about Ohtori gunmen hiding among the former hostages ... or about civilians blundering into the middle of a fight.

  Gunshots continued to bang and thump in the surrounding darkness, but for the moment, at least, it appeared that the Yuduki Maru was firmly in American hands. A Huey Medevac chopper had touched down on a clear stretch of the dock side a few moments before. They'd have Wilson aboard and on his way to the Nassau in another few minutes. Roselli trotted across the deck. "Hey, L-T!"

  "Whatcha got, Razor?"

  "Me'n Mac have been going over the engine room and boilers. Except for that twist to the starboard shaft, everything's shipshape. We can have her up to steam and ready to move out in twenty."

  "Do it. How much trouble is that bent shaft gonna cause us?"

  "Some, especially when we're maneuvering inside this damned, tight-ass harbor. Course, if you don't mind us denting some fenders on the way out ..."

  "Dent all the fenders you want, just so we get this scrap heap to the Gulf of Oman."

  "I've got a good engineman in my platoon," Cavanaugh said. "I can have him lend a hand."

  "Outstanding."

  "L-T, this is Prof" crackled in Murdock's earphone.

  "Copy, Professor. Go ahead."

  "We've got VIPs inbound, Skipper. ETA two minutes. They say we should clear the deck."

  "Roger. Who is it?"

  "They say it's NEST, L-T. Looks like the show's going to be taken out of our hands." Higgins sounded annoyed.

  "That's okay, Professor. We've done our part."

  The black, unmarked Huey dropped toward Yuduki Maru's forward deck two minutes later, right to the tick. NEST--the Nuclear Emergency Search Team--was an elite and high-tech government unit set up under the auspices of the Department of Energy in 1975. Its mission was to search for and identify lost or stolen nuclear weapons or SNM--Special Nuclear Materials--and to respond to nuclear bomb or radiation-dispersal threats. Most of its activities were highly secret, for obvious reasons; one indication of the unit's efficiency was the very fact that few people had heard of it, though in the past twenty years it had responded to many hundreds of alerts. In the United States, NEST teams were based at the Nevada Test Site and at Andrews AFB. Overseas, a team was permanently stationed at Ramstein Air Base in Germany; the NEST coming in to the Yuduki Maru now would be a special field detachment from the Ramstein group, deployed to II MEF when the emergency first began.

  Murdock watched as the helicopter lowered itself gently to the deck, its skids just off the steel. Twelve men climbed out, six of them swaddled in bulky white antiradiation garments, anonymous behind the helmets that made them look like lunar astronauts. The others wore nondescript Army fatigues, without emblems or rank insignia. One of them strode purposefully toward Murdock as the Huey lifted off with a roar. "You Murdock?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Smith. Senior NEST control officer. What's the situation?"

  "As far as we can tell, Sir, the cargo's intact and secure. We stopped the bad guys before they could breach the hold."

  "We'll be the judge of that, Lieutenant," the man said. "I want you to keep your people well clear of the cargo area. Only those personnel absolutely essential to the defense of this vessel are to be on this deck. Your men will stand by until we can tow this vessel clear of Iranian waters."

  "Tow, Sir?"

  "Yes. One of the destroyers with the Marine force offshore will work its way in as soon as the enemy batteries on some of the Gulf islands are neutralized. We should rendezvous with the Recovery in the Gulf of Oman sometime late tomorrow."

  Recovery, the ARS 43, was a W.W. II-era vessel fitted out for diver support, salvage, and ocean tug duties.

  An explosion thumped in the distance, followed by a burst of muffled gunfire. "Pardon my saying so, Sir, but that's a dumb-ass idea. The whole damned Iranian army's going to be all over this place before too much longer, and we don't want to risk an attack on this ship! We can be out of here in twenty minutes.

  The NEST officer looked startled. "The ship is ready to sail?"

  Murdock looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes, Sir."

  "But are you sure it'll make it? I was told some Navy SEALs caused a lot of damage to its engines and it had to be towed."

  "I've got good men on it down in the engine room now, Sir," Murdock said, a little stiffly. "We have one good screw, and the con's all right. We'll take her out on her own steam."

  The NEST officer didn't look happy, but he was obviously tempted by the idea of getting clear of Bandar Abbas in twenty minutes instead of several hours.

  "What about those Iranian gun and missile batteries on the islands?"

  Murdock grinned. "Sir, I imagine the SEALs and Marines are on top of that right now."

  He was guessing, but Murdock was sure he was right. He'd participated in too many planning sessions and simulations to believe that the planners for Operation Deadly Weapon had failed to arrange a safe path clear of the enemy coast.

  "Very well," Smith said at last. "You will make all preparations to get this ship under way as soon as possible."

  "Yes, sir. As soon as two of my men show up."

  "Eh? What's that? What do you mean?"

  "I've got two men ashore, sir. They didn't make it back after liberty. We can't sail without them."

  DeWitt, standing nearby, turned suddenly away, stifling a laugh. Jaybird grinned broadly and nudged a smiling Roselli with his elbow.

  The NEST officer sputtered. "You-you can't do that! The cargo on this vessel -"

  "Is of the utmost importance and takes precedence over all other considerations, yes, sir. I wouldn't worry, Mr. Smith. One of the missing men is my commanding officer. The other is one of my most steadfast and dependable men. I feel sure they'll turn up soon."

  The officer gave Murdock a black look, then spun on his heel and stalked toward the Yuduki Maru's deckhouse. Murdock shook his head as he watched him go. The plutonium shipment did have
absolute priority, of course, and if Doc and the Old Man didn't show up fast, the Yuduki Maru would have to sail without them.

  But it had been fun giving that stiff-assed DOE prick's tail a good twisting.

  Roselli stepped closer. "Still no word about Doc and the captain, sir?"

  "Not yet. The Marines'll keep looking, though, even if we have to pull out."

  "I'd like to volunteer for a shore party, L-T. I could help look for 'em. I know how Doc thinks."

  Murdock gave a lopsided grin. "I hate to break it to you, Razor, but they don't have bars in Iran. Alcohol's illegal here, remember?"

  "Poor Doc," DeWitt said, shaking his head. "We can't leave him here, Skipper. He'd die of thirst!"

  "We'll leave it to the Marines," Murdock said. "I need you here, Roselli, watching those engines with Mac."

  "Yes, sir." Roselli looked crestfallen.

  "Ahoy the Maru!" a voice called from the shore. "Man in the water, starboard side!"

  Murdock, Roselli, DeWitt, and Jaybird all raced for the freighter's starboard rail. Murdock couldn't see anything against the black water ... no! There! And two heads, not just one!

  Roselli and Jaybird were already stripping off their load-bearing vests. Stepping up on the railing, they vaulted smoothly over the side, Jaybird going in feet-first, Roselli cutting a perfect and strictly-against-regs dive. Murdock leaned against the rail and watched. It looked like Coburn was wounded, with a lot of blood on his face and head despite his immersion in the water. Doc had one arm across the captain's chest and was pulling him along with a slow but powerful sidestroke.

  In seconds, Roselli and Jaybird had reached the two swimmers. Jaybird took Coburn and started hauling him toward the shore, while Roselli helped a clearly exhausted Ellsworth. Marines and SEALs splashed off the side of the wharf to lend a hand, and others gathered at the side of the water. DeWitt was already on his radio, ordering the medevac chopper to hold up for one more. By the time Coburn was hauled from the water, a couple of corpsmen had reached the dock with a Stokes stretcher. It was hard to tell from here, but Murdock was sure he saw Coburn moving his arms as he was fastened down. He was conscious, and that was a damned hopeful sign.