by Lundy, W. J.
The basket continued its descent until it was just above the vessel. As they got closer, Brad was finally able to take in the size of the attack boat. It was over a hundred feet long and painted in a grey camouflage pattern. He could see a turret on the bow – possibly a 30mm, maybe 40mm gun; it reminded him of the Bushmaster he had seen on the Bradley fighting vehicles. There were at least two .50 caliber machine guns on the rear platform.
The bow was completely covered with metal deck plating. Brad could see a walkway that horseshoed around the large bridge structure and continued beyond onto the rear deck. The bridge held large, tinted windows, but Brad could barely see inside over the reflective glass. The interior looked empty, but the side doors leading to the walkways were open, swinging along with the swells of the sea. A large array of antennas and radar dishes sat motionless along the top of the bridge structure.
The rear deck of the ship was vacant except for a large rigid hull inflatable strapped to a rack. Brad couldn’t see evidence of a battle or even a struggle on the decks; if there had been one, then the storms of the last week must have washed it away. Looking farther back, Brad could just barely make out the lime green silhouettes of the SEALs crouched low on the dive deck.
Tony swung them to the left and right, trying to drop them precisely onto a cleared space over the covered bow of the attack boat. They touched the surface of the ship with a metallic crunch; the vessel briefly bobbed away from them, then rose and made a screech as the basket dragged. Tony let out more line, taking the weight of the basket off the crane and putting it onto the bow.
Craig quickly jumped from the basket and helped to steady it as Wilson and Brad followed him onto the bow of the ship. Once they were clear, Tony began raising it away from the boat. They immediately checked their surroundings, making sure they were alone. Spotting cover, Brad and the Marines walked hunched over and hid behind the bow-mounted gun turret.
The noise of their landing did not go unnoticed. They heard the screaming moans start from the second deck. Brad looked up just in time to see a primal run at them and leap into the water. He watched the primal fly out and away from the platform before plunging over a hundred feet to the water’s surface. The primal hit the water with a sickening crack.
Brad then watched the creature begin to slip below the surface before it shuddered awake and tried to swim towards them. Craig raised his rifle and shot it twice in the head, ending the primal’s struggle. Before they could look away they heard three more screaming as they also flew through the air and smacked the water. Craig and Wilson took aimed shots at these creatures as well as they moved and struggled to stay afloat. As fast as they could shoot them, more dropped into the sea, jumping from the high platform.
Screaming and a rush of feet came from behind them. Brad turned to watch a mad rush of primals fill the bridge windows. They ran and crashed at the glass but failed to break through it. The primals left the bridge, found the walkway, and attempted to make their way out onto the bow to get at Brad and the Marines. Sean and Brooks broke cover from the dive deck and cut them down with their MP5s as they crossed their paths.
Brad pulled the Marines back into cover to prevent them from being hit by the SEALs’ crossfire. He heard more splashing and the sound of primals impacting the water. Brad grabbed Craig’s shoulder and faced him in the direction of the splashes. He ordered the Marines to concentrate their fire on the primals leaping from the deck while he covered the walkways. Simultaneously he heard more gunfire and rounds hit the water.
Looking up, he could see that Swanson and the others had joined the fight. They were taking long shots from the top deck, firing at the struggling creatures in the water. Brad heard the SEALs’ fire wither and turned to see the last of the primals crumple at the edge of the walkway. Looking back at the platform, he saw that the primals’ strategy had changed.
The primals were running down the ladder wells to the bottom deck where they swarmed the docks, howling and screaming at the water’s edge. Occasionally one would step forward and leap into the sea. Brad and the Marines watched the primals struggle in the water. Apparently they were not good swimmers, as most of them sank beneath the surface after only going ten to fifteen feet.
The attack boat was safety tied off to the pylon at least forty feet from the dock, so Brad ordered his men to cease fire. The primals were no longer a threat, and he didn’t want to expend hundreds of rounds of ammunition on them. The Marines held their kneeling position with their weapons up and closely watched the primals as they howled. There were over a hundred of them massed along the edge of the dock. Looking up, there must have been close to a hundred more looking down from the second level.
