Seal Team Seven 5 - Firestorm

by Keith Douglass

  "Load up and let's get out of here. We've done what I wanted to do. Now we're heading back to Coronado."

  "Yeah, and a shower!" somebody called.

  "Why now? You ain't had one in two months," someone answered him.

  It went that way for the first half hour. Then most of the SEALS went to sleep for the last two hours of the ride back to Coronado.

  21

  Saturday, May 16

  1324 hours USS Intrepid Taiwan Strait Murdock luxuriated in his clean, dry cammies and tilted the cold can of Coke. The sub had picked them up slightly after 0400 hours, and an hour later they were on board the supercarrier Intrepid steaming south from the Foochow area toward the Chinese port city of Amoy.

  He'd been first on board with Greg Johnson's body, and had seen that it was properly taken care of. His next of kin would be notified with the visitation by two officers. Murdock would write a letter to his people with a believable lie about how Johnson had died in a tragic training accident at sea. His coffin would be closed.

  Murdock had seen that his men were given dry uniforms and fed, then had Jaybird make sure their new-issue weapons were cleaned and oiled and ready to go. By 0700 hours most of the SEALS had sacked out for much-needed rest.

  Murdock had taken a sleep period as well. He'd set his mental alarm clock to wake him up after six hours, and had come to promptly at 1300 refreshed. He'd had a can of orange juice, then gone to find Jaybird and Magic Brown.

  Both had been up. He'd taken them back to his quarters, and now they sat down and worked over the rough plans they had made for the second phase of their attack on the Chinese mainland the day before.

  Murdock popped for soft drinks in his quarters, and the SEALS relaxed.

  "We've got the poison gas and the troop transports for tonight," Jaybird said.

  Murdock looked at the notes he had made and left on the carrier from the first planning session.

  "We talked about neutralizing the gas or the delivery vehicles. The gas was set to be delivered by Navy missile-launchers. We need to take out the merchandise before it gets loaded on those ships."

  "We have any intel where the damned poison-gas missiles are kept?" Brown asked.

  Murdock got on a ship's phone and found Don Stroh. The CIA man was in Murdock's room in three minutes. He carried two file folders.

  "You want to know what we know about the poison gas?" he said. "The quick answer is not one hell of a lot. There are two places where our satellite printouts show that they store that class of missile. One is right on the docks, the other a half mile inland, where we suspect that they do the final assembly and loading the buckets with their share of the deadly gas. Right now we're not even sure what kind of gas they plan to use. Whatever it is, it will be airborne and deadly."

  Magic Brown grinned at him. "Hell, Don, all we wanted to know was if you had a nice birthday."

  Stroh laughed. "Hear you boys kicked ass good at that airport. That takes out the paratroops and any chance they might use those planes to drop the missiles with the gas. We should have some satellite pics in another two or three hours showing how many of those planes you destroyed."

  "All of them," Jaybird said. "Every damned one of them. We can tell you that right now."

  Stroh looked at him. He lifted his brows, then spread out the printouts he'd brought on the bunk, and they all looked at them.

  "So the loaded missiles about to be used should be in the port warehouse," Jaybird said.

  "Should be, but we can't count on it."

  "Could split up for two attacks," Murdock said. "First Squad takes out the port facility, and Second Squad drives inland and hits the plant and storage area."

  Jaybird shook his head. "Not a chance, L-T. A half mile through Amoy where they have a million damn Chinese? We don't even have any transport and no way to get much in there except those damn bicycles they ride. We might get in and blow the plane or burn it down without releasing any gas, but we damn well would never get out. There must be four or five thousand Army and Marines around this base."

  Stroh rubbed his face and nodded. "I'm with Jaybird. I wouldn't want to try a run in there with no transport and no air support."

  "So we take out the missiles at the port--and hit the two missile ships they used," Murdock said. "Do we know what ships they would use for the delivery?"

  Stroh brought out more prints of the Amoy port area. They were in perfect focus and so detailed the SEALS could see a rowboat on the shore near the missile sheds.

