Deadly Force sts-18

by Keith Douglass

  They waited.

  Twenty minutes later one of the lead scouts a half mile downstream called on one of the new handheld radios.

  “They are coming,” Mojombo told his men. They were all on one side of the river, and each one had good protection behind a tree or a rock or a mound of dirt, so he could still see the river plainly and with a good field of fire.

  Murdock and the other two SEALs had trees with trunks two feet wide. He had no idea what kind of trees they were, but he was glad they were there. The men had strung out five yards apart covering almost five hundred yards of shoreline.

  Murdock and the SEALs were in the middle of the line. “Fire when you see a target,” Mojombo said on the radio, and the word was passed. “Let’s put that first boat dead in the water and drifting back downstream.”

  As he said it, Murdock heard a stuttering fully automatic AK-47 blasting away downstream. There was return fire, and Murdock heard at least one machine gun. As the boats powered upstream, more and more rifles took up the hunt.

  The first boat never made it to Murdock. The pilothouse of the thirty-footer was blasted away, and no man dared try for the controls. It slued to port, barely missed a thirty-five-footer, and drifted downstream.

  The volume of fire continued to grow. The first boat Murdock saw was a fishing craft, maybe forty feet long. It looked like it was made of solid wooden planks, and had absorbed hundreds of rounds. There was no glass in the cabin windows. Murdock concentrated on the small pilothouse, grazing his shots just over the windowsills, trying for some instruments or a hand stretched up to steer the craft by a man sitting or lying on the floor. Murdock wished he’d brought a Bull Pup along on this run. They had five of them back at the embassy.

  His rounds didn’t faze the fishing boat. It kept laboring up the river at five knots. He moved his sights to the next boat, a smaller pleasure craft with no good protection built in. The small bridge had been cut with many rounds. Murdock saw a hand holding the wheel and another on what could be the throttle. He aimed at the wheel hand and sent six rounds into it. On the fourth round the hand jolted off the wheel, and Murdock gave it two more rounds for good measure. The small craft stalled against the current, then pivoted to the side and slammed into a twenty-foot fishing boat before it floated down the river with the current.

  A swath of machine-gun rounds cut into the trees and leaves over the SEALs’ heads, and Jaybird screeched in anger.

  “Where’s the fucking MG? Anybody see it?”

  “Yeah, firing out of the steps down to the cabin on that blue and white boat,” Howard said. “About time we welcome him to the party.”

  The boat was almost even with them and less than forty yards away on the far side of the river. Jaybird kicked his 47 into automatic, and sprayed the black hole of the steps area with the fifteen rounds left in his magazine. Then Howard picked away at the same spot with single shots. The machine gun didn’t fire again from that position.

  Only eight boats moved past Murdock. He heard men in the brush behind him evidently running upstream to have another shot at the boats. When the last one, a small pleasure craft with sheets of steel set inside the pilothouse, moved upstream past Murdock, he picked up and led twenty men into the jungle and north up the river. It was hard going through the trees, vines, and roots, but soon they could hear firing again. They went another hundred yards and moved toward the river. Now there were only six boats. That made fewer targets for the riflemen, and they slammed round after round into the boats as they came along. Another machine gun chattered, and it brought a surge in rifle fire that soon quieted the MG. The Loyalists kept pounding the boats, which had nowhere to hide and no protection. Jaybird wondered where the two hundred troops were.

  Murdock saw only four boats left. He and his men moved north again. By the time they came to the river, there was only one boat left, the large fisher with the solid hardwood construction. As the SEALs watched, the boat turned toward the far shore, then turned again and surged downriver with the current. All shooting stopped.

  “Rally round.” The word came down the ranks, and they moved forward to a small clearing where Mojombo stood waiting for them.

  “Good work, men. Excellent. We’ve turned around two hundred men at least hidden in those boats. Now, what about our own casualty report? Sergeants, check your men. I saw at least two wounded. Are there any more?”

  Three more moved up with wounds. Two men carried a third man who had been hit in the head and died instantly.