Sean and Brooks moved forward from the dive deck, slowly clearing everything as they moved towards the bow. Sticking to the outside of the boat, Brooks shut and dogged the hatches as he passed them. Finally, they crept up alongside of Brad and the Marines and stood with them. Brooks unzipped the front of his wetsuit and leaned against the turret, looking at the screaming primals on the dock.
“Look at all of them! I’m glad we didn’t decide to push down to the lower decks,” Brooks said.
“No shit. I don’t think we would have gotten through them. We would have been overrun for sure,” Brad answered.
“Nahh, we would have made it, come on, Brad. This was just smarter,” Sean joked.
“What are we going to do with all of them?” Wilson gasped, his voice cracking.
“For now, we aren’t going to do anything with them; just keep an eye on them, okay?” Sean said before turning his back and speaking to Tony over his headset.
Moments later the crane started dropping the basket again with Swanson and Nelson on board. As it got closer, Brooks grabbed it and directed it toward a flat spot on the deck. Nelson jumped out first with a large kit bag in each hand. Once Brooks made sure they were clear and the gear was on the bow, he flashed a thumbs up skyward. Tony again pulled the basket up and away from the boat.
Quickly Sean and Brooks took the bags from Nelson and opened them. They peeled the wetsuits off and changed back into their combat uniforms and armor. They removed the silencers from their MP5s and attached flashlights and lasers to them. It only took a few minutes and the SEALs were back on their feet and ready for the second leg of this mission.
“Corporal, I need you and Nelson to watch the decks. Keep an eye on their movement. Call out to us if you see any changes. Try not to fire on them, but don’t be afraid to shoot if you have to. I’m just worried about stray rounds starting a fire if you shoot towards the platform,” Sean said.
“Got it, Chief,” Swanson said as she and Nelson moved closer to the bow and took up kneeling positions where they could observe the crowds on the docks.
“Okay Brad, it’s show time. Brooks and I will assault from the engine room hatch and through the hull. I want you three to pop that door and secure the bridge. Like before, watch what you are shooting at. We actually want to be able to drive this boat when we’re done, so don’t go wild shooting shit up. Any questions?” Sean said.
“Understood. My team is going to assault and secure the bridge. We’re on it, Chief,” Brad answered.
“Good, give us a minute to set up on the back deck and go on my movement,” Sean said as he slapped Brooks on the back.
Brad watched the SEALs move back down the platform toward the back deck, then turned and looked Craig and Wilson in the eye. “Wilson, you’re my point man. Craig, back him up. I’ll direct our movements from just behind you. Move slow Wilson, this isn’t a race. Just like in training, guys,” Brad whispered to them as they moved toward the door.
“Just like training, my ass,” Wilson said. “I’m an equipment mechanic, not a door kicker.”
“Well then, I guess now is a good time for some on-the-job training,” Brad said.
They moved forward and stacked up on the port side door leading to the bridge. Brad looked back at Swanson and Nelson, who were intently watching the
crazed mobs on the docks. Feeling his stare, Swanson looked back at him and gave him a thumbs up. Brad returned the gesture and took up the six-position on the stack at the door.
Wilson had his rifle at the ready and waited for the go signal. Craig was just behind Wilson, his left hand on Wilson’s back and his rifle in his shoulder. Brad was staggered just slightly, leaning out with his hand on the door handle ready to launch it in. “I know what Chief said, but if you have to fire, take the shots. I’d rather have damaged equipment than lose one of you guys,” Brad whispered.
Before the Marines could respond, they heard the clang of the engine room hatch and then the bang as it was thrown open against the deck. “Go!” Brad said as he pulled down on the handle and shoved the door in.
“Next man in, right!” Wilson yelled as he cleared the doorway.
“Coming in, right,” Craig called just behind him as he cut through the narrow doorway and took a position aiming down the right side of the bridge.