  "Here are the two ships we think they would use," Stroh said. "They are tied up a block or so from the missile warehouse. They're not as big as a cruiser. I'm not sure what their designation is, but our boat people tell us that these ships are rigged for missile-launching. They can handle up to twenty missiles each. They aren't huge missiles. Don't have to be with a poison-gas payload."

  "So now we take out the storage and the two destroyer types?" Brown asked.

  "You don't need to sink them," Stroh said. "Just mess up the time schedule so they don't have any time to repair the damage you do and still load the missiles at the storage area."

  "What about the three troop transports?" Murdock asked.

  Jaybird shrugged. "Probably should be our lowest priority, Skipper. If the paratroopers didn't land on Taiwan, those troops won't have any secure docks to come into. They must not be set up to do an amphibious landing, and don't reckon they're too damn good at swimming."

  Murdock lifted his brows and agreed. "I'm with you. That means we have two main targets and a secondary if we have the time. What about transport?"

  "Our ships routinely stay at least fifteen miles off shore so we don't antagonize the Chinese," Stroh said. "Any deviation from that would throw up alarms."

  "So we use the sub again and move in to a mile offshore," Murdock said. "Probably be best to stick to an underwater approach since we have to breach their harbor security. Don't know what they have, but there must be something, at least patrol boats. We'll use our rebreathers in and out."

  "Depending on the situation and the terrain, we'll have to play your retrieve by ear," Stroh said. "I know it's best to plan it all, but we don't know when you'll be coming out or what shape you'll be in."

  Brown snorted. "Damn right. We could get cut up bad in there. They must have a whole fucking shit-pot of troops and guards around those missiles."

  "We know that for sure from the movement of men and vehicles around that building we looked at. It's right on the dock with gantry tracks on the pier so they can load the missiles."

  "Sounds spooky," Jaybird said. "Wish to hell we had some schematics of that warehouse. We have any people on shore?"

  "Lost the only man we had there, as you know," Stroh said. "No time to get a new man in there and working."

  "So we go with what we know," Murdock said. He looked at the photo printouts of the warehouse where the missiles should be. "Not a chance we can take that place down with seven men," Murdock said. "We won't split up. We do the missiles themselves first; then we all go get those two warships. Then if we have time and gear, we take on the three troop transports."

  Jaybird gave a big sigh. "Yes, L-T, like that. We can have some security around the warehouse for the guys doing the work inside."

  They talked over the options for retrieval. There was the sub a mile offshore, but by then there would be patrol boats and maybe some small warships working over the close-in areas.

  "Three miles out we could do an easier submarine pickup, or even a chopper lift," Stroh said. "If it's still dark we could send a launch out for you."

  "We'll leave it open. We'll have our radio, the big SATCOM type, and we'll make sure we have it cued in to your frequency here before we leave. Oh, the blessed wireless might get shot up. So we make contingency plans. That would be the sub, one to three miles offshore, and contact with the sonar beeper."

  Stroh made notes on a pad. "Captain Victor has his orders. He'll give us anything we need. His only restri
ction is against engaging in any overt action against Chinese armed forces unless it's well beyond the twelve-mile limit and his ship is in imminent danger of attack."

  "We'll need more ordnance than I figured before, and quite a lot of TNAZ explosives," Murdock said. "We'll go for the longer-range weapons this time. We'll have a list of what we need in half an hour. Jaybird, let's see that preliminary list we made yesterday."

  "Decided on the timing?" Stroh asked.

  "We're steaming south at twenty knots," Murdock said. "It'll be dark here when? About 1900? I'd like to be swimming to shore at 2300. Gets them when they're tired and sleepy. We want to catch the guards with their britches down."

  "We've been moving south now for a little over eight hours at twenty knots," Stroh said. "The captain says he can have you positioned off Amoy in about two hours."

  "Tell him to slow us down so we arrive off Amoy no earlier than nightfall," Murdock said. "We'll be at least twelve miles offshore and over the horizon, but we don't want to be caught loitering out there. Let's say we'll rendezvous with the sub at 2200, move in, and exit the sub at 2300 and start our swim. We should be in the harbor by 2330."

