Death Blow sts-14

by Keith Douglass

  Lam stood and looked to the north. “Chopper coming, moving quickly.”

  “Let’s hit our holes, men. No firing. Weapons undercover as well as usual. Go down, now.”

  The SEALs vanished into the brushy area where the tallest of the growth was only three feet. They waited. Murdock had his face almost covered, but he could see out a hole to the south. It was a chopper like the last one, two rotors, and could have troops inside. It moved slowly forward, pausing at each small island. He hoped the bird was high enough so the downdraft from the rotors wouldn’t blow away their camouflage.

  It moved closer. The SEALs remained motionless. Then in a burst it was over their island working one side, then back up the side where the SEALs lay. Murdock saw a door gunner waving his machine gun around. He didn’t fire. The chopper hovered over the patch of brush but at more than a hundred feet so the rotor blast wasn’t enough to move the sand and leaves.

  It hesitated again, then moved on to the end of the island and back down the other side.

  “Footprints in the sand,” somebody said. “We must have left a batch of them along the shore.”

  “They didn’t see them, or didn’t believe them,” DeWitt said. “Let’s get up, should be safe now.”

  Before he finished saying it, a jet fighter blasted overhead. It was more than five hundred feet and Murdock knew the pilot couldn’t see them, still he ducked down again and waited.

  “Just what we need, some damn MiG to find our forty-six and blow it out of the sky with a rocket,” Mahanani said.

  The SEALs came out of their holes slowly.

  Murdock looked downstream, then to the north. “We don’t have much choice,” he said. “We move two swimmers downstream. Take a radio, check with us at five miles and we’ll see if we can receive. We’ll keep a Motorola on here while you’re gone. Find that damn CH-forty-six for us.”

  Mahanani peeled out of his webbing and shirt. The sun came down like a warm blanket. The others were sweating. Mahanani looked around, waved at Howie. “Get your gear off, sailor. Let’s see if you can swim.”

  Howie yelped and pulled off his webbing and shirt. “Boots, too?” he asked.

  Murdock shook his head. “Better keep them on for protection. They aren’t that heavy. Stay near the shore and you might find a log you can use for a float. Five knots drifting with the current is good, don’t push it.

  “No weapons,” Murdock said. “Unless you have hideout revolvers. Take no chances. If you find the forty-six, use one of the flares in your pants knee pockets. Then come get us. If he misses you, and finds us, we come get you. The flare again. Questions?”

  “Civilians?” Howie asked.

  “Keep clear. Don’t think you’ll see any people out here unless they have a boat. Still stay clear.”

  The two pushed into the water and stroked evenly into the current and let it take them downstream. Within five minutes they were out of sight.

  “Stay near the brush,” Murdock said. “We don’t want any surprises. Nothing we can do. Will, how is that leg?”

  “Hurts like hell, Skipper. Damned if I know how I got it. Must have been kicking on the surface at just the wrong time and in the fucking wrong place.”

  “You get some morphine?”

  “Not yet. We don’t have much. One ampoule in each aid kit. I’ll wait until I really need it.”

  DeWitt came over and sat down in the leaves. “What a mess. How did we get into this one?”

  “We must have volunteered. Just glad we didn’t have any of the embassy people on that second bird when the Chicoms got the range.”

  They looked at each other. Both thinking about the same thing. Was this the fucked up mission that was going to wipe out the whole platoon? Murdock drove that idea out of his head. He checked over the men. They were doing fine so far. No food for eighteen hours or more. Water would be the big need, and soon. So far they had toughed it out. Who needed canteens on a four-hour mission?

  He deliberately thought about something else. Something pleasant, fun, beautiful. Which brought Ardith Jane Manchester to mind. Oh, yeah. She had been one of the really fine bits of life to happen to him so far. Tall and blond and svelte and sexy as all hell. Oh, yeah. A smart woman, a lawyer on her senator father’s staff in D.C. Yeah, and maybe moving up to a better spot as some department or cabinet officer’s assistant. Or maybe just yank her out of D.C. with a wedding ring and bring her out to Coronado and let her play with some free legal clinic for the Chicanos, blacks, and Asians. She would go for that. Had they talked about it? Dozens of times. He wondered what she was thinking of right now.