Brad pulled in just behind them, aiming down the center. The bridge was about fifteen feet wide and had two large chairs positioned near the steering controls. Brad could see navigation equipment scattered around the large consoles on the far wall. Two dead crew members lay on the floor in solid blue jump suits. A small sub machine gun lay on the deck with an empty magazine lying near it.
Even with the tinted windows, the sun easily lit the space. Brad gestured for them to move forward online. He could hear the SEALs moving through the bowels of the ship; an occasion muffled gunshot or a shout of instruction reverberated up through the hull. There were two ladders leaving the bridge, one leading aft and the other in and under the bow.
Both ladder ways had their hatches open. Brad signaled for Craig to dog the aft hatch so they could focus their attention towards the bow. Craig pushed the hatch but failed to close it. On closer inspection, he saw part of a man’s leg blocking the bottom quarter of the door. Brad moved around the door to look down the ladder well and into the darkened interior of the ship.
Brad couldn’t see anything below, but he could hear the echoes of the SEALs’ movements. He used his boot to kick the man’s leg clear of the hatch, then helped Craig push it shut and secure its latches. Just as they secured the final latch, they heard the rapid firing of Wilson’s rifle. Brad turned just in time to see two crazies already directly in front of Wilson, coming up the ladder and through the hatch.
Wilson was firing point blank into a uniformed primal’s chest, but the momentum of a second primal pushed it forward and onto the Marine. Wilson tripped and fell onto his back; flailing, he dropped his rifle to the side. Brad lowered his weapon and fired at the second primal that was now lying across Wilson’s hips. At the same time, Craig smacked the head of the uniformed creature with the butt stock of his rifle.
Brad leapt forward and kicked the second primal hard enough to knock him clear off of Wilson and back down the stairs. Craig had regained control of his rifle and fired three rounds into the head of the other primal. He then grabbed Wilson and dragged him clear of the bow hatch as Brad slammed it shut and locked its latches.
Wilson was still on the ground flailing about. Brad grabbed him and tried to calm him as he inspected his body for wounds. He stopped cold when he saw a large gash going from Wilson’s right hip and down the side of his leg. Brad ripped the clothing away to get a better look at the wound. It didn’t look good. Brad could see deep into the muscle; blood was oozing out and filling the cut.
Brad put pressure on the area and ordered Craig to give him a tourniquet. Brad ripped the rest of the clothing away and tried to apply the tourniquet but the location of the wound made it impossible. He grabbed a bundle of pressure dressings off of the Marine’s body armor and started packing them around the long gash. Wilson was still flailing on the deck and screaming.
“They fucking got me, oh shit they got me, Sergeant they got me,” Wilson screamed.
“No, it’s okay Wilson. Maybe you cut it on the hatch or when you fell. It’s okay,” Brad said back, trying to calm the Marine.
“No, he fucking got me, I felt it. I felt its hands rip at me. He got me.”
“Calm down, Marine, and let us work. Craig, get down here and put pressure on this wound,” Brad ordered.
Craig switched positions and put both hands on the open cut. Brad used his knife to cut more material from the Marine’s other pant leg. He looked back up at Wilson’s face just in time to see…
“NO!”
Wilson had drawn his side arm and had the barrel in his mouth; Brad lunged forward to grab it just as Wilson pulled the trigger.
Brad punched the deck before dropping on his back side and sitting flat on the floor. Craig released his grip on Wilson’s leg and just stared at him in shock. The bridge was suddenly quiet, the smell of Wilson’s blood and the gunpowder filling the air. Brad got to his feet and began to walk outside just as someone banged on the aft hatch. “It’s us, open the hatch,” he heard Brooks yell.
Brad stopped and walked to the aft hatch and un-dogged the latches to allow the hatch to open. Without saying a word, Brad turned and walked out of the bridge and back onto the deck of the ship. Sean followed Brad through the doorway and looked at him.
“Sergeant! Get back on the bridge and cover your man. Brooks and I will clear the bow,” Sean ordered.