  Stroh continued making notes. When Murdock finished, Stroh looked up and nodded. "Roger. I'll get up to the captain and tell him what you need. He'll contact the sub and have him on station at the right time."

  He stood and moved for the door.

  "Stroh, be sure to talk about our extraction. It could get hairy as hell. Remind him we might need another way of exfiltration beside the sub if the Chinese Navy gets frisky."

  "Yeah, I remember. Maybe a fast launch from the carrier, maybe the sub, maybe a chopper and some rope lifts or a ladder climb. We'll be ready with all of them."

  Stroh waved at them and left.

  "Now, let's get the individual weapons spelled out," Murdock said. "We'll need more long-range weapons. Only two MP-5's. The rest with CARS and grenade launchers. The two HW men will have the HK 21A1 machine gun and twelve hundred rounds. Doc can keep his shotgun. That will give us some firepower. We'll want each man with a CAR to carry ten forty-millimeter rounds including three WP."

  Jaybird wrote in his notebook. "What about the warships? Limpet mines just below the waterline?"

  "Heavy bastards," Brown said. "Need three for each ship. Maybe we can get some buoyancy device to float them suckers along with us instead of dragging them."

  "Yes, good idea," Murdock said. "The Navy should have something that will work. We'll want plenty of TNAZ as well and detonator timers."

  "Might come in handy to take a few claymores and PDMS in case they send a whole damn company of ground-pounders at us on the dock," Jaybird said.

  "Do it," Murdock said. "We're going to need enough explosives to do the job. See what kind of neutral flotation devices you can find to equalize the weight with buoyancy. Shouldn't be hard. Save a lot of dragging all that weight."

  They kept on planning out the details of the arms, ammunition, and explosives. When they all agreed they had it right, they went their various ways to gather the material.

  By the time they drew the equipment from the carrier's stores and selected weapons and explosives from their own supply they had brought along, it was after 1500. Each SEAL checked his own weapons, ammunition, special gear, and the extra loads he would carry into the fight. The men with the limpets had special flotation packaging that would give the heavy mines neutral buoyancy. That would make it easier to move them through the water.

  Each squad had its share of the extra explosives, limpets, claymores, and PDMS--pursuit-deterrent munitions.

  "We'll move out in our black wet suits with hoods, Draegers, boots, and fingerless gloves. We'll have our cammies in one of the waterproof pouches in case we get landlocked. Then we'll be ready."

  The men kept checking their gear.

  "We'll have time for a good meal, then a nap, before we move down to where we get on board the sub. Each of you is responsible for your own gear and the unit gear assigned you. Any questions?"

  "Which target first, Skipper?"

  "We'll go in through the bay to the pier beside the poison-gas missiles. They're our first target. We'll take it down as we planned without rupturing any of the containers. We don't want to wipe out half a million Chinese with their own gas."

  "Why not?" somebody jabbed. Everyone laughed. It broke the tension.

  "This is going to be the tough part, so get ready. Jaybird will send us to the food. We'll be back here rested up and ready to roll at 2230."

  "Aye, aye, sir," two of the men said. The rest nodded and kept on checking their gear. They would go over it a dozen times before they were satisfied they had everything in place. Then they would load it all in their waterproof gear bags and secure them by nylon straps to their load-bearing equipment vests.

  The transfer from the carrier to the submarine went smoothly. Then they were in the underwater craft moving cautiously toward shore. When they came to their point of departure a mile off the Amoy harbor, the sub came up to periscope depth and the captain checked all around. He clanged the handles together. "Down scope," he barked. A periscope makes a positive radar reflector, and if the Chinese had a surface-search radar working and set for such a small target, they could be spotted.

  "No sign of any silhouettes out there," the captain said. "Looks like you're free to move."

  "We'll be locking out," Murdock told the men. "You've done it before. No big deal. Everyone who goes out first, wait on the surface so we can form up. Go in the chamber with your roped-together buddy. Take it easy. I'll be the last one up. Let's move."