  “Get poles and make a litter. Use your shirts with the poles through the arms. Three shirts should do it. Carry our dead hero back to camp. Do we have our medic along? Check the wounds. We’ll leave a six-man guard for you. The rest form up and move out. Time to get back to the camp. You men did magnificently well today. General Assaba is probably screaming and tearing out his hair. Another big defeat for him. Commander Murdock. Bring up the rear and keep up any stragglers. If any man needs the medic, have him wait on the trail. Let’s chogie.”

  Mojombo looked over at Murdock. “Oh, yes, I know the word. From the Korean War. One of my roommates at college said his father used the word all the time. I got used to it. See you back at Camp Freedom.”

  An hour later at the camp, Murdock settled down to clean his adopted AK-47. Vice President Adams walked over and sat down on the ground beside him. The man holding the second-highest office in the United States of America had changed into cammies and they looked good on him, Murdock thought.

  “You enlisted, Mr. Vice President?”

  “I tried, but he wouldn’t take me. I’m not even a citizen. I said I’d take dual citizenship, but he just laughed and said I had a part to play, just be patient. I hear you turned back three hundred riflemen and twenty boats.”

  “Close. Tomorrow it will be five hundred. What do you hear from downtown?”

  “The embassy has closed its gates and will admit no one. The ambassador is afraid that President Kolda will retaliate against the U.S. for Mojombo’s position. He’s glad the SEALs are there to beef up his protective force. He’s only got twelve Marines and if a hundred soldiers decide to storm the gates…”

  “He say anything about the destroyer coming in?”

  “Said it’s on station five miles off the coast and a hundred and sixty-two miles from Sierra City.”

  “Jaybird, what’s the range of the SH-60?” Murdock asked.

  “At least five hundred miles, Commander. That would be a mission radius of about two hundred and fifty.”

  “Let’s see if Mr. Washington can carve us out an LZ here near the camp. If so, then we’ll see if that destroyer captain will send us a Seahawk without its torpedoes and with two door gunners on some machine guns.”

  Jaybird was back within five minutes. “The camp already has an LZ. They carved it out when they thought they’d steal the two choppers the Army has. It’s plenty big enough for a Seahawk to settle down in.”

  “Mr. Vice President, let’s fire up the SATCOM and talk to the good Mr. CIA himself, Old Man Stroh.”

  “Think they’ll do it?” Jaybird asked.

  “They have two of the birds and they sure aren’t going to be doing any antisubmarine work around here. We convince Don, he can twist some CIA tails and get the CNO to order the chopper to come in here.”

  Five minutes later Don Stroh was interested. “So we get one of the Seahawks in there, what will you do with it? I need something solid to use to sell the CNO.”

  “Lots of missions. For one, we can intimidate the hell out of the federal troops with the two .50-caliber machine guns. We can move a squad around the country quickly. We can hit and get away fast. We can take the Vice President for a trip to the destroyer to have a hot shower and some better food. All sorts of shit we can do to disrupt the current government here.”

  “I like that part about getting the Vice President out of there and back on U.S. soil, or steel. I’ll see what tails I can twist.”

  “You do that, and make i
t snappy. Time’s a-wasting here, big brother.”

  The Vice President looked at Murdock when he put down the handset. “You were joking about taking me out to that destroyer off the coast, weren’t you?”

  “I said take you out there to get a shower, nothing about your staying there. That’s the only idea they will grab hold of. Once we get the chopper in here, we can do all sorts of good stuff. They can bring us more ammo, maybe some grenades and some good old C-5 plastique. Can be a real lifeline.”

  “Commander, do you think the Seahawk will fit inside the parking lot at the embassy?” Jaybird asked.

  “I don’t know. You’re the encyclopedia on sizes of things. What’s the rotor diameter on the Seahawk?”

  “Fifty-four feet.”

  “Plenty of room in that side parking area. You thinking of taking a trip back to the embassy to see the ambassador’s daughter?”

  “Hey, she’s way too young for me. I was just being polite.”

  “Good. Now even if that chopper doesn’t come, we need a good mission for the Bijimi Loyalist Party for tomorrow. What’s it going to be?”

  15

  On the Amunbo River

  Luke Howard leaned over to Jaybird and whispered even though there was no need to. “You really think this is going to work?”

