Deathrace sts-7

by Keith Douglass

  General Shahr shot him in the head, and General Ruhollah slammed to the floor, blood pooling beside his head and running down to the stars of his rank on his shoulder.

  General Shahr nodded, called in his men to remove the body, then settled down to the situation map on the wall, and began making phone calls.

  Ruhollah was an idiot to think he could get away with this. He had been monitored all the way. As soon as the project was a success, Ruhollah would have been eliminated, and the Army would have taken the credit. He would have ousted the President, and overruled the Ayatollah, and he, General Shahr, would have ruled two-thirds of the Arab world with his bombs, and the threat of his bombs.

  Now they were set back at least two years, and he knew they would be monitored closely by the foreign powers. Still it could be done with total secrecy, and with an underground facility. He had plans for it already.

  He turned back to the map. If he were a military force running for safety, exactly where would he go after heading south? Continue on that way, divert to the east and slip through the porous border with Pakistan, or sit, and wait for some kind of an air rescue? Any of the three were possible. He reached for the phone to check on the nearby bases and see if they had been alerted. It would be a busy afternoon.

  32

  Friday, November 4

  1920 hours

  Hills south of bomb plant

  Southern Iran

  Five minutes after they parted, Murdock had his squad in position. Magic insisted that he get back his sniper rifle to use in the attack. Murdock let him have it. He put Kat next to him, and then the rest of his squad in a rough line aimed at the dozen troopers about seventy-five yards away. It was fully dark now.

  Murdock waited. Moments later he heard two tsks on the earpiece. DeWitt had his SEALs ready.

  Murdock looked quickly at Kat. She had her submachine gun up and ready. He took a deep breath, aimed at the man standing in front of the big fire, and jolted off three rounds.

  At once the whole platoon opened up.

  Kat hesitated. Could she do it again? Then she triggered off three rounds. They were high. She brought the muzzle down and fired again into the sudden churning mass of men. There was screaming, men looking for their weapons, men dying. She shut her eyes for a minute, heard firing beside her and opened them, and fired again on 3-round bursts until her magazine went dry. She ripped it out, put another one in, charged a round, and aimed back at the men below.

  Suddenly she heard firing from behind her. She saw three dark shapes running at them from the rear. She whirled, brought up her weapon, and triggered nine rounds at the three shadows. One screamed and dove to the ground. Another fell dead without a word; the third turned and ran back the way he had come.

  Murdock looked behind him. He saw one of the dark shadows crawling away. He put a 3-round burst into him, then looked at Kat.

  She nodded, swung her weapon back to the front, and kept firing.

  Murdock checked the scene carefully. There was no more return fire from the troopers below.

  "Think we did it," DeWitt said on the radio.

  "Yeah, cease fire," Murdock said. "Ed, send in two men to check them out."

  Murdock lifted off the dirt and ran to the rear where he found the two Iranians. Both were dead. He hurried back to their line.

  Ahead at the small Iranian camp, he heard two shots, then all was silent.

  Kat stared at him. "Those shots?"

  "We have to make sure the enemy are all dead. We don't take prisoners or leave wounded."

  Kat flinched. Her face surged into a scowl. "Isn't that… Isn't that a little cold, brutal?"

  "Absolutely. We're not here to play games or give credits for the enemy's bravery. It's simply kill or be killed. The way you reacted just a minute ago. You saw the three coming when the rest of us didn't. You reacted. You saved at least three of our lives right here."

  "Clear front," the radio said in their ears.

  The SEALs moved down and surveyed the wreckage. There was little they could use. The ammo didn't fit, and they didn't want to pack along any additional weapons. Their canteens were still full.

  "No one escaped down here?" Murdock asked.

  DeWitt shook his head. "What was that firing to the rear?"

  "Three surprised us from behind. Two are down, and one got away."

  "So we better shag ass out of here," DeWitt said.

  "Yeah, let's move," Murdock said. They walked away down the slope of the small pass, and Murdock moved back beside Kat. "So?"