  Jaybird had never liked this way of getting off a sub. The boat was forty feet underwater. The men would cram together five at a time in a phone-booth-sized chamber, flood it, open the hatch, and slide out into the sea. Then they would close the hatch and the water inside would be pumped out and the inside hatch opened so the next men could come in and flood it.

  It would take fifteen minutes to get all thirteen men to the surface. Jaybird took a deep breath and stepped into the chamber. He pulled in his two gear bags and moved over.

  "Make room in here, we got two more coming. Push it over, let's go."

  The fifth man climbed in, stowed his gear bag at his flippered feet, and pushed his face mask up on his forehead. Jaybird closed the hatch, then hit the valve to let the water come in. He took another deep breath as the water rose, put on his face mask, and slipped the Draeger rebreather mouthpiece in place. Damnit, let the fucking water come!

  22

  Saturday, May 16

  2312 hours Near Amoy, China Taiwan Strait Jaybird Sterling was not claustrophobic. He kept telling himself that as the water surged over his head and at last filled the exit chamber so the exterior hatch could be opened. He swam out with his two equipment packs and moved slowly to the surface. It was always a relief to be out of that damn sardine can. But he was not claustrophobic.

  On the surface of the dark Taiwan Strait, he looked toward shore and saw the lights of the port city. Around him he saw and heard the rest of the platoon surfacing. He counted. Ten up. Three still to come. They were down to thirteen fit fighting men now in the platoon, including the two L-Ts. One dead and two wounded. They would be lucky if they came out without any more wounded.

  Two minutes later Murdock surfaced with the other two men. Each of the SEALS quickly tied his six-foot buddy line with the man he had been teamed with. It helped them stay together and each would know if the other man was in any trouble.

  Murdock pointed at the glow in the sky. "That's Amoy," he said in a normal tone. Everyone could hear him. "Take a compass bearing on it and let's move out. We'll work at fifteen feet. Try to stay in visual if you can. See you close to shore."

  They dove and leveled off at fifteen feet. Murdock adjusted the compass board that some of the men called the attack board. It was a black plastic housing or frame with a large compass in the center. The frame was about a foot wide with handhold slots o
n both sides and a depth gauge at the front. It had a Cyalume chemical light, with a twist knob to open a lengthwise slit in a holder to regulate the amount of light coming out. That light was essential to see the bubble compass at night but it could be regulated so as not to give away a SEALS position.

  Murdock settled in at fifteen feet and lined up the compass arrow at the bearing he had chosen and began his steady and even kick. He could tell the distance he traveled through the water by the number of kicks. After years of practice he found he could think about something else while still counting the rhythmical kicks in his head. It worked out to so many kicks per hundred yards, and he could come out within inches of his target every time in practice.

  He felt a tug on the buddy line and looked through the dank waters at Radioman Ron Holt. The SEAL came closer and gave him a thumbs-up sign and they kicked forward.

  The cammies in the waterproof pouches were a precaution. They needed to be prepared in case they did get cut off from the water or had to go inland to that other facility. The cammies were much easier to fight in on land than the restrictive wet suits.

  Murdock went over and over their plans for the poison-gas missiles. They had to be disabled without letting any of the gas escape. They didn't want to kill a hundred thousand Chinese. Besides, if they ruptured the containers, the thirteen SEALS on-site would be the first to die.

  Murdock heard motors in the water. They sounded close. He turned the light on his attack board up high and pointed it around him in a signal to the others. It meant come to the light. Soon he had all the men close by. Murdock signaled that he was going up for a sneak and peek.

  He lifted to the surface and pushed out his face so he could see around. He pulled back his mask. Not fifty yards to starboard he saw a Chinese patrol craft. It idled in the water. He could hear the crew chattering. For a moment he thought about simply ignoring it and going back to depth and proceeding. He changed his mind and he and Holt went back down to the men. He found Willy Bishop. With hand signals he told the men to stay at depth and wait. He untied himself from Holt, then took Bishop to the surface. They pulled out their rebreather mouthpieces and talked. "You have some TNAZ handy?" Bishop nodded. Murdock pointed to the idling patrol boat. "Let's give them a small blast. Enough to blow it out of the water with a ten-minute fuse."