Brad looked at Sean with a scowl, then slowly readied his weapon and followed him back onto the bridge. Brad looked down at the still body of Wilson. Craig and Brooks were busy moving the primals away from the bow hatch, preparing to open the door. Once the way was clear, Brooks leaned against the wall and signaled for Craig to unlock it.
The door swung out and the two SEALs dropped down the ladder. Moments later he heard them give the ‘all clear’. Brad reached down and grabbed Wilson by the shoulders. He asked Craig to help carry him out onto the deck. Craig nodded and let his rifle hang from the sling as he grabbed Wilson by the ankles and followed Brad through the hatch.
They sat Wilson’s body just outside the door on the deck. Brad removed his dog tags and put them in his pocket.
“This isn’t your fault, Sergeant,” Craig said.
“I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off of that hatch. Wilson was my responsibility,” Brad said quietly.
“That’s bullshit! Wilson was supposed to be watching the bow hatch; he got caught up on us trying to close the other door. He took his eyes off of his area; it was a mistake and it got him killed. It’s not your fault,” Craig argued.
“Well thank you for saying so, but it doesn’t matter now; he’s dead and we won’t get him back.”
Brad walked forward toward the bow of the ship. When he got to the front, he looked Swanson in the eyes, reached out his hand, and gave her the dog tags. She gasped when she read the name. “Where is he?” she asked, just above a whisper.
“Over there.” Brad said, pointing down the walkway toward the bridge. “I’m sorry.”
Swanson climbed to her feet and walked in the direction of the bridge.
18.
There was no time for mourning. Sean quickly put them all to work preparing the boat for departure. They dumped overboard nearly everything on the craft that wasn’t bolted down. Working through the night, they cleaned every crevice with bleach to remove any contamination that might lurk on a sharp corner. While they decontaminated, Bill and Tony rigged pallets of supplies that they lowered down to the ship.
Brooks explained that the fast attack boat was normally operated by a crew of twenty, but they would have to make do with six. Tony had turned out to be an expert with the boat’s large diesel engines; he was able to get the ship’s power on and the motors purred to life. The diesel engines allowed them to fully power up the systems on the bridge. Brooks gave the craft a walk down and determined it to be in good working order.
The sleeping compartment was filled with goods. They stacked cases of MREs in the bunks, and cases of fresh water anyplace they could fit them. One advantage to runn
ing on a skeleton crew was that it allowed for more storage space. Brooks estimated they should have enough food for forty-five days on board; fuel would be the problem.
The boat had a range of approximately eight hundred miles on full tanks. They had lowered two pallets of fuel drums and strapped those to the rear deck. They debated bringing on more fuel drums, but Brooks and Sean feared overloading the vessel. They had to be cautious taking the small boat into blue water, so they wanted it as stable as possible.
Crews had been selected and assigned responsibilities. Craig would travel in the Black Hawk with Bill. Tony and Swanson were assigned to the boat’s engine room. Nelson had an electrical background, so Sean quickly appointed the private as the ship’s electrician’s mate. Brooks would control the vessel and promised to train Brad on the ship’s weapons systems as they went. Sean, of course, would be the chief/captain of the boat.
They made plans to depart late the following afternoon. Brooks estimated it would take them close to eighteen hours to complete the five-hundred-mile trip to Masirah Island. If they left on time and sailed through the night, they should reach the island at the hottest part of the next day, when any primals that might occupy the island should hopefully be dormant.
The air crew made similar preparations. They would hold on station to give the boat a fourteen-hour head start. If everything went according to plan, they would take off early the morning after, and would arrive at the island near the same time as the surface team. Staggering their starts also allowed them to support each other. If the boat was halfway enroute and the air crew ran into problems, the attack boat would be the only hope for a water rescue.
By the end of the day, all of their gear had been pre-positioned on the boat or the helicopter, leaving only the bare essentials on the platform. Brooks and Tony had decided to stay the night on the vessel to make sure there would be no surprises on the next day’s voyage. Sean was running around making final preparations and plans on how to idle the platform as they left.