  "I'm alive. That's the main purpose now — to stay alive. It's like when you can't breathe, nothing else really matters. Like now. If we don't survive, none of my high and mighty principles mean a pile of shit, to drop into the SEAL vernacular."

  "True. We survive, then we figure out about living. It can be a tough mad."

  "We'll make it."

  "Good work back there. If they'd been better shots, we'd be digging two or three graves right about now."

  "Didn't think you left anyone behind."

  "Sometimes, depends. Here we would have had to. We couldn't carry out even one body."

  "Hate to mention it but you forgot to ask for a casualty report," Kat said.

  Murdock frowned. "Yeah, we didn't take much return fire. Some, I guess." He clicked his mike. "Hey, casualty report. Sound off if anybody got hit."

  For a moment there was no sound on the radio, then one small voice came on.

  "Yeah, Doc might take a look at my arm. It doesn't seem to be working right."

  Murdock moved over beside Kat. "Why in hell didn't you say so?"

  "You didn't ask. Hell, a SEAL can fight over a little pain." She grinned in the darkness and hoped Murdock could see it. Doc came storming up.

  Murdock called a halt. He asked for Holt, and had him set up the SATCOM. "How bad is it, Doc?" Murdock asked.

  "I'm gonna have to amputate," Doc said, sounding relieved.

  "You try it and I'll use up my full magazine on you," Kat said.

  They both chuckled.

  "One slug cut through about an inch of Kat's forearm," Doc said. "Missed the bone. Kat will hurt like hell for a week or so, then will have a war wound to brag about. Oh, yeah, it will leave a battle scar and everything."

  "SATCOM is ready, L-T," Holt said.

  Murdock knew his message. He typed it in. "Stroh. How about a pickup? Can receive you now. Answer me, we're running out of time and ammo. Murdock."

  As soon as they switched to receive, the small screen lit up. The message was short.

  "Murdock. Possible. Contact us in two hours. Have your exact coordinates and time of day there."

  Murdock snapped off the set. "We contact them again at exactly twenty-one-forty-two. Doc, you got your patient bandaged?"

  "Ready to rock and roll. Hear she saved the fucking day back here."

  "True. You almost had a lot of work to do. Let's get out of here at three miles an hour. Go, Lam."

  They hiked again through the Iranian hill country darkness.

  Twice they heard jets overhead. Once a propeller-driven plane sounded to the south but faded out.

  Murdock heard the next sound a half hour later. It was a chopper and headed their way.

  "Big bird coming," he said. "Possible that the guy who got away back there had a radio. If he did, they must know about where we are."

  The chopper came closer, scouring the ravine to the left. They saw the powerful searchlight. It turned the ground into daylight for a circle of twenty yards.

  "Scatter," Murdock said. "Try to find a rock to curl around and use your cammo cloth. He's gonna work this gully for damn sure. Magic, can you use that fifty?"

  "Fucking A, L-T. Armor piercing?"

  "Give it a five-round try if he comes within two hundred yards of us. No, wait for a hundred yards. You can't miss at that range."

  "You got it, Skipper."

  Ronson had been carrying the fifty and the ammo. He loaded five rounds
of the armor-piercing types and handed the weapon to Magic. He hunkered down behind a two-foot rock and rested the weapon over the top.

  "Come on, sweetheart," Magic said. "Come and let papa give you a shot or two."

  Chin watched him, and looked over at Doc. "Hell, I don't know if he's still under or not. Could be pure adrenaline, a nervous high. He doesn't even seem to know he's got a shot-up leg."

  "Hope it lasts," Doc said.

  They had spread out to be fifteen yards apart. Murdock watched the bird with its long arm of light probing the canyon. Soon the pilot or observer was satisfied, and the bird angled toward the next gully, the one they had been hiking up.

  "Stay low and don't move a muscle," Murdock said.

  "Never fear, the Magic man is here," Brown chortled.

  The big chopper swung closer. At two hundred yards it picked up the gully, changed course, and began working up it, no faster than a slow walk. It gave the crew plenty of time to watch below. It was over a hundred feet in the air so the rotor wash made no dust problem on the ground.