  Jaybird shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. It looked pretty good on paper last night and this morning. We take this little boat and we plow downstream to the five-mile landing, five miles from the city center, where we hike inland about five hundred yards and we meet the rest of the SEALs. On a quirky deal like this a dozen things could go wrong. Like the bus could blow a tire or run out of gas or get stopped by the Army. So we play it as it goes and hope for the best.”

  “They bringing the Bull Pups?”

  “You bet, all six of them, and one of the EARs. The idea here is to destroy property and not build up any kind of a kill count. We use the stun gun if we have to.”

  “These guys we have with us, can we rely on them? They didn’t get much training, bunch of rebels.”

  “Loyalists, Howard. Remember they are the good guys. They know where the Army base is and how to get around town. We have four of them for good measure, and their long guns just might come in handy.”

  Murdock moved to the back of the thirty-foot boat and slid in beside his men. “We do this by the book. The fewest enemy casualties possible, the greatest physical plant destruction practical, and then we haul ass as fast as permissible.”

  A few minutes later the pilot of the boat slowed and angled into the right-hand side, where a rickety dock survived yet another landing. Two shadows slid out of the darkness and tied up the boat, then motioned, and the three SEALs and four Loyalists left the craft. The two men untied the boat, and and it powered back upstream to the hiding spot chosen. It would come on a radio signal from Murdock, who now carried one of the Loyalist radios.

  The three SEALs watched the dark, silent houses as they went past. It was the edge of the city, and most people were inside. Murdock checked his watch. A little after 2100. Right on schedule.

  Ahead he could see the school bus. He’d have to ask why the embassy had a school bus. They stepped on board, and the driver moved out at once.

  “About time you AWOL suckers showed up,” Senior Chief Sadler growled. “Good to have the team together again. And some fucking action. We all ready?”

  “You bring all the gear we need?” Murdock asked.

  “We did. Six Bull Pups with plenty of rounds, and the EAR. Also thirteen eager and anxious SEALs ready to pop their britches if they don’t get some action. Gardner has been training our asses off.”

  “Should be interesting tonight. First the motor pool on the edge of the base. Target practice really, from what the locals tell me. One of the rebels’ top men, Lieutenant Gabu, is with us. He’s our point man. Gabu, come meet JG Gardner and Senior Chief Sadler.” They shook hands in the gloom of the rolling bus.

  “How much longer?” Gardner asked.

  Lieutenant Gabu looked out the window. “Almost there. Two minutes.”

  “Let’s get up and get ready,” Sadler called. The SEALs lifted out of the seats, adjusted their combat vests and weapons, and stood in the aisle ready to move out.

  The bus stopped and Gabu looked at the men. “Alpha on me to the left, Bravo with Commander Murdock to the right. Let’s go.”

  They ran out of the bus and spread out along a fence that wouldn’t keep a stray cow out of the area. Ahead a hundred yards the motor pool spread out. It consisted of three low buildings with a dozen trucks parked on this side and three buses next to the second building. Each squad had three Bull Pups. All of the men except the Loyalists had Motorola radios.

  Murdock touched his mike. “We’ll go with the twenties. Impact on the vehicles, then WP into the two buildings we can see. As soon as we torch these two, Alpha Squad will chogie down the fence to get shots at the third building behind the big one. Bull Pups up and spread your rounds. Fire when ready.”

  Two of the 20mm rifles fired almost at once. Murdock sighted in his weapon and aimed at one of the trucks. The round caught the front and tore the engine half out of the hood, but the gas tank didn’t explode. He fired again at the back of the truck, and the fuel tank went up in a sun-bright fireball that rained burning fuel on the two trucks parked beside it. He heard another fuel tank explode, and turned his weapon on the roof of the large building.

  His first WP hit the side of the building and bounced off, making a bright fireworks display of spraying white phosphorus near the trucks. His second round vanished over the side of the building, and he soon saw the flames from the burning roof. The other 20mm rounds blasted into the two buildings, and quickly they were roaring blazes. Murdock saw a few men running around the building, but nobody looked like they were trying to put out the fire. Maybe the base had no fire department.