  “High and dry, this is Wet Two with a friendly log moving downstream,” Jaybird’s Motorola came to life. “Figure we’re four miles plus. Do you copy?” The sound of the Motorola filled the brushy area.

  “Read fives, buddies,” Jaybird said. “Keep floating. Bring us back a big fucking, hairy assed chopper.”

  “Amen to that bro. We’re moving again. No more transmissions. Don’t see any people, no boats, no planes, but then no hungry sharks either. We’re out of here.”

  “Good swimming, guys.”

  Five miles down and no chopper. Where the hell was that bird? Murdock tried to get his mind back on Ardith, but somehow it wouldn’t turn on. He thought about their situation. Damn bad. He thought about their chances. All depended on that one lone forty-six they hoped was coming. It had been arranged. Yeah, they had set it up, so where was he? Range was right, should be no enemy action on the water or around the multiple mouths of this hundred mile wide delta of the Ganges.

  Wrong mouth? Yeah. He wondered how many of the channels the bird had been working up and then back down. How long for a forty-six to fly forty miles? Sixteen minutes as Murdock remembered.

  Damn it to hell, where was that chopper?

  Lam heard it first, a faint hum that grew from the north and became louder.

  “Boat, Skipper,” Lam said. “Coming this way fast.”

  “All of us back in our holes, and keep your weapons locked and loaded so you can lift up and fire when I bellow. This one could get sticky if the boat has troops and they are searching the islands. They might be looking for that chopper crew or the patrol boat crew. Then again, they could be searching for us.

  “We stay covered up from right now until all problems are past. If we have to lift and shoot, Alpha Squad take the beached boat and riddle it. Bravo work on the search party. Should be a barrel of laughs. Or it might be a boat traveling downstream and not even wondering about this island.”

  The boat came closer. Murdock lifted slightly so he could see it. A patrol boat, forty footer, maybe. Would need a small boat to get men ashore. Yeah, that big a craft was damn bad news. Where the hell was that chopper?

  14

  The black-and-blue patrol boat raced toward them downstream at what Murdock figured was twenty knots. The closer it came the more he could see. It had a big machine gun mounted on the bow, Probably a .50 caliber. It had a high cabin and a walk around the front deck. He could see men on it, one ready on the MG, two more in the aft area. He couldn’t tell if they had rifles or not. The craft had to be forty, maybe forty-five feet. Normally a boat like that could have a crew of four and carry up to ten troops.

  Now the boat was fifty yards off their island coming toward the north end. Suddenly the craft throttled down, did a quick turn to the left, then a small circle and used just enough power to hold its position near the point of land of the SEALs hide-away island.

  The boat revved up the engine then and did a slow look around as it eased downstream twenty feet from the shore. When it came opposite the highest area, down from where the SEALs hid, the .50 caliber opened up and the gunner slammed a hundred rounds into the built-up section.

  Murdock gritted his teeth. For sure when they came up the other side of the island they would do the same thing to the brush patch. He had to decide to take out the craft before that, or lose half, maybe all of his men. When to do it? Should
they lift out of their holes, get to the back side of the high ground and take the boat before it got to their brushy hidehole position?

  “Looks like trouble,” Will Dobler said from his hole. “They use that fifty and we’re dead ducks sitting here.”

  “Damn straight, Chief.”

  The patrol boat worked farther down the quarter-mile island and at last it was out of sight of the SEALs. Murdock sat up.

  “Listen, you guys. We’re ducks in a row here. Come out of your holes and we move to the back side of that high ground. As soon as he gets the boat around the bend down there. When we’re shielded we move over there and take him out when he comes up on this side of the island. No other way.”

  “Hold it right here for about five,” Dobler said.

  They waited for the five minutes, then Murdock stood and the SEALs came to life. “Bradford, give the chief a hand here. He needs a third leg.”

  “That’s what his wife keeps telling him,” somebody cracked, and Dobler grinned through the pain in his right leg.