  "Closer, you son of a bitch," Magic whispered into the mike.

  They waited. It kept working uphill toward them. It would be a hundred yards from Murdock when the light touched the first of the men in Second Platoon, more than that distance from Magic.

  "Your guns are free, Magic," Murdock said. "Fire at will."

  Just as the chopper swung over the rock Ed DeWitt had claimed, Magic fired. The round slammed through the cabin of the chopper. Before the bird could make any move, Magic had worked the lever and chambered a new round and fired. This one thundered into the engine compartment. At once black smoke poured from the bird.

  Magic fired again. The armor-piercing round exploded inside the machine somewhere and it angled sharply to the left. The rotor went on freewheeling when the power stopped. The craft righted itself, then plunged straight to the ground a hundred feet below.

  "Go clean it up," Murdock said. "On me, my squad." The first squad ran downhill toward where the chopper hit the ground with a loud explosion and fire. They ran to within fifty feet of the burning wreckage but couldn't get any closer.

  "Work the perimeter and look for survivors," Murdock ordered in the Motorola. They found none.

  Five minutes later, the fire had burned itself down to a few flames and a lot of smoke.

  "Clear front," Murdock said. "Let's get away from this bonfire."

  Lam met them when they rejoined the platoon. "South? L-T?"

  "Right. No way we can fool anyone about where we are now. As soon as that chopper's radio went out, there must have been two or three more birds heading this way. We make some tracks. Some concealment would be nice from the lights the new birds must have. See what we can find."

  They hiked again. This time Magic insisted on carrying the fifty. Ronson didn't tell him he still had ten rounds in one big magazine for the fifty.

  Murdock watched his timepiece. They made good time for the first hour. It was 2100. In forty-two minutes they would contact Uncle Sugar, and hope for good news. Murdock eased to the rear and walked beside Kat.

  "How's it going?"

  "Good. I'm good."

  "Really?"

  "I'm surviving, after all. We'll see. First survive, then take a shot at getting a life, right?"

  "Yeah. The arm?"

  "I got some ibuprofen from Doc. Four of the suckers. Taking the burn out of it. I'll make it. Is Uncle going to pop for a chopper for us?"

  "Hard to tell. At least the President is in on it. If I tell them you're wounded, it should be a cinch."

  "Don't you dare, Murdock. I mean it. Don't say a word about me."

  "You got it. First Squad owes you one, SEAL. You remember that."

  They hiked for another half hour and Murdock stopped them against a steep hill with a lot of moon shadows. Holt had the SATCOM set up before Murdock asked him.

  He worked the mugger and got their coordinates, which he wrote down on the edge of his map. He used a small mouth-held flashlight to be sure he got the figures right. Then he keyed the screen. His message

  "Murdock has his ears on."

  He snapped it to receive, and seconds later the screen showed a response.

  "We have a go on chopper. It has lifted off its birdhouse already and is on the way. Two F-14's will fly cover at time of pickup. ETA when you give us your exact coordinates. Use two red flares on the ground to mark your LZ. Make it as level a spot as possible. Coordinates. The Seahawk will give you three strobe flashes, then three more for identification as it comes in."

  Murdock typed in the coordinates from the mugger, had Holt double-check them to be sure, then zapped out the burst of transmission.

  They waited with the set on receive. It was five minutes before the screen came to life.

  "Murdock. ETA your site 2240. Use two red flares to mark LZ. Any hostile action?"

  "No hostiles now. Will use green flares on any hostiles. May be three hundred yards off coordinates for level LZ. Waiting."

  Murdock looked at the silent set. Done. "Fold it up, let's find an LZ."

  As soon as he heard the problem, Lam took off on a run. He was back before Murdock got the platoon moving.

  "L-T, out here to the left about four hundred yards we have a valley of sorts. Level spot a hundred yards square."

  "Let's move it there," Murdock said. "Keep your eyes and ears open. We don't want to be surprised this close to home."

  They hiked to the spot, and Murdock gave the two red flares to Jaybird to light, and throw when they heard the friendly bird and saw the three white strobe flashes.