  Then he heard a siren that could be a fire engine. He used the radio to get Alpha Squad moving to the third building. His Bravo men lay in the grass watching the fire. The bus had been driven a half mile away from the fence so it wouldn’t be involved. They waited as the buildings burned and the buses and trucks melted into each other. If there were any more vehicles inside the buildings, they would be toast by now.

  He heard the crack of the 20mms down the way, and soon Gabu and Alpha Squad jogged back to the rest of them.

  “Enough here,” Gabu said. “I love those twenties. When can I order up about two hundred of them?” He grinned. “Let’s go find the bus.”

  It was parked on the side street where it was supposed to be. Gabu was the last man on. He talked with the driver, who circled back toward the base three miles from the burning motor pool. The bus eased up toward another fence not much stronger than the first one. Gabu got the men outside and pointed.

  “Longer shooting this time. Six hundred yards to the administrative building on the right, then the post exchange and the mess hall and theater. No show tonight. I checked. On the other side are the officers’ quarters. Houses and barracks. We want all of them.

  “Commander Murdock says the men who fired the twenties at the motor pool switch with a man who didn’t fire. Everyone gets in on the fun. Airbursts here won’t do much good, so let’s stick to the impact fuses and WP. Spread out again and fire when ready.”

  Murdock handed his Bull Pup to Howard, who grinned, bellied down in the weeds, and pushed the muzzle through a hole in the fence, then sighted in. His first round came up short, but his next two hit the administrative building. With the range established, Howard put in WP rounds in his magazine and started the bonfires going.

  Murdock looked up when he saw headlights along the fence. An inside-the-fence jeep patrol. He brought his MP-5 up and sprayed the jeep with nine rounds. He watched it come forward again, then hit it with nine more rounds from the thirty-round magazine. The jeep spun to the left away from the fence, hit a small ditch, and flipped over. One man crawled away from the machine. Murd
ock let him go. It wasn’t hunting season on federal troops. Not yet.

  The six Bull Pups fired for only four minutes, but in that time they left twenty buildings burning furiously. The men formed up and jogged away from the fence. A half mile down a second road they came to the bus and piled on board.

  “Is the fun over for tonight?” Jaybird yelled.

  “Not quite,” Gabu said. “We’ve saved the best to last. For this one we have to do some footwork. The target is at the far end of the Army base, and carefully housed. We’ll have to move in, take out any guards, and then get to work. We’re going after the ammo dumps.”

  There were some cheers.

  “There are three of the underground bunkers that are now being used. I happen to know which ones they are. We have a ten-minute bus ride, so relax, fill your magazines, and get ready. We will probably run into some opposition on this one.”

  It was fifteen minutes before the bus stopped along a road that had no houses on the off-base side. Just fields and a few cows. The men went through the fence and moved into a combat formation as they worked through plowed ground that was kept free of grass or weeds.

  “Fire breaks,” Gabu said as he walked near Murdock. “They don’t want a grass fire to blow up their ammo.”

  When they were a quarter of a mile off, Murdock, Lam, and Gabu went up on point. The rest of the platoon and the Loyalists spread out in a protective half circle behind the point men. The three passed an unused bunker, and Gabu pointed at two others just ahead. A guard with a submachine gun in his hands walked a beat outside the first bunker. A moment later they saw a second man walking his beat at the second bunker.

  Lam pointed to the EAR and Murdock nodded. He waited until the two guards almost met at the far ends of each of their posts.

  The familiar whooshing sound slashed into the calm night, and the two soldiers crumpled as if they had gone to sleep. Which, Murdock knew, they had.

  “Now,” Murdock whispered, and the three ran to the bunkers and checked the doors. Both had locks. Murdock took a square of C-5 from his vest and cut it in half, then gave half to Lam, who ran with it to the far bunker door. Murdock and Lam pasted the puttylike explosive against the locks and then inserted timer/detonators. They had agreed on three minutes. They looked at each other through the pale moonlight. Murdock lifted his arm and snapped it down. They pushed the detonators to the on position, and the three men ran behind the bunkers.