  “Jaybird, look over his wound as soon as we’re behind that rise,” Murdock said. “Might need a new bandage.”

  They moved quietly, by twos, dashing across the fifty yards to the rise in the land, keeping out of sight of the patrol boat.

  Dobler and Bradford came in last. The SEALs spread out five yards apart along the reverse slope of the rise so they could just see over the top. Weapons were ready.

  “How are we on ammo for the twenties?” Murdock asked. The word went down the line. The figures came back and it came out to about eight rounds per man. That was for each of the five guns.

  “Use the rounds carefully,” Murdock said. “Everyone fire what weapon you have. Range shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “We knocking it out or just disabling it so it floats downstream?” Ken Ching asked.

  “Knock it out,” Murdock said. “She might have ten troops in there. Don’t want to share our island with them.”

  They waited.

  Five minutes more and they heard more fire from the fifty downstream. Then the sound moved closer.

  “I’ve got him in my sights,” Tran Khai said. He was the last man in the row downstream.

  “Hold fire until he gets to the middle of our line,” Murdock said. “If he shoots at this rise like he did last time, open fire at once.”

  Again they waited.

  Soon they all could see the boat. It dodged closer to shore, and the fifty fired again away from the SEALs, then it was at the middle of the line.

  “Let’s do it,” Murdock said. He sighted in on the little wheelhouse, and fired.

  The 20mm impact-fused round exploded just below the console where the driver stood. It blew the man and his steering gear out of the boat.

  In rapid succession five more rounds hit the boat. One caught the machine gunner in the chest and punched him halfway over the side of the ship. The rest of the small arms chattered, drilling holes all over the boat, jolting one man over the side.

  “Cease fire,” Murdock said. The gunners held fire then and watched. The craft’s engine sputtered but kept running. “One more round each on the twenties. All the others, ten seconds firing,” Murdock said and the weapons spoke again. This time two 20mm rounds hit at the water line, and blew large holes in the fiberglass hull. The engine cut off. They saw two men dive overboard and be swept downstream with the current.

  The boat gave in to the current and drifted away. She took on water fast and listed to that side, then began to sink. One more man swam away from the boat, but by then it was well into the current. The man wouldn’t be able to get to their island. Another fifty feet and the small patrol craft slid under the water. They saw two men working downstream, not wanting to tangle with whoever had sunk their boat.

  “No troops on board,” Murdock said. “Good. They don’t know we’re here yet.”

  “Nobody knows were here,” Dobler said. He closed his eyes and shuddered.

  “Jaybird, get over here with two morphine for Dobler.”

  Jaybird ran over and dug out the ampoules and gave the senior chief the shots.

  “Hey, Chief, that’s going to make you feel better. That damn chopper is coming any minute now and we’ll get you some real medics.”

  “Yeah, sure, Jaybird. About the same time elephants fly.”

  Jaybird looked at Murdock. There wasn’t anything either of them could say.

  “Back to our hide holes,” Murdock said. “We may have some more aircraft over here.”

  It took them fifteen minutes to get back to their camouflage area with the small brush. Murdock checked his watch. It was 1400. Where the hell was that chopper?

  They got into their camouflage spots but didn’t cover up. They would have warning enough if they needed to.

  Lam stood up. “I hear a chopper. Faint.” He scowled than shook his head. “Shit, it faded out. Had one for a while. Not even sure what direction it was.”

  They waited.

  Half of them went to sleep beside their holes. The rest probably thought about food and water, Murdock figured. He stood and scanned the skies to the south. Not a damn thing.

  “Got it again, damn right,” Lam shouted. “Stronger now and getting stronger, coming from the damn west, not the south.”

  “Holes, everyone,” Murdock bellowed. “We don’t know who this could be. Cover up. Wake up the sleepers. Let’s move, people.”

  They slid into holes and covered up with the leaves and dirt. Murdock sat up and watched west.

  “Still coming, Lam?”

  “Yeah and getting louder. You should be able to hear it.”

  Then, Murdock could. It was a chopper. But he had no idea if was theirs or ours.