  "Perimeter defense," Murdock said. "We watch everywhere, all the time for the next fifty minutes or so. Holt, be ready to switch to receive on the Miltac frequency so we can talk with the Seahawk and maybe the F-fourteens. Let's move."

  "That chopper we shot down," Kat said from ten yards to his right, "will they send in some more right away?"

  "I would. Try to get us here before we slip away again. It depends how good the guy who got by us is, and how good he is on coordinates." They waited.

  Twenty minutes later, Murdock felt easier about it. A quick landing, sprint to the big open door. Pile in seventeen bodies and a brisk takeoff.

  It didn't work out that way.

  Twenty minutes before the Seahawk was due, three big choppers came in from the north. They spotlighted two of the platoon and dropped down two hundred yards away. Doors clanged and Murdock could just feel the troops rushing out.

  "Magic, your big one is free. Everyone fire at those choppers. Now, keep it high so we don't hit any friendlies." The guns opened up, the ones that could reach out two hundred yards. The MGs chattered. Magic got in one lucky round on one of the dark choppers and it mushroomed into flames. That back-lighted twenty Iranian troopers charging toward them. Half of them went down on the first volley. That slowed them.

  A moment later three more choppers came in due south of the platoon.

  "Damnit, fucking damnit to hell," Murdock bellowed. "Half of you hit each side. Hold up on the short guns."

  Before they had warmed up on the second trio of enemy helicopters and their troops, Holt was on the Motorola.

  "Skipper, I've got two Tomcats two minutes away. They suggest we hit those chopper guys with some green flares."

  "Roger that. Who is closest to each side with the flares?" He got responses, and thirty seconds later, they shot out the rifle flares at the enemy choppers.

  Almost before the first one exploded with a green light, an angry bird from the sky swooped down and laced the Iranian chopper area with fifty rounds of 20mm cannon fire. A second Iran helicopter exploded in flames.

  The second green flare hit the southern force and soon the second Tomcat slammed in on target and got away seventy-five to a hundred rounds of cannon fire before he pulled up and went around for another pass.

  In four minutes the Tomcats had made four passes at each of the enemy contingents. Two more choppers caught
fire, and there was little return fire from the Iranians.

  Holt hit his lip mike again. "L-T, I have a Seahawk coming in. Suggest we light the red flares."

  "Do it," Murdock barked.

  He saw the flares burst into color just as the Tomcats made another pass, blasting the remnants of the Iranian forces into deadly fragments.

  The big Seahawk settled to ground inside the two red flares.

  "Magic and Kat first," Murdock said loudly in his mike to get over the chopper sound. "Go, you two, now go, everyone else right behind. This ain't no waiting game we've got here."

  33

  Friday, November 4

  2244 hours

  Landing zone in hills

  Near Chah Bahar, Iran

  Murdock watched as Magic and Kat both ran to the open door of the Seahawk while the rotors whirled. They jumped on board. Murdock heard firing from behind him. He turned and sprayed the area with the rest of his magazine, then ran for the chopper with the last of the SEALS. He had almost made it to the door when he saw Kat lean out with her MP-5, and shoot off a full magazine of rounds in one burst.

  The rounds went well over his head and toward where there had been more muzzle flashes behind them. Murdock pulled himself into the Seahawk. "DeWitt, do we have a count?"

  "You're the last, Murdock. All seventeen SEALs present and accounted for."

  A crewman slammed the door shut, and the chopper pulled up like it was on a spring, jumping into the air and slanting away from the groundfire.

  Murdock looked around in the dim light of the chopper. "Anybody get hit in that last exchange?"

  "Oh, yeah," a voice said.

  "Washington?" DeWitt asked.

  "'Fraid so, L-T. Caught one in the shoulder, I was almost in the fucking door. Two feet away from getting home free. Kat there pounded out about sixty rounds just then and I figured she pushed them crackers' heads down."

  Doc Ellsworth was by Washington's side a moment later. He pulled off the cammie shirt and looked at the wound. The Navy crew chief brought a flashlight.