  “Yeah, I hear it,” Bradley said. Then the others came on with shouts.

  “Hold it, men. It could be another Chicom.”

  “Coming from the west?” Franklin asked.

  They waited.

  Five minutes later Lam saw a smudge on the flat horizon to the west. “Oh, yeah, he’s coming this way. He’ll go half a click to the south of us.”

  A few moments more and Jaybird cheered. “It’s a damn forty-six, I’ve heard that sound before. Got to be a forty-six.”

  Lam nodded. “Sounds like a forty-six, Cap. We’ll know shortly. Yeah, he’s swinging north. Damn, looks like he’s coming dead at this island.”

  “Hey castaway little buddies, you looking to the sky for some help?” the sound came from Jaybird’s Motorola.

  “Oh, yeah are we ever? Mahanani, is that your bones?”

  “Sure as sour cream curdles, pardner. How would you like a short lift in some first-class accommodations?”

  “Oh, yeah, bring that lovely, beautiful, amazing forty-loving-six right into papa.”

  Soon it was close enough that they could see the white star and bars on the fuselage and the “U.S. NAVY” print on the side.

  Then the chopper sat down on a flat stretch fifty yards upstream from them and the big rotors idled.

  “Move it,” Murdock bellowed. “Get in that bird. Dobler, on me. Take it all with you. We don’t want the Chicom to know we were here.”

  “What about that twenty-mm brass up on the hill?” Fernandez asked.

  Murdock scowled. “Fuck it, leave it there. Let’s get in that lovely little chopper.”

  Murdock and Dobler were the last ones in. Mahanani had the chopper’s first aid kit opened and put Dobler on the floor of the bird and checked his leg.

  “Thought I told you to stay off this leg and get bedrest and look at pretty nurses with big boobs, Chief. What the hell happened?”

  “Shit happened, Doc. It always the fuck does. Got any joy juice? I could use some.”

  Before the conversation was over the doors slammed and the bird took off in a blast of dry sand.

  Murdock talked with the pilot.

  “Damn glad we found you, Commander. Those two guys of yours flagged us down on our eighth or ninth trip up one of thes
e wide fucking channels. Must be twenty of them. We spotted your guys’ flares and then I thought they would wave their arms off.”

  “Good men. Where we going?”

  “Orders say to take you directly to Calcutta for medical. Then you’ll pick up orders there. I saw a COD hanging around the field, maybe it’s for you.”

  “Could be,” Murdock said. “You have anything to eat? My boys haven’t had a sugar tit to chew on for going on twenty-four.”

  “Nothing but some emergency MREs.”

  “Sounds like a banquet. Your crew chief can get them?”

  The SEALs gratefully gobbled up the MREs long before they sighted Calcutta. Then the CH-46 came in and landed at the military airfield near the big town. The SEALs were taken to a barracks and told chow would be served in half an hour. Murdock and Dobler headed for the base hospital.

  The doctors fussed over Dobler for a half hour. None of them had seen a shrapnel wound like that one before. They cleaned it, stitched it up and bound it firmly.

  “Your man should stay off that leg for a week,” the doctor said. “I suspect you’ll be traveling. If you do, have your medic watch the leg closely. Should heal up with no problems. We just don’t want the stitches to break open and it get infected.”

  They released Dobler, who had a wheelchair ride to an ambulance, which took him and Murdock to the barracks.

  The Indian Air Force had some orders for Murdock from the U.S. Navy. The first envelope held a radio message from Don Stroh:

  Congratulations on the Bangladesh Embassy rescue. All the nationals from there are safe in Calcutta. Hear you were picked up an hour ago by a chopper in the Ganges Delta area. A wet place. You’ll get orders to hang out with the Indians there for a day or two. The brass here and in Washington aren’t sure what to have you do next. Evidently, there is a whole pot-full of projects needing your special touch. Whatever it is, it will be interesting. Yes, I’m still going through channels, Navy channels, that is. So take the day off, go fishing, play pocket pool, have fun. The next job probably will be a bit more complicated than this one. But I’m still going through channels.

  Murdock read it, then read it to the rest of the men who were back from the special chow.